Darksteel

Chapter 1; Waking up in a strange school is so bothersome...

When Asta awoke in a fluffy, down-filled bed he knew he must be dreaming.

 Or dead.

 In fact, as he peered around the luxurious room that his bed occupied, he grew increasingly more sure that he was, in fact, dead. He could not remember how he had gotten into this nice room-- his memory from the previous night was spotty, to say the least. 

He distinctly remembered something about a Monster bringing him here, but as he thought harder the memory became more faded. It burned away like frost before  a ray of warm sunshine. And as he wracked his brain, Asta found that there were several more things that he could not remember. Such as, where had he come from? Who were his parents? They seemed to be rich, judging from the size and splendour of the room, for who else but the rich could afford something like this.

The room itself was a work of art with rich, dark cherry wood floors polished so finely that Asta could nearly see his reflection in it. The walls were papered with ruby red wallpaper that had delicate, golden branches and leaves all over it. Across from his bed, an enormous window overlooked a view of rolling green hills, a silver lake, and an endless blue sky. Sunlight flitted through the window's shear curtains, illuminating the rest of the room in a soft golden glow. 

To Asta's right was another bed with a sleeping form hidden by blankets, and beyond that was a great stone fireplace set into the wall. To Asta's left, was yet another occupied bed, and beyond it was a cherry wood door that he assumed lead out of the room. Near the window was a huge wardrobe where Asta could put his clothes-- if he HAD brought any spare clothes with him, that is. He could not seem to remember packing. But, if he WAS dead then he supposed that packing would not have done him much good. Perhaps people did not need a spare change of socks in the afterlife.

But just as Asta was thinking about the use of socks when one happens to be dead, the figure in the bed to his right groaned and sat up, blinking at him.

Asta blinked back.

The boy was about his age and devilishly handsome; with a strong, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and a nose that demanded attention all on its own. His hair was a rich brown that hung in silky waves into his violet eyes, and his skin was a sort of copper tone that held a glow to it, as though he had been forged in a hearth fire... or something of the sort. The only unpleasant thing about his appearance was his expression; he seemed to have a face built for cold looks and sneering.

 The boy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, and very formally said, "What are YOU staring at, you twit?"

 Asta opened his mouth, then closed it as the figure in the bed on his left mumbled, "Do try to be civil, Adar. It's his first day."

 The violet eyed boy snorted disdainfully and bared his teeth in a reluctant smile. "Welcome to Adalain Academy, I am Prince Adar Singh from the Deserts of the Golden Sands." he said in a bored voice, as though he was used to saying his name. "And you are....?"

 "Asta Featherstone." Asta managed to say. Brilliant! He hadn't forgotten his name. There was hope for him yet.

"That's all? No title? No kingdom?"

"I don't think I've got one of those..."

"How droll."

"Adar..." The figure in the other bed warned, and this time Asta saw him sit up.

 This boy was olive-skinned and much smaller in build, yet still undeniably as handsome as the prince. He had shaggy, black hair so dark it shone blue, eyes grey as river stones, and delicate, almost feminine features. Even from this distance, Asta could see that he was skinny but with a certain sturdiness to him.