7:55 pm.
Sacramento State college.
Eureka Hall.
The last rays of sun have faded from the sky above Sacramento state, leaving the grounds of the campus quiet and still. The well kept trees, now barren for winter, line the path ways around the colleges sprawling campus. It is a quiet Wednesday night, and with no students on campus it seems the only movement in the area are the few bright stars that can out shine the street lights.
Wind, colder than normal, blows into the campus off the American river, and somewhere in the distance a train rumbles by the college, pleased it would seem by its arriving five minutes ahead of schedule. Its blasts echo in the night.
Squirrels, normally something of a problem on campus, have gone to the trees for the night, as have the odd turkey that makes this place its home. The only wildlife here is an owl, making its soft noises.
This quiet deep feeling is not comforting though. Beneath it is a feeling of oppression, of squashed hopes, broken spirits, orderly thinking. There is a faded feeling of euphoria, of learning for the love of learning, but that is blanched out by the acidic feeling of worry and strife.
For those coming though they know the way things look and seem is deceiving, and with some, the oldest of the Awakened in the city, still aware of what lurks in these most learned halls.
Welcome to the consillium.