A Year To Remember [CLOSED/Tiandi-ONLY]

[Cresadine]

A Year to Remember

Welcome students to Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School! Or in the tongue of the locals ṃăġor rasil rasilĵaes! You are an exchange student from somewhere in Tiandi, perhaps from Hapcheon, or even our neighbour to the west, Daesong. Wherever you are from, you have now come to this country to study! The school is situated right on the edge of the sunny suburb of Qopenmyr, in the city of Qo'yyen - which is right on the beautiful and shimmering Basilisk Bay. Though you may find the people strange, their clothing just a little too bright and loose at time, and their pronouns confusing, this is your home for the next year - so get used to it!

Just a quick run-down of Qo'yyenese schooling policies. The Qo'yyenese put a much more heavy emphasis on the arts (especially music, sculpting, traditional dance and poetry) than most other countries, and religion is still taught in public schools. The Qo'yyenese devote a lot of time in Language classes to their own grammar, so story-writing and poetry fall under the "Arts" label, while "Languages" is just the technical study of the language.

Your host school is brand new, just refurbished two years ago - and has a bustling population of about 800 kids.

Expect people you meet in the city to be flambuoyant, loud and colourful. But please, remember not to commit the faux pas of behaving rudely in the presence of a shrine - you will get some very loud put-downs. People will be patient if you are just learning the languages, just remember the proper pronominal arrangements - they consider it funny for someone to refer to themselves with the pronoun "I" and prefer "a man/woman etc." You WILL eat a lot of good food and experience a lot of culture!

Have fun AND an awesome year!

[Cresadine]

Palaqyna lĭh Aramyn-y stood at the foot of the stair leading up to the school. Palaqyna and the rest of the welcoming committee held a banner that read "Welcome" in all the different languages of the exchange students. They had even learned how to pronounce the different words meaning hello - alien though the words and accents were to their tongues. Everyone was dressed in the latest fashion, which was long, loose flowing robes of blue with silver thread - so it looked like stars on the night sky. Some of the exchange students had come dressed in the clothes they had brought - which wouldn't do in the climate of Qo'yyen - it was just too hot. Some of the committee members had bought new clothes for the exchanges who arrived first. She was so excited and couldn't wait to meet all the new people, this would be a year to remember.

[Toishima]

We are the future of the nation
Proud, intelligent, graceful daughters of the Rising Sun
We are the pride of the nation
Bringing glory to our homeland, our families and our school

-Chorus of the Imperial Miyako Young Women's Academy's school anthem

---

The spread of colours was marred by a single black hole, a shadow amongst the vibrant crowd. Kayako Yamamura stood out. She was taller than most girls her age, standing at 175 centimetres, pale Northern Yashimese skin a stark contrast to the black-and-crimson kimono-style uniform she wore. The summer uniform of the world-famous Imperial Miyako Young Women's Academy was cut short to the elbows and descended only to the knees, revealing white socks and generic sports shoes. Others would surely recognise the uniform of one of the most elite schools in Akitsukuni, if not Sinju or even the entire world. Long fingers- one could almost make out the abrasions of a thousand hours practising the shamisen - were pressed together in steeples.

Her hair was naturally black, pulled back and tightly wound into a bun held together by two black chopsticks. Two thin sidelocks and a razor-straight fringe framed her face, the hair ending just above the eyebrows as required by school guidelines. Expression sternly controlled, the Akitsukunese girl simply appeared to be scowling permanently. Black-framed plastic glasses sat above constantly pursed, thin lips. Her face was already oval-shaped; she made it look even longer by constantly dipping her head. She hated makeup. There was none. Longer observation would reveal a curious childhood habit whereby she always unconsciously blinked twice.

Art... School. Kayako gave her surroundings a second glance with her eyeballs, without moving her head. Some indigenous girl was now studying in the Empire's most prestigious school while she was here, in what would probably be classified back home as a "non-standard learning institute". The year-long foreign exchange program was necessary for the government scholarship program she was on. IMYWA's sister schools, mostly elite institutions in Jeongmi and Meisaan, had been pulled from the list this year thanks to the War last year. Daeseong and Gaoxiongese options were rapidly taken by those who had reserved places in the Jeongmian and Meisaani schools. The only options left were in such "well-established" countries as Asturias, Myaar'tway, Qo'yyen...

There was not really much of a choice. Of all the remaining nations to chose from, Qo'yyen was the only one not facing some major economic downturn or ongoing civil war. Unfortunately, the Qo'yyenese school - apparently like all others in the country - was an art school. Kayako did not hate the arts - being a Shamisen player herself - but rather preferred if it stayed at arms length. Math, science and history could be conquered through cold, hard logic. Art was subjective and depended on the human spirit. "Creativity" could not be dissected or factorised or proven through historical facts. It was chaotic. And this Akitsukunese teen hated chaos. The perfect Akitsukunese student.

But there was no choice. Here she was, carrying a digital camouflage backpack filled with her belongings in an unfamiliar nation which she had not really even heard much of before last year. Friends and family were thousands of kilometres away. But even against all this, Kayako did have some thoughts that she could perhaps enjoy herself. If the locals loved art so much, she would destroy them when they inevitably moved on to Math and science. Mass destruction was always fun.

"It can't be that bad."

The mangling of the Jeongmian language by non-Sinju peoples could be heard everywhere in the crowd. Her eyes narrowed.

"Disregard. It probably will be."

[Dayganistan]

Of all the assembled exchange students, there probably wasn't one more out of place than Zohal Ghilzai, an exchange student from Dayganistan. With her big green eyes, made to appear even larger as a result of the dark black eye shadow she wore, her light brown skin, and her obviously foreign facial features, she definitely did not have the appearance of a local, or of the majority of the other exchange students for that matter, most of which had come from the Sinju countries. As was fashionable for young women back in Dayganistan, she also wore a loose headscarf, pink in color which did little to cover her thick, silky black hair which had been tied into a braid, draped over the front of the right side of her body and reaching to just below her hips. She also wore a moderately loose fitting dark grey dress that came to just above knee length, translucent tights in a matching color, and a pair of boots with a 5 inch heel, which, although she was not abnormally tall otherwise, the heels caused her to tower over some of the other students. All of her clothes, even the headscarf she wore, had the labels of designer brands. Although it was hot in Qo'yyen, certainly hotter than in the Daygani capital of Khanabad nestled in its high altitude mountain valley, and one may think her outfit wouldn't exactly be the most comfortable to wear in this climate, the heat was still at a tolerable level for Zohal.

Zohal had always wanted to travel to a foreign country and experience something new, so naturally she was drawn to participate in a student exchange program. Unfortunately, she had a bad habit of leaving things to the last minute. She had hoped she could maybe go to Jeongmi or Akitsukuni, but because of her bad habits she was too late when she registered for the exchange program and there were no more positions in those schools unless she wanted to go to a more rural area, which was something that did not appeal to her in the least. And in this situation, the fact that her father was a Colonel in the Daygani Air Force couldn't help her, as it often could, especially those occasions when she had gotten in trouble with the police, either for legitimate reasons such as underage drinking or because some power tripping cop thought she was out too late at night. Qo'yyen was the best option left, so she took it. She had been relatively excited to go, although by the time she was actually on her flight, she had started to think she might regret it. Schools in Qo'yyen focused on arts above everything else. The arts weren't something of interest to Zohal. Her interests lay in history and the social sciences. But at least there's less focus on math and science here, she thought to herself, feeling relieved that she wouldn't be made to feel stupid because she was weak in those subjects.

Looking around the crowd of assembled students again, Zohal again started to feel like she had made a mistake. She didn't see anyone who looked like they had come from her country. Nobody to befriend, not like the students who had come from other countrieswho had been able to find someone to chat with in their own language. The local students learning how to say "salam" didn't count as someone speaking either of her languages, Farsi or Pashto.

Not really knowing what to do at the moment other than stand around awkwardly, Zohal sighed and looked down at the ground, where she had placed her luggage. This is going to be a long year, I'm all alone here and I don't blend in at all she thought, before looking back up again. She noticed an Akitsukunese girl who didn't look terribly happy to be here either. At least now, Zohal knew she wasn't he only one who wasn't feeling too thrilled with her decision to come here at the moment.

[Daeseong]

While Daeseong's ruling Sunrise Party was beginning to integrate with the rest of the world, embracing globalization and liberalization with open arms, the party seemed determined nonetheless to maintain the auspices of their radical and vicious fascist machinery. In particular, while party elites realized the need to cooperate and extend a hand of friendship to its former Sinjuese ideological opponents, they were still determined to clandestinely undermine and catch up to their foes, for the eventual ideological conflict, the massive conflict that, while they knew was non forthcoming, they insisted upon preparing for all the same.

Most concerning the party in this ideological conflict was that Daeseong's past two decades of rapid liberalization and global integration had failed to produce a quality arts education. While Dae engineers and researchers were now beginning to unravel the secrets their foes had discovered decades ago through a combination of industrial espionage and a robust initiative of constructing and staffing state engineering and technical universities with foreign researchers, Daeseong's propaganda offices screamed for qualified applicants and creative minds. The propaganda efforts of the 50s had largely been spearheaded by native Dae who had studied in prestigious Jeongmian arts universities. But as they began to age and eventually die off, there remained precious little talent, talent that was perpetually dwindling.

Agung Yandi Hermanto
Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School

Agung Yandi Hermanto had been raised in a slum on the outkskirts of the city of Rantjarmalang, where his talents in graffiti had landed him a prestigious arts scholarship. Only a decade earlier, he would have probably been sent to prison on charges of "public disruption" and "defacing community property". He probably would have been sentenced to a life in the military or given some other unecessarily acerbic punishment. But in Agung's case, because of the party's artistic woes and the government's broad desperation for artists and musicians, his shack was visited that same night by local party officials who informed his single mother that her son now qualified for the greatest art's education that Tiandi was to offer.

That is to say, the state propaganda ministry wished to emulate the distinctive and beautiful cultural achievements of Qo'yyen.

It didn't help Agung's nerves that he, well, stood out. Perhaps it was due to his distinctive batik shirt and and small, black peci. Or maybe it had something to do with his darker skin tones and tall, lanky stature which ensured that the two girls standing behind him angrily bent their necks to see beyond him. Regardless, Agung felt self conscious; he was well aware that others were starting at him, and it made him somewhat uncomfortable. He was not one who cherished attention, really. Almost desperate for something to take his mind off what felt like a thousand pairs of eyes on the back of his neck, he scanned the room for people like himself.

His gaze came to rest upon Zohal. He didn't recognize her dress, but he was fairly certain it was foreign to this country. Her skin tone was possibly even darker than his own, and he suspected that she might be a fellow Muslim, or perhaps a Hindu. If the state had given him a proper education in geography--which it hadn't because state educators had seen it as unnecessary for him to learn--he would probably have recognized that she was from Dayganistan, a country that had attracted a great deal of interested from Dae investors and party leaders who were drawn by its strategic position and natural resources. In any case, Agung would probably try talking to her later. It would be nice to have a fellow Muslim to talk to.

Next to him stood a militant looking girl who was about a full head shorter than him; compared to the rest of the girls in the room, however, she might as well as been a veritable giantess. He only noticed that she wore what appeared to be a perpetual scowl. Something was obviously ticking her off, that was a fact. Her small, calculating eyes and the aggressive, destructive aura she shed made him feel somewhat unsettled. Her aura or not, however, Agung had been pressed by his mother to try and make some friends. So even if this girl was going to rip out his eyeballs for daring speak to her...perhaps he would just have to live with it.

"Uhhh...hi," he whispered to Kayako, albeit with a thick Dae accent. "I'm Agung. Strange school they got here. It's really weird, isn't it?"

[Toishima]

"Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto," Kameko closed her eyes and replied to the voice flatly in Yashimese. Her natural northern Chūbu accent was apparent, though non-Akitsukunese probably would not have caught the difference. The person who spoke's accent was strong, but passable. At least she could understand what he said, unlike some of the locals she had encountered thus far. If there was a language almost as dignified as Yashimese, the Empire's traditional mainland rival's tongue surely qualified.

Kameko likewise switched to Jeongmian, though her speech was far from perfect. A tinge of middle-class Hapcheoni accent from the instructor (and illegally downloaded J-dramas) was mixed with Kameko's own Yashimese accent, drawing out syllables and making an otherwise lively language sound so much flatter. Having rarely had the chance to speak Jeongmian in any context, Kameko habitually substituted certain difficult Jeongmian words with Yashimese ones, a problem rampant throughout the Akitsukunese youth.

"Matsuo Bashō. 1686," she opened her eyes and turned to look at the speaker, "I am Kameko Yamamura."

She blinked twice. Self-consciousness being an infectious disease, it was safe to say that Agung's approach and appearance threw her off-balance. He was easily a whole head taller than her, with unfamiliar attire and dark skin. She knew that her people were naturally shorter in the world, but was used to being one of the tallest in class. She had never been in a co-ed school before and had no brothers, so was quite unclear of how to deal with members of the opposite sex of the same age group. Classic "traditional racism" and the barbaric southern peoples played a part as well. Speaking with this guy suddenly seemed quite disturbing, and she returned to her original posture, moving even less.

"This school is indeed strange, though institutions such as this exist in Akitsu-teikoku*. This is not the way artists are created. True artists are an elite group that attain mastery through their own paths. The so-called study of the arts is sakuran** from what is important for shinkō*** in the real world. Even our Bashō was a samurai, after all."

She did not pause until the end, not caring if Agung had understood through her accent and Yashimese insertions. Nevertheless, her voice remained quiet yet firm and almost monotonous, ruining that beautiful language of the cultured mainlanders with the calculated coldness of her island people.

---

The poem is Basho's Old Pond.

*Akitsukuni
**Distraction
***Progress

[Daeseong]

Agung Yandi Hermanto
Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School

Agung paused for several moments. He had no idea what this girl was talking about in the slightest. After all, he didn't receive much of a education back in his slum-side Dae school, especially not in the ways of foreign history and cultures. Trying to pretend he knew what was going on, he nodded once rather too enthusiastically and turned away slowly, wincing to himself. Clearly, she was not going to be the exceptionally friendly type. Not that he even hoped that she would be. But it did mean he would have to reevaluate his approach.

Agung gazed up at the ceiling, and back down. For several moments, he stood in complete silence.

"It seems like you aren't happy to be here," he continued, noting the obvious. "What brought you here, of all places? Seems like you might rather be back in your homeland. It's a beautiful place, by what the State has told us."

---

Ajeng Atmowidjojo
Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School

Ajeng Atmowidjojo was Agung's female counterpart in the Dae state foreign education program. But despite the two being from the same country of the origin, there couldn't be a set of two more diametrically opposed individuals. Ajeng hailed from a orderly, wealthy middle class district in the heart of Gununglarang Dua, where her life had been guided by her parents, a pair of civil engineers and party members. Driven to academic excellence and a thirst for accomplishment, Ajeng turned to art at a young age in an effort to foster a sense of agency and control in her own life.

A devout Kebatinan Muslim, Ajeng nonetheless refused to don the traditional dress of her people. She instead wore the classic, stylish uniform of her home academy, a slim and graceful silver and purple uniform that hugged her sinewy, fit body. Her apperance broadly exuded a sense of futuristic sophistication. Ajeng's black hair had been dyed a reddish brown, and was cropped short to her comely, but slightly chubby face. Ajeng maintained a neat and professional appearance.

Beside her stood a young dark skinned girl. This girl wore a strange pink headscarf, and was dressed in a manner that inspired Ajeng's great curiosity and fascination. Ajeng kept glancing over every now and then, trying to just avoid her neighbor. But it was tough, with such colourful and beautiful garments. Ajeng was only curious.

"Excuse me," Ajeng whispered as politely as she could. "I'm quite curious about the nature of your garment. What is this marvelous head piece you're wearing?"

[Toishima]

Kameko was the type of person who enjoyed being in absolute control, attaining absolute victory, with no deviations. Sure, this tall southern... Guy had taken her by surprise, but she managed to attain an edge over the foreigner. In the span of time he was looking at that "exciting" ceiling, Kameko recovered and noted that he was obviously stunned or confused by her vastly superior command of the superior world languages. A good barrage of poetry, tongue twisters and Akitsukunese sayings could possibly destroy him utterly, just like a Type-83 MLRS blasting terrorists in Myaar'tway.

"Nama mugi nama gome nama tamago," there was a morbid pleasure in seeing his blank expression, "Deru kui wa utareru."

Unfamiliar guys were not as scary when they were awkward and confused. He was scrambling for some topic to talk about, coming up with something almost on par with 'how's the weather today?'. His persistence was admirable, but tsunami walls did not fall that easily. She did not bother to look at him, partially because she did not care and partially because she was afraid he would do something to distract her focus.

"I had no choice. The program gave me no choice," Kameko slowed her speech as though speaking to a child, "And you are correct, Southerner. Dai Akitsu Teikoku is the most beautiful land. There is no competition anywhere. Especially not from people such as these."

She gestured towards the Qoyyenese with her steepled hands, giving a cold half smile at nothing in particular. She then continued surreptitiously scanning the room. There had to be other Sinjun students - preferably girls - around... Her expression soured as the Dae lingered. Is he expecting me to converse with him? Ugh. Where's that Jeongmian at? She had the feeling that the tall boy would not be leaving any time soon, as much as he unsettled her.

"I am of course not surprised to see a Southerner in the South. I suppose next you are will tell me why you are here desu ka?"

---

OOC
Anti-Jeongmism retconned away; I need people for her to befriend after all... If Arum appears.

[Dayganistan]

Zohal turned towards the quiet voice that was trying to get her attention. She saw a young girl wearing a silver and purple outifit, which looked to be a school uniform of some sort. School uniforms were an alien concept to Zohal, coming from a nation where such a thing was not the norm in all but military academies and the most exclusive private schools. Zohal tried to place where the girl was from, she had the appearance of being from Daesong or somewhere in that general area of the world. Likely a fellow Muslim in that case, which, although Zohal wasn't particularly devout herself, she thought it would be nice to befriend someone who shared a similar cultural background, no matter how vague and superficial the similarities might be. The girl was asking about Zohal's outfit, particularly her headscarf. Obviously she wasn't familiar with women's fashion trends in Dayganistan, but then again Zohal couldn't imagine most people in the world were.

"Wearing headscarves is fashionable in Dayganistan, especially if they're bright colors. They're fashion accessories, kind of like wearing a hat. They're really good for keeping cool during the summer, but they can also help keep you warm in the winter. Not that keeping warm is going to be a concern here," Zohal said to the girl. She had a naturally soft voice and spoke with a distinctive accent that would mark herself as being from Dayganistan or some other country in the general region. "If it's worn in a way where it doesn't completely cover the hair like how I'm wearing it, we just call it a scarf. But if it completely covers the hair, then it becomes a hijab. But it's only really considered a religious thing if someone wears it as a hijab every day and won't go out anywhere without it."

Zohal thought again about how out of place she really was here. But then again, her being an obvious foreigner had already gotten someone interested in talking to her, so maybe it wouldn't be all that bad.

"My name is Zohal, by the way. And I'm from Dayganistan, but I guess you already figured that out," Zohal said to the other girl. "But I don't know anything about you yet."

[Intermountain States]

Qoyy'en may have plenty of things to be unfamiliar with such as their gods and clothing but one thing Nam Hoojin isn't surprised to see is the wide range of diversity, being that it's a school open to international students. The 17 year old, 172 cm girl grew up in Sarltang City which is pretty diverse in ethnicity compared to the rest of Hanta due to its economic growth in the past few decades. Besides, considering that the Free City of Qoyy'en is a trade city, Hoojin expected to people of all race to appear whether to do business or to stash their wealth from the government.

With her long brown hair in a twisted pony tail and her clothes being a plain white t-shirt and a blue jean, she slightly stood out in the crowd but she isn't too worried about standing out. The school, after all, is pretty colorful in fashion and she's just a part of the colors painting the inside of the school.

In all consideration, Hoojin was actually excited to be spending a year at the Free City of Qoyy'en. Sure it was an exchange program, but Hoojin has always considered herself to be a pundit in the arts, including from places that an average Haeseonin wouldn't bother to find on the map. She gets to spend a year studying exotic arts at a beautiful city state while the student she's trading places with will have to make due learning with the Okmunins* of Hanta, a province known more for its religious populations and less for its prestigious education in the arts. Sure she was hoping to get into a school in Jeongmi but the Jeongmian schools in exchange programs were all filled up. Qoyy'en was her next choice and once she stepped in the city, she didn't feel like she made the wrong decision.

She scanned around, hoping to find someone she could recognize or talk to. She spotted a scowling Sinju girl not far away with a recognizeable black and red uniform of the IMYWA, probably an Aki girl. Then she noticed a guy next to her, possibly a Daeseong individual by the looks of his facial features. He looks friendlier than the Aki girl and since she knew that Daeseong used Jeongmian as a form of language (at least she hoped the boy is from Daeseong), communications could be easier. At this point, it's best that she make friends with someone quickly in this foreign place. Perhaps she could be friends with the Daeseong boy and the Aki girl, although the Daeseong boy might be friendlier by the looks of the girl's scowl.

---

* Okmunin - A person who follows the religion of Okmunism, the dominant religion in Hanta (basically an Asian version of Mormonism minus the Christianity portion)

[Daeseong]

Agung Yandi Hermanto
Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School

Agung nodded uncertainly, and decided that he might well just abandon this lost cause. Turning to face the front, he cursed his own stupidity, and vowed to be more reserved and less forward in the future as his neighbor kept her eyes focused, forward, with a determination that carried an uncomfortable level of intensity.

That was a waste of time, he groaned internally. Then she asked why he was here.

"Well," he began, picking his words selectively. "I was arrested for drawing graffiti, so the government gave me an art scholarship." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how the lack of context made what he had just said sound incredibly strange.

---

Ajeng Atmowidjojo
Qopen VI Memorial Secondary School

Ajeng, however, was seemingly have better success in making friends, as evidenced by this girl's relative friendliness and openness. A small smile came to rest upon her face. So this girl was from Dayganistan? How fascinating.

"Wow, Dayganistan!" Ajeng whispered, trying to contain her curiosity. "We've learned so many wonderful things about your country, back in my homeland. We have an entire week devoted to Daygani history and politics in our 11th year. Our government is really interested in Dayganistan for some reason."

"I'm Ajeng, by the way," Ajeng added, almost as an afterthought after a momentary lull. "I'm from Daeseong. I'm really excited to be here. It'll be a wonderful year, you think lah?"