Wintry.

“Hey, I’m Eva, this is Jaq, and we’re-“ Eva starts of her trying her best to be friendly. The raven-haired girl who answered the door holds up a hand before she even finishes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re pledges, I don’t need to know your names,” she groans. “Get in the kitchen with the others, you have rush stuff before you can do anything else. Clear?”

“Absolutely,” Eva says, her tone barely changing, but you’ve known her long enough to tell when she’s an inch away from punching someone who’s getting on her nerves. Part of you quietly hopes the girl keeps pushing, but she instead walks away, leaving the door ajar and the two of you to find your way to the kitchen.

“This was a great idea, no regrets at all,” you mumble to Eva as you slip through the densely-packed hallways. “Sorry for dragging you into this, I thought it’d be fun.”

“And Greek system connections often matter more than competency or intelligence in politics?”

“Please, I’m not going to hold any office now,” you answer with a dismissive snort. “Most of those tend to operate during, y’know, daylight hours.” While it’s just a minor cut to say it out loud due the size and scope of the other problems you’re facing, you note Eva looks guilty for even bringing it up. “We can just go. I know you don’t give a shit about rush.”

“I’m here to back up my girl, and that’s what I’m gonna’ do,” she resists firmly. “Besides, it’s a good excuse. After whatever they’re about to make us do, maybe you can whammy some people in giving us actual information.”

“Probably just going to ask first!” you tell her with a small huff as the two of you enter the kitchen. The orderly line of fellow pledges sets you on edge pretty much right away. You figured you’d have to put up with some bullshit tonight, but the cult-like atmosphere created by everyone standing stock-still and silent under the gaze of a redheaded woman whose name you THINK is Jessica is more off-putting than usual.

“Line up, don’t speak until we’re finished,” she says matter-of-factly as she gestures for you two to join the line on the end. You comply, resisting the urge to purposely get kicked out so you can do some digging. Maybe if someone remembers the woman (who you can’t remember the FIRST DAMN THING about), that’ll be a real lead somewhere. You don’t hate your new life, exactly, but its frustrations are proving significant, and you want to know what you’re here for and why, if at all possible. You glance around, looking at the other pledges. They seem nervous as well, though you’d be willing to bet probably not because they’re newly undead.

You consider speaking for a moment before an ominous line of hooded figures file into the kitchen. ‘Bit much,’ you comment to yourself about the theatrics. It’s just rush, it’s not like you’re joining an infernal cult. Ideally, anyway. The blue-and-gold-draped sisters each hold what looks to be six glasses stacked together, each one with liquid filling the very bottom where the cups don’t quite dip into each other. They were various colors, but you wonder for a moment if the traces of red you see in each of them is just you or there’s something in there.

“Pledges!” Jessica announces, stepping forward so none of the hooded sisters have to speak. Each one takes position in front of one of you, holding out the stack of glasses. “Before you’re allowed to participate, it’s time for a test of loyalty, intelligence … and endurance. I assume you’ve all been studying your KBG history?” You and a few other girls wince. You have been doing that in exactly no way whatsoever. You were going to, but then you were just overwhelmed with how utterly boring it was. “Well, we’ll know soon enough. Each of your future sisters in front of you has a stack of cups. Top to bottom, each drink is stronger than the last, and just to be absolutely sure none of you alkies think that’s a bonus, someone might have mixed in some hot sauce one of us brought back from Tiajuana last year.”

You pinch your eyes shut. Besides sounding gross, all you can think of is spewing out just water the second it went into your throat. **** spiked with whatever hell-Tabasco they had on-hand doesn’t sound like it’s going to go down smoother. You focus for a moment, then brace yourself, trying to make your body ready to just accept it by any means necessary. You can’t get answers if you get kicked out.

“Any of you throw up, you’re out. Pass out before we’re finished asking questions, you’re out. Say anything besides an answer, you’re out. Clear?” The line of girls nods, very few of them confidently. Jessica grins, a mildly-sadistic expression. “Then let’s get started. One the count of three, say the name of our house’s founder. One, two …”

You have absolutely no idea, but neither do a few others. Eva, of course, gets it right. You take the first cup, look down into it, then close your eyes and throw it back. It tastes vile, far worse than you were even expecting … but you manage to **** it down all the same. The feeling it puts in your stomach is wrong, reminding you that this isn’t something your body can put to use, but it’s more a nagging than a disruption. One of the girls who drinks, however, immediately spews out the foul concoction and is ushered out of the kitchen by her attending sister.

Of the dozen of you that started, seven finish. Eva mercifully only had to take one drink, but hardly looked like she enjoyed it. You, on the other hand, crashed your way through and remained fairly positive that the only reason you were standing after all six of the drinks is because your stomach was refusing to even consider them for a second. On the other hand, no one else who had to go all the way passed, so at the very least, you got some impressed looks.

“Alright, pledges, you can go. Shoo. Skedaddle. And don’t fucking embarrass yourself like the rejects. You’re almost Kappas, act like it.” Jessica’s words are even frostier than when she started. Is it because you and Eva were still in? Or, you guess, specifically you, seeing as you didn’t get A question right, but here you are. Whatever. You quickly vacate the kitchen as the hooded sisters filed back upstairs.

“Guuuuuh,” Eva groans as soon as you’re back in the general population. “I know there’s worse hazing going on in this country, but fucking why? Just why?”

“People in positions of authority are inherently prompted to **** them?”

“Now you sound like me. At the risk of being a horror movie cliché, we should probably split up, right?” You think it over for a second.

“Yeah … I want to stay with you, but we’ll be less intimidating apart. More likely to get answers,” you sigh, looking over the various partygoers. It idly occurs to you that you should probably find a bathroom soon and get rid of the deeply unpleasant sensation in your stomach, but it doesn’t feel urgent quite yet. “Any clue where to start?”

“Vague ones. I saw a few girls and boys the woman was chatting up Friday night, they might remember something. I think … Kurt, Valerie, and Aida, at least. You should probably steer clear of leadership, though. Jessica seemed pissed about something. Though whenever Atlee shows up, she’ll probably avoid you on her own. I can’t imagine she wants to lose another argument.” Eva nudges your shoulder and smiles at that. It feels good to have Atlee a little scared of you, honestly, and you smile back. “Okay, I’m going to go find Aida, we had bio together last semester. You know Kurt or Valerie?”

“Kurt’s hit on me at things before. Real skeezy vibes, but I think I can get him to talk.” Not seeing him immediately, you quickly pick out Valerie, a purple-haired, bespectacled freshman you don’t remember saying a word to so far. “Gonna’ start with Valerie, though. Make sure nothing’s going on with her.”

“Yeah, she hasn’t been Miss Popularity during rush, either … okay, keep your phone on, I’ll text if I find anything. No wandering off and getting killed again!” She seems very stern on that, pointing up at you to demand your attention. You nod before the two of you split.