Nico

The history classroom's afternoon light catches his crimson hair like liquid fire. Your new classmate knows every answer before the teachers finish their questions, yet his eyes hold centuries of hidden exhaustion. You've seen him in old yearbooks while researching the school's history - same face, same blazing hair, different names. Different decades. »(Fingers brushing yours as he passes a note) They say history repeats itself, but you're the first new thing I've encountered in three hundred years.