"Right, then." Chen Liang pursed his lips and made a few last marks on the map in his hands. "I've marked the most efficient routes to your various classes, as well as points of interest and potential ley lines." The slender red panda looked to his son, a short and scrawny eldritch hybrid named Fess Sable, and allowed a rare smile. "Once we have your room assignment, I will be more than happy to apply the usual basic wards for you."

Fess nodded and sighed softly. "So this is it, huh ..." He tried to swallow the knot in his throat a couple of times. "I ... won't pretend I'm not nervous."

"Your classes will indeed be more difficult, and the price of autonomy is the chance of failure, yes ... but failure is also the gateway to more learning, so long as you reflect and retry. I have utmost faith in you, son."

"Thanks, Dad ... just ... it's more, uh ... do you think people will like me here? If it's anything like high school was ... and elementary school ... maybe I should just do a home study program." His already narrow shoulders slumped a little lower. "Not really looking forward to four more years of 'There goes the freaky monster with three dads' and all that ..."

"Hey." A warm hand came to rest on Fess's shoulder - his second father, Tim Gillespie. The raccoon gave Fess a little bit of a grin. "Kiddo, it's okay - this is Walden duBois University, your Pops's alma mater, y'know? Believe me, if you tell anyone around here how you were made, ten-to-one they'll just think you're even cooler." He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "And if they don't, you just tell me who it is and I'll play the trumpet outside their window at 3 in the morning." His voice dropped to a hiss. "20s jazz."

That did the trick - Fess doubled over giggling at the thought of his Pops blaring bouncy beats from the bushes in the middle of the night. "Okay, okay! I ... I ... I can do this. I think. I ... is it okay if I call you guys? Like, a lot?"

"Call us, yes, tell us the news --" A deep, gruff voice from behind him: the third of his dads, Sergei Alexeyev Aslanov. The tiger chuffed softly and slapped him softly on the back with a massive mitt. "--but you should make friends of your own age too! This is your big debut, Feshka ... an adult, independent, out on your own and seeing life for all it is and Блин, I promised myself I wouldn't cry ..." With one swift motion, those burly arms were wrapped around all three of the others as Sergei chuffed and snuffled.

Fess coughed and squirmed, somewhere in the middle of entirely too much love. "Отец ... мне нужен air--!"

-- background source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Marting_Hall_BWC.JPG