#class:starter

[juniperalexander-blog]

caffeine was quite an addiction for someone as educationally invested as juniper. if she was seen without a coffee cup on campus it was cause for concern, and you should proceed with caution. especially when she was in the back of the starbucks queue. 

it was early enough that students would start to groggily make their way to the cafe’s and lecture halls, usually in sweatpants and the shirts from the day before. however, anybody with half a brain cell knew that juniper alexander could not be caught dead without a bare minimum of mascara and moisturizer. she stood in the back of the line, absentmindedly playing with the end of her side braided hair and glancing over the others in the cafe, people watching being her favorite thing to do to pass the time in moments like these. 

[viclinists]

open starter.

– IT’S ONE DAY LATER. it’s one day after the masquerade and she’s having that dream again. it’s the same as it always is, only this time, the killer is in a mask, and she’s still running as fast as she can. in these dreams, she’s always running, and she wakes up in her bed in a cold sweat, panting. 

this time, she doesn’t wake up in her bed. 

she wakes up just outside the east wing, and for a moment, her nightmare seems real and she can’t stop herself from screaming because for a moment, she’s certain that she’s going to be killed, that this is it, and that these are her very last breaths. and then she catches it – it’s that nightmare again, and it takes a moment to calm herself down, catch her breath, and remind herself that everything’s fine. clad in only her underwear and t-shirt with dark circles under her eyes, no one would believe that this was a nighttime stroll. so, when she hears the footsteps of someone who probably heard her yell, she knows that there’s no point in lying entirely. 

“sorry, i was just – sleepwalking,” she mutters, “i’m fine, i’m leaving.” 

[masonhcrrison]

open starter !!

some people hated studying, keeping a nose in a book for hours and imprinting words into your mind with hopes that you’ll pass a test by the skin of your teeth. but not mason, he actually thrived off of this, the pressure to succeed that he had placed on himself. he had booked a study room, windows surrounding him and giving a gorgeous view of the storm that had decided to grace scotland that day. the desk in before him was scattered in papers, chicken scratch notes and open textbooks, pages worn from turning them over and over again. 

a knock on the door caught mason off guard, he wasn’t expecting anybody to try and bother him when he was elbow deep in work like this. but whoever it was probably had a good reason, at least he hoped. “it’s open!” he spoke loud enough for his visitor to hear over a crack of thunder from outside, not looking up at his book just yet. he still had to make sure that whoever was here was worth taking his precious time. 

[emmaawoodss-blog]

“Oh – A guy at the coffee shop in the town decided to harass me into giving him my phone number so I decided to give him your number. I don’t know what’s worse, him or the fact that I know your number by heart. Either way, I hope he enjoys sweet-talking his way into your heart instead of mine. You can thank me later.”

[laurelmattison]

Laurel loved giving campus tours, it was one of the few things that had carried over from her old life to her new life. She smiled as she said goodbye to a nice family that had stayed after the tour to ask questions, walking backwards--a habit she picked up from being a tour guide. Laurel was usually quite good at it, until today, when she found herself walking right back into someone, stumbling. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

[higgiins]

zephyr looked like a disaster.  he knew.  did he regret what he did? no. but this was one of the few times that he didn’t appreciate the stares -- because he didn’t want to explain why he got the bruises perched on his face.  he was sat outside one of his classes, waiting for the class before his to be released to he could go to his seat.  out of the corner of his eye, he watched feet approach him as he stared blankly down at his phone.  he wasn’t fooling anyone -- the screen was still dark. 

“yes, i’m okay, and i’d rather you didn’t ask, ‘what happened.’“ he said bluntly, finally looking up at the other.  his black eye had gone down to the point where the swelling was gone, but the black and blue ring still sat prominently around his eye socket.  the bruise from pierce was also present, the rest of the bruises lay hidden under his shirt.

[aiinsworths]

                  he didn’t want to be here. the music was FAR too loud for his headache-ridden, alcohol-laced brain, and even then, his heart just wasn’t in it to socialize with people. after greeting and chatting with the cromwells, he decided that it was ENOUGH for the night, at least for now. he needed some air. parker chose to use the sides of the room to try and make his escape, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he moved through the crowed. “shit, sorry!” he called out above the music as his shoulder barreled into someone – he swore the damned mask made things a lot fucking harder, and right on cue, the DELICATE black ribbon that held it gently bridged on his nose came undone, revealing his identity (not that it was particularly concealed well in the first place). “listen … um, if anyone asks, you didn’t see me, yeah?”

[margaret-vanzin-blog]

“You might not want to go out there alone.” Whoever had attacked Florence was still out there. Even just the thought of it made Maggie’s heart sink, thoroughly nauseated. And the police-- hadn’t they thought the knife was the same one that Quentin’s murderer used? Maggie tried to quell the trembling in her hands. “I-- I won’t tell you what to do, but-- wouldn’t it be best if everyone makes sure they’re always two-by-two?” she suggested tentatively. “Just in case...”