It was all over. Ruined. Busted. Her dress would never be finished. She threw herself dramatically over the couch, silent tears of stress welling up in her eyes. There was a dance coming up! One she likely couldn't attend, but a dance nevertheless, and every dance needs a new dress. It was almost innapropriate to not debut a dress at such an event. Yet, here she was. Cold and alone. Sewing machine broken. Life. Over.
After an innapropriate amount of nonperishable food and television, Kanaya recieved a call from the office. Reprimanding tones rung through her ears, and she flushed as she was informed of the monitering of time spent watching television. It took more than a few deep breaths before she could eloquently summon up a response that not only portrayed the drama of the day, but didnt make her look like a fool.
It took a few more deep breaths before the caller becan chuckling, and no mor than two seconds before Kanaya Maryam felt bile and indignation rise inside of her. Luckily for the assistant delegated to calling students, they knew of where she might get the expertise needed to fix her sewing machine, if she could only haul it there. The mechanics shop in the main building, where many students gather to tinker or create or learn how to turn robots into their army. Also, they stopped laughing soon enough.
With a click of her heels, it almost seemed like she hadn't lugged a 20 pound machine through too many hallways to count, and she had appeared at the doorway in no time at all. Almost. It was a little early, she certainly hoped the door was unlocked.