Jerry
Nine PM was Emerson's favorite time at the academy. The sun was mostly set and harsh lighting was replaced with a softer glow. She was able to sit in common areas with her knees pulled up to her chest, listen to music, and peoplewatch— she didn't even have to wear sunglasses in order to do so. If she wanted to stare, the whole world could know that she was staring.

This was her nightly ritual. She would sit in the same chair outside of the library, put her headphones on and turn the music almost all the way up, and think. Admittedly, she didn't do much productive thinking as the music drowned out any sound that could've even considered slipping into her head. Tonight she was listening to the Tangled soundtrack; it was a guilty pleasure. She knew she had to be tough and bold all the time and listening to Disney princess music was the opposite of that. Still, Tangled was one of her favorite movies. She couldn't deny herself a simple pleasure.

While she sat, Em found herself staring out the window with glassy eyes, completely zoned out from the world around her. With the way her face naturally tilted into a light scowl and a frown, it might've seemed like she was in deep contemplation, but the truth was that her head was completely devoid of thought. There was absolutely nothing going on up there.
Sarah
Mimir enjoys the night. Enjoys the shadows, the paranoia of the darkness, and the empty feeling of the world once the sun sets. To her, it's peace and it's calming. It's also a good time to cause problems. She will be the first to admit she *Likes* Starting shit, the attention makes her giddy and it always brings out parts of people she would have never seen otherwise. It's useful to cause problems. 

She clicks the mini flashlight in her hand absentmindedly, gloves tucked into the pocket of her sweater as she walks around the halls of the cradle, humming to herself as she turns the corner, only to be halted in her tracks. *Emerson.* Silently, she takes a couple steps back, out of sight once more. She looks down at the flashlight in her hand and hastily comes up with a plan, nodding to herself. 

This is how it would go:
1. Mimir would greet Emerson from the end of the hall. The flashlight would be in her pocket.
2. They would approach each other, of course. 
3. When Emerson gets close enough, she would do the flashlight trick. 
It's that easy!

And so, Mimir walks around the halls a little longer, only to appear on the other side of the library leading to the hallway, where she, once again, notices Emerson, who looks like she's still zoning out. So she waves, barking a greeting. 

"Evening."
Jerry
Mimir should've counted itself lucky that Em had her headphone on and blaring. While Mimir formulated its plan, she continued sitting and staring at absolutely nothing. She was unmoving, unblinking. She could've passed for a mannequin in poorly fitting clothing if it wasn't for the slow rise and fall of her chest. It was a stroke of luck that when Emerson finally blinked, she saw more in the reflection of the glass.

Looking like some sort of sleeper agent, Emerson stood up and approached Mimir with a neutral expression. While she walked, she paused her music and put the headphones around her neck.

"Mimir. What do you want?" If anyone else asked that question, they might've sounded rude. Instead, Em's monotonous voice allowed the question to be seen as more genuine— she truly hadn't seen Mimir around here at this time before and assumed that Mimir needed her for something.
Sarah
Mimir greets Emerson with an equally expressionless face, and their energy, for now, was matched. The two of them got along for a reason, even if their dms didn't quite come off that way. In fact, it quite enjoyed her attention, though, it would never admit that. 

They meet in the hallway, and Mimir is still, as if not wanting to disturb the air around them. Its hand were shoved in its sweater pockets, one holding the flashlight, the texture of the metal rubbing against her palm like sandpaper. 

If this were a western, the breeze would blow a tumbleweed past in the moments before it answers Emerson's question. In fact, it scoffs, a short breath of a laugh confirming that it knew the intention behind her words. 

"Why do I need to want something from you? Can't a girl just say hello?" It raises an eyebrow, leaning back a little. Like Emerson, its words could easily been seen as leering, hostile, even, but it knew she knew better. It rolls its shoulders before leaning back towards Emerson, as if it was swaying in some imaginary breeze. "I did want to test something... Look over here."

It pulls the flashlight out of its pocket before clicking it on, directly in Emerson's face.
Jerry
"This girl doesn't usually say hello. If you want to talk, that's fine." She half-shrugged. She stood stiff as a board with wide eyes looking up at Mimir. Emerson had that sort of tense energy when engaging with people out in the open— sometimes it would get better, other times her behavior continued to be what could be considered strange.

Mimir's distraction tactic didn't work because Em's first instinct was to furrow her brows and open her mouth to question it. Still, the light shined in her eyes before she could do anything to stop it.

Panic welled in her as the pain from the light seared her eyes. Without thinking, she extended a hand out and swatted up at Mimir's face to try and get it to *Stop*. In the moment, she couldn't see the way her nails extended into sharp points and the blood slowly welling at the base of her cuticles; she didn't feel the sharp pain as all of this happened. She could only feel the throbbing, disorienting pain from the light shining into her sensitive eyes.

Something that Emerson physically couldn't see was how, before she closed her eyes, her pupils seemed to glow as the beam hit them in the dim room.