<div style="background-color:#000000; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i.imgur.com/TmGz3p5.png">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>_________________________________________</div><br/><br/><table width="100%"><tr><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-right:10px;">Comfortable atop her bed, watching as the other girls in her room got ready, she hummed quietly to herself, the brush running through her already-smoothed tresses in absentminded fashion. Each girl had made friends with the others since first year, with her being the odd one out, but she didn’t mind, though. It gave her time to observe them, to watch as they gossiped, discussing classes they had that day and who they had their eyes on.<br/><br/>Before her, on the wrinkled sheets of her bed amid the pile of books she had strewn about, was a cracked handheld mirror that she’d occasionally check her reflection in. Others had shunned the idea of keeping the mirror, let alone hanging around with the girl responsible for years of bad luck, but she thought it added character. “If you can survive seven years of bad luck and come out on the other side unscathed, you can survive anything,” was her motto along with, “go with your gut instinct and never deny yourself an indulgence”. More often than not, she earned herself funny looks, humming to herself as she scribbled something in a journal, or doodled mental notes for herself later, but she paid them no mind.<br/><br/>Or…perhaps it was her hair. A glance in that cracked mirror gave her a glimpse of what the rest of the world saw. Though her eyes were large, doe-eyed and dark, her hair was another story. A tragic transfiguration accident that turned into a silver lining, her hair had refused to go back to its normal shade on one side of her head. Some made fun of her for it, but she thought it gave her that little extra something. At present, it was blonde, the other side black, reminiscent of a younger “Cruella de Vil” with better taste. And, though that taste was squelched by the insistence of a uniform, that didn’t mean she didn’t keep pieces of herself with her at all times, and her hair was just another extension of that.<br/><br/>The other girls left the room, leaving her to her own devices to hum and dance about to herself as she got dressed, the white shirt pulled on and tucked into her skirt. Her tie, a little loose for most of the professor’s liking, dangled about her neck and her usual sweater was atop it. Knee highs pulled on and feet slipped into two shoes (whichever happened to find her first, not necessarily matching but such was life), and she gave herself a final look in the mirror.<br/><br/>With a frown, she eyed her hair and decided that, just this once, she’d wear it up in a single bun. Wrapped about itself over and over until it was neat atop the crown of her head, she secured it with a bow of golden yellow and deemed herself “normal” enough for breeching society that day. Yes, her shoes didn’t match but the rest of her was in order. Her usual necklace was about her neck and a bracelet was tucked beneath the sleeve of her sweater, one she often played with, but there she was. <span style="font-style: italic">Have at me, world!</span><br/><br/>What she hadn’t anticipated was how much time had flown in between her morning routine, her time allotted to get to breakfast and her time to get to her first class: Defense Against the Dark Arts.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Oops?</span></td><td style="vertical-align: top; width:50%; padding-left:10px;">With a bit of a skip to her step, a pep that most didn’t exhibit until the day was one and they were on their way to common rooms to relax for the rest of the day—or on their way to a Quidditch match; anything not school-related—she made her way to the great hall where she had just enough time to grab a biscuit and some tea. With a lackadaisical smile pulling at the corners of her soft pink lips, she meandered her way down the halls, up the shifting stair cases and through more and more halls. A few ghosts were spotted along the way, like Nearly Headless Nick out for a jaunt, greeting her with a tip of his head as was their usual morning routine. The portrays waved to her and she waved back, smiling broadly as she started to skip, the last of the students disappearing into door after door until she finally reached the top of the tower where her class was to be held.<br/><br/>As luck would have it, she was the last to arrive, every other seat filled as their professor gave her a wary look having just made the mark for being on time, sliding into the seat next to a familiar face, giving him a smile and taking her books out, quill and ink at the ready. Her wand, a little knobby compared to some but as strong as the rest, lay at the top of the table, at the ready.<br/><br/><span style="color: #7E3786"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Good morning, Kieran,”</span></span> Dacia greeted him with her usual smile, popping the last bite of her biscuit into her mouth to chew on it thoughtfully as the sound of Professor Aboloft’s voice rang out through the room. Where it was little more than an introduction to what they’d be learning that day, she turned her attention to the boy seated beside her. While they’d not had much of a rapport, she didn’t see what the fuss was with his reputation, going out of her way to greet him even if she got nothing but the silent treatment in return. He was moodier than most of the girls in her dormitory, and that suited her just fine. It kept things interesting.<br/><br/>His otherwise closed off demeanor did little to deter her as she gave him another smile and turned her attention to the front once more. An assignment up on the board, a set of pages to read from their book before putting it to practice, she hummed lightly to herself, a finger playing with the cool of the silver wrapped about her wrist, foot tapping on the leg of her chair as she swayed to and fro in time with the melody beneath her breath. One cleared throat in her general vicinity earned them a dreamy sort of look, but all it served to do was get her to hum a little quieter. <br/><br/><span style="color: #7E3786"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I think this will be easy, don’t you?”</span></span> she whispered conspiratorily to the boy seated next to her. <span style="color: #7E3786"><span style="font-weight: bold">“I was hoping they’d teach us something more…involved at this level. Is it so wrong to want to know how to pierce an ear or even remove it if one so desired?”</span></span> That same dreamy look remained attached to her features, before shrugging, not really waiting for his answer as she wasn’t sure she’d get one anyway. But, if they ended up having to practice, she’d try to bridge the gap and hope for the best. Otherwise, it’d be a long class period.<br/><br/>For him. A long class period, for him.</td></tr></table><br/><div style="text-align: center;">_________________________________________<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i.imgur.com/3uVbDw6.png">[ img ]</a></div></div>