It's truly amazing how strong balls of yarn actually are.

Rolled about, pounced on, viciously attacked, yet somehow they keep their simple structure attached and just keep rolling on. Quite admirable really, tough and resilient against the unforgiving attacks from the relentless balls of fur. Their numbers knew no bounds, at least a dozen. Was it a dozen? No, just less. Aoife didn't care, kittens were kittens and kittens were delightful, little godsends. Three of the more sleepy beasts were perched in her lap, purring contentedly as she tried to hand out an equal amount of cuddling. "You're the most adorable." She announced, accompanied by a childish squeak as she pulled one of the kittens up to inspect it - much to its discontent.

It was quickly discarded back to its place on her lap as she lifted the next one. "No, you're definitely adorable-er." Grinning, she let it meow in complaint before letting out a high-pitched squeak. "Oh no, you're the adorable-est." Her words fell on deaf ears as the third kitten tried to roll from her lap before she mercilessly scooped it up into her arms. "Oh yes you are, oh yes you are." She mumbled, scratching its belly before the room fell away.

Aoife's features scrunched up in minor annoyance as she was snapped from her dreams about kittens by rolling from her bed, again. [i]You need to seriously invest in some guard rails Aoife... and possibly a cat.[/i] With a groggy look on her face, she rose to her feet, dusting herself off and stretching. "Well I'm up now." She yawned, moving out into the main living space of the apartment that she shared with the Russian girl. Apparently there was some barbeque on the day before but she wasn't exactly available; more like on the other side of the Atlantic in a last-ditch effort to convince her father that America wasn't really the place for her. She preferred the green hills of her mother's homeland anyway.

It wasn't until seven o'clock the night previous that she had arrived at her apartment and barely managed to make it to her room, completely devoid of any energy. The jet lag had took her nearly-perfect sleeping schedule and shook it about before unceremoniously dumping it all over the floor. Maybe that's why she was unknowingly changing into her running gear for her 'morning jog' at two o'clock in the morning - Aoife's mind didn't really work at optimum efficiency whenever she was half-asleep. Pulling her hair into a half-assed pony tail, she got a drink of water before leaving the apartment and following a long corridor until she came to an exit, of sorts. She was surprised she even got that far, her mind had been a bit hazy the night before and directions to bed were the only thing on her mind.

Her first thoughts when she left the building was that it was surprisingly cold to be six o'clock in the morning and it was almost definitely too dark to be six. So, she quickly came to the decision that it really wasn't six o'clock in the morning. Afraid to upset anymore of her routine, she returned to the apartment with a dark demeanour. If anyone was awake then they'd probably stay out of her way but lucky for her, no teenage girl in their sane mind would wake up at two o'clock in the morning and go for a jog. [i]I need a coffee.[/i] Groaning, she tried to figure out the contents of the kitchen before she realised that they had no instant coffee. [i]My life is the worst.[/i]

Aoife gave up on finding anything caffeine-related very quickly and headed back to her room, fetching her laptop to try and reduce the levels of her boredom. This proved to be a harder task than it sounded but before long she was too tired to care what it was she was doing. At 6.00 she decided to head for a shower, half climbing in and half falling in as she started it and let the cold water race down her. It succeeded in waking her up a little, which was good. She pulled herself from the shower then, shaking violently as she wrapped a heavy towel around herself.

In hindsight, Aoife was quite glad that she made the decision to put some underwear on due to the fact that as soon as she left the room her roommate was staring right at her. The first things her mind processed were how tall the Russian was and the fact that she had made her breakfast. This was quickly followed by a furious amount of blushing as she realised she was half-naked. Normally, Aoife wouldn't have even cared what state of undress she was in front of people but the Russian wasn't exactly normal. She looked like someone who could rip you apart with her pinky yet had a look that screamed, 'Puppies!'.

[i]Acquaintance or enemy?[/i] Her mind buzzed rapidly before she finally made a decision. "Hello." Her voice was a little questioning but firm as she moved forward, analysing the plate. It really did smell delicious but Aoife knew that the very first interactions between them would form a basis for her entire relationship with her roommate. [i]Survival of the fittest Aoife.[/i] She reminded herself, taking a seat as she looked at the plate. "Thanks, I suppose."

[i]Thanks, I suppose!? Aoife, you're such an idiot![/i]

"I'm Aoife by the way." She chattered, not exactly looking for a conversation but making her mind up that this other girl could be quite helpful. She looked like she could easily bench a few hundred pounds and that was something Aoife could use. Ugh, [i]use[/i]. She rally hated that word. She wasn't necessarily using them, she was just extracting their natural uses. The time it took to eat that egg and toast was possibly the longest of her life and she was glad she could escape to her room to get dressed finally.

Fast forward a few hours and she was fighting an uphill-battle in trying to keep herself awake; it was just so [i]boring[/i]. She had nestled herself somewhere near the back between a few tall people so she had the perfect camouflage to take a little mid-morning nap. Judging by the reactions of the students afterwards, she guessed that sleeping through most of that was probably the best idea. This really wasn't the best beginning to her new life at Caelbury.

It seemed that her father's secretaries were a lot more organised than her. Her books were all in her bag and her schedule had somehow found its way to her pocket. She had everything she needed but had no idea where she was going, at all. The old building was like a labyrinth of corridors, interlacing and firing off into random directions. Finally she gave up trying and just kept following someone who seemed to know what they were doing. They had read out at the end of assembly that she'd have Mr Zimmerman taking home room; Aoife guessed this was some American variation of form classes. She was proven right when the student guided her the entire way to the room. Taking a seat, she laid her head down on the end of the desk, closing her eyes and hoping to get a little more sleep.

---

[i]I am not going to be late. I am not going to be late. I am not going to be late.[/i]

Luke's mind replayed this very phrase over and over again until every fibre of his being got the memo that Luke wasn't going to be late for his first day in a school that gave him some good opportunities in life. Not only that but in a school full of geniuses and extremely gifted people, he had to at least look like he could read a clock.

His typical morning regime would involve him either being shouted at to wake up or waking up whenever his body felt like it. This would then be followed by a healthy dosage of checking his social media accounts and Tumblr. After this, he would rise up from bed looking like he was something from The Exorcist, before taking a coffee with enough spoonfuls of insta-coffee that it could probably raise the dead. Once this was done he would shower and force down a bowl full of Cheerios as he readied himself for the day. This somehow worked perfectly for him, even though it caused him to be late for nearly everything that was morning-based.

No. Luke had to change all of the above to make sure that he did well here.

So that's how he found himself - dragging his comatose body from bed with a deep groan as he forbade himself from postponing the alarm and giving his body a merciful rest. With a deep resenting grunt, he hit his foot on one of the legs of a table as he hopped about, desperately trying not to curse whatever god that had condemned him to such a cruel fate. As the pain gradually subsided, he moved to his wardrobe and extracted his uniform like it was the holy grail of all uniforms. Finally, he washed up, took his breakfast and dressed; ready for the day at hand.

Luke traced his way towards the building before following the deep throng of students towards the assembly hall. He honestly had no idea what he was doing and his shy exterior caused him to look a little off as he walked amongst the babbling masses of students. Finally, he found himself seated in the assembly hall, having to listen to various teachers go on about different things. The highlight of course being able to listen to Acacia Hawthorne. [i]That girl is too hot for her own good.[/i]

Shaking his head drew him from his thoughts as he listened intently to who would be taking him for homeroom. Luke didn't even try to remember who Mr Pierce was, the barbeque the night before had been such a blur of activity; whether it was trying to actively avoid bumping into people or trying to make at least one friend, Luke was too busy to care about teachers. He didn't even succeed either, everyone else were catching up with friends and any others simply looked like they really didn't want to talk.

The trek to his homeroom wasn't a particularly hard one, he quickly located someone who he knew was the same age of him. That someone being famous actress, Catherine Sinclair. He knew she was the same age as him because he developed a bit of a celebrity crush on her after watching one of her films. Following the star, he found his way to the homeroom that he would be stuck in for every morning of his year at Caelbury. He looked around, not really noticing anything that caught his eye as he took a seat somewhere in the middle, he didn't want to look like he had to desire to socialise.