[b][color=0054a6]Maksim[/color][/b]

The school day was finally over, the halls were swarming with students making their way to their respective clubs and dorms. The lanky frame slowly made his way through the crowd, hugging the wall as a sort of guide to his destination; the destination being, as usual, the art room. Quite sure he was halfway there, Maksim's commute was interrupted. The obnoxious barking being drove into his ears like a jackhammer grabbed what little attention Maksim was willing to pay, turning towards the sound, he realized he was starring at a pair of long flesh colored sticks. 
[i]"Oh, legs. Right."[/i]
 Who did the legs belong to though? Slowly scanning upward, discovering a large patch of lilac in his vision, Maksim made a deduction.
[i]“How could I forget the deafening shout of Miss Tasabara?”[/i]

Surprised he could actually hear himself think over the deafening shout, Maksim paused for a moment, just checking to hear if anything of interest was being announced.

[color=purple]"Know this, you only live once!”[/color]

Nope. He already knew there would be positively nothing of interest in this pep talk. Other than, of course, watching the fuzzy purple form sway through his vision; which apparently was enough to keep Maksim’s attention. Thinking up ways to replicate the shapes he was seeing with clay was enough to block out the sound, the boy had a talent for this, really. Eventually, the purple descended, and something a bit less poignant rose. 
[i]“Silver...Silver... Perhaps... The swordsmen? Yes.”[/i]

Interest in sound dropped even further, and eventually, so did what little sight Maksim could make out. Making his way back down the barely memorized path to the creative sanctuary, Maksim could heard what he could only assume would have been an ‘under the breath’ comment, if only the SCP knew how to accomplish whispering.

[color=0054a6]"Hello, Miss Tasabara. Did I miss an act of compliance?"[/color]

He turned towards what he could only assume was the girl’s face, perhaps a few inches off in either direction. Hooded lids blocking any light to hit the deep blues, making his empty expression seem a bit more lifeless than even usual. Although he did intend to be joking, his delivery was... flat.