[center][h1][color=FFC0CB]Poetry Bluebell Carolina Sundance[/color][/h1] [img]http://67.media.tumblr.com/b14ecb1df4ae2491f1b60fae704270f7/tumblr_inline_ngv7fgi6Eo1rcrg0y.gif[/img] [img]http://static1.1.sqspcdn.com/static/f/800669/17789662/1334984449813/divider-line-2.png?token=pMnZdHtg%2FwXOcqzaP14rzigTuNU%3D[/img] [hider=Mood Music][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CmcnWQ-754[/youtube][/hider] Lᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: The First Day Festival - Ferris Wheel Iɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs: Blakey Boy [@MechonRaptor] and Mellow-Maeve [@TheIrishJJ] [img]http://static1.1.sqspcdn.com/static/f/800669/17789662/1334984449813/divider-line-2.png?token=pMnZdHtg%2FwXOcqzaP14rzigTuNU%3D[/img][/center] [indent]Poetry grinned from ear to ear, the ferris wheel had been just as amazingly beautiful as she had hoped it to be.[/indent] And riding with Blake in the middle, her new friend Meave on the other side of him? Why it was just perfect. A sugar-sweet memory filtered through sunlight and bubbly cheerfulness. The trio of them, almost touching the sky, it was a wonderful way to start off the school year and celebrate the leaving summer with a last free spirited cheer. Though perhaps it was only her who thought this way. Most kids their age were less than optimistic about starting school again. Even if it was their first year high school, school was school, and everyone was either gloomy or ecstatic. Well, she'd always be one to count under ecstatic. Especially after spending the day with friends. [center]_________________________________________________ [/center] Dᴀᴛᴇ: Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, Tᴜᴇsᴅᴀʏ 8ᴛʜ. Lᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: Going to school >>>>> First Day Iɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs: Nathaniel [@MechonRaptor] and class A pale mass of curls, carelessly sleeping with one leg over the side of her bed and an arm dangling over her head, the morning started off thusly. Soft breathy 'snores' drifted through the darkened morning just before being thrown to the wayside by the sudden jolting music of the radio by the bed. Her snores snuffled into the pillow and she hit her snooze button, rolling over in bed. But as she did so her mother's hand ruffled her hair. And with a gentle word from her mother, Poetry got up, rubbing her eyes sleepily. But as she sat up and looked around, she began to grin slowly, dreamily at first, then giving into excitement. Rushing through her room, she pulled on her [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/40/92/eb/4092eb93656ecbaa9f7bddf29985dd49.jpg]clothes[/url]. Running a brush through wild pale curls, the mass was tamed into its usual delicate tendrils, styled simple so it'd stay out of the way, and checked twice, just to make sure nothing looked funky. Running downstairs, she almost ran over her grandmother, who was bringing down laundry. Through the hall, with shouted apologies, Poetry rushed to he kitchen table. Breakfast was waiting, and she gratefully gobbled it down. Being told to slow down didn't help. And once her teeth were brushed, hair checked once more and bag sat waiting by the door, she fell backwards onto the couch. She still had ten minutes till her dad would drive her. Poetry took the time to look her schedule over once more. [center] ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 𝕊𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕝𝕖 1) Homeroom - Mrs. Wayne 2) Freshman English - Mr. Fridley 3) Freshman Science - Mr. Shmiddt 4) Lunch - Lunch Lady Sue 5) Freshman Math - Mrs. Kordos 6) Freshman Social Studies - Mrs. Ford 7) Choir/Band/Art - Mr & Mrs. Porter 8) Homeroom - Mrs. Wayne [/center] How busy.... ______________________ Finally getting to school, Poetry, who was hardly ever late, was among the few to arrive first. Mrs. Wayne's homeroom seemed welcoming enough, though the gloomy sky outside was less than welcoming. With the teacher greeting everyone at the door, Poetry beamed and handed her the Queen Anne's Lace flower she had been holding onto for such occasion. Sitting in a seat at the center of the room, she wiggled excitedly in her seat. Examining the paper, the pale haired girl in blue and orange grinned. She did as instructed and folded one paper in half. Writing her name in scrawling letters, soon she had it decorated it flowers, birds, sketches of pretty food, stars, and colored it all with her own twenty four set of markers. Attendance was called and Poetry ignored the small giggle the rose up over her name. She was used to people finding it odd, but her face flushed just a bit, not used to the school setting. She had been homeschooled after all. The second paper made her wince. Carefully she tore it up into neat sections, then into delicate pieces, till it was just a snow-like hill on her desk. Looking down at the torn up paper, she winced and shrank into her seat. Violence wasn't something she liked to think about, even if it was metaphorical or emotional. Hearing about the game, she relaxed. Poetry raised her hand, letting it snake-dance up into the air when no one else made a move to guess the lie. She straightened her back and gave the boy, Nathaniel, a warm and gentle smile. Her honey smooth voice slipped through the air like a lullaby. "I believe that the lie might be that you swim," she grinned.