(kk)
After traveling for a little bit into the woods, Annabella finally felt she had searched long enough for the day, and turned to start making her way back to the town so that she wouldn't be late for her classes at the college. Only, when she did turn, she spotted someone out of the corner of her eyes and spotted a young man with black shaggy hair just a little ways away, wearing clothes that were definitely not suitable for the cold winter weather outside. Not only that, but this side of the forest was supposed to belong o the college, only to be used for the research done by zoology majors. She knew almost all the zoology majors in the small college, and, as far as she knew, this man was not a zoology major.She blinked in surprise and slowly stepped forward, "Um...excuse me. Are you lost? These woods are only supposed to be for the zoology students at Carson University. If you would like, I can lead you back to the town." She asked, though it was somewhat quietly.

Something about this boy didn't seem exactly....right. He was dark and brooding. And didn't seem like he very much enjoyed the fact she had noticed him out int he woods. It made her wonder slightly what he had been up to. Hopefully not hunting, as that could very well disrupt the wild life research she and the other students have been doing for the past few weeks. She took a few more steps forward, being careful to keep her distance in case this man really was up to no good, "What....are you doing out here anyway?"

---

Conner grinned as he walked onto the campus and toward the art halls. It had been pretty tough when he first started college to figure out what exactly he wanted his major be. After all, he loved art, music, writing, acting, and any other fine arts one could think of. But art was the one he was better at. He loved to paint and sketch. It was like bringing the images in his head to life. It allowed him to express himself the way he wanted to without worrying about the judgement from his peers. It was the greatest thing to be able to do. He had been doing it all his life too, so he was rather good at it, just as he was with all the other types of fine arts. 

He grinned more as he stepped into class and took his seat, taking out his sketchbook. He began to sketch, a huge smile on his face.
(Sorry conner's is short.)