Octavia was horribly, horribly late. It was not the cliche 'late for school with toast in your mouth' thing (for she had found her way to the school quite easily and had awoken at a reasonable hour), but she was late for the occult club's first meeting after the school day had ended. Well, it couldn't really be helped considering that this was her first day at a new school. These things were bound to happen, but that didn't excuse it from being terribly rude of her.

She stood in front of the shut door of classroom 2-A, where the occult club was supposedly meeting. She heard what sounded like shouting for a second, and waited for things to calm down a little before she going in.

[i]"Ah, the occult club members certainly are passionate. As expected of such a strange and interesting meeting of characters."[/i]

And then, suddenly, there was a profound silence. This was her cue. Octavia opened the door, prepared to stride in with the grace and elegance befitting of a young lady, when she got nailed in the face by a stapler.

"FUCK," she cried out, hissing and holding her forehead. She was prepared for assassins and kidnappers. She had protocols. But she wasn't prepared for [i]that[/i].

"God dammit, shit!"

Octavia stumbled into the room and slammed her back against the wall, howling in pain as she held her forehead. Her entire 'proper young lady' persona crumbled around her as she cursed the way her father taught her. The Texas way.