[img]https://i.imgur.com/7WR18s7.png[/img]


A breath escaped Andromeda before she realized that she had been holding one in, fogging up the lower portion of the piece of metal that she had been holding up. Annoyed, Andromeda wiped away the condensation with a hand before giving one last once-over of the object.

She was camped out in the small common area just outside the building where her last class had been held. The area was only partially paved over, and a few intermittently planted trees that looked twice as old as she was provided shade from the sun above. It was quaint, and had looked rather inviting. Emphasis on the [i]had[/i]. Up until the point where Andromeda claimed half the place as her own and then decided that it needed a new look. Numerous dark purple pieces of armor were scattered across the grass in a radius around her, forming a proverbial metallic minefield to dissuade people from coming too close. There was a sort of method to the madness, as the parts got smaller and smaller as they approached her spot where she ruled the area from beneath the largest of the trees. There she sat, cross-legged on her throne of dirt and grass, with her back to the trunk, as she inspected the part in her hand; which appeared to be a magazine; like some sort of monarch.

Andromeda's classes were done for the day, her time technically free for use however she saw fit. She should've been reading up on her subjects, or maybe getting started on the work that had been assigned, like a good student would. Though at this moment, Andromeda felt no inclination to be a good student, or put herself to sleep intentionally, her classes had done that easy enough earlier. Still, it made her fidgety to just sit around and [i]do nothing[/i], so in an attempt to do something at least partially productive with her time, or at least something she could convince herself was productive, Andromeda had broken out her armor and found a place to field-strip it.

It was armor now, Andromeda had made a point to keep it as such. In part because she had no intention of making her life harder by lugging around the hunk of metal when it was a giant cannon, and because it made her look slightly less insane than if she had been brandishing around an overt weapon through the academy. Not that it mattered now, pulled apart into a multitude of parts laid out around her as it was. Not the most ideal place to take it apart, nor the cleanest, but there was more than enough room to do so.

No one had really stopped her anyway, or gone out of their way to navigate their way over to her, not that Andromeda totally would have noticed it anyway, what with the suitably distracting music playing from her scroll. If the barely rhythmic noise could be called music, it was just loud enough to be pretty much the only thing she could hear, but not so much that it was completely annoying a few paces away.

Satisfied, Andromeda placed the magazine back in the depression in the grass where she had picked it up from, before turning around in her spot to grab her scroll from where she had propped it up on one of the tree's gnarled roots, and then laying down herself in the grass. She maneuvered around a moment, having inadvertently stabbed herself in the back with a piece of the armor, before holding her scroll up to see if anyone had tried to contact her in the meantime.

[color=magenta][i]Woo, being productive.[/i][/color]