[u][b]Percival[/b][/u]
[b]Location:[/b] Art History Class 
[b]Mentions:[/b] None
[b]Interactions:[/b] Open

The professor droned on, and Perci continued to barely pay attention. He started doodling on his page. He was thinking of a logo for his new band. Still didn’t have a name, but he wanted something that reflected their sound. He wasn’t entirely sure what their sound was, but he played drums and did the occasional writing.

A sudden commotion from a group of students to his right snapped Perci out of thought. He looked over, ears twitching to listen to what they were saying. It took a minute of prying, but he was able to gather that a fight was starting in the cafeteria. How immature... Perci rolled his eyes and picked his pencil back- but then his phone vibrated. He got a text. In most classes, he wouldn’t check his phone, but the lock screen preview read “HEY DIPSHIT”. 

Perci clicked on it, quickly entering his 4 digit passcode. The message was from the one and only Fenzi, a fuzzy American lop rabbit he knew since freshman year. They were in the band together, too. He quickly skimmed her messages. They were about the fight. Why the fuck was he messaging him about this?

Then he saw it. She sent him a video and said “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”. Perci was now curious. He made sure his phone was muted before pressing play. He saw three figures standing, the most slender of the two wedging themselves between them, arms raised to keep them apart. Perci didn’t know what they were saying since he kept the volume off. One of the figures, which he could now tell to be some sort of large ape, grabbed the middle person. Fenzi, who was taking the video, zoomed in. It was a maned wolf. The only maned wolf he’d seen in school was Marcello. Just then the ape swung at the wolf, who he assumed to be Marcello. The video ended.

Then it made sense, Fenzi was the only one he told about Marcello. Perci now felt sick to his stomach. His brow furrowed as he texted Fenzi. “Is he okay?” He then waited for a response.

Meanwhile, in the Cafeteria…

Marcello wasn’t sure what happened, but his entire muzzle stung. He was lying on the cafeteria’s cold tile floor, winded. His face was scrunched together, and he covered his nose with his hands. He could feel and taste blood. That fucking monkey just punched him on this nose! He let out a whine as he sat upright. A small crowd had now gathered around him and the assailant.

“What the hell, man?!” He barked, still seething.