Octavia first noticed the utter silence. It was the lack of familiar music or even chatter that made her open her eyes and look around the classroom. Technically not empty; there were desks and chairs after all. But she seemed to be the only person. Strange. Her school - wait, this wasn't her high school. Was it Orion Academy? She knew she was supposed to be attending there, and this room seemed unfamiliar. Especially the metal plates. She drummed her fingers on the desk mindlessly. She didn't think the school was that big, that there was one classroom per student. But then where was everyone? Even the halls sounded devoid of footsteps and teen gossip. 

And speaking of sound, her violin! She twisted in her seat to find the black case and, in the process, sent a pamphlet drifting down onto it. Both grateful for the paper source and curious, she picked it up and read it. Well....she frowned briefly. That seemed rude. She quickly wiped the expression off her face. Maybe the writer merely had a bad sense of humor? She creased the pamphlet along its midsection and heaved her case onto her desk. Undoing the clasps showed, yes, her instrument, along with the papers and pen, were intact. She lifted the lid up further, tucking the paper under the violin, and pulled out the bow. That felt better. She re-secured the clasps and, bow over her shoulder, case handle in her other hand, got up from her seat and left the classroom.

The halls seemed perfectly well-lit and clean, so it didn't look like the school was abandoned. Hopefully, she'd find others at the entryway. Maybe they could tell her what was going on. If they were friendly, anyways. What if they weren't? What if they intended to hurt her?

She rapidly dismissed the thought. They had their chance when putting her into that room. She was likely-

Something slammed into her case, and she fell over, bow tossed away to prevent breakage, a moving weight on top of her. She struggled, trying to push it off, as a voice stammered; the weight finally slipped off, and a person sat next to her. 

"Well, fancy running into you here." The person smiled, and she returned the expression. He (or she? The voice didn't strike her as terribly feminine, nor did the flat-chested suit, but the hips and hair were something else) got up to a kneeling position and offered her his hand. "You're not hurt, are you?" Octavia shook her head and grabbed his hand; they both stood together. He let her go to retrieve her bow. "So, who are you anyways?" He had his hands on his hips and, Octavia now realized, his own copy of the pamphlet neatly tucked into a shirt pocket. She swept her bow in the direction of the entryway, and he stared. "What?"

This was going to be tough.

She continued walking, and soon heard the footsteps of the odd stranger not far behind. Admittedly, there was some comfort in not being alone, even if it was with someone she didn't know. The entryway....didn't seem far now. She pushed open the doors, and held them open for the person behind her. He picked up the edges of his jacket, curtsied, and passed through. Maybe 'he' wasn't appropriate...