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[color=black][b]“AAAHHH!”[/b][/color] A cascade of ecstatic sound, more akin to an orchestral crescendo than a scream, burst from Hanna's lungs. It was a siren's call of pure, unfettered bliss that echoed around the room at the prospect of carpooling. [color=black][b]“What do you mean 'not exciting'?!”[/b][/color] she rebuked, eyes shining brighter than a supernova. [color=black][b]“This is the best thing ever so far!”[/b][/color] She chimed in unison with the pulsating music in the background. Hanna's hands came together, a blur of motion, palms meeting in a series of rapid-fire claps interspersed with peculiar smudging motions as though she were sculpting the very joy in the air.

Hanna giggled all the way to the car. Each sound escaping her presence formed a melody of disproportionate exhilaration. Like an eager child on Christmas morning, she flitted along, her footfalls punctuating the evening with their rhythmic beat, arm in arm with Ivy. Every so often, Hanna's head glanced over her shoulder, eyes darting to ensure nobody was left behind. It was an odd paranoia, one borne of alcohol's whispering shadows, that saw her vigilantly guarding her flock like a shepherdess guiding her bleating charges to safer pastures. [color=black][b]“Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun,”[/b][/color] Hanna chanted, her voice a wind chime caught in a playful breeze. The phrase became a mantra, the soundtrack to her impromptu sprint toward the car. It was the prize at the end of her dash -- the passenger seat door was her golden ticket, and she was the excited kid ready to claim her ride in the chocolate factory.

As the car approached the familiar school grounds, Hanna was confronted by an onslaught of memories that flooded her consciousness, much like an unexpected tidal wave crashing onto a tranquil beach. The familiarity of the school grounds invoked a nostalgia that held both the sweet melancholy of a sepia-toned photograph and the sharp sting of an old wound infected with cringe -- much like a horror movie that one watches between split fingers. Her deep-sea dive into the fathomless depths of her memory was abruptly halted by Ivy's call to motion.

[color=black][b]“Come on, guys, let's go!”[/b][/color] Hanna's voice shrieked through the confined space of the vehicle, akin to an air raid siren wailing through the echoing canyons of a deserted city, its intensity amplified by the alcohol she had imbibed earlier. Stepping out of the car, the short saunter to the heart of the football field was a temporal paradox, an uncanny experience that felt both as fleeting as a butterfly's flight and as enduring as a solar eclipse. Hanna's world spun on its axis, not quite a vertiginous whirl, but enough to keep her unsteady. A straight path was navigable as long as Ivy remained her sturdy companion, arms together. As Ivy, the dusky Aphrodite, prepared to address their small party, Hanna raised a cautioning finger to her lips. She released a drawn-out shush, her exaggerated theatricality rendering her as comical as a mime performing in the park. An impish grin danced upon her face, one that mimicked the vacant euphoria of a marionette, oblivious to the strings that pulled her along.

As inevitable as the rising sun, Hanna's emotional dam splintered at the height of Ivy's heartfelt soliloquy. Tears, the shimmering ambassadors of her overwhelming sentiment, welled up in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over in a deluge of raw emotion. Her hands fluttered before her face, a futile dance of denial akin to a hummingbird's vain attempt to repel an impending storm. It was the raw sincerity and unadulterated authenticity in Ivy's delivery that truly unraveled Hanna's emotional composure. Yet, guilt played its part too, a gnawing sense of shared responsibility for any hiccups during their tenure at Ritman that haunted her like an inescapable specter.

[color=black][b]“Lucas is right,”[/b][/color] Hanna concurred, her voice shaking like an autumn leaf caught in crosswinds. Her words bore the weight of unwavering conviction. [color=black][b]“It's not your fault, babe. It was the school and its bureaucratic circus that failed us.”[/b][/color] Amidst her cathartic release, Hanna sought to regain her composure. With the grace of an eraser wiping clean a chalk-smeared board, she brushed away the errant tears that had streaked down her cheeks. These were the tears that had broken free from the confines of her glistening eyes, brave explorers charting a course down the contours of her face.

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[sup][color=black][b]█  [sup]   [/sup]#1.01 WAY DOWN WE GO[/b][/color]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xKIUKtr_uc][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/588109950006329429/1082586783436525618/image.png[/img][color=a9a9a9]すてきな[/color][/url][/sup]
[indent][sup][color=d3d3d3]p. johnson's [color=black]▸[/color] ritman high football field
interacting with: Ivy/[@Salsa Verde] Lucas/[@Mao Mao][/color][/sup][/indent][center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/824488408562794527/970459343667494932/unknown.png[/img][/center][sub][color=#2e2c2c]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/color][/sub][/cell][/row][/table]