There's something soothing about drowning. At least Mortimer thought so. As she stared out at the dark ocean depths, devoid of fish and men alike, she felt a calming sense of solitude. There wasn't a living thing in sight. While most might resent loneliness and its cold grip on the heart, Mortimer embraced it. The salty water filled her mouth and lungs, taking away her ability to breathe. In that moment, she gave up her humanity, and became one with the ocean. And, as her eyes began to slide shut and she began to lose consciousnesses, she felt at peace. She felt happy. She felt free...
Mortimer jolted from her sleep as the carriage she rode in hit a bump in the road. She was dazed for a moment, before taking a moment to gather herself. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Her father's royal carriage was much smaller than the one she was in, and the terrain she saw out her window wasn't the familiar seaside kingdom she was used to. Then her memory came back to her. Her father was sending her to a school to make her more fit to be a princess. She wasn't completely sure why though. He had his son, Mortimer's younger half brother, to take the throne, and, with her conditions, it wasn't like she'd be the first choice to marry off. It didn't really matter why, Mortimer thought. She was going whether she liked it or not. And she certainly did not.
She pulled herself from thought and tore her eyes from the window onto her spiral notebook, which was opened up to an unfinished sketch, a little something that Mortimer had been working on before she fell asleep. It depicted a copy of Fairytalia Academy, as shown in the brochures, only with a few additions. Surrounding the school was a large fence, the top of which was barbwire, along with numerous guard towers with spotlights and snipers. Just beyond the gate were a number of faceless, unfinished figures being pulled along in chains by what would be fairies holding whips. In the middle of the drawing sat Mortimer, sitting outside the fence in an uncomfortable-looking wood wheelchair. She wore a torn up, dirty school uniform and looked disheveled, with messy black hair and circles under her eyes, which were looking directly at the viewer. In her hands she held her notebook, upon which were the words Welcome To Reeducation Camp.
It was a work in progress, definitely, but Mortimer liked how it was turning out. Once she was done gazing down at her artwork, she raised her head to examine the other students. She had been one of the first ones to get in carriage, and had fallen asleep shortly afterward, so most of the people around her she hadn't seen before. Not that it really mattered, for she didn't have any interest in the other people. The only two she found even remotely interesting was a wolf-eared boy and a beat-to-shit girl, and even they brought out the slightest bit of curiosity. Then, however, the carriage came to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal a young boy. Mortimer knew it before he even opened his mouth. From his out of style work boots, to his short pants, to his horrendous coat, to his pierced up face that practically begged for facial hair and a black eye. He was a pirate. One of the self-proclaimed masters of the sea, who claimed have conquered the ocean blue, when they only ever glided across its surface. Mortimer made no effort to hide her glare.
