@riverpatel​

He’d won his first guitar in a game of poker when he was twelve years old and still living in Tennessee. It was an old, well loved Gibson, and one of Sawyer's most prized possessions. But whenever he looked at it now, it felt like gazing at a relic from another lifetime almost, a thought that had understandably left Sawyer toying with the idea of whether or not he should finally purchase a new one. Impulsive by nature, he hadn't thought about it for too long before winding up at the local music store. Since then, he'd cycled through a number of guitars, aiming to find the one among them that seemed to suit him best. His fingers plucked at the strings, firing off a series of spiraling riffs and chords, and comparing one model to the next. "Whaddya think?" He asked, glancing to the side and nodding at the person closest to him. Strumming through another sequence of chords, he let the warm, honey like tone ring out for a moment before eyeing them again, "Personally, I've always been a Gibson man, but I don't think ya can beat a Taylor's sound." Setting the guitar down on the stand beside him, he reached out with a hand, "Sawyer," he introduced, "Seen ya 'round but I don't think we've ever met."

It would not suffice to say he's behind on his studies. High School used to be easy, with his private tutors and natural ability to pick things up pretty quick. Neither of those apply here and now. He feels a strong rush of irritation which causes him to shut the book closed, pushing it aside. It knocks over another pile of books, attracting curious glances from around. He utters some half-assed apology as he starts gathering the mess together, then a letter slips out of the Principles of Evidence by Irving Younger and Michael Goldsmith.

He looks around, half expecting someone to step in and grab it. When no one does, he stands up to his feet, places the books on the table and lowers back into his chair as he unwraps the paper. Curiosity, confusion, clarity and a perfect opportunity to procrastinate; all wrapped into one.

Eyes pass over the contents once again, then scan around the library in consideration, then back at the paper. "Fuck it..." he utters, eventually, and walks over to the nearest table. He has half a mind to turn back around, but something takes over and there's no nervousness to his tone, though some of it is still visible across his features.

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@3rdtriton​ está na cabine dos viajantes !!

Cailín havia cometido um erro. Havia pego a fila toda do elevador para ir para sua nova aventura e havia esquecido de comprar o maldito ticket. Claro que a pessoa que estava controlando a entrada e a saída das pessoas ali havia pedido para ela voltar depois da compra do ticket, mas a Soul era uma menina impaciente. Saiu da fila normalmente, mas bastou que a pessoa atrás de si fosse entrar na cabine, ela desviou-se do guarda que havia sido pego de surpresa e entrou junto da pessoa, metendo a mão em qualquer um dos botões para que a cabine se fechasse e os enviasse logo para algum lugar interessante! ❛❛ —- Ufa. E eu achando que ia ter que pegar mais fila. ❜❜ ela suspirou, e depois olhou para River, apontando para a pulseira dele que avisava o tempo máximo que teriam ali. ❛❛ —- Ó, eu não tenho uma dessas, então vou ficar grudada contigo, valeu? Mas tenho certeza que não vai acontecer nada demais. ❜❜ garantiu, com uma risada. Então, as portas do elevador finalmente se abriram, e os dois pararam bem... No protesto de Gaston que levava as pessoas a marcharem até o castelo de Adam, ainda referido pelo vilão como “A Fera”. A Cailín e River foram entregues tochas e tridentes para marcharem juntos, e a Soul, filha da mulher que assassinaria no futuro os dois heróis daquela história, assoviou baixo. ❛❛ —- Yikes. Que momento bacana do passado que a gente se meteu. ❜❜ ela suspirou, esperando que o Triton (claro que tinha de ser um Triton) liderasse o caminho.