#ochitsuita

13:02 PM —

Recipient: Sonia

Subject: N/A

Message [text]: 用事さん、私はあなたの髪を三つ編みしたかった。これは、すべての長くてきれいだし、私は男の子が、さらに彼らが長いよりもそれを好きだと思う。特に彼。あなたは、私が話している人を知っています。誰かがあなたの肩越しに読んで可能性がありますので、私はその時点でそれを残しておきます。私は変身を行うつもりなら、私はそれをしながら脂肪を取得する必要があるので、お菓子を持ってきて ♥！ || translation: Nevermind-san, I wanted to braid your hair. It’s all long and pretty, and I think that the boys would like it even more than they do long. Especially him. You know who I’m talking about. Someone might be reading over your shoulder, so I’ll leave it at that. Bring candy, because if I’m going to do a makeover, then I need to get fat while doing it! ||

[♥] "I think today seems like one to spend in the music room. It's not as if I could do much else." A bit muted, bitter, even, the melodious undertones prevailed in her muttered decision. Still in bed, surrounded by a sea of heavy, cotton folds, Sayaka muttered to the ceiling. It'd been so long since she'd last seen the outside world, since she'd last felt a little less broken, but that did nothing to cushion the blow of losing all that she'd held precious and dear. Nothing here at Hope's Peak would fill that void, that much she was sure of. No matter what she'd tried to do, whether it be mindless and numbing self loathing or even any attempt at catching a glimpse of the normality she'd never once possessed, and now never would, could pull her from the twisted confines of her mind.

Fed up with her own misery, as it'd only been a mere half hour since she'd woken from her fitful and nightmarish sleep and she'd already degraded herself far too much, Sayaka gave a small sniffle and erected her spine. A faint dizziness accompanied the action's haste, though, in her health, it seemed an ever present symptom. Fatigue, too, haunted her frail frame, all ghosts of pain in comparison to the ache of an utter abandonment. It'd been too much, quite honestly, to deal with the despair that had been wrecked upon the world, and she was ready to simply give up. However, there were definitely a few of her peers she cared far too strongly for -- and hadn't she done this before? Fake it till you make it; that seemed a phrase to come back to wreck havoc long past its welcome. That aside, the point of it all was that'd she'd crafted a clever enough mask to fool millions -- it'd be easy enough to hold it together for her small class of thirty two.

Bones popped in their sockets, settling themselves under the ruse of snowy, ceramic flesh and sinew, as she rose to stand. Though a bit wobbly, she was certainly able to walk more than a few steps. Moping had done nothing for her fragility, but Sayaka was in no way senile. If she had anything in this world left, it was her alabaster beauty and harmonious voice. It turned out that being bedridden for the rest of your days wasn't quite the best way to go about keeping yourself as angelic as you'd been expected to be for the majority of your forced adolescence. Tugging on a strand of loose ianthine, a nervous habit that had only become more prevalent since her voluntary imprisonment within Hope's Peak, she took a cautious step forward. The loose fabric of her t-shirt, something deemed acceptable for public viewing only in the presence of a select few or for sleep, brushed the bare velvet of her thigh as she walked, a feeling she'd found irritating before such a bleak sense of unfeeling had overtaken her being. 

[Knock, knock, knock.]

The door was locked -- why bother dignifying the visit with more than that? It was early enough to assume she'd still be asleep, and not much noise had been made by the idol. Even her foot steps were feather light, all of her breakable nature evident in even these minute details. Freezing in her tracks, awaiting another round of rapping to interrupt her, Sayaka's jaw clenched at the thought of being discovered in such indecency. Once a pregnant silence had passed, an obvious sign of her solitude restored to its purity, her breath came free at once with a painful sigh. Creeping across the room, gingerly as to prevent another passerby from exercising their curiosity upon her unsuspecting visage, it was with little thought that she went about dressing herself in a simplistic uniform -- all shades of gray and brown, adorned with a satin ribbon to loop around her neck. It almost seemed unbearably ironic, the concept of remaining in uniform. This school was no longer an institute of education, at least not in her eyes. It was an institution of sickening hope, something that seemed far too laughable to even consider as a mere academy.

"Heh ... institution of the future ... heh heh ... what a cruel kind of joke." Unreasonably malicious in her assessment, though such a fact would be well beyond the despondent idol with so little left to hold onto, her anguish seemed to permeate the air with its dankness. Shaking such thoughts free from her head, clearing her mind of as much negativity as she could bear, if only to lessen her load later on lest she run into an overly enthusiastic student,  Sayaka slid a pleated, black skirt over her slender hips. The fabric floated over porcelain skin, giving her the look of a school girl ready for a day of classes and idle infatuations over youthful teacher with wise, almond eyes. In her eyes, everything seemed such a hateful joke, and her gaze skimmed nearly everything. There was something undeniably unsettling about those oceanic pools ...

Sayaka knew perfectly well of the questioning deep within their vibrant sheen, a need for an answer that would never come. Their sheer animosity towards humanity was eerie and prophetic, captivating the midst of their breathtaking splendor. Though terrifyingly knowing, an entity worthy of worship, that cool and forlorn stare captured the attention of all it fell upon. One couldn't help but meet such luminescence with their full attentions. A fluttering of thick, inky lashes punctuated her unspoken monologue, the perfect conclusion to bring it all together.

An idol of sixteen years of age and she'd already seen enough death and horror to last her a lifetime.

With the final bronze button firmly secured, her plasticized bosom fully covered from prying eyes, Sayaka took her time in exiting to the halls. The fluorescence of the lights overhead were overwhelming, giving the twists and turns of the corridors a sterile kind of feel, much akin to wandering about a hospital or a morgue. Hah, a morgue. That was certainly fitting, and worthy a dark giggle of recognition at the irony if it all. Honestly, she wished for nothing more than to borrow the sickly sweet optimism of Naegi, or perhaps the complete and tender embrace that locked Enoshima in with a firm, sturdy grip. It'd be a more bearable existence that way, having some kind of purpose rather than relying solely on a dream that had long since been shattered. The glass notes spilled over her rosy flesh, the plump lips that lent to her dollish appearance allowing their jagged edges a smooth and easy passage, and filled the air with a lonesome hum. To anyone naive of her inner conflict, it might have seemed a glorious little hymn, a simple handful of honey coated verses meant for passing time. Who'd suspect a girl of her daintiness and delicate being to harbor such depression and fear?

Rounding the corner, the tine still rolling off her tongue with an inflection as sweet as sugar, Sayaka's murmuring and the slight tap of leather against tile were the only things to fill the void that a lack of students had left. Passing by abandoned dormitories, their owners six feet under or in the grips of insanity, or even both, it was with little regret that she envied the finality that the first option ensured. Of course, she had no intention of letting herself die. Sure, this wasn't quite life, but the complete lack of control and power over what she held next was far too dizzying to dedicate a whim to. Perfectly content with simply pining away, leaving only a hollow shell that could catch the eye of anyone, she went about as such and was careful to keep it that way. If she dared form a bond, it'd be too earth shattering to survive its obliteration. Too much uncertainty filled her heart, too much to do anything but simply stand in wait, hoping the furious storm about her would take its toll in blood and leave the rest behind.

Another sharp turn was made, a few pin straight locks of silky hair falling over the steep slope of her shoulders and she made the adjustment in path by heart. Many afternoons had been dedicated to the sweet reveries of fame, a chorus of verses that no longer had meaning the temporary cure to infinite suffering. Quite simply, reliving such a mundane event made her feel  a bit less broken. A little less demented. A little less ... everything. Just the way she liked it. And it would seem on this rare day in history that she was not the only student to have such high hopes for the day. A glint of golden locks, gleaming just as her own under the brilliance above them, caught her attentions. Not only this, but a rather commanding voice in demand to be heard. Though kind enough, there was a certain air that Sayaka couldn't quite place that rang about it. Brow furrowed, pulse racing, she peered a bit further to place a face to her unwitting antagonist.

"Ano -- is someone there? It's pretty early ..." Hoping to evoke some kind of reply, she stopped cold in her tracks. It'd already proved risky enough calling out, in her mental state.The fuse that was her pent up pallet of red hot suffering needed little to blow -- who knew of this stranger's intentions? The chances were, as downtrodden as she was, that this fellow early riser would be relentless in vying for some kind of recognition of their presence. Too much cheer was present for their situation, that much seemed painfully clear.