#progenys

mikan's   first   and   only   sleepover   had   been   at   the   behest   of   some   of   her   classmates   from   lapis   lazuli   girl's   high   school.   she,   at   the   time,   was   not   as   attuned   to   people's   hidden   unkindness.   when   she   was   the   first   to   fall   asleep,   they   dunked   her   hand   in   a   cup   of   warm   water   to   giggle   and   sneer   when   she   had   inadvertently   urinated.   they   drew   all   over   her   face   and   nightwear   with   black   markers.   and   they   chopped   up   her   hair   as   she   slept,   the   stark   messiness   perhaps   due   in   part   to   not   being   able   to   get   the   rest   of   the   hair   from   beneath   her.

when   she   had   awoken   the   next   day,   having   slunk   into   the   bathroom   to   freshen   up   while   the   other   girls   sped   off   for   a   breakfast   meal   of   steamed   rice   and   miso   soup.   she   was   wordless   as   she   stared   at   the   black   marks   all   over   her   face,   grimacing   at   the   noisome   dampness   at   her   crotch   and   nearly   bursting   into   tears   at   the   sight   of   her   hair.   she   had   walked   home   that   day   without   saying   a   word   to   anyone,   slipping   silently   back   inside   her   own   home,   hoping   to   not   cause   too   much   disturbance   with   her   presence.

as   such,   it   was   her   only   sleepover.   that   was,   of   course,   until   .   .   .   then   !   right   then   and   there   !   there   as   she   stood   staring   at   herself   in   her   bathroom   mirror,   a   trauma   dichotomy   of   that   day   years   previous.   this   time   would   be   better.   surely,   it   would   be   better.   plum   strands   were   elevated   off   her   neck   and   back   thanks   to   a   hair   elastic   accented   with   a   little   hello   kitty   face.   her   frame   was   adorned   by   a   dark   grey   yukata,   another   folded   delicately   (   albeit   larger   in   size   )   on   the   countertop   for   her   impending   visitor.

and   then   there   was   the   knocking.   mikan's   eyes   widened   in   the   mirror   as   she   was   pulled   from   the   immersion   of   examining   herself.   with   immediacy,   she   grabbed   the   other   yukata   from   the   countertop,   laying   it   over   her   left   arm.   then   she   was   off,   leaping   and   bounding   to   get   to   the   door.

❝   bya   -   chan   !   ❞ mikan   exclaimed,   unable   to   contain   her   excitement. @progenys

“Lord Togami,” Sonia gazed his way with a faux smile. While there were few people on this earth Sonia really feared, the man who once poured poison down her throat fit the bill perfectly. Regardless, she chose to believe he’d have sensibility enough to realize the person she was then was vastly unlike her truest self, but she remained cautious despite her optimism. For good measure, she reached for the hem of her skirt, giving a polite curtsy to prove her genuine nature.

“It is wonderful to see you. Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to visit our class here on Jabberwock. I know you are quite the busy man these days.”

@progenys : (yank) / symbol   meme   starters   ;   accepting   !

she   is   not   as   careful   as   she   should   be   ;   it   is   not   decided   whether   the   blame   is   on   her   disdain   for   her   well   -   being   or   just   a   genuine   maladroitness.   but,   there   is   she,   she   with   her   lumbering   footsteps,   footsteps   that   threaten   to   snare   and   tug   against   every   crack   and   twig.   and   such   is   something   that   happens,   not   solely   an   empty   threat   to   remind   her   of   the   dangers   of   the   world   :   mikan   feels   her   loafer   snag   into   a   gnarled   tree   root,   feels   herself   tip   forward,   and   —   all   of   that   is   stopped   as   abruptly   as   it   started   by   the   feeling   of   lithe   fingers   wrap   around   her   wrist,   yanking   mikan   back   so   that   she   stumbles   but   ultimately   regains   control   of   her   movement.

❝   aaaaaiiiiiiieeee   !   ❞   a   shrill   wail   that   plays   out   for   far   longer   than   the   impending   of   her   stumble   :   a   hymn   for   the   agonized   and   terrified,   eyes   shut   tight   with   a   blackness   to   mirror   her   worldview   after   the   fall   that   never   comes.   perhaps   the   addition   of   her   terror   was   for   looking   pathetic   beneath   whatever   ideation   of   self   is   built   up   in   byakuya's   mind.   she   knows   he   cannot   think   too   highly   of   her.   it   does   not   seem   to   be   in   his   nature.   but   .   .   .   however   it   was   he   thought   of   her,   she   yearned   for   it   to   not   be   impaired   by   this.

IM D E AD

THIS IS SO PRETTY WOW

PREEEETTTYYY