Closed Dream A Little Dream of Me PV BAIRD ABANDONED

Wednesday, December 6th, 11pm

Draven's lip was torn bloody. When he was bored, he picked at it, ripping apart the skin with his fingernails. It was red now, places where the blood had crusted over dark sitting atop like beaded gems. The underneath of his fingernails was red, too. That was much easier to fix.

He'd been doing it all class, folding over a piece of parchment paper and running it underneath his nails. Cleaning up the black muck and dirt that seemed to appear so often, it was useless to try and manage it.

He drifted in and out. Eyes fluttering open, closed, Baird's voice floating in and out. He was a very animated guy, Draven thought sagely as he watched the professor's blurry form pace around the classroom. They'd never spoken, not even the pleasantries typical between wizards. 'Evening,' Baird had told him once, and Draven had tried to reply. But his tongue hadn't budged, words lodging stubbornly in his throat. So he'd moved on, sitting at the back of the class.

The desk he was draped across was real nice. Solid wood, wide and stable. His cheek pressed against the cool surface, jaw clenched so tight it hurt his head. Atop his back, Deimos snoozed serenely. They were two dark shadows at the back of the class, Draven with his head in the crook of his elbow, Deimos anchored to the boy's hoody. Every time he breathed, the spider drifted up and down.

Draven closed his eyes, allowing Baird's voice to fill his mind. Something, something, astronomy. The professor was saying. Something, something zodiacs. He couldn't have repeated the lesson to save his life.