Tragic.
There was no other word to describe the pitiful way this beautiful girl insisted on dressing. No, dressing was too generous.
It was clownery.
When Mint had first laid his dark brown eyes on the other Tenūsa student about a year ago, he had, from the bottom of his heart, assumed she was the school's mascot - her job being to cheer up the newly arrived students once they realized this island was beneath even the lowest star rating one could give a resort. Well, it wasn’t technically a resort, but that hardly excused forcing exceptional beings like himself to wander these outrageous, overgrown, decaying paths under the pretense of learning to master their powers.
And an attempt was precisely what it was - it was ridiculously hard to concentate when mosquitos, flies, and other vile insects kept snacking on him, night after night, and as if the injustice weren’t enough already, they also always bit him and never the other students. He supposed he understood in a way, as he’d rather bite himself too than any of those stinking peasants who slept in their underwear and didn’t even bother washing their faces before rushing into bed and snoring like it were a competition.
At some point, Mint contemplated if everyone conspired to mock him. They denied him even the simplest comforts - no electronics in any way, not even diffusers or automatic bug sprays - and then traipsed around in the morning wearing their hideous grins, bragging about their itch-free skin. They should better use that spare time checking in with a dentist.

Anyway.
Today, Mint was on a mission to rescue this poor, poor creature from her misery and dress her in something decent.
It was hard. Looking at her, that was. The kaleidoscopic jumble of garments she’d piled onto her slight frame was... simply unbelievable, as if someone had given a toddler free rein in a fabric store and no adult had the guts to intervene, because that exactly was the thing - not only was it absurdly colorful, it was a lot. The Thai boy was genuinely baffled by how many clothes and accessories could fit on such a fragile body, and yet, Sunday proved the impossible - while inflicting damage to his eye tissue in the process.

“Good afternoon, Sunday.”
He stopped beside her, looking down on her while she fiddled with - what was it - plastic gems? Making a bracelet out of them?At least that’s what they looked like. They were also colorful. What a surprise.
He bent to set the bags he carried down, but caught sight of the dirty, mud grass and reconsidered, instead, he straightened and held them up in front of her grey eyes - eyes far too lovely to be cursed with such aestheitc disaster.
Chanel, Gucci, Prada. The basics. Their names gleamed proudly across the glossy bags.
“I had my parents send a few things for you.”, the Chantharat Heir began.
“I told them about your...”, he paused to look her up and down for a moment, “...Fashion sense. And of course, they agreed to help. They’re as kind-hearted as I am, after all. Just recently, they donated over ten thousand dollars to a charity in Oklahoma, some organization for cats with depression.”
He sighed dramatically, then added, “I'll tell them to donate to the brand you’ve been investing in next. Maybe then it can afford some actual designers.”
He tilted his head to the side, surveying her.
“So?”, he asked, voice gracious, “Where are we going, your room or mine?”

He had truly considered this detail carefully prior to this meeting. At first, he’d thought to go to her room - he had no desire to allow any more questionable presences in his own. It was torture enough to share space with the other students as it was, but then he’d remembered what little he knew of her taste, and the thought of stepping inside her dorm was probably akin to switching on a phone at full brightness in the dead of night. He was fairly certain he’d perish in an instant, overwhelmed by all the colors and clutter she most likely hoarded like a compulsive magpie.
Both options were completely intolerable, and yet he couldn’t ask a lady to change in public - or worse, somewhere in the jungle!
Mint shivered at the thought. Barbaric.
And so, though it pained him, it really did, he would sacrifice, just this once, as he was a good person. A kind-hearted, well-mannered soul.
For this occasion, he would allow her to choose which of their rooms would suffer the honor.

*Tenūsa grounds moving to Sunday's dorm room*

Sunday of course, was under a tree. Doing whatever it was Sunday did. Today, she had been making a bracelet, plastic bead, going onto the brightly colored string that would be the only thing holding the bracelet together. She had her tongue sticking out her mouth in constriction. And the young girl was getting frustrated.

The stupid string wouldn't go in the stupid bead. She let out a small humph sound. And of course, licked the string, ignoring that urge to find out how well it would work as floss. And then again, tried to put the bead on it, she stuck her tongue out and held it up higher. As if that could somehow help her string the bead. It somehow worked, shear will it had to be. "Ah ha!" She declared cheerfully, pumping one of her fists. "Knew that would work." Speaking to herself was nothing abnormal for her. She strung another plastic bead onto it, purple, blue, pink, that was the pattern she'd decided to go with.

Sunday had strung the next purple one when a voice spoke to her, she looked up expecting it to be Theo out to scold her for not doing homework. Or maybe he would have told her that she never had to do work again. No one could really ever know until it happened. Alas, it was not Theo there to free her from the shackles of school work. Rather it was Mint! A fellow student. A very kind one, her eyes squinted to read the boring labels, on the plain bags. And her head tilted to the side. She set the half made bracelet down and leaned forward to read them. Prada? What was that?

Could it have been his last name? Sunday never really bothered to remember those, she didn't care much for her own let alone other peoples. So of course, Mint's last name needed to be Mint Prada Gucci Chanel! Quite a mouthful.

Her lips widened into a grin and she clapped her hands cheerfully at his words. Looking up at him. "Oh my god!" She shouted out gleefully biting her lip to contain some of the excitement, her hand twitched towards the bags. The overwhelming urge to tear them open and see what was inside pushed down. With much effort she may add. She put a hand over her heart, nails painted a bright green with yellow polka dots. "You told your parents about me?!" Mint really was the kindest.

Now, in all honesty Sunday didn't know what donate meant. Nor 'brands'. And she wasn't the best at context clues. But, she did have decutive reasoning skills. If she was remembering correctly, her father liked to eat this really boring milk soup (as the girl was to happy to remember the word cereal) with a bright purple box, and this kinda freaky looking sun on it, called Raisin Bran. Bran, sounded a lot like brand. So clearly, Mint was talking about milk soup. With the insult going right over her head, She smiled up at him fully serious. "I like Lucky Charms." Sunday stood up off the ground, brushing some of the dirt off her outfit. She then looked at him and gasped. "Hey!! Maybe your parents can make you a charm, so I can put you in my soup!"

She giggled and looped her arm under the boys "We can go to mine!" Did she know what was going on? Nope. Not at all, she had no clue really. Mint may have told her before, but she'd forgotten. All she really knew was she was getting to hang out with him. Also that she didn't know the way to his room, so her room was the clear and logical choice. She half dragged, half led Mint to the way to her room. And let him in, she let go of his arm and jumped onto her bed, sitting criss cross, not taking the time to take her shoes off, she beamed up at him. "So, what's up? What's in the bags?" Asking the important questions.

The corners of Mint’s lips tugged upward slightly at her visible joy.
Well, of course she’d be delighted that he had gone out of his way to save her from... whatever crime against fashion Sunday had decided to commit today again. Still, her reaction stroked his ego, it was a pleasant caress to his pride, especially when she emphasized her gratitude for him telling his parents about her.
The girl might have been absurdly tasteless in clothing, but at least her mind seemed aware enough of the honor this was. He would never even think of mentioning any other mingler on this island to his parents, after all. Most of them were better suited for a reality show, one of those miserable ones where sad people feel superior watching even stupider people eat insects for a low class prize. The thought alone made him feel sick.
As expected, Sunday jumped at the chance to be dressed by him, the one person who could prevent her from making a fool of herself any longer. Normally, he would have judged her harshly for brushing the dirt onto her ... fabric, as it not only smeared her hands, it most likely grinded the dirt deeper into the fibers. Yet secretly, he hoped it would. Mint hoped the filth would settle in so thoroughly she’d never dare wear it again, in fact, he wouldn’t mind if she tossed it in the laundry basket, only for the basket to somehow be destroyed in an accident. Oh, that would be nice.
Before the Chantharat Heir could decide whether he might be the one to bring about such a beautiful outcome, and free her from that atrocious skirt, Sunday launched into her strange turns of phrase.
The sort he used to frown upon and get irritated by, but had since learned to breathe through.
Lucky charm? Putting him in her soup? What?

“Sunday.”, the Thai boy said, his voice monotone as she looped her arm through his.
He didn’t exactly mind the physical closeness - at least, not from her.
“Do not ever put me in the same sentence as that dreadful dish. If I were to be put anywhere, it would be in a bowl of caviar or edible gold.”
His gaze swept over her again, absorbing the visual torture she caused his brain. Why he deliberately subjected himself to it, one could only wonder. Perhaps he enjoyed the peculiar sort of pain it caused - it was a paradox, in a way. Usually, people either had manners and earned his pleasant conversation, or they were walking headaches who received no attempt at polite concealment of his annoyance. But Sunday was different.
“However..”, he continued magnanimously, deciding to generously forgive her for the remark, “I can’t entirely blame you for not seeing this clearly. The chaotic colors you’ve draped yourself in must have blinded you. So let me clarify for future reference: I am magnificent, in appearance as well as in personality, and therefore deserve only the best. Keep that in mind.”
Soup. Ew. Who liked food floating in water? Even dogs had higher standards.

As for her rambling about his parents making him some kind of charm, Mint didn’t bother to indulge.
It'd be like trying to interpret the nonsense a three-year-old would babble. So, as any reasonable adult would - which, in this setting, he was - the boy ignored it entirely and followed her to her room.
There was... a tinge of regret. Just a whisper of it, now that he’d let her decide and she’d led him there, and as she opened the door-

He had known.
He had known this would be an irreversible mistake, and yet here he was. Nothing could have prepared him for that.
It was like a lighthouse beam had slammed directly into his eyes, knocking him back before he could even step over the threshold. He squinted them shut, shielding his face with one hand while the other clung dramatically to the doorframe, almost dropping the bags. Almost.
“Ah!”, Mint yelped, “My eyes. My poor, excellent eyes!”
The brief glimpse of what could only be described as rainbow vomit was enough to make him wonder if this was what people with hangovers felt like, needing to keep everything dark and silent suddenly made perfect sense. He might have pitied them, if he wasn’t so busy pitying himself in that moment.
Still covering his eyes, the Thai let go of the frame and extended one hand toward her, expecting Sunday to guide him gently inside. Instead, he heard her flop onto the bed, asking what was in the bags, as if Chanel, Gucci, and Prada weren’t brands recognized worldwide.
“Tsk...”, Mint clicked his tongue.
Audacity must have been on sale lately.
Even so, he kept it up, hand still outstretched, eyes covered - clearing his throat as he patiently waited for her to come and lead him in.

*Sunday's dorm room*

Mint always said funny things, Caviar and edible gold? Caviar she was familiar with, her parents enjoyed the boring dish on boring crackers. She wasn't a fan of them, not at all. She liked cookies, and honey straight from a bottle. It would be no surprise to anyone to find she liked sugar. Edible gold, that sounded sugary. And something she hadn't heard of. She paused and turned to him, a face 'dead' serious, odd on the girls normally cheer-filled face. "Mint," She put her hands on his shoulders, "Are you a leprechaun?"

It felt like a reasonable question, She had no knowledge of leprechauns, only that they liked gold. So it was in her mind, connected. They liked gold so much because they ate it. "You need to let me try that." Sunday said with a small laugh, continuing the walk to her room, holding on to Mint's arm. So he didn't get lost, duh. She patted his arm as he talked about something along the lines of 'I'm amazing and cool and pretty and deserve nice things.' Good for him knowing his worth. She patted his arm with one of her hands. "Of course you do Mint."

Once the dynamic duo arrived at her room Sunday could clearly see the awe on the other students features, she nodded to herself. Clearly her decorating skills were superior in every way to anyone else's. Who would want a dull room after all? Likely her parents, but she didn't care much about that. They had no need to be in her room. He must have been super, super stunned by her amazing-ness. She laughed as she got up from her bed again, gabbing his hand and pushing him onto a chair in her room. "Your so considerate, not wanting to step on any of my stuff right?" Not that she would mind, all the stuff was on the floor because it didn't have a place to go.

Despite that, her room was quite tidy, it was just, well full. Maximalist decor was her favorite kind, though she didn't know the right word for it, she had a lot of trinkets, some open container of beads on the floor, like anyone else that made things, there were half finished DIY's everywhere. She tossed her shoes off, throwing them close to the door, near a shoe rack with her other shoes. She would put them on the rack later. She walked to a bucket, that she'd painted a 'cat' on, though the cat had both tiger stripes, and leopard print on the fur.

Only then did she again sit on the bed, taking off a few of her accessories. And putting them in the bucket, mostly the headbands, and necklaces. Then moving to the bracelets, She had a system. That may not have worked for everyone, but it worked for her. She took off what she wore that day, put it in the bucket. Then sorted it from there. As she 'shed' her look for that day she looked at Mint again. "So, are you finally going to tell me what's in the bucket?" She asked, having almost forgotten all about it already.