The March Towards S̶a̶i̶n̶t̶h̶o̶o̶d̶ School
September First, 2026
"Mother," I said, "Surely I am dreaming again."────────── N.S.C.
Núria Serra i Coromines had been quite unceremoniously dropped off in a grimy station that was sure to do nothing good for her ears, no less. Her father had left her mere minutes ago, only a swift hug and halfhearted goodbye. Likely preoccupied, head in the clouds he was so fond of. Rhea could hardly blame him. It was nice, up in a world of your own making.
But that did not change her predicament. Still here, a still, absurdly short statue amidst the bustling colors of life. Instructions had been clear enough, though Rhea didn't fancy the idea of breaking her nose on the wrong brick wall. Her pale nose scrunched at the thought, legs finally spurred into motion. More of an odd shuffling than motion, that with her trunk and all. Did her father seriously expect her to carry it all the way? Surely not with the horrible scraping noise it made that only she could seem to hear.
A resigned sort of determination had taken over, letting the small girl drag her trunk behind her. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but suffocated by people as she was, Rhea was finding it quite hard to see where to step. Usually being as short and unassuming as she was wouldn't bother her in their relatively empty house. This was quite the opposite, however.
"How good of father to drop me off early." Her comment was wry, but truthful in its utterance. Núria detested being late. Then again, perhaps it would be in vain, for trying to get through all these people was like— oh. A small path had opened up between the pillars bearing station numbers. Nine and three quarters. Quite unceremonious, for how mysterious and exciting her father had made it seem.
Her arms had started to tire, more used to flipping pages or playing piano than dragging things around. It felt rather pathetic, her only solace being the lack of eyes on her. She had been looking around—decidedly not anxious—hoping no one would bear witness to her sorry attempts at strength. A familiar comfort came with the thought that everyone was much more worried about the troubles of their own days.
She stood a few paces in front of the wall, her destination, apparently, shoulders squared and most certainly not thinking of all the many ways she would make a fool of herself. What if it was the wrong wall? What if it was even the wrong day? What if she had gotten the time wrong and missed the train? Laia, her mother, had tried to drill the incessant worries out of her head since a young age. It worked about as well as one would expect.
Rhea blew a stray strand of platinum blonde hair out of her face, loathing that she had to walk into a brick wall. Was there seriously no better way? She wanted to keep standing there less than she didn't want to go, so into the wall she went. Her steps turned out more hesitant than she would have liked. Most things Núria did were far too hesitant for her liking.
The buildup was far too intense for the half a second it took to walk over. Into even more chatter and rowdiness, much to Rhea's displeasure. And an odd amount of ginger hair. In fact, Núria was pretty sure she'd never seen such a concentrated bunch of them. It's probably rude to stare. And it was not just red hair, no, but a whole plethora of skin tones, and hair colours, nose shapes, and glares mingled with smiling faces. It was everything. Everything all at once.
Núria knew she was staring, but sheer overwhelm had taken over her body and mind for a few moments. It had been like that before she passed through the platform wall, but she had one focus in her mind, a destination. And now. Now, she was stuck in an even closer sea of people with little direction, seeing as the view above all the heads was out of the picture. One girl had caught her eye occasionally, as Rhea's eyes went back and forth across the crowds. I only have to get to the train. That's it.
Somehow, though, that one girl kept returning to her vision. Perhaps because she was nearest to the route Núria was trying to get to the train by. Her being quite so pretty didn't help. Then again, looking around, most people there were some sort of breathtaking. Rhea wished her eyes would stop wandering, even if just back to that one person. Who, coincidentally, was right in the line of where she was headed.
But that did not change her predicament. Still here, a still, absurdly short statue amidst the bustling colors of life. Instructions had been clear enough, though Rhea didn't fancy the idea of breaking her nose on the wrong brick wall. Her pale nose scrunched at the thought, legs finally spurred into motion. More of an odd shuffling than motion, that with her trunk and all. Did her father seriously expect her to carry it all the way? Surely not with the horrible scraping noise it made that only she could seem to hear.
A resigned sort of determination had taken over, letting the small girl drag her trunk behind her. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but suffocated by people as she was, Rhea was finding it quite hard to see where to step. Usually being as short and unassuming as she was wouldn't bother her in their relatively empty house. This was quite the opposite, however.
"How good of father to drop me off early." Her comment was wry, but truthful in its utterance. Núria detested being late. Then again, perhaps it would be in vain, for trying to get through all these people was like— oh. A small path had opened up between the pillars bearing station numbers. Nine and three quarters. Quite unceremonious, for how mysterious and exciting her father had made it seem.
Her arms had started to tire, more used to flipping pages or playing piano than dragging things around. It felt rather pathetic, her only solace being the lack of eyes on her. She had been looking around—decidedly not anxious—hoping no one would bear witness to her sorry attempts at strength. A familiar comfort came with the thought that everyone was much more worried about the troubles of their own days.
She stood a few paces in front of the wall, her destination, apparently, shoulders squared and most certainly not thinking of all the many ways she would make a fool of herself. What if it was the wrong wall? What if it was even the wrong day? What if she had gotten the time wrong and missed the train? Laia, her mother, had tried to drill the incessant worries out of her head since a young age. It worked about as well as one would expect.
Rhea blew a stray strand of platinum blonde hair out of her face, loathing that she had to walk into a brick wall. Was there seriously no better way? She wanted to keep standing there less than she didn't want to go, so into the wall she went. Her steps turned out more hesitant than she would have liked. Most things Núria did were far too hesitant for her liking.
The buildup was far too intense for the half a second it took to walk over. Into even more chatter and rowdiness, much to Rhea's displeasure. And an odd amount of ginger hair. In fact, Núria was pretty sure she'd never seen such a concentrated bunch of them. It's probably rude to stare. And it was not just red hair, no, but a whole plethora of skin tones, and hair colours, nose shapes, and glares mingled with smiling faces. It was everything. Everything all at once.
Núria knew she was staring, but sheer overwhelm had taken over her body and mind for a few moments. It had been like that before she passed through the platform wall, but she had one focus in her mind, a destination. And now. Now, she was stuck in an even closer sea of people with little direction, seeing as the view above all the heads was out of the picture. One girl had caught her eye occasionally, as Rhea's eyes went back and forth across the crowds. I only have to get to the train. That's it.
Somehow, though, that one girl kept returning to her vision. Perhaps because she was nearest to the route Núria was trying to get to the train by. Her being quite so pretty didn't help. Then again, looking around, most people there were some sort of breathtaking. Rhea wished her eyes would stop wandering, even if just back to that one person. Who, coincidentally, was right in the line of where she was headed.
@Natasha Jones
OOC: Sorry for how long this took ! Hope you like it:) Rhea does have a staring problem, and is heading towards Nat the train with just a bit of a RBF... ^^ [778 wc]
Previously... Graci Laren // Jarden Ardelis