100 Yard Stare... PV Diana Roberts, Lucian Wright

Date: September 5th,
Time: 1:20pm
Location: Hogwarts Corridors
Mentions: @Lucian Wright @Diana Roberts
Interactions: Lucian Wright, Diana Roberts
Dialogue: #0065d1(English) #ce0909 (Japanese)
Direct thoughts: #4700cc Italic.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Didn't I... wait. What the-?

A sharp pause caught Mikaela, suddenly stumped. The grip on his pen increased, but his

note taking had stopped. He stood in the open corridors near one side, looking over to a painting, one he was sure he'd already seen. The ever burning torchlight, the sun cascading over it, it looked exactly the same. A dim forest scene. Was he walking in circles? Was he remembering it from another time, another day? Was he simply mistaken? Every question had the same answer, he was so certain he was right. Was Hogwarts really repeating art? Were the walls moving? What level of magic was there to these halls? He'd already seen scant moments of secret walls, blends of reality into pocket spaces. The eyes of paintings following him, ghosts hovering and fading into the floors. The droning background noise of passing students was deafened, his ears ringing with a slight tinnitus.

It's only been a few days. This castle, these grounds, there was so much to memorize,

so much to learn. Avoiding the embarrassment of being lost, the dependence on others for help, when he shouldn't need it. His family wouldn't like for him to think like that. But that was the default. Mika had taken all the time he could between classes, during breaks like now, even skipping the occasional meal to focus on knowledge, to sate the curiosity for this castle. To notate and mark into notes and mind. Yet he was struggling to remain focused, and it was so clear from the outside, but to the young blonde, he was just in his own mind, racking his brain and sifting through memories, trying to understand this place, and his future in it. There was still minor travel in the corridors, other students passing by, avoiding him narrowly, until one didn't notice him in time, too busy talking to a friend.

Mika's eyes remained fixated on the painting, dark blue portals escaping into the scene

while his mind played on. But then, that intuition tugged at his senses. He was a seer after all, and his body moved practically on its own, narrowly avoiding being ran into by someone nearly a foot taller than him as he stepped closer to the wall. A close call, in view of any bystander, yet what was odd was Mikaela took no notice, made no further motion in regards too it. His small black book was now folded closed, his grip on it loose, the band wrapping around his fingers the primary thing keeping it from falling. It was perhaps a curious sight, or very frightening, depending on the eyes that viewed it, a couple perhaps, in particular. What ran through his head at this point could be anyone's guess, for they knew little of the first year. But it was truly devolving into deep disassociation. Not the easiest situation to approach.