Russell Drew [5th year]
So am I, for better or worse.
Sat Jul 1, 2017 15:47
70.73.178.153

It hadn’t been intentional, but when Russell began moving towards the mid-grey-Cetus fire, he realized that he had colour-coordinated his tank top with it. Er, at least, greyscale-coordinated. More specifically, coordinated only parts of it. His top was coloured with a sliding gradient that went from light-iced-tea-grey to medium-milky-cocoa-grey, and somewhere in the bottom third was the grey that matched his House colour. If he had done this on purpose, he would’ve been somewhat proud sitting down beside well away from but still closer-than-not to the fire, but since it had been completely an accident, Russell proceeded to spend the entire introduction of the first-years worrying over whether this was memory loss or just his vision getting worse.

‘Just’.

Russell’s summer had been fairly good, and by fairly good, he meant it had been entirely the same as normal. That was a relief; he’d half-expected that his transferring to RMI would’ve changed up his life in Sacramento. But, nope, he had returned and fallen right back into his previous summer routine. Late nights out idly pacing the riverside paths and rolling through the skate park with his group of miscellaneous acquaintances. Late days sleeping in, waking up to find both parents already at work and hanging out in the basement as long as he could before he had to put on his sunglasses and venture up for a snack in their too-chromey kitchen. Occasional meetups with relatives. One particularly confusing interaction, which he had not gotten around to processing yet and suspected he might never. And his mouse, every day.

Jaws was currently dozing in the lumpy knot of hair on top of his head. Russell could feel the mouse’s wet nose wedged under his bandana. It was a good thing that during his attempt at cutting his own hair last term, he had been too tentative to try cutting it more than a few inches shorter, because he suspected that any shorter and it would not have grown out enough in the summer to tie back again. (Of course, tying back his hair was what had resulted in excessive tangling and the need to chop at it in the first place… But he’d tied it with a proper elastic today on top of the bandana, so he was confident that he’d have less issues. Or as confident as he was capable of.)

His confidence immediately plummeted at Professor Boot’s announcement. Russell had already signed up to continue on in History of Magic this year. Oh, dear.

Smoothing his robes over matching light-bright-grey trousers, he startled at the approach of a house-elf, who was offering plates of little bits that he didn’t entirely recognize as food. “Um, no thanks.” The elf moved on to the new transfer student, who was sitting nearby, and Russell pushed his sunglasses higher up his nose. The new student was also wearing sunglasses. Aviators, even. Was he also visually disabled? He was so preoccupied trying to decide how to ask this in a polite way that he startled at the approach of a second elf and, quite rudely, jerked his arm in such a way that it hit the elf’s tray and splashed what was hopefully only water but might have been some other liquid on the new transfer. “Oh, no, I’m sorry!” he yelped, cheeks warming.

  • Welp. I'm here now. - Maverick Buchannan [6th year], Sat Jul 1 13:27
    Maverick had been very deliberate in picking out his outfit. Truthfully, he was feeling a bit femme today, but he was afraid of dressing like a girl on the first day and therefore having nobody... more
    • So am I, for better or worse. - Russell Drew [5th year], Sat Jul 1 15:47
      • Worse. It's worse. - Maverick, Mon Jul 3 23:27
        “Oh, no, I’m sorry!” Well, that relative peace was short lived. Potentially even a new record time for someone bothering him. And this one was so much fun, because not only was there now somebody... more
        • I can't fix this. Sorry. - Russell, Tue Jul 4 23:49
          Russell was fully prepared to get cursed out, or at least shunned indefinitely. Or possibly punched. The dark, solid greys of his clothes, plus the promise of revolution, didn’t exactly inspire... more
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