Chapter Text
The bell rings, and your club disassembles. The anime club always meets every other lunch time, this time it was Damali's turn to pick the anime. She ended up having to pick a different one. These school walls are paper thin you know.
Your name is Meadow Legion, you're a girl of average height who attends Alpha High, one of the only couple of highschools in your entire town.
You have long brown hair that pools in a bunch of teased curls at about your mid waist, and big green eyes that almost disproportion your comical button nose and thin lips.
You slip your phone out of your school-sanctioned jacket pocket, a cutesy, old filp phone. A handmedown fro your mother, more specifically from your mother's own highschool days. It ought to be in a mew- MEUseum. You flip it open to look at your wallpaper, who, the smart girl you are, has set to your weekly timetable. Today is Tuesday, meaning after lunch you have P.E. You trounch down the hall amongst the usual stream of students and teachers and everyone, and slip out one of the side doors the Tuesday janitors leave unlocked.
Or, er. You don't.
It's locked.
"Shit", you think to yourself.
This was the only route you knew after your whole 3 years at this school, that would get you to this class without being late.
You look flustered as you step away from the door and back into the, now now more sparcely filled, an uneasy sign of your impeding "late" note left on the roll, and walk down, towards the back entrance of the school, which would lead out to the field.
As you walk along you can't help but focus on how you walk. You can barely hear it, despite how your mother notes your apaprent heavy footedness. You enphasise the silence in your head. You appease yourself with thoughts of being so light your feet don't make a sound. Like a kittycat! You absolutely love those.
Lost in your train of thought over cute cats, you nearly smack into the door, you catch yourself before you do, and push down on the handle to open it.
You peer out, your wide eyes naked to the open world before you, and at that you see the same field, the same.. Dirty grey. Of the concrete. You walk down the stairs, and you glance at the left, assumingly to see the carpark, with all the assorted cars of teachers and older students,
but instead you lock eyes with one of the ruffians who skip classes by the dumpsters.
His shocking purple eyes send chills to your spine, does he wear contacts? You only glanced at him for a moment before trancing off to your class, but you take in his entire appearance, wild black hair, it covered his eyebrows. You had no idea what his expression really was. He was tall and thin and bony. Like s the science room skeleton.
Not even to mention the most outlandish of his focal points, he, amongst other people in this school (... Asumingly acquainted with him?) smear their faces with grease paints.
His however, unlike the others, wasn't apparently random circles, like butterflies made of wet paint and paper in kindergarden,
but very obviously reminiscent of a skull.
