z-August Turner Posted August 6, 2011 Share Posted August 6, 2011 January 30, 2007 The door squeaked open five minutes after the lecture started. August winced at the noise and then winced harder as several heads turned to look at her – including the teacher's. Why did I think that Sunday was a good time to go to one of Lucien Hunt's parties with Oneca? she sighed to herself. Feeling chagrined, she slipped into the first open seat, her face heating up from being the center of attention. Drawing out her notebook, she started to take notes on the class. Comparative Religion 101 wasn't that interesting to her, but she needed the humanity credit for her gen eds. With effort, she focused on the lecture. At least the teacher wasn't too old; he was handsome in a British-scholarly way. It made it easier to focus on him, if not the lecture. Ugh, she sighed after ten minutes. It was no good; the mild hangover she had from last night was cutting through her concentration. She could get the notes from that cute guy a couple of seats over; she'd spoken with him before. Letting her mind relax, she started to doodle instead. She wasn't very good at it; her wolves all ended up looking too soft for her tastes. Dr. Astor's voice became a soothing drone in the back of her mind; August felt herself slipping away. Her doodles became less and less about wolves, and more and more random. Then from the chaos, order began to take form. Faces peered out of the lines of her page, all of them shrieking in pain. A small mound of some kind of powder was the center of drawing. It was ominous in its simplicity. August was still drawing when the class was dismissed and the other students were gone. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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