NO MORE LAST PLACE , (tagged; petra)

It had been a long day, and for a girl that was not used to regularly attending her classes it had seemed even longer. Rowena finally dragged herself from her last period English class and tossed her bags down with a sense of relief onto the dormitory bed. She completely ignored her roommate, but as this was the Thunder dormitories this didn't come as much of a surprise to the other girl. Ro found that she was starting to like the Thunder students a little more. They bugged her less than the others and she fit in well with their quiet nature. She loved her sister, but she doubted she would have been dealing so well with this school situation if she'd been stuck with a bunch of cliquey and aggressive folks such as the Fires. And Syria--no, there would be no thoughts about Syria today. She shut that part of her thoughts out with a rigid determination as she pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and lit it standing there right in the hall. Rowena didn't care if a teacher saw her and put her in detention, she'd already racked up enough of those to last her to the end of the year if they were scheduled in a certain manner. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, she ignored the disgusted look of a couple Earth elementals lingering by the doors and pushed her way onto the grounds.

It was getting steadily colder, the muggy heats of August giving way to the chills of the September air. It had been manageable early in the month, even tolerable, but as they drew nearer to the coming of October the days felt shorter and more full of cold than anything else. For a girl like Rowena whose light and malnourished frame did not do well to trap in the heat, this was not welcome. Where most students just wore sweaters and stood in tighter groups than usual, Ro had already chosen to dawn a winter jacket. Just in case. Bulky though the blasted things were, the girl knew it was better to suffer a bad fashion statement then to end up in the hospital explaining that she'd only caught the flu because she was too stubborn to dress appropriately. Well, at least the rest of her outfit was fashion fit. For a girl that had from an early age possessed a love of artwork and clothing, the work of a fashion designer just seemed like the most sensible of paths she could have walked. So she did--or at least, she'd used to. Syria used to appreciate her designs whole-heartedly and it was in fond memory of her sister that Rowena had decided not to give up on them after all.

So while most of the students in the central courtyard that day were standing in their respective clutters and chattering mindlessly, Rowena seated herself alone on a bench and stretched out on it, laying a sketchbook across her knees and holding a pencil thoughtfully in one hand. The other dangled haphazardly over the edge of the bench--it might have been holding her cigarette if not for the fact that said object was held between her lips at the moment. She removed it periodically to flick away the ash or to blow her smoke rings into the air, but apart from those brief pauses she seemed fully intent on her work. Not, that is to say, that she would bite the head off of anyone that was to interrupt her. Rowena was a lot less snippy and standoffish than she had been under the heavy influence of her drugs, but she was still a Thunder student. Quiet, vindictive, and currently so intent on her work that she would not notice an approach unless they announced their presence verbally.

[We can play that they're already friends, makes it easier, if you want~]