Admittedly, Ayita had not done terribly much this term. She spent a lot of time in her dormitory, pleased by the solitude until roommates came. Of course, she did not mind her roommates, though of them Josephine was her favorite. Josephine was her best friend, though that title was not often one over which fought.
The grey-eyed girl did not have many friends. Or any friends other than Josephine, really. Still, she was content. She enjoyed this world of magic and society where everyone was equal. She was not high and mighty anymore, like she had been back home.
Of course, it still didn’t seem like everyone was actually equal here. Sometimes there seemed to be some sort of--mostly--unspoken wars between classmates. Something about blood. She didn’t listen intently as she found herself happier that way. Ayita found that ignorance was bliss on the occasional unpleasant subjects.
When not in her room, she liked to be in the Labyrinth Gardens. Despite the supposed dangerous creatures it held, she felt safe. There was always somewhere to hide if the need arose. It was odd, but so was she, really. Perhaps it was adrenaline of knowing something scary might be there, the risk involved; perhaps that was what drew her to it. She wasn’t sure. In any case, the Gardens were her place.
She wandered in her typical aimless fashion, not sure of where she was going or how she would get back, curious only for the now. The Pecari was always curious about something different. Right now, for example, she was curious about the noise she heard behind her; it sounded like foot steps. She turned around to find the source of the noise, which was a person. “Hello,” she offered. “It is a nice day, is it not?” Her syllables were as crisp and strained as ever, but on her tongue they felt like home.
The sun, which had been mercifully absent when the pale boy wandered out into the gardens embrace, now shown with uncommon brilliance. When the clouds began to break up, Angel swallowed the bitter potion to protect his skin from its unkind touch, and after only a few moments he was forced to slip on his dark glasses as well to keep from being blinded by the light. He wasn’t sure what had driven him out into the labyrinth, normally the albino boy preferred the artificial light of the indoors, where the floors were kind to his unshod feet. But today the walls that had become familiar felt stifling and Angel snatched up his sketchbook, sunglasses, and a few of the tiny vials of sun protection potion before leaving the confines of the school.
It didn’t take long for Angel to become hopelessly turned around. While the ground still held patches of snow that revealed his bare foot prints, the spaces between were large enough for him to lose track of the path he’d taken. The biting cold of the snow had been interesting for a time, but Angel found it painful and was forced to apply a small heating charm to the soles of his feet to protect them from its bite.
Angel found a small marble bench half hidden behind a large shrub with a pleasant view of an idealized mermaid statue, the feminine creature lounged on a stone staring out into the garden with a curious sort of longing in her stone gaze. Unlike the halls and rooms that made up the school, the clamor of many lives going about their business was mostly absent. Instead wind murmured in its native tongue though brittle winter stripped branches, and somewhere far in the distance a lone bird called sorrowfully. Soon the whisper of lead on heavy paper joined the other delicate sounds in the still winter bound gardens. Lines both dark and light were carefully laid out on the page.
Why did she look out at the world with such sadness? He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be the same sort of look he had worn when looking up at the other children flying so effortlessly though the sky, playing in the sun, eating whatever they wished. A new sound joined the soft scratching of his work, meandering footsteps broke the easy silence and Angel saw someone’s shadow though a break in the maze. They might know the way Angel thought as he gathered up his sketchbook and pencils before following.
It didn’t take him long to catch sight of the girl, but still he held back, content to follow. His bare feet made no sound as he trailed in her wake but a half frozen crust of snow broke under his left foot, the sound was enough to cause the girl to turn. “Hello, it is a nice day, is it not?” she asked.
Her words seemed to contradict themselves, first stating that the day was good, and then asking if it was not. A small frown of puzzlement touched his icy pale lips. Dressed in soft white robes, his skin the color of newly fallen snow, and hair the same shade of ash, Angel looked more like one of the statues he’d been admiring instead of a living child. An awkward amount of time had passed while he tried to figure out what to say in response to her question. Finally his soft reply joined the rustling of the wind “Hello…the day is…” still uncertain of how to finish Angel left it at that. The day was, good or bad it still was so that would do.
The pale child. Ayita had seen him about the school, but never before had words been exchanged. She was not usually the most talkative of children, but the third year felt so now. How did he get so pale? She was curious. For her heritage, she was considered pale, almost like many of the Outsiders, but his colorlessness surpassed her own.
“I am called Ayita,” the Pecari smiled. She had learned that it was custom to introduce oneself when meeting someone new. Unlike her native home, those here did not instantly know her. They had no indication of who she was here, and the anonymousness was actually a pleasant change. There were no undesirable expectations forced upon her; she was free.
Freedom was hard to come by, she had found. It was promised, but then denied to some at certain times. The brown-haired girl had read up on her Outsider history, and all throughout the past, it seemed like there were always problems with freedom. More odd than that, however, was how half of the time, the ones who infringed upon the rights of the individual were the ones who had previously fought so hard for their own.
That was the past, and she liked to think the future would be different, better. Ayita could not waste time pondering those; the present was happening all around her. The boy was here and now, the boy whose name she didn’t yet know. She decided to ask. “What is your name?” She had decided not to address his stuttered response in regards to the weather. Such a topic was trivial, anyway.
Angel felt a small burst of joy in his chest when she didn’t turn and leave him to find his own way after his faltering attempt at conversation. Even though the other children rarely had a poor reaction to his strangeness, he always half expected them too. “Angel.” He offered his name up quietly, his soft voice nearly lost in the rustle of bridle leaves somewhere deeper in the Garden.
Another long moment stretched between them before Angel’s lips twitched up in an awkward smile. The look was not natural in the least, he appeared more like a foreigner who just remembered some quaint custom of the natives and tried it out just a little to late for it to be proper. All of Angel’s smiles were like that, a mechanical up tilting of the lips, always a little too soon or a little to late to be correct. He’d found it a difficult expression to mimic simply because people did it so sporadically, there never seemed to be a specific set of guidelines to follow for when one should smile and when one shouldn’t. He hoped that this was the proper time to do so.
The silence stretched again between them and Angel waited with near infinite patience for her to fill it.