Wandering. Lost. Not quite. Though her eyes held the same sort of expression of a child caught up in the center of a maze not knowing which way they came from or which way they were going would've possessed, Wasp had long ago memorized the many corridors that made up the entirety of Wammy's House. After walking the same halls, day and night, for over 3 solid months, there wasn't much of a chance left of getting lost in even the loosest definition of the word. Never having decided on what would be an 'appropriate' sleep schedule, the fox-like girl found herself sleeping in small 2-3 hour spurts several times a day. Why during the day? Because she enjoyed the night. It was easier to think. Even if the type of thoughts she was thinking weren't ones many pride in thinking.
At the present time, the sky had ceased its weeping and the clouds had thinned just enough for narrow beams of moonlight to filter through every now and again. Wasp had paused in an empty classroom, leaving the door nearly wide open, after her third lap up and down the school, feeling no kind of trepidation waltzing about the building while other students were likely sleeping. She was always quiet, the scuffing of demin on the floor being the only sign that didn't require sight to deduce she was there. Even on this evening, a pair of men's jeans slightly to big around the waist and several inches too long hung off her narrow hips and bunched at the top of her feet. Oddly, she'd pulled on a black t-shirt before leaving her room. An oddity it was based merely on the fact that the young woman rarely donnned such dark colors as they made her skin that much more translucent and her hair that much brighter. But this night, Wasp was content wearing colors that clashed just so with her complexion.
She wanted to feel like a ghost; have everything about her out of the realm of general normality. Her body had retained the same slumped position with her elbows against the small ledge beneath one of windows scattered few and far between around the classroom, seeing as most of the space remained as plain white walls. One hand was pressed to the glass, a thin ring of fog coiling around the outline of her hand while the other was used to support her chin which allowed her eyes to focus on one of the more visible veins that ran down her forearm before wrapping around toward her elbow. Her lip twitched lightly in annoyance. Ghosts didn't have blood. But, being a ghost ment that there was something beyond this life, which Case would not except. She refused to see her life here as just some test that would determine what happened afterward. This was it, this was what mattered. Maybe she didn't want to be a ghost, afterall.
Ghosts, Life, Death, Perception... Is this what her father thought about? Father. That was something that hadn't come up in a while. A diagnosed, unmedicated sociopath. Of course, he had never acknowledged her existance, and at any rate he was long dead now. Hell, what was she doing trying to understand what her father thought? That's right, too much time alone left you with too much time to think. With a sigh, her head tilted forward and a curtain of copper fell around her face, hiding her narrowed eyes from view. So, this is where she was destined to be, it seemed. Fate had a cruel way of placing you in positions where you were your own worst competition.
Subject: Classroom I 
Fri Oct 15, 2010 6:47 pm
