The Deck, Friday Around Noon

[anarchist-queen.livejournal.com]

The deck may appear deserted, but alert studentsmight notice a small girl peering over the edge from the bushes along the side.

She had figured out that she was not in Bordertown at all. Which did nothing for her peace of mind, though sleeping in the stables last night hadn't been too bad.

Now her stomach was growling once again. But she wasn't quite brave enough yet to venture into the town belowto scrounge for food.

[Open!]

The Salle, Friday Afternoon

[wesleynotponcy.livejournal.com]

Wesley was waiting for Percy. They had a spar scheduled and it was not going to suck this time.

The last time Wesley had fought Percy had been kind of a shitstorm. He had lost, been kind of a sore loser, and overall made an ass out of himself. Today was not going to be different. He was all set to not get beat by Percy this time. Probably. Not. But more importantly, he was not going to be a sore loser. Probably. It was all up in the air, really.

He'd spent the week practicing, like Percy had snidely suggested he should, and even practiced a bit as he waited, going through parries and sequences he remembered. He was even less clumsy than usual, which surprised even him, really, and he hoped he could keep it up.

The deck - Afternoon

[need-no-moon.livejournal.com]

Jake was reclining on one of the chairs, his bare feet propped up on the railing. He was bored, bored and bored. Which led him to having gone off island for a while, catching up with the rest of the pack. On his way back, he'd found a nice piece of wood which he was working it with his knife so it slowly started to take the shape of a wolf.

It was kind of relaxing and he was able to push aside thoughts of how fucking annoying Leah was, needing to keep insinuating things. Damn, but was he grateful he didn't need to put up with her every frigging day. It was much like Professor Skywalker had told him, keeping your hands busy helped to clear you mind.

[Open like an open deck.]

Fifth Floor Common Room [evening]

[rilla-myrilla.livejournal.com]

Rilla was knitting a scarf (which she'd tell you if you enquired. Which you might. It wasn't a terribly successful scarf) and mulling over a poster she'd seen about the student council elections she'd seen oh so handwavily in the halls.

She wondered how politics worked in America and if she'd finally have to figure out the difference between a Democrat and a Republican. But for now, there was knitting.

Really bad knitting.