Oh for Christ's sake - the girl was balling her eyes out! Was she seriously reacting so intensely to only a couple of words? The girl definitely didn't have very thick skin. At all.
Rolling her eyes, she shoved her pride down and swallowed her anger. Why waste it on a baby like this girl?
"Shut the Hell up, Oslin," she drawled out rudely. "You need to mind your own damn business and stay out of other's. You never know what you might find - and what you might find may scar you for life," she snapped. "So scram, Barbie," she added.
Oslin paled, tears appearing in her own eyes, before she turned and fled from the scene. Tresora bothered not to follow her with her eyes - she knew she wouldn't return.
Turning her eyes back to the balling, pink-haired girl before her, she let out a slightly-irritated breath. "Calm down. I'm really not that scary," she muttered with an eye roll. She adjusted her weight a bit, reaching forward to rub at her injured ankle. "You don't need to cry over it. I'm not going to yell, so stop being a baby. Besides, you don't even know me, so it really shouldn't matter so much to you. You need to grow thicker skin, caro," she nodded, pointing a finger in the girl's direction.
Her eyes fell on the boy who was approaching, and her reaction to his voice and his hand nearing her was immediate and intense - and completely uncontrollable.
Her muscles tensed and burned. A sheer sheen of sweat appeared on her skin, a nervous tingling began in her stomach, and her heart hammered in her chest. Her fingers clenched and curled inwards, her lips pressing together tightly in the same moment. Before she could stop herself, her hand had snapped out and slapped the boy's away, and she had scuttled backwards. For anyone who didn't realize that she did this in fear, they would undoubtedly laugh and find the movement to be hilarious and a joke.
Turning her face away as quickly as possible, she stumbled up to a standing position, most of her weight on the one side of her body so as to avoid collapsing to her knees.
"Thanks for the offer of help, but I'll pass. You can go ahead and comfort cotton-candy-rainstorm here," she waved her hand at the pink fluffball of a girl before her, "And I'm going to finish looking for my dorm and the head office so I can get my paperwork." With that, she hurried away, flipping out her holocomputer in an attempt to look busy and not nearly as frazzled as she felt.
She wasn't really paying attention to the computer, at least not as much so as she looked to be, and her fingers flew across the hologram screen as she limped.
It wasn't until she smelled food that she realized how hungry she was. After spending the past two and a half days hopping from plane to plane, bus to bus, and car to car, she hadn't eaten well nor much at all. Her stomach growled as the delicious smell of cinnamon rolls reach her nostrils, and she paused in her step, her head tilting back a bit to get better access at the yummy smell of cinnamon.
"I might as well grab some food before I finish looking for the office," she muttered, tucking the tiny computer into a small pocket on her bag.
Sora pushed through the doors to the cafeteria and strode inside. It didn't take long for several of the conversations to lull at the sight of a new student at this time of the year - especially one who held herself with the confidence of someone who cared naught for any type of judgement from her peers.
Acting as though she didn't notice the change of atmosphere at her entrance, she strode to the food area of the cafeteria, plucking up a small plate with a cinnamon roll, an apple, a bagel, and a bottle of orange juice, she quickly paid for the food. Immediately she made her way over to the nearest window and, tossing her bag onto the sill, she easily joined it, leaning back against the wall and removing a similar device to her holocomputer, but instead it projected from a far smaller electronic - it was her Black Hole Computer, and the projection above it was only one, yet far more visible and clear than the other projections. Taking a bite out of her cinnamon roll, she lounged backwards, slipping into a slightly relaxed mood, her free hand absently rubbing at her scarred neck, the frequent ache and burn that appeared in it slowly beginning to arise.
