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Snippet #1841665

located in Diuinitati, a part of Diuinitati, one of the many universes on RPG.




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Izzie wanted to curse out loud (in fact, she did. Several times, muttering under her breath). More specifically, she wanted to curse someone--more specifically, several someones flocking around her. It was getting on her nerves and distressing her, even when the students she was bulldozing aside quickly moved out of her way--most were first years anyway, easily intimidated and none too keen to get on the bad side of a witch who seemed to hate them all already. And fortunately thus far it was only the first years who were getting in the way for her to shove aside; not everyone was so willing to step aside from her abrasive, headstrong behaviour as the impressionable first and second years. Ain't my fault the over-excitable twerps keep getting in my goddamn way, she reasoned as yet another pair of chattering, grinning, clearly highly thrilled first years were...'relocated' from Izzie's path. Why in the hell were they so damn excited anyway? Diuinitati wasn't that amazing...

Ha...what a joke. She could very well remember just how excited she'd been when she'd first been on the way here--or perhaps apprehensive was the more appropriate term. Afraid. Doubtful. Anxious. She'd been fresh from being informed that she was a witch, which she figured was the kind of thing that threw anyone for a loop, and was now being escorted into an entire universe she couldn't have anticipated for the life of her. And even if the stony-faced, quiet eighteen year old woman boarding the submarine three years ago had done well to hide the rising apprehension and uneasiness, Izzie was well aware that in comparison even to the enthusiastic first years...


The woman was stopped short, in her tracks and in her thoughts, by a collision--with, when she looked down to see what or who the hell had run into her, what looked to be another one of aforementioned overexcited second years. Who then commenced to firing off a series of extremely enthusiastic words at speeds the breakneck music Izzie listened to could only listen on in envy of--much to the witch's ailment. She felt restlessness building up as he began to speak, fists clenching and unclenching. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't see ya there! Hiya! You were here last year, ri..."

"Move!" Izzie finally lost it, the impatience and distress finally getting to her, and interjected sharply, reaching forward to shove the talkative second year aside and continue angrily barrelling onwards. She gave it no more thought than that--he'd been in the way, therefore she was justified in shoving him out of it. Seemed reasonable to her.

What didn't seem quite so reasonable was the sudden bout of vomiting several first years not far behind suddenly fell into. The sounds of sickness ('symphonies of sickness', she mused, hearkening back to that particular Carcass album) emanated from behind her--Izzie figured they'd been victims of a prank. That, or someone had brought some horrifically contagious disease onto the submarine and they were now all going to die. Probably the latter.