Snippet #2593213

September 8th, 1847
I am not the most modest girl out there, truly I'm not. I do prefer leggings to skirts. But what on earth did Azima think she was doing? A rather inappropriate boy, with poor grammar and something against explaining textiles, walks into our rooms, stares as I start to pull my shirt off, and then proceeds to admire Azima while she is in nothing more than a shift? What isn't wrong with this situation. I shudder slightly. And this is why I avoid people.

I straighten my skirts, pull my over shirt lower, and pull my corset more firmly over my breasts. I make sure all my pins are pinned perfectly, and then I grab my hairbrush. As soon as I undo my hair from the loose bun I had it in before, it comes tumbling down my shoulders in a messy and rather annoying way. I hate my hair, with it's thick (heavy) corkscrew curls and awful red color. Scowling slightly, I brush my hair furiously, not even wincing at the numerous knots that the brush gets caught in. I've tried cutting my hair before, but it just grows back to my waist every time. Azima comes out of the area where she was changing, thankfully fully dressed this time, and she doesn't even seem slightly embarrassed. When she sees my fight with my hair, she stops and stares.
"You have pretty hair." She says after staring at my fight with my hair for a while.
"It's bloody impossible to deal with." I reply.
"Why don't you cut it then?" She asks, grinning as if it should be obvious. As if she somehow has come up with a solution that I missed. I frown at her, feeling slightly offended.
"I can't. My hair grows back impossibly fast every time. The only solution is pulling it back." And with that I start the process of braiding various sections of my hair, pinning them into place, and then twisting them up into a complicated bun. Azima watches, and then breaks in.
"Here." she says, shoving something under my nose. The 3 inch long bobby pin I'm about to shove in my hair is pulled from my hand, and something round, elastic, and cover in cloth is put in my hand again. Dropping my hands so I can examine this odd elastic, I groan as my hair falls apart.
"What is this?" I ask, irritation seeping into my voice.
"Micah calls them 'hair elastics' or 'ponytail holders'. Says the girls back in 2015 use them all the time. Brought some back for me. I don't actually think he traveled time bubbles but...these are amazing. So he could be telling the truth."
I examine these 'hair elastics'. "I see. How do I use them?"
"Here" says Azima, and she grabs one and starts brushing my hair into a simple queue. A Man's hairstyle. She then wraps the hair hanging down from the queue around the base of the hair elastic, and fastens this hair with another elastic. I look in the mirror and gape. There, on my head, is a perfect bun. I need these elastics. They could save so much time! I could have more time for reading!
"Azima," I say quietly.
"Yes?" She says with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
"May I have some of these?"
"Sure. What colors?" i look down and see there are as many colored pony tails as there are colors in the world. Most are far to flashy but...
"Blue, Black, and Brown." The colors I wear every day. Azima nods.
"Here you go." she begins to walk away.
"Azima?" I call hesitantly. She turns around expectantly.
"Thank you." And Azima and I share a smile. A Human interaction that is almost...pleasant.

September 8th, 1847. Classes
After that brief interaction with Azima, I grabbed my leather satchel and tucked my wand inside my bun. I began walking to class a quickly as possible. And about halfway there, I cheated and jetted to my first class.
Honors Intermediate Potions. Heaven. In potions I usually get a partner who's more than happy to let me do all the work. I am alone, I get the job done, I learn, and I'm closer to being a doctor. Heaven. I pick a desk towards to front of the class, in the middle of the classroom. The perfect position for learning. I carefully pull out my leather-bound notebook for potions, my pen and some ink for my pen. I straighten them all out on my desk perfectly, and then pull out my potions text and a runic dictionary for some of more complicated incantations. And then I start to read and make annotations in my book.

Professor Simone walks in, and she smiles at all of us, pure joy radiating off of her. "Welcome back to class everyone! I was so proud of all of the people who decided to come back this year and learn even more about the beauty of potions. As today is the first day, we will be covering-" suddenly she trails off. I follow her gaze to where a person has just walked in. Technically not late, as Professor Simone always starts class early, but still. Bad manners.
"Sorry." The girl says, shrinking in on herself slightly as if trying escape the piercing gazes settles on her. "My dorm assignment was changed last-minute, and I had to sort that out with the Headmistress."
"No problem Ms. Anasova," Professor Simone says with a smile, "Just take an open seat." And smiles reassuringly. I quickly start to sharpen the metal nub of my pen so that I am prepared to take notes.

I only look up when this...Anasova girl sits next to me. She is tiny. Like, 5 feet tall tiny. And she has on a hat. A hat! It's technically against the school dress code to wear any adornments on our heads. Who does this girl think she is? But what can you expect of a Minerette? At least her uniform is impeccable. After a quick glance over, I grit my teeth slightly at the fact that someone has taken a seat next to me and turn back to the teacher.
"Well," says Simone, "Like I was saying, as it is the first day, we will be covering safety procedures and plant types..."
((AN: I will write more later, I have a pounding headache. For the record, a queue is the original turn for pony-tail.))