It's eight in the morning, the sunlight filtering through the thin curtains and illuminating a million tiny dust motes. It takes you ten minutes of absently watching them dance and swirl for your body to realise that you're finally awake.
Your brain groggily runs a quick scan as, inch by inch, your body regains full control of its senses. You dimly register a faint prickling in your left arm and a warm, firm weight keeping you pinned to the bed. Glancing down, your vision is partially obscured by a mess of choppy black hair just under your chin.
You slide your tingling arm free and shake it out over the edge of the bed, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. You should probably be getting ready for your Classic Mythology lecture in half an hour, but the weight on your chest seems to have other ideas.
"Meenah." You give her a sharp poke in the ribs as she stirs. "Meenah, wake up." Your roommate is much heavier than she looks, and you struggle in vain to shove her scrawny frame off of you. Meenah clings to you like a particularly stubborn limpet, and you know she'd get a kick out of that analogy if you told her so.
"Serket, wouldja clam up an' go back t' bed," she slurs, her voice scratchy with sleep. She hooks a leg around your waist and buries her head in… oh, ok, in your cleavage. You debate with yourself a little while before deciding to ignore this.
"Meenah, I really do have to get going. You can sleep in your own bed when I'm gone." Meenah's side of the room is a minor disaster area, but at least her bed is relatively clear of stray laundry or scattered gold jewellery. You make another futile attempt to nudge her away and get a muffled chuckle for your efforts.
"Aranea, it won't krill you to skip class for a day," she tells your breasts. "You're workin' too hard; you're no fun when you're all tired and snappy." You'd like to argue, but all that comes out of your traitorous mouth is a gaping yawn you know she can feel as she sniggers in short, sharp bursts. Everything about Meenah is sharp; sharp tongue, sharp mind (or brine, as she might say it), sharp angles all over her body. But for all that, you find it isn't all that uncomfortable having her so close to you.
You cast around and settle for a compromise. "If I stay here for the morning, will you come with me to the library to do some make-up reading for the classes I'll miss?" You can feel her frown against your skin.
"Eelbreaker, Serket."
"We clam get sushi for lunch afterwards," you coax. "I'm buying. Water you say?"
Her lips quirk up and spread wide, reminiscent of a shark's predatory grin. "Fin, but only because you used my fish pun thing, pathetic as your efforts were." She aims for your shoulder and misses, patting your ear instead. "You tried."
Meenah drifts back off before long and you find yourself not far behind, lulled by the rare calm in the room and the slow, steady breathing of the girl sprawled across your chest. You idly twirl one of her ridiculously long braids around a finger as she sighs and occasionally murmurs nonsense in her dreams.
"Mmmmpphhhzzz…. suck my dinghy."
You think you could make a habit of this.