So engrossed was she in his lessons, in the speed and efficiency of his hand as he wrote in perfect time signature to his speech; the way his voice hitched on words beginning with the letter "W"; the continuous flow of equations and proofs that danced along the wall in his small, block-shaped script.

So obsessed was she with knowledge that her instincts fell silent as her hands typed madly on the hologram of a keyboard. Her heart fluttered when he told her she was cleverest and River made the decision then that she was in the right place.

--

The reflection in the mirror is half the size of her. One half; she feels twice as large. Still she traces the outline and maps her contours, searching each time for a new result. When there is none, the mirror shatters beneath her hand and she stares in glorious apathy.

Red against the white - she misses wearing colors.

Geometrically, she creates patterns of blossoms until they take away her paints.

--

At first, the hardest part was adapting; being away from her family. Mother and Father and Simon (she missed him the most.) The classes posed no fair problem; she found herself enjoying the challenge of university. But there was a competitive nature in others she found appalling.

Vulker sat behind her. She never dared turn around to meet his eyes - perhaps they were more blue than green - but always reminiscent of the snake. The palpable venom often surrounded her until, regrettably, she faltered. Little things: a dropped pencil. A wrong answer. Dr. Mathias was always understanding. And she would smile and continue her lessons, excited by the possiblity of newness.

She cried only in her room. Only in her letters to her brother. Only when he didn't respond.

--

Sessions make it hard to breathe. An emptiness to the room that stifles her hands and squeezes her heart. Today she cannot answer his questions, retching onto the floor when the procedure goes south.

When they cart her to her room, she counts the ceiling tiles and screams.

--

Dr. Mathias was kindest. Always, he smiled and complimented her in the proper way and River thought he reminded her of her father. He held the air of someone qualified for his position but did not quite believe himself deserving, always the teacher daring to impress his superiors.

Once, she'd told him so; he needn't be so nervous. They thought him competent, after all. The look he gave her was puzzling and she couldn't quite pick apart the emotions that followed. Pride? Sadness? She convinced herself later, in her room, that it could not have been fear.

--

The first needle paralyzes her - everything but the eyes. The second injects her and she feels the chemicals spread counterclockwise. The third needle hums at her ear, draws so close she feels the sonic vibration stirring locks of damp hair.

'What do you see, River?'

--

Dance.

The Academy graciously allowed her to take ballet with a private instructor. Of course, they emphasized that she needed to continue doing well in her studies and that she was being made an exception to their regulations. Forever grateful(graceful), River flourished.

The steps came effortlessly, her physique already that of a dancer. Each twist and turn, her world came spinning to life, a top alive in color. The raw emotion set the room alight in happiness and she can't stop smiling can't stop spinning until the world becomes a rainbow blur.

Blurring the lines. The pages. The ceiling tiles.

She hasn't yet learned to scream.