"I'll see you later," you call over your shoulder to Rose as you part ways.
"See you later, Vriska," she echoes with a wave. You turn away and hike your bag up higher over your shoulder to keep it from falling in its textbook-laden state. It's been several weeks since the term began, and so far things are going...pretty well. You mean, of course they are. Why wouldn't they be? They're going great, just like they should.
Your classes are uneventful for the most part since you're trying to get a few of the general ed ones out of the way first, but you've learned some interesting things in Psych 101 and Intro to Mythology of the Ancient World. The latter is your extra for the semester and has been dubbed IMAW, partially because way too many myths have to do with mouths and mostly because really, who the hell wants to say the whole name each and every time? Definitely not you. You've got better things to do! Like going to Simply Spurb café with Rose and teasing her for gawking at that waitress with the jade highlight in her hair. Or exploring the campus and finding all the best places to hang out, study, and see how many times you can hurtle bits of cereal or whatever you're munching on at passerby before they look up. (So far the current record is six at this one guy. You plan to improve on that.) Or finishing your re-reading of your favorite book series. It's about this ruthless pirate queen who travels the eight seas (there's an extra in this book) and is renowned and feared for her unbeatable mind-control powers and-
Shit. You're getting distracted, you realize as you walk straight past your room. Pay attention to where you're going, dumbass, you mentally scold yourself in irritation as you open the door.
You need to drop off a few books before heading to Writing and Composition, or else the straps of your bag are probably going to wave a white flag. You place the bag carefully on your bed, resisting the urge to just drop it on the ground like you always do. On second thought, that treatment may have something to do with its wear and tear. Oh well!
Thankfully, it's your last class of the day so you can leave almost everything behind. Except...fuck it you should probably got to the library afterwards and look for that book your Psych teacher recommended. Thus far you'd avoided the library, though it's looking to be unavoidable now. Not to mention that you're going to need somewhere to study once it gets too cold outside for you to conceivably stay outdoors...
You sigh as you finish taking the extra books out of your bag. You know you should suck it up and go. That doesn't make it any more appealing though.
Bleh.
Maybe they'll at least have a decent vending machine, you think to yourself. You have not forgotten the infernal device in what you now know to be Penumbra Hall where most of the general ed classes are held. In fact, you may or may not glare at it every time you walk by.
"Alright, where the fuck did my Writing and Comp notebook go?" You ask aloud, looking around the room accusingly as though the walls themselves might know. Somehow a stack of notes or a comb or the cap for your prosthesis cleaner always disappears, and you have to spend an infuriating amount of time looking between the bed and the wall or under the dresser to find it again. Considering your room is still barren of anything beyond the basic essentials, you wouldn't think there'd be many places to lose something. You would be wrong.
It's...kind of depressing how bare your room is actually. It's not like your room is bad or anything; it's actually pretty great as far as dorms go. But still. You walk past a dozen dorms every day. After a week, not a single one of them was as empty as yours.
You could drop out tomorrow and the only thing that would indicate you were ever here would be a few books and the clothes in your closet! Even your laundry hamper is from Skaia, you bought it in the school supply store during your first week and it nearly blends in with the color of the walls. You always keep the door to your room closed. You don't know what people would say if they saw it, and while a large part of you wants to say "Fuck it, fuck you, maybe I like it this way, ever think of that you little pricks?!" you're not sure how convincing it would be. It's a large part of the reason you've never invited Rose over. She's never pressed the issue, she's actually been pretty damn decent about respecting your boundaries since the thing at the café. Which is...good. Right. Good. The last thing you need is to start a fight by trying to force her into believing some bull-shit lie. You still don't exactly have people lining up to befriend you.
...Which is their fucking loss. Losers.
The barrenness sets you at odds in that it both makes you uneasy and comforts you, in a weird way. Until recently, your living space was a closely monitored one. Its strict, pre-planned monotony was non-negotiable and cold, and while there was a painting on the wall and a couple of plants to spice up the blandness, none of it belonged to you. That was really, painfully obvious. Unlike most of the other patients whose family brought them knick-knacks or little trinkets, or even the few who had allowances funneled to them so they could request certain items, you had nothing. None of it was ever yours. Unlike here though, you definitely left a few marks on that stupid space.
Sometimes you catch yourself wondering who was moved into that room after you. You occasionally wonder how long they waited to fix the holes in the wall before allowing a new inhabitant, and if the new resident will ever find the etchings you made on the underside of the bed. You needed something to break the pattern of every day. Something that was yours and yours alone. Back then, it sometimes felt like those little marks, those little rebellions against the smothering sameness, were the only things keeping you from disappearing all together. Which is stupid. That whole place was stupid. You were stupid. And the places before were-
...not important.
Not that any of that shit matters now though, you think to yourself as you finally spot the elusive book on the floor between the dresser and the wall. You throw the textbook in your bag and head for the door. None of it matters, you think stubbornly. You're never going back there, and as far as anyone here will ever know, you were never there in the first place.
...
Your name is Rose LaLonde, and thus far, college has not been nearly as tedious as you once believed it would be. In fact, you might even be persuaded to go as far as to say it's been...somewhat enjoyable. Your dorm offers you a fair amount of privacy, as your intended roommate oddly requested a room transfer shortly after the beginning of the term. You'd noticed she seemed a bit...alarmed by a few of the specimens you'd placed on display in the dorm. Really though, is a preserved vampire squid or mummified baby gulper eel truly something to balk at? You certainly think not. Nor were the collected tomes of Sappho you may or may not have left on the coffee table. No matter the reason for her departure though; you're quite glad to have the space to yourself for however long it lasts.
Your general ed classes are thus far easy, but not mind-numbingly so, and Intro to Psychology as well as Marine Biology 101 have both proven to be entertaining. You are especially looking forward to delving into deep-sea life next semester in the following course. One might even say it's going to be "the coolest shit in the whole course". Said one person may or may not be yourself. Deep-dwelling creatures have always fascinated you, and you have long considered this interest to be something of a hobby of yours, along with related mythology. That is why, while you will be double majoring in Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies coupled with Psychology, you plan to take as many courses in your other fields of passion as you can. This has led you to have something in the way of a heavy course load. Not that you mind of course. You take hard work as a challenge.
For now though, that challenge will have to wait. That is because you are currently busy finding room 413 in the Student Union building so you can replace your Student I.D. card. You, along with approximately half of the campus, were recently notified that a proportionate number of I.D. cards were entered incorrectly into the university's system, and as such would need to be swapped out. You waited a few days in hopes of avoiding too long a line, and are pleased when you enter the building to see that it is not particularly crowded. You follow a sign indicating the way to rooms 400-420, and a few turns later find yourself outside your desired destination. After trying the door handle and finding it unlocked, you step into a compact waiting room space. Two walls are taken up with your standard Uncomfortable Waiting Room Chairs, while another wall is taken up by a door and a glass box window, behind the latter of which you see a small, crowded office. Said office is currently inhabited by a rather angry looking young man with mussed black hair typing on a computer.
"Let me guess," he says, voice dripping in sarcasm, "You need to replace your gods slobbering I.D. card."
"That would be ideal, especially since you seem so enthusiastic at the prospect," you say as you walk over, intentionally inflecting no emotion into your tone. He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. "I take it I'm far from the first person to have made this request today?" You ask, attempting to politely spur on the conversation. You may have loathed every moment of the gruesome etiquette classes your mother forced you into as a child, but their lessons certainly stuck with you.
"Try the fucking thousandth," he growls, violently hitting a key several times. "The wire sucking dick bags in the data entry department screwed this up to the outer galaxy and back, yet here I am, having to deal with their shit flaming mess."
"Sounds unbearably tedious," you reply, your tone growing slightly more empathetic. "I'm assuming they don't pay you nearly an adequate sum to put up with this?"
"Not by a damn mile," he replies. "I'm assuming you didn't come here to talk about my feelings though," he says, mimicking the lilt of your previous words. "Student I.D. number?" He asks, looking up at you for the first time from behind the window. You distractedly take note of his interesting eye color as you read off the number, seeing that his irises look oddly like embers from a bonfire interspersed with red flecks.
"Alright, this should do it," he grumbles after clicking the mouse several times. "I just need you to sign-oh damn it!" he snarls, as a loud beeping noise emanates from somewhere beyond your viewpoint at the window. "That's the third time today this gargantuan piece of shit has jammed," he growls, pushing away from the desk. He takes two steps before stopping, and, seeming to have only just remembered your presence, spares you a glance and says, "You can come around here through that door. Read the information on your card on the screen to make sure it's right. I'll be back, so don't fucking touch anything," he finishes, walking away before you can respond.
"Alright then," you say a few seconds later. You open the door and walk over to the computer as instructed, trailing one hand along each item you pass for the heck of it, and scan the half a dozen I.D. cards on the screen. You note that one of the cards belongs to the colorfully spoken student you just spoke to, and that his name is "Karkat Vantas". A moment later your eye is caught by another name though, this one far more familiar. Parallel to your own I.D. set is a small photo of a face you'd know anywhere, and, even were you suddenly to be struck by prosopagnosia, a name that you could never forget.
Leaner closer just to be sure, you scan the card on the screen and read the following:
Age: 19
Gender: F
D.O.B: 12/01/1995
Enrolled For Term: Begin- Term 2
You're not sure how this has come to be, but the evidence is undeniably right in front of you. It's official, Jade Harley is coming to Skaia University.