The sun was shining on a clear day of fall at the mansion. People where in there classes, learning the things that they would benefit from one day if it was either math, computer classes or social studies. It was that time where the hallways where silent and voices could be heard from the classrooms as teachers where doing their job and the children where supposed to do theirs.

Alison was sitting in the classroom for her math class. Not that she was going to pay attention. She had a hard time doing that with all the distracting things around her. People, looking outside, scribbling in her notebook and daydreaming. She never had the act for paying attention. It was extreemly hard for her but luckely the teacher wasn't here yet.

The teacher was late for like 4 minutes already and she didn't care actually. She wasn't a peoples person so she was scribbling in her notebook. She was drawing all kinds of things that where floating inside her head and she put it on paper. She had books full of these things even though she couldn't draw that good. Her classmates where talking to each other and passing time, but nobody talked to her. The odd duckling she always was. Not that it mattered, she didn't have peopleskills to keep friends anyways.

Just because Amber didn't like math class didn't mean that she wasn't going to go to math class. It was, in fact, her least favourite subject and the one she struggled with the most but if she ever expected to go to a good university she needed to do well in it. Not that she was even sure she would go to university, after all, what university would want to take a mutant freak plague victim? Not any that she had ever heard of. Still, it never hurt to be prepared. For all her problems given the progression of her mutation, she was still smart and she still thought that maybe, just maybe, she might want to try and go to university one day. Which meant math class had to be tolerated.

Of course, on this particular day and in this particular math class, the students appeared to be lacking a teacher. What had happened to the teacher Amber couldn't say, she wasn't normally late but 4 minutes wasn't really all that late anyway, not late enough to start to worry surely. She sat quitly at her desk, reading a large book about the mutant condition that had absolutely nothing to do with anything in math class or any other class she happened to be taking. Unlikely though it seemed, she was still hoping that some scientiest somewhere who studdied the mutant condition might have found a way to reverse or at least halt its progression. Her pitch black eyes she could deal with and her sensative skin. Even the pain associated with shifting she could deal with, but did her mutation also have to make her look constantly gravely ill? That was where she drew the line.

All around Amber the other students talked and socialized merrily. Of course, no one talked to Amber, she was always the quiet unapproachable one. Sometimes she didn't mind so much, it was often more pleasant to be alone with ones thoughts, but sometimes it got to be lonely. Of course she had noticed the one other girl in the class who also seemed to keep more to herself than the other students, but she had never seemed the type to be easily approachable. Still, maybe the strange ones would be more likely to accept her despite her apprearance. Taking a risk (or at least it felt like a risk) Amber leaned over to the desk next to hers and spoke to the odd brown haired girl. "D-do you think the teacher is going to be here soon?" Maybe not the most brilliant of all starts to a conversation, but at least it was a start and better than sitting there and feeling sorry for herself.

Alison was just doodling on her paper now. With no math teacher to speak of, there was no math for her to do. Math wasn't her favorite subject anyways. Mutant ethics was fun though thinking outside the box. To bad math was needed aswel. But doodling it was for now while everybody else was chatting it up or playing around.

She had no clue what she was drawing. They where just things floating inside her head from time to time. She woke up sometimes thinking about these type of things. But then again she wasn't the most normal person around. Somebody however decided to ask her a question. "I .... don't .... know..." She replied very slowly while she tried to draw a hard part. "Maybe he is eating a apple, or a orange." She continued. "Sounds better then math." She said and rolled her eyes at the piece of paper she was drawing on.

An unnatural silence lingered around the young gargoyle, whose eyes wandered inquiringly over the rows of desks. She sat in the very back of the room, where her wings and tail wouldn't be resting on another student's work. There was an obvious unease about Gina, whose wide eyes were scoping the room-- well, more specifically, her classmates. Mutants of human and inhuman appearance alike were interacting casually, talking in amongst each other, doodling, and an array of other things typical of an unattended class full of teenagers.

It had been so long since Gina had been to a public school, and the first time that she'd ever been to a mutant school. Out of habit, she remained alert, watching for someone to throw something at her, or something of the sort. She had some sources of entertainment in her bag-- a half-finished hemp bracelet and a thick book-- but she instead chose to look around the room. The chatter around her melted into an auditory sludge, and so it was rather difficult to hear much of anything. Gina, however, could read lips quite well, and so was passing the time by "listening" to the conversations of others.

At present, Gina was dressed in a pair of dark, worn jeans, a pink scoop neck shirt with elbow-length sleeves and a pattern of white stars, and a simple, electric blue hoodie (which was zipped only halfway, and had the hood down). As always, she wore no shoes, and her legs were crossed casually beneath her desk, resting on the basket of the student in front of her. She slouched only slightly, wondering what nearly every other student was.

Where the heck is the teacher? She drummed a steady beat with her pencil, upon the untainted page of an open notebook, looking around casually. Though she enjoyed watching others converse, it got old after a while. Not only was she limited by who was facing her, but it was all shallow talk. Nothing worth listening to. Gina turned her attention to her pencil, trying to beat out a more complex staccato. She then paused, held up her pencil for a moment, and surveyed it.

She recalled a particular commercial in which a man was constantly twirling a pencil with his fingers, and felt the sudden compulsion to do so as well-- after all, he'd done it so seamlessly, so it couldn't be that hard, right?

Gina sandwiched the pencil between her index and middle fingers. She fumbled it as she attempted to slowly pass the pencil onwards, and dropped it onto the desk. Gina frowned, trying to work out the faults of her method. Maybe if I got more velocity? she thought quietly, picking up the pencil and repositioning it. With much more force, she twirled the pencil, and managed to move the pencil to between her middle and ring fingers. Her pinky finger, however, failed to catch the quickly moving pencil, and Gina suddenly flung the mechanical pencil across the room.

With the accuracy of a missile, the pencil cut through the air and zeroed in on its target, a fellow classmate, bouncing off of the back of their head before clattering to the floor. Gina's face went a ghostly pale, and she felt herself shrinking in her seat. Gina bore the look of a guilty person, eyes wide and face set in shock. She was very tempted to dig into her bag for another writing utensil and just pretend that it hadn't been her, but she only had one pencil. The victim of the accidental attack turned in their desk and locked eyes with the gargoyle girl. Gina smiled nervously, shrinking a little deeper into her seat, but didn't move otherwise. Oh God, please don't kill me. Please don't kick my ass. I'm only a poor, klutzy, nervous freshman.

"I .... don't .... know...Maybe he is eating a apple, or a orange." "Sounds better then math."

Well it certainly wasn't the answer that Amber had been expecting but she wasn't the type to judge a person just for being a bit unusual. After all, she had spent the majority of her life being shunned for being unusual, both in appearance and, espeically, in mannerism. She was never considered crazy, of course, just strange. She was the quiet brainy kid that couldn't go outside and had to wear the funny robes. The life of a child when one wasn't able to belong was a difficult life to lead and she would never wish such a life on anyone.

"Anything is better than math," Amber agreed, deciding not to comment on the stranger suggestions. Why would a teacher not come to class just because they were hungry? It didn't make any sense. Maybe something terrible had happened to her like being attacked by a horde of angry humans with a bone to pick with mutants everywhere? With a shudder she forcibly put the thought out of her head. It was a horrible thing to think and not very likely to have occurred anyway. Their teacher was probably find, just inexplicibly late was all.

Amber's rather morbid thoughts were unexpectedly interrupted with a pencil struck her square in the back of the head. With a confused expression she turned around and found herself face to face with someone who could only be described as looking like a gargoyle. Not only did she have grey skin and horns, but she also had actual wings sprouting from her back. Two thoughts passed through Amber's mind at that moment. The first was that being a gargoyle was clearly awesome and the second was that she really really hoped she hadn't accidentally made herself an enemy and the pencil attack was intentional.

"C-can I help you?" Please please please have it been an accident.

Gina found her gaze darting uneasily as the girl adressed her. At least, she thought it was a girl? The person was wrapped head-to-toe in cloth, the only apparent attribute of their appearance being their small stature. The cloth over where their mouth probably was shifted as they spoke, and Gina felt an involuntary bolt of anxiety run down her throat, but it wasn't because of the pencil, anymore. The classroom was so clamorous that Gina couldn't hear the girl, and she couldn't read her lips, either.

Shit. Gina thought, As if this could get any worse. How would she know what the girl was saying? How would she know if she was mad? Her face was going more and more red as she grew more and more embarrassed. Her only option was to get up, get the pencil herself, and hope that the girl wasn't angry at her.

With a heavy sigh, Gina unwillingly got to her feet, the chair of her desk scraping the floor as she got up, her tail caught in the opening in the back. With a small grumble, she undid herself from the seat. She made her way down the aisle, crossed a few rows a desk and then made her way to where the shrouded person sat. As she made her way over to the other side of the room, she kept her breathing even, telling herself that there was nothing to be worried about.

She surveyed the shrouded girl and her neighbor. Her neighbor didn't seem to pay her any attention, but she could feel the shrouded girl's gaze boring into her from behind the veil. Behind her veil, her skin was a stark, bleached white, and her eyes were an abyssmal black. Gina bent down and picked up her pencil, tempted to just scurry back to her seat without a word. She hadn't heard what the other girl said, so didn't know how to reply, but she didn't want to just leave without saying anything.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said, chuckling a little, "I normally don't make first impressions like that. I'm so sorry. I didn't meant to hit you. It was just... I was trying to twirl my pencil, see, and I got to much power behind it, and the pencil kind of... uh, flew. I didn't meen for it to hit you in the head. I'm really sorry." Although, Gina had to admit, it had been kind of cool, seeing a pencil fly like that. Gina was pretty sure she could never pull off something like that intentionally.

"I'm Gina," she offered. Gina hesitated to sit back down, lest the girl try and say something else to her. From this proximity, it would probably be easier to hear her.