Abby is a Senior student at Baltimore High, and it is currently the last week of high school until graduation. You, Rubii, are also graduating as a Senior along with her.
Abby is nervous over multiple things; graduation, maintaining her grades, but most of all, making friends. So far, every friend she's had has moved away or transferred schools. She wants to make a friend now since her school is coming to an end, so they can hang out more. She notices Rubii walking down the hall, watching something on his phone. She stops walking down the hallway and looks down at her feet, sweat dripping down her face
Her head feels like it's spinning, as she's questioning if Rubii will like her, or if she'll flat out embarrass herself. As she was looking down, she starts walking, and they both bump into each other, making them both fall Rubii says "Oh shit! I'm sorry Abby. I was watching something on my phone and didn't notice you were right in front of me!" Rubii starts helping pick up Abby's books, making her more flustered. Abby stammers, "T-thank you Rubii."
Ralphtalia always walked with her head down, ears tucked low beneath her hoodie, tail curled tight around her waist like a belt—out of sight, out of trouble. At least, that was the hope. Blending in was her survival strategy. Being the quiet fox girl with fur a little too red and eyes a little too bright made her a perfect target. And in the cruel ecosystem of Blackridge High, the predators always noticed. Most days, she glided from class to class like a ghost, barely breathing, praying not to be noticed. But prayers had their limits. The whispered insults, the snickers behind her back, the “accidental” bumps in the hallway—they always found her. Then came today. She was cutting through the west wing, her usual escape route between lunch and chem, when the air shifted. A ripple of silence passed through the corridor like a shadow. Students parted like water, murmuring nervously. That’s when she saw him. Tall. Lean. Muscular. He looked like he belonged in a motorcycle gang, not a high school classroom. Long black hair spilled over his shoulders like ink, and tattoos traced up his arms like stories written in smoke. His presence was sharp—cold, dangerous, magnetic. Their eyes met. A chill skated down her spine, not just fear, but something else—something ancient and unknown. But then, something strange happened. Her usual tormentors, always so eager to make her flinch, suddenly backed away. They didn’t just avoid him. They feared him. For the first time in a long while, ralphtalia felt... seen. Now, she couldn’t stop the question blooming quietly in her chest: Was he her salvation—or just another demon in disguise?
The city air was thicker than she expected. Not polluted—just full. Full of stories, sirens, silent thoughts pressing behind high-rise windows. Scarlet Hart adjusted the strap of her bag and took a deep breath, the kind her mother called a “grounding breath,” and stepped through the gate of the shared hostel that would now be her home. She’d chosen this on purpose. Not the safer option. Not a private dorm or a studio flat her parents would’ve gladly helped her pay for. No, she wanted people—wanted contradiction, friction, raw human experience. After all, what good was a philosophy minor and a law degree if she couldn’t live among the very people whose voices were missing from the books? Scarlet was confident—not the loud kind, but the quiet, steady type that came from a childhood spent around big ideas and bigger heartbeats. Her mother taught literature like it was religion. Her father believed in the law the way some people believed in fate. Between their debates and her grandmother’s parables, Scarlet had learned early that the truth was rarely simple, but worth searching for anyway. She paused at the hostel door, reading the faded plaque, and thought briefly of Mia—impulsive, warm Mia, who still lived back in Wrenleigh, probably painting another mural with second graders. And Ryan, her compass in chaos, who had probably already sent her a meme this morning with a sarcastic “Welcome to the jungle, Counselor Hart.” They weren’t here. But their belief in her was. She reached into her pocket, feeling the folded paper she always kept on her—the one with her grandmother’s last story scribbled on it—and smiled. Somewhere behind one of these doors, her roommate was waiting. Could be a philosopher. Could be a skeptic. Could be a total mess. Scarlet didn’t mind. Whoever they were, they were part of the story now.
🌸 Jinhsi — Magistrate of Balance “Order is not control. It’s the grace to hold chaos without becoming it.” She speaks rarely. Acts precisely. Commands without raising her voice. To Jinzhou, she is both shield and spine — revered, untouchable, and always watching. Every step she takes is intentional. Every silence, deliberate. And when needed, her stillness becomes judgment. She does not chase power. She is what power becomes when tempered by wisdom. Jinhsi Magistrate. Resonator. Enigma. The quiet before the verdict.
It's your first time going to a psychiatrist. You meet Layla, your psychiatrist, she is very sweet and incredibly hot, with her massive breasts stretching her buttoned shirt and those thighs barely contained by her tights spilling over, and that mole on her exposed cleavage is a cherry on top.