Boula slumped heavily on the bed of her dorm; her bag fell heavily beside her, and for a while she just sat there, staring into space,
collecting her thoughts. Fallish was so far away from pasture. She had never realized it before, that there wouldn't be any familiar flora here, or that she would not see the Centra on the horizon, as she had even in Sedimoreal.
The air was so much louder here. All day her ears and eyes had flicked back and forth, following the breezes and the sounds carried therein. It felt like all the communication in Low was being siphoned through this small university, but in all likelihood really it was just that there was so much being said here that there was never any instant of silence. Even now she could hear conversation snatching and giggling and muttering and lecturing and shouting and sobbing and laughing and --
She crammed her hooves against her ears; then took a deep breath, and stood, to shut the open window. The curtains were fluttering and she pushed them aside to access the mechanisms but before she closed it completely the curtains billowed back against her face. It felt warm and moist.
"Bou," twisted a whisper into the canal of her ear, "Bou," and Boula immediately answered, "This is she -- this is me -- Bou -- Boula!"
She ran back to her bag on the bed, thuck thuck thuck, and scrambled. Her hooves clacked against pens and pencilcases and stiff folders, and then finally she found it, a compact mirror at the bottom of her bag, a gift from her mother. She unlocked it and set it carefully on the dresser adjacent to the bed. The mirror clouded with condensation, slightly at first and then completely; Boula waited and then took a microfiber cloth and carefully wiped the mirror.
Leucan was reflected there. Her face was frozen with furrowed brows and pursed lips -- troubled.
"I'm here," Boula said loudly, and her ears felt warm, and she heard, "Oh, good! I was afraid it wouldn't reach you."
The mirror condensed again. This time when Boula wiped it away, she saw an image of Leucan smiling, relieved.
"Sister, how was your first day of university?"
Boula, who had been smiling, pursed her own lips this time. She hoped that Leucan wasn't wiping at the mirror every second. "It was..."
She trailed off. Leucan waited a moment; then said, "Oh, sister! What happened?"
Boula cleared the fogging glass again. Leucan's eyes had narrowed and her nose was wrinkled with anger.
The air was so much louder here. All day her ears and eyes had flicked back and forth, following the breezes and the sounds carried therein. It felt like all the communication in Low was being siphoned through this small university, but in all likelihood really it was just that there was so much being said here that there was never any instant of silence. Even now she could hear conversation snatching and giggling and muttering and lecturing and shouting and sobbing and laughing and --
She crammed her hooves against her ears; then took a deep breath, and stood, to shut the open window. The curtains were fluttering and she pushed them aside to access the mechanisms but before she closed it completely the curtains billowed back against her face. It felt warm and moist.
"Bou," twisted a whisper into the canal of her ear, "Bou," and Boula immediately answered, "This is she -- this is me -- Bou -- Boula!"
She ran back to her bag on the bed, thuck thuck thuck, and scrambled. Her hooves clacked against pens and pencilcases and stiff folders, and then finally she found it, a compact mirror at the bottom of her bag, a gift from her mother. She unlocked it and set it carefully on the dresser adjacent to the bed. The mirror clouded with condensation, slightly at first and then completely; Boula waited and then took a microfiber cloth and carefully wiped the mirror.
Leucan was reflected there. Her face was frozen with furrowed brows and pursed lips -- troubled.
"I'm here," Boula said loudly, and her ears felt warm, and she heard, "Oh, good! I was afraid it wouldn't reach you."
The mirror condensed again. This time when Boula wiped it away, she saw an image of Leucan smiling, relieved.
"Sister, how was your first day of university?"
Boula, who had been smiling, pursed her own lips this time. She hoped that Leucan wasn't wiping at the mirror every second. "It was..."
She trailed off. Leucan waited a moment; then said, "Oh, sister! What happened?"
Boula cleared the fogging glass again. Leucan's eyes had narrowed and her nose was wrinkled with anger.
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