- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
He pushed past the crowds and almost ran over a raven-haired girl along the way, only barely managing to evade her petite form on his way to the backrow seats. A quick 'sorry' was passed (because a human deserved at least that much), before he hopped into the center back row, snug between some slacker brat too busy twiddling on his phone to pay much attention to anything else.
For but a brief moment, Tabitha could only contemplate if her fate was to be trampled to death. It wasn't exactly the death she would have preferred to have, but she could imagine that her sentiment was the same as any other person's. Thankfully, her fate lied elsewhere as the boy managed to avoid stampeding her and instead bumped her aside. Stumbling in attempt to stay on her feet, she herself bumped into another, prompting her to give her own little 'sorry'. To most, such an accident, although annoying, was just a byproduct of their situation. It was one to be forgotten of in but a few hours, save for those extremely petty. Unfortunately for the boy, she could be quite petty. It took all of her willpower not to step out of her role and confront the twerp, but she bit her tongue. Oh, she would not forget this, but she would have wait for a more opportune time.
Choosing to avoid those desiring the rear seats, Tabitha made her way up the rows, grading them based off those already seated. To find one devoid of excitable and nosy people was her goal, and it was one without its shares of difficulty. Already, she had felt the eyes of others upon her, judging her as she did them, and while she was fine with it, there was always the possibility of them acting on their judgments. In the end, however, the discovery of a suitable spot on one of the rows near the center was made, and with it, she staked her claim.
Choosing to avoid those desiring the rear seats, Tabitha made her way up the rows, grading them based off those already seated. To find one devoid of excitable and nosy people was her goal, and it was one without its shares of difficulty. Already, she had felt the eyes of others upon her, judging her as she did them, and while she was fine with it, there was always the possibility of them acting on their judgments. In the end, however, the discovery of a suitable spot on one of the rows near the center was made, and with it, she staked her claim.