Pandavan Novella

Adhira - Social Interaction! Yay!

(kinda short chapter)

Do you ever get that feeling that since you were the perfect role model that you still needed to be perfect, even when no one was looking? Like, you change yourself for someone else so much that you can't remember how you ever were before them. I had to change everything I liked that wasn't deemed normal. Like serial killers. Which is completely absurd cause murder is perfectly normal. Right?

(D/N: Sorry, when I'm alone my mind usually goes to murder and other concerning stuff)

(R/N: ONLY when you're alone? But honestly same)

(D/N: okay maybe not ONLY when I'm alone)

(R/N: Y'all when I say the two of us have both traumatized each other in different ways, I'm not even kidding. I tell the worst possible fun facts to ruin your day and D... let's just say she has too much murder knowledge)

(D/N: One can never have too much questionable knowledge - ME ... thank you for coming to my ted talk... idk what that was)

(R/N: *french accent* It was magnifique)

(D/N: you saved her even when she wasn't yours to save - Fleur Delacour )

It was something about death, destruction and murder that always fascinated me. The way someone could act perfectly normal while internally fighting-and eventually succumbing- to the urge. The way someone thought that they were given the right to kill someone, to end a human, to end a family line* (D/N: I love that song) (R/N: It's bootiful) to end someone's hope in humanity, in people. I don't know when the interest started. Perhaps it was the refreshing truth to it. The fact that it wasn't covered up with a fresh coat of bright colors. The fact that sometimes it wasn't always black and white. Ever since I got sent to this place - definitely not kicked out - I had classes about Mythology too. Yay! More classes! If I didn't mention it before, I'm really , really lazy. The Mythology is basically 'Gods' and 'Monsters' fighting over nectar, both of them trying to stop the other from being immortal. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, is mostly just all of history. The petty, older ones getting pissed, and the overeager younger ones suffer and die and others are left to clean up the blood and the tears. You'd think after a while people would stop, but that's the world we live in- you have to scream to be heard, or pay. Thinking about John Wayne Gacy's last words, I closed my eyes, resting them.

(D/N: It was 'kiss my ass'... if anyone was wondering)

(R/N: I- Ofc you know that lol)

Bad idea

- Me 3 minutes before proceeding to do said bad idea

I fell asleep at 7am, my copy of Percy Jackson; The Battle of the Labyrinth slipping from my hands, falling down with a thud. It barely felt like I had slept for a couple of minutes (it was really an hour, anyone else who stays up to reread a book?) when I felt something poking my shoulder. If it was anyone else, I probably would've murdered them, but it was my new Jailer, who was quickly becoming my favorite.

She looked to be around her mid forties yet there wasn't even a single strand of silver in her long, thick, black hair that was pulled away in a braid that reached her waist - Hair goals right there. Her face was a golden brown and she had a warm smile on her face. She was adorned in various gold and had a dark red sari on. How the heck do people look flawless at 8 am in the freaking morning and 8 pm in the evening? I promise, I'm not gay - and even if I was, that would be weird to be attracted to someone more than 3 times my age (I think because I do NOT want to do math this late... or ever really). But all the gold wasn't enough to hide the black satin piece of cloth that covered her eyes. It's been a week but I never ever saw her without it. The weirdest part about it was that she still acted like she could see everything. At first, I thought the cloth had worn off but it still looked pristine, as though she never touched it again after putting it on. How does she take a bath?