"Moxy Atropos."
"Yes, miss," Moxy answers with her satin-smooth voice. Damn, I feel strange. She rose from her seat groggily, still recovering from the clutches of early morning fatigue. The teacher dismisses the class with a passively uninterested voice, and Moxy picks her bag back up from the floor. It was quite a sight slung over her shoulder: a pale cream oval made of soft fabric with two large, black buttons that resemble eyes. There were long strands of wool coming from the top and draping over the sides like hair, and a zip where the mouth would be. Moxy opens the mouth of the disturbed looking face and stuffs a few books inside, sealing it tightly shut once again. History first... great. I hate history.
Moxy strolls down the drab corridor leading to her next class, barely reacting to a violent clap of thunder resonating outside. It had been stormy all week. Growling a little at the miserable weather, she readjusts her dress a little. It was usually quite loose and casual, but today it felt more... snug. Jeez, I feel a little dizzy. Must be that energy drink. With a grimace, Moxy brushes aside her long dark fringe and wipes a few beads of sweat from her forehead. Argh, it'll pass. It always does. Noticing her sleeves have somehow crept slightly up her arm, Moxy tugs them back down again impatiently. Perhaps I'm growing out of this dress, I've had it for about two years now...
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