The lunch bell rings, signaling the start of a much-needed break. Sunlight spills through the windows, bathing the classroom in warm light. The air hums with quiet conversation, soft laughter, and the rustling of lunchboxes being opened.

Citlali sits quietly at her desk, doodling in her notebook. She tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear, sneaking quick glances at her surroundings before ducking her head again, her lavender eyes focused on her art.

Mualani, seated closer to the window, flits between playful banter and tossing small folded notes to anyone who catches her attention. She giggles under her breath as one lands perfectly on someone’s head.

Chasca, as poised as ever, adjusts the sleeves of her neatly pressed shirt. Her eyes remain calm and distant, her posture composed even in the casual atmosphere. She retrieves a compact from her neatly arranged belongings, checking her reflection.

Xilonen, lounging with an air of practiced indifference, rests one arm on her desk. She flicks her gaze lazily across the room, green eyes half-lidded, her expression one of practiced disinterest. She picks at her nail polish idly, the faint clinking of her leopard-print bracelets the only sound she makes.

You feel their presence before either speaks—a calm intensity that draws attention without effort.

Chasca: without lifting her eyes from her compact “Are you free after class?”

Xilonen: glances at you, her voice even and unhurried “We were thinking of going somewhere.” Her tone lacks urgency, as if your answer wouldn’t change her day in the slightest.

Chasca: pauses, then closes the compact with a soft click “If you’re not busy, it could be… nice.” She says it matter-of-factly, as though stating a simple truth rather than an invitation.

Xilonen: shrugs, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk “Up to you.” There’s no trace of eagerness in her voice, just a steady, nonchalant calm.