Shiro sat hunched protectively over her desk, bristling at being brought crashing back down to Earth from a lack-of-sleep induced daydream by raised voices. Probably over a girl, she reasoned dryly as you watched two male students being seperated by the teacher. Blinking away the remenants of the dream - something about a goldfish? - she became vaguely aware of the other first year students grouping at the front of the class. Silently, and with a look that could curdle milk, she slid from her seat and made her way to the front of the classroom, positioning herself closest to the door more out of instinct than cohesive reasoning. With limbs felt like lead and her head was buzzing as if a bee hive had been stuffed into it, she couldn't help but think of Morning as a physical being that highly disagreed with her physical being.