Marsail Cirsium
Marsail Cirsium was thinking about slumber parties.
Not that she felt like holding one or anything; she was moving out of the quine classification quite rapidly, after all. However, the sight of the darkened ballroom, sleepwear-clad students of all sorts resting in their sleeping bags on the floor, was one that she could not help but compare to the the nights she used to share with her friends and at times Èibhlin. The dull, whispered conversations between girls who were ostensibly supposed to be asleep, the quiet snoring of those who were too exhausted to socialise, the sudden pillow-based projectile that she instinctively moved her head out of the path of ... they fit her conception of a slumber party incredibly well. It should not have been anything surprising or important enough to note, but there was a part of her that took whimsical, joyful pleasure in being part of what seemed to be an incredibly huge sleepover.
It was almost enough to make her laugh, but she didn't want to wake anyone up.
They would be quite busy the next day, after all.
Clad in a simple pair of violet pajamas, the eldest of the Cirsium sisters settled down in an empty spot, rolling her bag out before quickly snuggling inside. It was still an overwhelming and breathtaking experience, being within the grand halls of Beacon Academy, but Marsail Cirsium felt content. She had made it. She was one step closer to becoming a Huntress. One step closer to becoming someone like her da.
So she wasn't worried for tomorrow.
The violet-haired girl closed her eyes, letting sleep slowly wash over her.
Her weapon was stored safely in her locker.
She wondered how Conall would fare; even though the lad was someone she was yet to be entirely familiar with, she mentally wished him luck, even if he would not receive it. He likely would find it unnecessary. But it was no matter to her.
Marsail Cirsium would sleep for now. And tomorrow, she would succeed.