captivated in athelia / h.s au

two.

"/W-an-der-lust/.

-n 

a strong desire to travel"

****

I woke up at the crack of dawn. The warm October sun shone thick through my long, white, thin drapes, leaving a golden trail among my fluffy white rug.

"Athelia" I groan, knowing that instantly it is my mothers voice shouting up the stairs to me. 

Her voice is gentle, soothing, calm. But at the same time, not the thing I want to be hearing this morning. There is still a trace of sadness behind her voice, which she has managed to cover up well over the years.

"I'm up!" I stretch, and groan. I reach over to my bedside table and grab my book, propping my self back a little, so I am sitting against the oak headboard as I do so.

Now, the book I am holding in my hand is something only I know of. And my mother. But it is the only thing I seem to be able to hold on to, which doesn't leave me.

As crazy as that sounds, it's the truth. I think words are such extraordinary, magnificent things. And being able to express myself through such language, and on to a small, worn, leather journal, is incredible.

The human dialect consists of many things. Not only words, but emotions. Feelings. The things we are are afraid to think, so we say it. The things we are afraid to say;

So we keep it in our heads.

****

I gather up my items for school, taking one last glance in my small antique mirror, and being pleased with myself. I am happy with my skin, it is pure, slightly pale, but pure at that. I have deep hazel green eyes, like the evergreens of the forest, you might say.

I'm wearing a cream lace comono, my white vest top, my favorite maroon skater skirt, and my brown brogues.

I have my leather satchel, and my hair in a long plait, and I am done.

****

After waving goodbye to my mum, I enter my school. 

I make my way through a sea or bodies, getting nudged every now and then, until I make it to my first class. There is still 5 minutes till class so I put on my favorite acoustic album and stick my earphones in.

I get straight to class and sit down near the front. I wouldn't say I was the stereotypical "nerd", however I get on with my work, share my ideas in class, and always do my assignments. I just enjoy learning, I suppose.

My first class of the day is English Literature. Definitely one of my favorites.

After turning off my music and putting away my phone, I sip my now warm coffee which I picked up on the way to class, and then quietly get up and place it in the empty cup in the bin.

However, knowing my luck, as soon as I turn to go back to my seat, my face hits a hard, tall male frame.

"I u-Sorry-I was-"