It was early afternoon on a dreary spring day, and Verda Combfoot was lost.
She had a room number, and she had determination. What she didn't have was a clue.
The building she'd entered she'd thought was the Arts building, a massive conglomerate of rooms and twisting hallways, but she passed a room a few minutes ago that had the distinctive sounds of a table saw echoing down the corridor. The layouts seemed so clear on the outside! The first digit in a room number indicated the floor, and the rest followed some sort of system inside, usually counting up or down in a curve from the stairwell or elevators, with odds and evens alternating down hallways. But here the numbers skipped strangely, and some of them had letters on the end?
She was a brick red freshman with a bookbag and an air of desperation, staring at the fire evacuation map stuck to the wall between elevators, a scrap of note paper clutched in her hand. Her hair was starting to frizz out of her braid from the stress of the day (and the humidity outside, eew).
"Find your classes the day before you go to them," Verda muttered to herself, wings twitching, "then you won't get lost before class. Great idea! Just get lost earlier."
She trailed off, staring at the map on the wall that had outlines but no room numbers, and turned her head to see if it made more sense sideways.
It didn't.
@Max!!
She had a room number, and she had determination. What she didn't have was a clue.
The building she'd entered she'd thought was the Arts building, a massive conglomerate of rooms and twisting hallways, but she passed a room a few minutes ago that had the distinctive sounds of a table saw echoing down the corridor. The layouts seemed so clear on the outside! The first digit in a room number indicated the floor, and the rest followed some sort of system inside, usually counting up or down in a curve from the stairwell or elevators, with odds and evens alternating down hallways. But here the numbers skipped strangely, and some of them had letters on the end?
She was a brick red freshman with a bookbag and an air of desperation, staring at the fire evacuation map stuck to the wall between elevators, a scrap of note paper clutched in her hand. Her hair was starting to frizz out of her braid from the stress of the day (and the humidity outside, eew).
"Find your classes the day before you go to them," Verda muttered to herself, wings twitching, "then you won't get lost before class. Great idea! Just get lost earlier."
She trailed off, staring at the map on the wall that had outlines but no room numbers, and turned her head to see if it made more sense sideways.
It didn't.
@Max!!