A world of her own (o)

shima wasn't so sure about this place, but she planned to make it work. That was all it took, right? Motivation? If not then she'd surely figure out something. She always did. Though apparently making it work was going to take a lot longer than she'd anticipated, as Eshima had hardly even been here a day and already she'd gotten lost several times, walked in on the wrong class, and almost wound up in the boy's bathroom by mistake. At least she hadn't crashed into anyone yet, which was what she tended to do when she was hurrying away from the busy crowds with her head down and her headphones on to distract her from what everyone else made out to be normal. Not that it wasn't, but to her it didn't feel normal, pushing through a busy hallway crowd like a fish swimming upstream.

When the bell finally rung for lunch, Eshima wasn't sure what else to do. She was far too nervous to eat, and she wanted to be away from the mass of people that belonged here so well it made her feel like an alien. So, nervously fixing her cute little beanie atop her head, she manages to weave her way toward the library thanks to a rather helpful sign, and her love for books. Or perhaps it's merely a love for fiction. Not that it matters anyway. All but darting into the library to escape the herd of students, the teen freezes just inside the door, making sure to stand mostly out of the way, and peers around. Despite the fact that quite a few students peer over to her, she can't help but feel somewhat more at home. Glancing around at little signs, a ghost of a smile flickers over her soft lips as she spies where she assumes she'd find her fantasy books. Most people have comfort foods, Eshima would rather stick to her little worlds.

Walking over as calmly as she can make herself, sapphire optics start darting from book to book before she's even reached the shelves. The second she does, pale fingers start running over the spines, murmuring the names of books or authors, sometimes the letters they're listed by, under her breath. When it comes to anything creative, she tends to be in her element, though of course she'd never tell anyone that. Should she say she was a writer, or even an artist, people would most likely want to see her work. In her mind, the scenario would go that they hate it and laugh at her, telling all their friends and then everyone will tease her forever and it'd be just like when she was living with Mother and Father. Okay, so perhaps that's a bit overreactive, but it could easily happen and she doesn't want to take that risk. Selecting a book she likes the sound of, that ghost of a smile flickers again, remaining longer this time as wpshe makes her way over to a pair of unoccupied and a small table tucked away in what seems like it's own private alcove.

Settling into one of the armchairs, Eshima flips the book over and allows her gaze to flit over the blurb. Some say you shouldn't read the blurb, but Eshima likes reading it, and she always judges a book by the cover and blurb. Well, not really, but she does tend to pick ones that draw her in over ones that look plain and boring. Satisfied, Eshima opens up the book, turns her music down just enough for her to concentrate properly and hear the bell when it rings, while not quite being able to hear everyone around her unless they speak up or gain her attention. Her beanie is still nestled onto her head, hiding her black cat ears, which might seem strange since she makes no effort to hide her tail, even shifting it into plain view over her lap so she doesn't sit on it. As she reads, her tail tip twitches just slightly in contentment, and at points one might see the soft smile or slight widening of her blue eyes in reaction to the author's work. She always gets pulled far too deep into the stories she reads, or writes on occaision. In fact, she's so deep in her little world that she doesn't even notice anyone approaching her, should they do so.