Raava Academy

Mensies

Shit, what a night.

I awake to the sound of wailing, screaming cats, and at first I'm thinking, what the fuck - there's cats on the campus? After a minute of sheer half-asleep confusion I also notice a distinct buzzing sound, and only then do I realise it's my phone alarm, no doubt changed by Jinora when I wasn't looking.

"Miaaoooooow! Yaarrrowooowwww!" screams out in a loop, over and over, and so I sit up, curse loudly, wipe my eyes and then fumble for the phone which has somehow managed to lodge itself down the back of my bed.

"Fucking hell..." I groan, sticking my hand down the back of the mattress, and then feeling elation once I feel my fingertips brush against hardened, buzzing plastic. I edge my arm down the back of the mattress a little further, and manage to grab the evil device, yanking it out and lightly scratching my arm on the edge of the bed-frame in the process. I deftly swipe my thumb across the large red 'X', thus stopping the angry, noisy kitties.

"Thanks, Jinora," I mutter to myself. Still, I couldn't really afford to sleep in today, given the extra time I need to take care of my mensies, not to mention my drugs have worn off, and I'm fucking sore. I grab a sleeve of pills from my bedside drawer, pop two of them out from the metal foil cover, and then swallow them down with a swig of water from the bottle I always keep handy by my bedside.

There's just over an hour until first lesson - which should be enough time to get washed and changed, and put on a fresh blood-sponge. This morning's lesson is with Su - Mrs Beifong. Upper Cube seniors don't actually have to be formal with the teachers, in fact Su insists that we use her first name, and whilst doing so felt strange at first, I got used to it eventually.

I grimace at my naked and tired little self in the wardrobe mirror, idly scratching beneath my right boob, wondering what I'm gonna wear today. I think I'll go with a thin, white sports bra, and one of my faded green, sleeveless vests. I have three, and they're pretty much identical, though two are in the wash. In fact, many things are in the wash. Many, many things.

Mental note to self - do laundry at lunchtime today.

It's not unusual for me to run a few degrees hotter when I'm bleeding, and the summer heat has been pretty consistent. So, shorts it is then. Or period-pants, as Opal likes to call them. They're dark-navy green, with wide holes just below the knee, and they're extremely soft and comfortable. They're basically boy pants... but screw gendered clothing, they make me feel nice at an otherwise shitty time and that's all I care about.

I run my palm across my exposed shin, feeling stubble. Screw that, I'll shave my legs later, and if anyone says anything about it I'll probably just whip the air straight out of their lungs. An avatar with PMT is not someone to fuck with, or so Mako used to say, not that I've ever actually hurt him. All joking aside, I'd never hurt anyone - I reserve my aggression for only two things; the gym, and slaying monsters.

Oh crap, that reminds me - Asami wanted to spar tonight... maybe that isn't such a good idea. I'm not sure I can even look her in the eye after a certain fucked-up dream, never mind play pretend-fighting games with her.

Even so, I find myself wondering how she'd fight, and what her style is. That thought was a mistake. Now I'm imagining her pinning me to the floor, her crimson-painted lips an inch away, the top of her vest soaked with sweat.

Fucking great. I don't know if I'm angry, horny, or confused. All three, I guess. "Dumb-ass dream," I mutter, closing my door behind me, and twisting my key in the lock.

"What's that now?" Bolin asks, tilting his head.

"Oh hey Bo, didn't see you there. Morning..." I say, yawning.