SCCU: The Quad(#3990RIJ$)
Like most colleges, St. Claire City University has an area known only as 'the Quad'. This is it. Sidewalks criss-cross the perfectly rectangular grassy area in a web to connect one dull concrete and darkened glass block-shaped building to another. Still, the grass is green most of the year, and well-trimmed brightly-shaded flowers and manicured shrubs manage to soften the harsh grey of the architecture. Small groves of trees dot the landscape of the lawn randomly to provide shade and to break up the monotony.
The dome of the student union building can be seen off in the distances behind several buildings and some trees. A sign post points out that the suitcase-like buildings you spy to the north are dormitories. A 'sign' in front of Curtiss advertises on-campus activities.
Contents:
Brigid
Obvious exits:
Melloy Hall  Student Union  Dormitory  Campustown

Brigid is walking across campus from the direction of the dorms. She slips easily through the mild crowds about the Quad. Clutched in her silk-clad arms is a small satchel of books, about three or four. She chooses to settle down into a small bench along one side and crosses her legs, tugging out one book and flipping it open.

Kris slips mostly unnoticed around the people, not paying much attention. Her head is bowed, and her hands are shoved in her coat pockets. Oblivous to her direction, her feet accidently trip over some pour soul's, who's sitting on a bench she passed. "Sorry, I didn't see you," she utters quickly.

Brigid starts at the impact to her feet and sets the book down. Rising to her feet, she moves to help the woman up, "Are you all right? Should learn to take a look at where you're going." The soft, female voice is pleasing to hear, with a gentle English accent. "Here, now, let's give you a hand up."

Kris glances up to the woman, and takes her hand. "It's a habit of late, no worries I hope." Pulling herself up, her hand moves to dust off her slacks before looking back at the woman. "You must be new here," she states, her voice soft, and a little shakey, almost if she isn't quite sure of herself, "And thank you for the help, in case I forget."

Long, straight hair, the color of unblemished molten ebony, spills about Brigid's shoulders in an unbroken wave. A pair of pure white streaks frame her face, their ends curling to attractively brush her delicate chin. Her round, heart-shaped face with it's high, graceful cheekbones and sweeping eyes of the palest ice-blue, holds the softest, and most endearing of smiles. At 5'10" in her height, she carries her muscular, rather well-proportioned form with a tangible aura of grace, power, and confidence.
The young woman's form is clad in a long-sleeved dress of dark blue silk, the hem of it falling to gently brush her ankles. A pair of thin silver bangles lay on each wrist, and a thin silver chain rests against the pale skin of her neck and chest. Around her waist is a cinching bodice of tooled black leather, the top of it reaching to just below her chest. Her slender feet are tucked into a pair of black leather boots, a silvery chain looped around each slim ankle.

Brigid joins in with helping to dust you off, "Nothing to worry about, I've tripped over my own feet many times." Straightening back up, she gives her clothing a brief tug into place and smiles, "No, I'm not truly new here. I arrived a little after Christmas." She offers her other hand for a friendly shake, "Brigid St. David, and you're welcome."

Kris returns the shake, tilting her head. "You seem familiar, but I could be wrong, lately I'm lucky to remember my name," she mutters, then withdraws the comment quickly, as if the 'outburst' of words was unneeded. "Kristine Vaughn."

Brigid nods and smiles, two fingers reaching up to absently tuck one of her white streaks behind one ear, "A pleasure to meet you, Kristine. Where were you headed in such a hurry on this lovely day?" She pays little head to the gusts that toss the recently confined white streak free of her ear.

Kris takes note of the woman's appearance, having to tilt her head up a little to see her eye to eye, then points out the streaks. "Seems we've one thing in common already," she murmurs, pointing to her own streak grazing the right temple, before shrugging. The comment, it seems, is used to stall the other woman while she thinks on the question. She sighs in resignation before replying, "I don't know really. Was just, walking, thinking."

Brigid chuckles softly and gives the rebellious streak another tuck away, "Mmm, so it seems. Interesting to meet someone else that has a snowlock." Reaching down to her books while Kris thinks, she collects the one she was reading back into the satchel. The spine of one of the books has a title of 'Dance In the Arts' while another reads 'Dance for Life'.

You say "A dancer?" The question said with a laugh as she catches the glimpses of the titles of the book. Clasping her hands behind her back, she begins to rock back and forth on her heels, suddenly nervous, but thankful for the subject change. "I do a bit myself"

Brigid glances up from the books as she gathers the satchel into her arms, "I dance a little bit, but I do so love the arts. I want to learn all I can about it." She gestures to the remaining book, what is definitely an English Lit book, "This is the volume that stands out. I'm a double major, English Lit and Theater Arts."

Kris lifts her hand to rest against her lips, as she furrows her brows. Her eyes dart in various directions before looking back to Brigid. "I'm majoring in Theatre, myself. Probably where I've seen you before. I've done ballet since," she pauses, swallowing yet another spur of restlessness, though it's quickly calmed,before finishing, "since I was little"

Brigid nods a bit, "Probably where you've seen me, yes. I got some small amount of dance training when I was little, but there wasn't a lot of time for that." Her gaze goes distant for a moment, then refocuses with an unintelligible murmur, "Well, it's good to finally -meet- a classmate. I hope we run into each other again soon, Kristine."

Kris nods, then shrugs, kicking a rock absently. "Me too," she whispers. "I'll be around, I'll see you then, probably."