"...brings us to a more basic understanding of the medium. Now, if you will all arrange your palettes as I have just shown you, we can begin with simple stroke work, refining our core skills before moving forward."

The reflective earring turned slowly in the light filtering through the shut blinds of the classroom, chiming softly as it made contact with a strand of blond hair. Professor Silver smiled encouragingly at his class, holding up his palette of paints to remind any of the girls who had forgotten his instructions, a hand rising to still the spinning jewelry.

"Now, watch closely. This is a broad stroke, using the full width of the brush. Primarily you will be using these to fill in areas of a predominantly solid color, such as sky or sea backgrounds, mountains and other large, contiguous subjects. Now, if you would all be so kind as to give a few test strokes, I will walk about and offer advice."

Offering another seemingly warm smile, he set down the palette, slowly winding his way through the girls of his 101 level class. A gentle hand on the shoulder there, a quiet word of encouragement there, the odd light grasping of a slender wrist to adjust a stroke by way of example. He intended to keep this class one of his more "human" activities, relishing the performance, the deception inherent in his every word and movement.

"Very good, my dear. Now if you will just apply a bit more pressure, like so.."

Leaning over one of the girl's, he took her wrist gently, pushing her hand toward the canvas slowly to show her the pressure needed. His eyebrows rose as he felt the muscles in her wrist go rigid in response to his touch. He quickly released her, putting on his best smile and raising the hand apologetically.

"Ah, quite sorry. I really should ask before laying hands upon you."

His eyes glinted slightly in the light, the silver iris becoming more reflective for a moment. Such red hair...pale skin....a bit small....but beautiful none-the-less....and she's been taken before, if that flinch was any indication.

Ah, art. Finally, somewhere she could relax, just in the slightest. Art class had always been a favorite of hers- sure, everything she painted looked suspiciously like those paintings that elephant did a while back, but since you couldn't get graded on artistic skill, as such, she thought she was doing fairly well for herself by choosing it for an elective.
As she followed the teacher's instruction, she let her mind wander slightly, as she was prone to doing. After all, things had been distracting recently, and Severity knew it wasn't likely to stop. She had spoken to a few other girls, who reluctantly divulged that she probably wasn't crazy. For once, she sort of wished she was, so that she could know that those things weren't real, weren't probably lurking around the corner-
"Oh!" She almost jumped out of her skin, as a hand closed around her wrist. For a second, before she exited her own little dream world, she thought that another one had found her, and that he would- oh, no, just the teacher, currently apologizing. "Er, it's fine," she said, feeling her face redden visibly. "Just a bit jumpy today."

"Ah. Still, my apologies. Now, if you will look back to the canvas, and try applying a bit more pressure with the stroke..."

As she turned to look back at the canvas, the professor studied her quietly, the blush in her cheeks sending a small tingling sensation through his frame. Yes, I simply must have this one. But how to ensure a...Ah...I know just the thing. After a moment of watching the girl apply paint to the canvas, he lightly patted her on the shoulder, moving off to assist the other students.

"Very good class. Now, if you will turn the brushes laterally, for narrow, detailed work with a wide bristle brush. You may not always be able to have the right tools on hand, so it is vital to learn how to use the more common ones to simulate certain effects..."

The class continued without interruption, the light slowly dimming in the classroom, as afternoon gave way to twilight.

"All right, now everyone bring your palettes and brushes to the cleaning station on your way out. Don't worry about cleaning up, I'll take care of it today."

The announcement of no cleaning duties was met with smiles and sighs of relief from the students, the girls quickly moving to drop off their supplies. Professor Silver watched the red haired girl from the corner of his eye, one hand drifting below the edge of his desk, cracking and breaking into a fine mist of crystalline shards. The tendril of nearly invisible dust snaked quickly under the desks and pedestals, trapping the foot of a girl directly next to his pale prey. The overbalanced girl toppled into Severity, her messy palette of paints squishing against the girl's arm and side, leaving her a streaked mess of garish colors.

"Oh my. Just leave the palette where you dropped it my dear. I'll clean it up. I suggest you get to a bathroom, or to your dorm room to clean that off before it hardens."

He offered the paint splattered girl a falsely kind smile, his hand reforming behind his back as he stood to start cleaning up the mess.

"Warm water ought to clean that right off."

She nodded, glancing briefly back at him. Sooner or later, she got her mind back on task, returning to the rather amateurish painting she was working on.

When the class was over, she stood eagerly, smiling a bit to herself. Really, every time she got a scare, she felt intensely relieved, as long as nothing happened. A thus and an unpleasant, slightly damp feeling all down her left side interrupter her reverie, as another girl bumped into her. Severity winced, looking down at the bright colours splattered all over her uniform's shirt and vest. This was not good- she had already had to order loads of other uniforms. Where the other girl was holding a cup of water for rinsing her brush, her shirt had become somewhat transparent, and seemed to fit even tighter. "Oh- um, alright, thanks," Severity said quickly, hearing the professor's remark before hurrying off, barely remembering to grab her bookbag. She was about halfway to her dorm when she realized that this was the first time she had been alone in about a week. Oh well, nothing could be done now, she decided, before completing her jog to her dorm.

The professor knelt on the floor, cleaning up the spilled paint, waiting for all of the students to file out of the room. After the last student left, he waited a few moments, before rising to lock the door, leaving the mess half cleaned up. He walked to the window and looked out into the gathering dusk, now fully mirrored eyes locking on a figure quickly walking toward the dorms, red tresses dancing in the fading sunlight.

Back to the dorm for you then? What a perfect start to the evening.

Moving away from the windows, Professor Silver began to fracture, cracks snaking across his body. After a brief moment, he collapsed into a pile of shattered silver glass, the jagged pieces shifting and grinding together before rising to form a roughly humanoid shape, black holes in the mass where eyes should be. A tendril of smooth chips snaked around the handle of the desk drawer, pulling it open and withdrawing a small hand mirror from within, setting it on the desk face up. With a quick motion the mass of sliding fragments dove into the surface of the mirror like a snake into a pool of water, vanishing into the slowly re-solidifying surface. Next stop, the dorms...

With a thought, the creature known as Shard shifted to the mirrorways of the dorms, darting though the rooms until he found the bathroom he sought, hiding behind the reflection of the shower curtains as he waited for the painted girl to arrive.

She double-locked her door, checked to see if the window was still closed and locked (it was) and then hurried to the bathroom, already taking off her vest. With one hand, she turned on the warm water in the bath, figuring that she could remove the paint fairly easily. Her other hand was occupied in undoing the buttons of her shirt, which fit like a second skin. Her ample breasts were large enough that as soon as she popped open a button, it would snap back, away from the buttonhole. Soon enough, the shirt joined the vest in the water, which was already starting to change colours. "And my skirt too," she murmured, removing the garment in question and placing it in the tub. The girl decided that she might as well not get dressed- after all, it's not like anyone would come in, and she didn't want to soak another outfit. So, in just her bra and panties, she began to remove the traces of paint from the clothes.

Shard watched the girl curiously, taking in the natural beauty of her form. He had seen what many considered the ideal pair of breasts, artificially molded with silicon and other such nonsense, but he much preferred the display of cleavage before him now. A thin tendril of shattered fragments rose up within the mirror, pressing against the inside surface, until it cracked slightly, a small chip popping out and falling to the floor with a tinkling sound of glass on tile. Shard quickly withdrew behind the reflection of the curtain again, flowing his amorphous body into the mirrorway version of the tub the girl was bent over, looking up at her through the cloudy surface of the water, keeping his shape hidden in the swirling lines of paint on the rippling surface.

At the slight jingling noise, she straightened, turning her head. "Is someone there?" she asked loudly. When there was no response, she frowned, glancing at the mirror. "I'm sure there's some explanation,' she decided, returning to the washing. She bent over the rim of the tub, her breasts almost falling out of the small white bra as she continued to remove the stains fro her clothes.

Some explanation? Most certainly there is... He began to slowly move toward the reverse surface of the water's reflection, his tendrils glittering as the water diffused the paint. A faint chiming noise echoed through the bathroom, like a glass wind-catcher. Shard shifted his features to match those of the girl, allowing himself to merge with her image on the surface of the water.

As she continued to wash her clothes, she caught sight of herself in the water, her facial expression the same. Slowly, as she continued to glance at it, the features shifted, eyes widening with horror, mouth open in a soundless shriek. Her reflection pointed at her, then seemed to scream again, pointing behind her.

She shook her head, hearing teh chime ring out. "I am going insane!" she hissed, trying to put it out of her mind. She glanced half-heartedly at her reflection- after all, she probably looked terrible, with thrands of her hair trailing in the water. The second time she looked, however, she noticed a slightly panicked expression on her face. "What is going on?" she demanded quietly, noting that the reflection's lips didn't move. As her expression shifted to one of abject horror, she turned her head urgently, trying to see what was over her shoulder.

Shard cackled silently as the girl turned, searching for a phantom threat. While her attention was diverted, he pulled her reflection away into the mirrorway, dragging it into the mirror over the sink and hiding behind the curtain again, sending a tendril to slap against the inner surface of the water in the tub, causing it to roil and froth from within, almost like an actual washing machine.

Again, the tinkling chime of glass echoed in the room, another chip from the mirror flaking off and falling to skitter across the tile floor.

Nothing there. Of course there wasn't. Probably just her imagination acting up again, she theorized, before turning back to the washing. For a brief moment, she frowned, not seeing her reflection anywhere. Then small rippled appeared in the water, quickly increasing pace until the soapy water began to bubble. She barely even noticed the mirror chipping again as she stood, staring at the rapidly moving surface of the water.
That was it- even if it was a hallucination, she wanted out of there. She took to her feet and entered her bedroom, shutting the bathroom door firmly behind her. Sighing, she sat down on the bed, glancing at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her door.

Or she would have, had her reflection been present. Instead, as she gazed upon the silvered glass, she saw only the room around her, devoid of any sign of her existence. No matter how she moved, no sign of her reflection would appear, only a vague gray clouding of the surface when she got really close.

Shard snickered, enjoying the game. Dragging her reflection with him, he shifted to the bedroom mirror, hiding himself and the stolen image under the bed, the only sign of his presence a faint glinting light, and the musical chiming of glass as he moved, echoing once again through the room.

Now, for something more direct.

As the girl stared at the glass, her reflection slowly faded back into view, seeming perfectly normal, that is until she tried to move. Now that it returned, her image seemed to be paralyzed, a statue of the girl staring at it.

"That's it," she said, noting that she seemed to not be in the mirror. "I'm getting out of here." She made her way to the dresser to get another uniform, when, out of the corner of the eye, she noticed her reflection. Oh, that was good- she might have just been imagining again. Satisfied, she turned back to the room... and nothing happened in the mirror. "What the..." She approached the glass, realizing that nothing was happening. "This is so weird."

The reflection remained frozen, stuck in midturn. As she approached the mirror, Shard slipped a few tendrils along the carpet wrapping around the reflection's ankles and snaking up her back, hidden from view.

Not entirely sure this will work...but, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The girl's reflection suddenly began moving again, silently screaming out as it was pressed against the inside surface of the mirror, nails scratching at the mirror, making it look more like a window into an identical room. The reflection's eyes looked right at the startled girl, tears beginning to stream down the identical face, hand scrabbling at the glass as if trying to reach through for help.
Another silent scream rocked the reflection, an unheard cry for aid twisting her mouth as her face was pressed against the glass. The glass chiming sound rung again, faintly echoing from the surface of the mirror.