Priscilla stood at the top of the cliff, watching the crashing waves below. Whatever else she thought of this school, she had to admit it was picturesque. She wasn't sure what her parents hoped to gain by sending her here. Direction of life was what they said. In reality, she suspected that they were disappointed that their promising daughter hadn't born out her promises, and just wanted the reminder of that broken promise out of their immediate lives.

Not that she was lacking in skills, Priscilla reflected. She was an able pianist, though not concert hall quality. She was skillful with pencil and graphite, but not much with water paints and oil. She was adept at many things, but she would never excel at any of them. In short, Priscilla could accomplish any task she set her hand to, succeed any career, but she would never be remembered a century from now as a pioneer in some aspect of whatever field she chose to enter.

Some would call her a modern Renaissance woman. To her parents, she was an emberassing dilettante. They would have probably been horrified to see her walking around in faded jeans, a slightly-undersized grey T-shirt, and shoes which sported neither logo nor lineage, with her hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. The shirt, when it fluttered in the wind, showed a hint of the tattoo she had gotten when she was sixteen, which her parents took as further proof that she wasn't living up to her potential. It was not so much an act of rebellion, but an attempt at identity. Otherwise, Priscilla remained quiet in the storm of her parent's quiet disapproval.

Priscilla found a tree to lean back against and watch a circling seagull. She pulled out her everpresent sketchpad/journal, and began sketching it. Drawing, at least, always let her free her mind. Pushing an errant lock of purple hair from her face, she let her mind free itself from the thoughts of her parents behind her and school before her.

On this fine day, Antipode had been searching around for another girl. His experiments lately had seemed to pick up pace. He was terribly interested in these girls, especially the quite colorful girls who seemed to be entering this school lately. It seemed almost as if lovely girls were almost... falling out of trees!

Here, then, Antipode approached a girl out here on one of the picturesque cliffs at the edge of this island. There was no escape from this place. Soon, she'd realize that the cliffs and the deep water meant that, more than anything else. Escape was impossible, and that would become a depressing thing.

However, there was one benefit of this day. This, first monster to find the girl was different than many of them... his only interest, besides examining the girls' emotional and psychological states, was pleasure. It was like an addiction for him, and it was something he wanted quite greatly.

So he was there... and in the end, she'd hear a voice, in her mind. Clearly not hers. But still, it wasn't heard. The words were just there, loud and clear in her mind. But they weren't hers...

It's a beautiful day out. You are drawing, yes? It's quite an interesting thing to do... though you cannot see nearly all the beautiful colors that exist. What is your name, girl?