You decide against dodging the peach-orange tentacles inching closer, or rather your body makes the decision on your behalf. It seems your nerve endings aren't accepting commands at the moment due to the immense sense of terror your brain had chosen to send them beforehand. You instead opt to sit tight and hope your mystery classmate isn't too rough and tumble with you.
A pair of padded phalanges close in around your sides; one tall and slender, the other thick and fat. The feelers pinch tightly, squeezing your insignificant body painfully. Your arms are pinned by their pits in a raised pose. Kicking, yet not dare screaming, you are plucked from your vertical positioning and carried skyward. You hover in a painful state before a vibrant nebula of verdigris. Your arms are sore and stiff. Your calves are burning from useless flailing. You can feel bruises expanding on either of your sides, and your insides are searching for the nearest orifice from which to seep. At this point, you really regret not evading these crushing fingers.
Your face must have given an accurate depiction of your agony, for the pressure compressing you subsides slightly. Make no mistake, your torment is still quite great, but it no longer feels life threatening. As your view begins to zoom out from the ambiguously gorgeous iris, you take advantage of your newfound leeway and lower your arms. Once you've traversed a fair distance, the features of a face start to become recognizable on the inconceivably (really, you tried!) large oval of tan in front of you. A petite, bottled nose points directly at you. Delicately cared for eyebrows climb up a small sloped forehead questioningly, while thick purplish-black lashes guide carefully-painted-pink eyelids to and from their merging points. Below, red-doused soft lips move to create many indefinite expressions, altering ever so slightly the naturally carved formations hidden under blushed cheeks.
You manage the courage to speak first, "Do you think you could help me? Please?".
Countless unified charcoal filaments, originating from the top of your captor's head and flowing just past her dainty shoulders, jolt in your general direction as their base moves backward in shocked fashion. Apparently you weren't expected to speak. You seem to have driven the point that you are real home to this giantess, but that slick smile crossing her thin lips gives you little cause for celebration.
"Sure I'll help you", your classmate whispers snidely, "If", you should have known there was going to be an if, "you get me through this exam. I have no clue what I'm doing, and I know you're here for the exam, too".
You wonder if she is only guessing since you happen to be in the exam hall before realizing that you actually have a name to tie to this monolithic figure. Maggie. You don't know her very well, but the two of you were in the same group for that ridiculous mid-term presentation Professor Bradford assigned. Maggie seems to recognize you as well, and she must be pretty desperate to be turning to you for help in this class! In any case, you don't really have much choice here, do you?  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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