Vanya wasn’t a fool however, she realized quickly that her “offenses” were round about complaints about her hair. Most of them had been. She owed at least one charge of being disruptive to whispering in class with Kaira. After she found Nas waiting outside her office for the seventh time in two days, she finally put her foot down. Hair did not grow back overnight. She was one hundred percent away of Novice Naceri’s intentionally rebellious hair cut. She distributed a memo about Nasrin’s hair explaining that she was aware of the issue, that Nasrin had been punished, and to quit sending her to see her over that issue. Nas found herself in the woman’s office a week later, head held over a basin as royal blue King’s flower dye was washed from her hair. The blue tinted water mingled with pained tears as Vanay roughly scrubbed at her hair. She had been paddled to the point where she could barely sit, but her pride hurt much more.
Once her hair was returned mostly to its natural black, a hobbling Nasrin was sent on her way with the promise that she would have extra chores till her hair grew back if she tried such a stunt again. She’d already missed most of her first class for the day. No point in walking in at the last minute. Instead she headed towards the gardens, picking up a rake along the way. If she looked like she was doing chores, she was less likely to be stopped. While Novices were expected to scurry, but Nasrin’s gate was more a hobbling stalk. This was beyond unfair. Novices were expected to look presentable at all times. Blue hair and a shaved temple were plenty presentable. Maybe next time she’d just shave it all off. Why did it even matter? Tossing her rake aside, she pulled her pipe out and began packing the bowl with tabac. With a flash of blue flame, the pipe was lit and she took a long draw. In the distance, heard the bell tell the hour. Classes would be letting out. She should head to her next class. She should, but literature was so boring. She would have trouble sitting still enough, even without her aching backside. She had a channeling lesson later. She might go to that one, even if Elinda Sedai insisted on moving so slowly. Making little lights and balls of flame was so tedious.
She had been enjoying the sounds of nature and the stillness, two things she’d rarely experienced growing up in Bandar Eban, living on a boat, or here at the Tower. That all changed at the approach of voices. Black and white uniformed figures made their way along her path chatting amongst themselves. The gardens were a favorite detour between classes, so she should have expected to have company. It was still annoying. She let herself become swept along by the current of bodies. Maybe she would go to class. She just couldn’t muster up much if any enthusiasm. She was just a problem child, wasting their time. They all knew it. Maybe it was time she accepted it too. She would go to her literature class, even if it was a total waste of time. There were at least a few cute girls in that class. That would be nice, before she was inevitably sent to the Mistress of Novices again.