marcia

There was theft afoot. Well, that was Marcia's running theory after angrily searching for her compact mirror for four entire seconds with the patience of a Proctor five minutes before lunch. She could have sworn that she had placed it on the bench a few minutes ago before re-lacing her boots...

She was in a box. Not a metaphorical box that might have signified particular walls or barriers put in place that might have reflected poorly on her as a person, but an actual fucking metal box, locked with a padlock and located in one of the Academy's storage rooms alongside training dummies...