soul evans the eater ↔ stand pridely by your meal

If you were to ask Soul, remedial classes suck more than Black*star attempting to be a withdrawn and structured guy. They're boring as hell, especially when they're taught by Sid, who tends to go on about rambles about what kind of guy he used to be more than anything else. He's learned a lot about Sid's life before becoming a zombie, but hardly anything about the structure of souls.

Man, he doesn't even care about the structure of souls! That's Maka's job. His job is to eat them, and eat them good. That doesn't take any studying at all.

Soul's bored as hell, and he may be drooling just a little as he stares blankly at the front of the room, his head settled in his arms. He ain't daring to sleep, but that doesn't mean he's not zoning the hell out.

Wouldn't you?

There is a boy of an unidentifiable age sitting at a piano. Shadows eclipse most of this room, the only light that shines comes from the ivory of the keys; but when there is little light, it serves not to illuminate, but rather to enhance the mystery.

You were not here before. Do you even remember where you had been before? Surely it matters not at this moment. There is a boy, there is a piano, and there is a small demon pushing at your legs - push, shuffle, push, until you're in the room and the door

clanks

shut.