Room 327- Saturday morning

Sia had been here all of a couple weeks, and she'd been woefully underprepared for the idea that she might turn into a pony. That, believe it or not, had not made it into the brochure.

And yet here she was, a white pony that still had streaks in her hair- er, mane- standing in her dorm room on all four legs, staring at herself in the mirror and being slightly less convinced with every passing second that she had to be imagining this. Maybe after a few weekends like this, she might get used to the idea enough to remember that at least she was still pretty (for a horse) and go with it.


[Omg, I have never needed ice cream more in my life, but door and post are open!]