Don't Meddle With Her Heart

[Tilda MacFusty]

She was frazzled. Everyone was frazzled. Exams were upon them and Tilda was not letting anything get in her way of studying. Luckily she'd eaten a good breakfast so she was slightly less cranky than she normally was during exam week. Still, Tilda had fair ran [in a near unladylike fashion] to the library, sat herself down and sprawled her days previous homework out in front of her, correcting her mistakes, and occasionally closing her eyes to quiz herself on an answer or two.

It was during one of these various study methods that Tilda was practising that someone had run up and taken the spot opposite her. Her eyes were closed, her brain focused on trying to remember the answer so she didn't take much notice until she found the answer in her mind, opened her eyes and smiled with the knowledge she'd gotten it right. Still, there was someone else at the table. She wasn't exactly pleased - she liked to sprawl out her homework so she could see it all in front of her, and thus took up a good portion of the table. Nevertheless, Tilda smiled graciously and gathered her homework up that she didn't require at this time to give the boy space to study as well. It was with her brief glance at the boy that she blushed slightly.

He was quite handsome, and although Tilda was known for being fairly at ease with conversing with members of the opposite sex, this one made her tongue feel tied up. "Ehr -" she stammered, twirling her feather quill half nervously half out of habit. " 'Is ahlrigh' - Ah can' blame yeh for tha' " her accent was a strange mixture between Scottish and Irish, thanks to her paternal Scottish lineage and her maternal Irish lineage. "Mathilda MacFusty!" she smiled at the handsome boy, trying not to blush again. "Although, ev'ryone calls me Tilda."