Nim kicked at the trunk of the tree she was sitting under. She was laying on her back, legs stretched up the trunk, with school books leaning against her thighs. Somehow, magically, her skirt had pooled just right to keep her modest. Magic.

Whether she was actually doing school work was up in the air. She had pens and pencils and books everywhere, but she was nodding her head and singing under her breath and didn't seem to be getting anything done. Still, some of the papers piled next to her actually looked like notes and completed problems, so maybe she was.

Cirrus was laying close by with a matching pencil tucked behind his long ear. There was no matching accessory too silly for Nim.