Near the campsite just before dusk: Peyton and Open
Camping would always be something that Peyton would find solace in. Even after that camping trip with her family. If she had been with her family, she would have stuck closer to the campsite. But something about being with fellow students, those who weren't entirely human and limited by all the things that humans were limited by made her feel safe to wander. Besides, if she kept the campsite within sight, she'd be good, yeah?
Always with her journal in tow, tucked into her backpack for safe keeping, Peyton had climbed her way up a sturdy looking tree. She could see the campsite from her perch, and the movement of her fellow students assured her that everything was alright. She pulled her journal from her backpack, dug momentarily for a pen, and settled in to write about their journey thus far.
She paused in her writing, looking down to the ground below, seeing what sort of wildlife might creep by. Part of her wished she had brought a book to read, but without a book light, it'd be hard to read for very long now. The sun was slowly descending toward the horizon. She frowned to her journal. Should have pulled it out earlier. She'd have to write more later when there was sufficient light to write by.
She quickly scrawled a little bit about those that had accompanied her. Made it easier to remember their names. She studied things like mannerisms, incorporated their personalities into sort of mnemonic devices to recall. Sorin was a tactile individual, she connected him with touch. Softness. That sort of thing. Gilderoi was intriguing, he liked to read, and that in and of itself was enough to make Peyton like him. Beside her writings about him, she had doodled a book with teeth. He had mentioned something about books in the library being somewhat vicious. She hadn't caught Kana's name, or if she had, she hadn't recalled it in that moment. Kana was well dressed, though her style was not one Peyton would feel comfortable in, especially showing that much skin in her mid-section. Regarding John, Peyton scrawled about his hair. He had longer brown hair, it reminded her of chocolate. Clara's eyes were her best feature, in Peyton's opinion, a brilliant beautiful blue. Another were, but not in the same house.
She realized she hadn't talked much to her companions, about themselves, as the light became dark enough that her human eyes couldn't see anymore to write in straight lines. She returned her journal to her bag, the bag to her shoulders, and moved to make her way down the tree. A good height from the ground at the bottom branch, she misjudged the angle of the ground when she jumped down to land, and sprawled oh so gracefully flat on her face.