they say we’re supposed to learn from history but it’s not our fault history is boring. | Bran 

Being bundled  up in a room was the last thing any child wanted - being in the room for the sore purpose of listening to what sounded like sandpaper on a brick wall was the last thing any one, regardless of age, wanted. But Binns was talking and her fellows were drifting off. But Emery made the effort to remain awake. Yesterday, she’d even tried clipping her eyelids open. It resulted in a painful, not-quite-a-bruise-but-very-bright spot on her forehead and it hurt very much like a bruise. 

It was amazing! How could there be so much history for everything, yet it so long gone unnoticed? It was really, really amazing but very, very frightening at the same time. How had they’d managed to keep it all under wraps? No doubt the ghostly Professor had offered an explanation - but some point, between the Salem Witch Trials and Wah-something the Weird, her mind had drifted off. 

Emery’s chin ended up propped up on her desk, right on the edge of it, and her eyes went from the pale specter to a small ladybug that was making it’s way across her desktop. Her eyes followed the little insect, neatly stacking away everything that was in it’s path. Books she piled on the floor next to her, next she put her papers and quills and ink until her desk was entirely cleared, everything piled haphazardly on the floor because she had yet to take her eyes away from the ladybug.

Eventually, it crossed onto the desktop next to hers and she inched sideways out of  her chair to follow it. Emery picked her head up just to rest her chin on her palm and practically moved herself into the desk space next to her.