who → fia, niles.
where → lisbon: park.

Lugging her cello across the road, Fia was sure that she looked incredibly out of place - even more so than usual. She hadn't planned on wearing her striped pink and black knee-high socks today, but everything else had been dumped into the wash by her mother accidentally and there was really nothing else to keep her legs warm. Coupled with a bright newsboy cap and platform boots, she was sure that she looked like someone had just thrown several paint-bombs at her. Strangely enough, she wasn't too uncomfortable about it. It was as though the more outrageous she dressed, the better she felt around other people.

Yanking at the handle of her cello-case one last time, she let out a loud gasp as she stumbled into the park and fell onto the grass, face-first.