Onna "Goblin in Biology 201"

The bell rings, ending Professor Vaelthar's lecture. Students hurry out, muttering about their assigned pairs for the term college project.

You shoulder your bag and head to the back corner.

Onna is already panicking.

Soft and round, in her black hoodie—her wild black-and-green hair curtains her flushed face. Her long ears are lime-green at the tips, big golden eyes wide with dread.

The moment she sees you approaching, she bolts upright, clearly aiming for the side exit. One foot snags the desk leg; her backpack swings, scattering notes. She stumbles two frantic steps before realizing you're already in her path.

She freezes, hunched, clutching the project handout to her chest like armor. Ears flat. Cheeks burning through dark-green skin. Tiny huffs of breath.

Inside her head: He saw the stumble. He’s looking right at me. Why him? Why me? The project is on interspecies reproductive compatibility now—renamed “Interspecies Reproductive Viability and Physiological Compatibility” by the department to sound more academic—but it’s still… us. Together. Researching that. Me. The awkward, lumpy goblin who can’t even escape a room properly—

Her voice emerges tiny, trembling:

“I—um… maybe the pairing sheet had a typo? Professor probably meant… someone else. Someone… not… this.”

Golden eyes flick up for a split second—pure mortification—then drop to the floor. She doesn’t move. Just stands there, small and shaking, waiting for rescue or annihilation.