This fic is for my broscallion Charles Winkles III. There is Karane/Pipit here, onesided and hinted at. The events of this fic occurred pre-Skyward Sword. So before the Wing Ceremony/Race.

Vicious snarls and mewls and growls raved at the heavy, exquisitely carved door. Mia's claws raked at the door, inflicting damage a scraggly freshman armed with varnish would deal with in the morning. For now, the academy students moved around the classroom, preparing for the study-over before Professor Owlan's test on the nature of loftwings. While Professor Howlan took care of flying matters, Owlan filled in the other blanks. The swan-haired teacher wanted everyone to tell him abut average wingspans and correct measures to take in the event of a loftwing's injury preventing it from flying to Skyloft for treatment and a recitation of the legend of loftwings.

Karane pushed a long desk with Cawlin's help, pressing it against the wall. All of the tables lay cleared and lined the sides of the classroom, leaving room in the center for haphazard heaps of blankets and pillows. Fledge began arranging items atop the bare desks: blank pages, writing instruments, extra chalk, and tomes. He avoided two desks: one set aside for Henya's food and drink and one with a boulder atop it.

Groose sat atop a desk, scratching away at the chalkboard, drawing a seating chart for the students. Naturally, he placed himself next to Zelda, and Link across the room. He sketched everyone else in random places. His sloppy, shakey white stick figures had grotesque faces marked with the talentless skill of someone who barely knew how to doodle. As the entire group carefully ignored the chalkboard, steps sounded from the kitchen.

Henya walked through the lobby, a heavy wooden tray laden with piping hot stamina potion mixed with Pum's famous pumpkin soup. The purpose of the weird orange-green concoction being to give the students energy and focus and nutrition as they studied through the night. Cute little cups, complete with dainty handles cluttered the wooden surface. She set the tray down on the empty desk nearest the entrance.

Cawlin, Strich, Fledge, Karane and Zelda sat in a messy blob shape on top of blankets and pillows, focusing on the notes strewn in front of them whenever Henya approached with more weird beverages and nutritious gooseberry snacks. Groose remained atop his throne of desk, now sketching lopsided hearts near his mediocre stick figure of Zelda.

Zelda began to worry as the night progressed and Link and Pipit neglected to arrive. Briefly she wondered if he fell asleep somewhere on the way to Pipit or on the way back. He seemed that tired, although his sedentary lifestyle of late didn't really explain his fatigue. Link was probably just la

Earlier, Link donned emerald green pajama pants and button-up long-sleeve sleeping shirt along with his boots to fetch Pipit, as the senior didn't live on campus and usually found out about arrangements like these right before they happened or as they began.

Finally, the upstairs entrance to Knight Academy thrummed open and closed. Link stalked down the stairs, a lazy yawn already forming on his lips. Pipit walked behind him, clad in a gray-toned nightgown reaching his ankles, a matching floppy sleeping cap atop his head. The nightgown fluttered lightly with each step around his thin legs; the cap's foppish end drooped to one side. The edges of the head-warming device reached down beyond the tips of his pointed ears, concealing the his hair from the sides. The gray of the flannel cloth was punctuated by thin blue stripes. Dawn-colored Remlit slippers covered his feet: the exposed portion of leg stood covered in loose white socks.

Pipit joined his peers in the center of the classroom, and started to seriously peruse the notes. Groose made fun of him while Karane inched closer. She wore soft pink woolen pants and a long-sleeved hooded tunic. Sprawled out on someone else's pillows, Link informed him that the overnight study-session was mostly for fun and that he could relax. Pipit silently reached for some stamina soup and continued studying as Karane not-so-stealthily admired.

I think I was maybe too mean to Groose. I hope I portrayed Pipit's PJs to your liking, Charles Winkles III. Reviews make me prance like a magical swan-deer from another glittery dimension.

And yes, this was mostly pointless because I couldn't think of a rousing, fantastic adventure for Pipit to experience in his PJs without this turning from canon-compliant to outright crack laden with a good amount of insanity. Of course, now that I've written this down, an idea comes to me. Scumbag muses.