[IC] Saint Hirst Academy [10/12 Slots]

[KoL]

Seyrun Riviathan

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St. Hirst Academy, Dining Hall, Midday

"Indeed, formalities are so boring," Seyrun said, letting out an exaggerated sigh, as she recalled the many social gatherings that she was required to attend as the future representative of her nation. "I understand the reasons behind most of them yet, I always have to force myself to not sleep when I have to listen to the umpteenth candidate to my hand trying to gain my favor while singing praises to their own family or nation. You sure do suffer from that too, don't you, Nadia?"

—X X X X X—

Right after Seyrun made her latest comment, a figure that would be known to the veterans, but not so much to the newcomers, walked into the Dinner Hall. The academy's dean, Headmistress Rachel Elizabeth III, Duchess of Sabrie, an auburn-haired woman whose age-defying appearance was the envy of many students and faculty alike.

"My goodness, if that's not an interesting line up we have here," Rachel said to herself, after setting her eyes on the table occupied by some of the most dignified members of the student body. "I came here expecting to find Sar— excuse me, 'Boss' and Hildr. Nevertheless, this is much more amusing," she added, again to no one in particular.

"Are you having a nice day, Little Ladies?" Rachel said, creeping on from behind Seyrun —who almost jumped out of her skin— while flashing her characteristic cat-like smile at the students. "Oh, why are you so scared, Riviathan? A fencer such as you should be always on her guard, is it not? Fufufu~" she added teasingly. "That said, girls..." she gave a long glance around the, now mostly chamber, before continuing, "I know that the afternoon classes are optional. However, the cleaning staff needs to work. I believe your talk was very good, given that some of you have barely touched your meal but, lunchtime is over. Please, finish your dishes before you leave, the kitchen staff is always disheartened when their work is thrown away."

"Yes, one more thing," Rachel said, tapping her chin with her index, pensively. "Why don't you girls come to the library this evening? I heard rumors that something 'special' will happen," she added while standing close to them, looking at the girls with the gaze of a predatory feline.

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[Lonewolf685]

Hildr Reinhardt

"Then the real world sucks. Ugh, why couldn't I just take up embroidery, or daytime drinking? But no, I had to get an education. Grr, curse my supportive family for not telling me to give up on my dreams, curse them!" Her fist shook in the air long before her head rose from the wood and found no pity in her contemporaries cool exterior. She hadn't expected any, of course, but feigning the look of a kicked puppy at least made her feel like Boss felt bad, deep down on the inside.

Failing this, she reclaimed her pen and smoothed out the crumpled papers, resuming work with all the sluggishness of a train leaving the station. "Bah, you're right as always. I'd ask if you get tired of it, but the answer is so obvious our freshman girls could answer it after their first class with you."

While Hildr needled Boss to distract from the tedium of scholastic pursuits, Rufie was feeling incredibly self-satisfied at the looks of anger and dread Dana sent her way.

Friends they may be, but getting one over the snarky blonde brat just felt so very right to her. Besides, it wasn't as if Dana was an innocent here, so there was absolutely no need to feel sorry for releasing Blake upon her.

...well, maybe just a little.

"Mmm, the dining hall smells as lovely as ever." Rufie declared amidst a rapturous inhalation, pausing to allow Dana and Blake to pass ahead before taking up the rear. Having marched from station to school in record time she was past the point of peckish and craved a hearty meal to gorge herself upon, considering it a personal reward for not getting physical with Dana for co-opting the announcements earlier.

Zealously guarding her twin servings of Chicken Alfredo, she alighted upon their customary table and tore into the warm, savory meat with a gusto that was almost unladylike, were it not for the complete absence of spills or stains as noodles were slurped and chicken torn asunder upon her fork.

"Now Blake," Rufie chimed primly between bouts of cutting and feasting, "Now that I've shafted Dana into the drama department, what are your plans for the year? I imagine the costume department would be grateful to have your skill with a needle."

Her eyes flicked to Dana, savoring the warmth of kicking her when she was down. "And with how quick they seem to go through clothes around here, replacements must be in high demand."