Termott — Roleplayer Guild

Everyl Vesta

It was quiet in the car ride to her new school, or rather her new prison for her final year in high school. Everyl burned daggers into the back of her driver's head, and by the frigid tension in the car, she was quite sure he could feel it. She knew that it wasn't the driver's fault, but he just happened to be within the vicinity for her resentment. He was actually one of her most favorable of staff -- meek, loyal, and quiet. Just how Everyl liked them. None of that bullshit happy-go-lucky false front that so many of weak often put up. 

Disgusting.

They had slowly reached the hovel of an educational facility. Did her father really expect her to stay here? Her driver quickly got of his seat and the car to open the door for her. Perhaps the last time she'll have someone at her beck and call. She stepped out, scowling and the cheerful sounds of the hooligans that are her fellow classmates. Everyl turned her head sharply at her driver, wondering why he was just standing there idly as if he were paid by the hour. Fear satisfyingly painted his features as he jumped back to work mode, closing her door and fetching her luggage. Louis Vuitton leather set trunks of course.

"Later!"

Everyl turned and as if he teleported, the driver was already zooming off in the Bentley she was sitting in moments ago. She huffed, figuring her punishment must have started the moment she set foot on school grounds. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear in a soothing way, Everyl looked to the rather too large trunks. Now that she was the one who had to carry them, perhaps it was a bit much. 

No, no. I did pack the essentials. It's not like I'm going to live some of this savages. She scanned the area in repulsion, seeing what they called cheap clothes being worn in public. Why she would never even be caught dead in such rags. Shes till couldn't believe she had to be in such close proximity of these beasts. 

To distract herself, she figured she better move her luggage inside, the aged leather style was last year and every minute under the blazing sun meant another several hundred dollars off of its value. She pushed with all her might, genuinely surprised her trunks began to move, given she's never worked a day in her life. It took her a few proud steps to realize her bags were on a cart for easier mobility. Chagrin colored her face briefly before she continued on, feeling much like those pilgrim folk who possibly traveled this very path years before. A young man, a first year it looked from his childish features, had opened the door.  At last, some recognition. She made her way through the door way without any means of a thank you.

The inside could have been better, but was surprisingly nicer than the outside in her opinion. She followed the small crowd the best she could, having a rather difficult time seeing over her stacked trunks. They fortunately led her to the stations where it appeared you received an ID card. She waited in line impatiently, fixing her messed up hair from all that vigorous labor she had just endured. How dare they  make her wait. She doubted any of these children even knew the taste of 
foie gras, let alone worthy of being ahead of her.

Eventually, it was finally her turn. She stood before the glass, waiting a few more painfully long seconds before the man on the other side looked at her expectedly, as if expecting something. He gestured toward the hole on the bottom of the glass, wanting something, acting as if she would carry things on her person. That was the help's job. She arched a brow, rather appalled she was to stand here and waste her time. 

Vesta. At last the stare down had broken as the man nodded at the mention of her last name. He typed on his keyboard before the printer roared to life. The man threw her card underneath the window for her to retrieve. She did so, holding the edge of it precariously as if she'd get some sort of disease from it. Carrying on her way, shoving her hoard of personal items to where her room was, gladly not on the second floor. Even thinking about carrying all of her belongings up the stairs made her exhausted. 

Room 17 wasn't much of a journey as she expected. The plain door had one of those swipe devices like those equally rundown hotel places she'd never dare stay at. With the green light flashing it's approval, Everyl swung the door open, now having to pull the damned cart of luggage. She even had to exert force due to the cart just not quite fitting through the doorway. Although when it did unexpectedly, she manage to pull a bit too hard, the momentum making her fall on her rear. 

"Oh dear lord. Now I'm going to have to burn these clothes." She grumbled with irritation, immediately getting off the most likely filthy floor. She closed the door rather forcefully, not wanting any eyes to see her at such a low point at her life, cut off from society in this closet of a room.
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