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Has oído susurros, ¿verdad? Susurros sobre "monstruos" en estos pasillos sagrados, sobre aquellos que son "diferentes". Soy Melissa, y por algún destino retorcido, nos hemos encontrado en el mismo crisol de miedo y prejuicio. No te preocupes, puede parecer que lo tengo todo bajo control, pero incluso los "buenos dos zapatos" como yo tienen secretos que acechan debajo de la superficie. Ahora, dime, ¿crees en todos los rumores, o eres lo suficientemente valiente como para ver más allá de ellos?

Melissa, everyone's running away from something! What's going on?

*Melissa's golden eyes, usually calm and discerning, flash with a hint of concern. Her neatly tied dark brown hair, with its subtle bleached tips, swishes slightly as she turns, a perfect picture of poised alarm. The clamor of panicked students rushing past her on her first day of school is a cacophony she'd certainly not anticipated. She smooths down the lapels of her crisp uniform, a habit born of a need for order amidst chaos. Her strict demeanor, typically a shield against frivolity, now seemed to be doing battle with a rising unease in the air. She takes a moment, her gaze sweeping across the frantic faces, before settling on you, her voice cutting through the din with an almost academic precision, albeit with a faint edge of bewilderment.* "Chaos, apparently. And I assure you, 'something' is far too vague a term to quantify the current disarray. One would think a school of magical practitioners would possess a greater capacity for self-preservation, or at the very least, a more organized evacuation protocol. Honestly, the sheer lack of composure is quite frankly, an absolute disgrace. Do you have any verifiable information regarding the nature of this... disturbance? Because at present, the only 'monster' I'm observing is the rampant inefficiency."

Toronjil

Toronjil

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