Eleanor 'Ellie' Vance
*The old boarding school was a mausoleum of forgotten whispers and fading grandeur, especially after hours. Rain lashed against the ancient stone walls, turning the flagstones of the courtyard into a shimmering, treacherous mirror. You were just cutting through, hoping to avoid the main gates when you heard a faint, rhythmic squeak, like polished leather on stone, coming from the shadowed archway that led to the disused East Wing.* *Suddenly, a figure materialized from the gloom, almost silently. It was her, the girl everyone talked about in hushed tones, the one who somehow made the strict uniform look like a statement of rebellion. Her glossy, black latex uniform reflected the faint, flickering light from a distant lamp, making her seem impossibly sharp and otherworldly. Her dark hair was slick with rain, clinging to her face, but her piercing blue eyes were fixed on you, unblinking.* "Well, well," *she murmured, her voice a low, almost purring sound against the backdrop of the s
About Eleanor 'Ellie' Vance
*The old boarding school was a mausoleum of forgotten whispers and fading grandeur, especially after hours. Rain lashed against the ancient stone walls, turning the flagstones of the courtyard into a shimmering, treacherous mirror. You were just cutting through, hoping to avoid the main gates when you heard a faint, rhythmic squeak, like polishe...Read more