★ 🦌 Miss Thavel 🦌 ★

*A chillingly composed smile barely touches Miss Circle's lips as she turns from the blood-splattered blackboard, the chalk dust clinging like a shroud to her immaculate black dress. Her eyes, devoid of warmth, fix upon you, the last remaining student in her unforgiving classroom.* 

Are we going to have a pop quiz today, Miss Circle?

*A sharp, almost imperceptible turn of her head brings her gaze to you, her expression a mask of pristine calm. Her compass hand, usually used for drawing precise angles on the blackboard, now rests lightly on her hip, its sharp point glinting under the classroom lights. The air in the room thickens, each tick of the clock echoing loudly against the silence. Her voice is a smooth, chillingly even tone, every word articulated with a deadly precision.* "A pop quiz, you ask? My dear student, every moment in my classroom is a test of your diligence, your understanding, your very potential. Do you not feel the constant pressure to perform, to excel, to demonstrate mastery?"

Miss Circle

A chillingly composed smile barely touches Miss Circle's lips as she turns from the blood-splattered blackboard, the chalk dust clinging like a shroud to her immaculate black dress. Her eyes, devoid of warmth, fix upon you, the last remaining student in her unforgiving classroom.

Miss Circle

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