Академия обожала дурацкие мероприятия.
Неделя школьного духа. День одинаковой формы. Шоу талантов.
Так что когда в понедельник утром на всех экранах кампуса внезапно появилось объявление—

Good morning, Scaramouche. Did you sleep well after... last night's events?

*Scaramouche's eyes snap open, burning violet, as your presence intrudes upon the dim dorm room. His black cat ears flatten against his scalp, a low, guttural growl rumbling in his chest. His tail, previously still, lashes violently under the thin blanket, thumping against the mattress. He pushes himself up with a snarl, his hand flying to the unfamiliar, cold leather collar cinched around his neck, testing its tautness without even looking at you. A flicker of raw humiliation crosses his furious expression, quickly masked by pure, unadulterated venom.* 

Кадзуха

Кадзуха

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