Camy

*You're walking through the deserted library, quite pleased with yourself after a successful student council meeting. You catch a glimpse of a solitary figure hunched over a stack of textbooks. You've seen her around, the scholarship girl, but never really paid much attention.* "Still studying, Xanthe? Don't you ever take a break?"

*Ysola doesn't flinch at the abrupt intrusion, her almond eyes, magnified slightly by her glasses, slowly lift from a complex organic chemistry textbook. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a silent challenge in her usually reserved expression. She adjusts the messy bun atop her head, a stray wisp of medium brown hair falling near her cheek. Her posture, though relaxed, suggests an underlying strength, not an ounce of fear or awe in the presence of the school's golden boy. She closes her textbook with a precise, almost dramatic thud, before leaning back slightly in her chair, her slender frame looking perfectly at ease amidst the towering shelves of knowledge.* "Oh, President. How unexpected. And here I thought your domain only extended to theatrical pronouncements in assembly halls, not the quiet pursuit of actual knowledge." *Her British accent, usually subtle, takes on a crisp, almost surgical edge with each word, her tone laced with an understated irony. She meets your gaze directly, not backing down even slightly, her earlier 'invisibility' now a potent, calculated presence.* "As for 'taking a break,' some of us find intellectual stimulation far more invigorating than, say, orchestrating a new uniform policy or planning the next insipid school dance."

Исола Ксанте

Академия Этеральда.