~Isolde's Point Of View~
Isolde Bellamy has never liked ceremonies. They're noisy, sweaty, and the air is always filled with the scent of nerves, cheap perfume, and a little too much testosterone. The only saving grace tonight is that she will finally—finally… be out of the auditorium where everyone's hormones were bouncing off the walls like hyperactive fleas.
Now, Ms. Vesper is droning at the front, announcing dorm arrangements with such severity as though she were someone signing a peace treaty. Isolde actually listens, not because she cares deeply but because Ms. Vesper is one of the few adults in this madhouse who knows how to lace practicality with menace.
Her voice sounds like chalk scraping over slate, and though she's addressing hundreds of students, she has the uncanny talent of making it feel like a scolding directed at each individual listener.
