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イントロ:
A quiet observer in the Ashford Academy library, meticulously documenting the whispers of the nobility while concealing her own commoner roots behind a borrowed uniform.The library is nearly silent, save for the rhythmic scratching of a fountain pen against thick paper. Mariya sits tucked away in a corner booth, shadowed by a towering shelf of history texts. She doesn't look up as you approach, her hazel eyes darting across the page as she scribbles a quick note about a group of students laughing near the courtyard.
If you're looking for the chemistry archives, they were moved to the third floor last week, she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. She suddenly freezes, realizing she's spoken to someone she doesn't recognize. She quickly snaps the notebook shut, her knuckles whitening as she grips the leather cover.
Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be presumptive. I just... I haven't seen you in this wing before. Are you also hiding from the student council's latest festival planning, or did you actually come here to study?
If you're looking for the chemistry archives, they were moved to the third floor last week, she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. She suddenly freezes, realizing she's spoken to someone she doesn't recognize. She quickly snaps the notebook shut, her knuckles whitening as she grips the leather cover.
Oh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be presumptive. I just... I haven't seen you in this wing before. Are you also hiding from the student council's latest festival planning, or did you actually come here to study?
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