[@Vesuvius00][@Slendy]

[h3][color=B6B2B2]Ayame[/color][/h3]

	In truth, she did notice Sora wandering about the schoolyard per usual, but only from a brief glance from her book to her fellow Noir classmate, typical of them trying their damndest not to be seen.  Merely [i]Kage-san[/i] shrugged her shoulders and resumed reading.  She honestly had no thoughts or qualms about her classmates.  Rather, she saw them as equal.  They were all part of Class Noir for one simple...bloody reason.  Another sigh, pleasant yet bored, parted her dry, pale lips, another turning of the page, another skimming of ancient knowledge pinned by long dead intellectual minds.  It was nice to relax before classes would begin, yet...even that in itself would be difficult.

	She soon heard it, the shrill, horrid cackle of a madman, the rattling of rusted, steel chains scratching and scraping across the concrete pathway, so irritating to her that it made her brow crinkle slightly.  The ominous, unpredictable presence loomed ever closer to her, the iron scent of blood heavy upon the wind and choking out the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms, a familiar smell to who else but a cutthroat. [i] [b][color=B6B2B2]"Don't even think about it."[/color][/b][/i]  She hissed under breath in a deadpanned tone, a flick of her wrist producing a sharp, slender knife that was mere inches from skewering his jugular, all while her attention remained affixed to the book in her lap.  Another flick of her wrist and the knife receded into the sanctity of her sleeve, Ayame snapping her book shut and rising to her feet.  [b][i][color=B6B2B2]"Hmph.  Nice head-gear."[/color][/i][/b]  One more little jest she gave before turning on her heels and sauntering away.

	To think they would accept someone like him for Class Noir.  The killing intent was there, yes, but his demeanor...so unprofessional, so sloppy.  There was a fine line between a professional and a psychopath.

	She kept walking meanwhile in thought, the soft breeze sending her silk raven hair flowing behind her, her empty, soulless gaze only upon the ground beneath her.  Soon she had arrived at the dorm hall.  She didn't care who she roomed with, as long as they didn't bother her too much.  Room 312, home, or...what constituted now as home.  Slowly she opened the door, revealing to herself the quaint, simplistic room, two beds on either side, a few shelves and one dresser.  Well, at least there was a place to keep her books, Ayame mused.  She decided the bed next to the window would be hers, falling into it on her back...gazing headlong at the stark white ceiling above..and taking in the silence.