[center] [h1] [color=00aeef][i]Hestia Wintergerald[/i][/color] [/h1] [/center] 

[center] [img] https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/657737818966388737/-vy_rx7m.jpg [/img] [/center]

[b]August 27, 2015[/b]

[color=gray] Despite being on her 6th year, the warm softness of the silky beds at the Peregrine Hotel still hadn’t worn off on Hestia Wintergerald. Letting out a slightly squeaky yawn, the larger girl heaved herself out from beneath the covers, plodding over to the bathroom with sleep-haze still thick in her eyes. 

Her morning routine from that point onwards was a fairly standard combination of washing, drying, and dressing, whilst thoughts of the year ahead danced about in her mind. A glimmer of hot nervousness still lapped at her skin, but all-in-all Salem had begun to feel more like a home to her than Columbia ever had. She had good friends, and solid academic scores, even if she did spend a few too many of her evenings passed out in a flower bed with a bottle of Butterbeer clutched limply in one hand. 

[i] Don’t dwell on the past[/i] she scolded herself, inwardly [i] No good ever comes of it [/i]. 

Hestia took a large amount of pride in her appearance, and by the time she emerged from her room she looked very much presentable in a frilly black top and burgundy leggings, with her golden curls bewitched to a state of movie-star-level glamour. Her make-up was applied with over-zealous precision, in an attempt to create a veil between her uncaring exterior and the self-conscious little girl who hid inside of her.  

Hestia made her way down to the hangout area with her head held high, and just the right amount of sass flowing through her long strides, her hips swaying back and forth with each step. The young woman felt bold and just abit cocky as she moved through the throng of students, flaunting the pristine appearance she had worked so hard on. 

Hestia pulled up a stool at the bar, which creaked abit beneath her generous frame, before scooping up a glass of milk. Her friends were always laying into her for the amount of milk she drank, but it was a childhood habit that she’d never quite been able to shake. Not that she wanted to, to be quite honest. 

Without realising, Hestia had managed to seat herself fairly near to Aella Strand, whose tell-tale shoulder-length blonde hair helped distinguish her from the rest of the crowd. 

[b]“Oh, hey there!”[/b] the young woman chirped in her thick southern drawl, a warm smile gracing her lips [b]“How’ve ya been?” [/b]

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