[center][img]https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1400036422i/9626203._SX540_.jpg[/img]
[H2][color=00aeef]Maya Enilsdottir[/color][/h2][/center]

[Center][hr][color=gray][b]Sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ Cᴏᴜʀᴛʏᴀʀᴅ - ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇ́ᴍɪᴇ ᴅᴇ ʟ'ᴇsᴘᴏɪʀ [/b]
4ᴛʜ ᴏꜰ Sᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, 1917[/color][hr][/center]
[indent]
Perhaps it was the hot weather. Perhaps it was the massive crowds of people bustering about. Perhaps it was the nerves for the year to come. Perhaps it was all of it.

Whatever the cause, the result was the same. Maya of Telemarin, daughter of a renowned, infamous mafiaboss, was trembling in slight fear. Fear for the new year and everything that was to come. She always was like this, Maya, worried sick despite her neverchanging, cold looks. How one can become so used to hiding ones emotions is only left to imagination for most, and she certainly was no different. How was it that she could look at everyone without a smidget of emotion? She was always so nervous, so fidgetty inside. Perhaps that was one one of those inherited traits she was taught the previous year in biology class. She did not know.

What she did know was that here in the schoolyard, where all the girls buzzed about in expectation of both the new senester as well as the headmaster's welcoming speech. Hardly interesting to Maya, she had little necessity for congratulations and pep talk. She had her own method, after all. In her bag she carried the collective works of the famous Telemarin philosopher Gaea Einarsdottir, and the discussions about economical progress being the pinpoint of her philosophy. Maya admired Gaea greatly, though that may also be because Gaea is her great grand aunt. Either way, it was her medicine.

So she strolled about, taking in the same sights she'd gotten so used to over the years. It was in all a fairly beautiful day, she reckoned, with the sunshine strong and the sounds of singing birds barely audible over the constant chitchat. The benches were full with girls talking about the previous year and their time during summer vacation, as well as the odd ones out that instead read books. She recognized some of them, though she had no reason to chat with any of them. Or any one at all. 

She was, after all, heir to a mafia Empire. [/indent]