[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210317/fb4a8b926d99f0bfd5c8fe26ab34725c.png[/img]
[hr][colour=DarkGray]T H E  K I N G D O M  O F  V A L E
B E A C O N  A C A D E M Y
G R E A T  H A L L[/colour]
[hr][/center]

	In the interim between the speech and curfew, Albedo had taken to cordoning off a section of the Great Hall as her own. She ate little, compared to the mess of applicants so awed by Beacon's culinary display that she wondered if any had ever laid eyes upon a substantial meal in their lives. Her taste for Vale's unique brand of cuisine meant less to her than laying claim to private respite away from a rabble destined for failure as Huntsmen, and in her time, Albedo had experienced plenty of spreads both rivalling and surpassing the night's.

	What occupied her mind instead was the Team selection of the following day. She eyed her potential classmates from a sequestered corner, secluded behind a small fortification of heavy metal boxes, stacked atop a trolley she had commandeered from one of the doddering fools that attempted to take her luggage. The seams of each box bore the marking of a remarkably clean weld, as though the metal had been masterfully fused together, and though Albedo knew, full well, that they would be nigh impossible to open without a specialist skillset and want for property damage, she was loathe to trust the school and its caretakers with such expensive materials just yet.

	Nobody caught her interest, though a number earned her disdain. Faunus, show-offs, dimwits by the dozen. However the Initiation was to be conducted, she only hoped to avoid the incompetence, and the insults to the title of Huntsman, that lay before her. She could forgive a lack of experience, or a lack of talent. They had all come to learn, it was only natural that the majority be unfit for the job from the outset. But the idiots, and the Faunus - her teeth ground together involuntarily at the thought of spending four years with such wastes of resources.

	In Albedo's mind, not even a school as prestigious as Beacon could make warriors out of individuals unfit for anything more than basic labour. She remembered a time her mother spoke of Professor Ozpin, and how her Team had briefly met him whilst assisting the Council with an extermination in Mountain Glenn. He had been referred to as a prodigy, and took his place as Beacon's Headmaster at an age younger than any of his predecessors; her mother had claimed that his mannerisms seemed to both fall in line, and contradict, such accomplishments, as though he unsparingly combined youthfulness with wisdom. A shame, then, that he left but a fossil from the Great War behind in his place. She had somewhat looked forward to meeting him, but more importantly, she could not help but doubt the quality of education, without a man as supposedly great as Ozpin at its helm.

	With each passing minute, the people watching grew more tiresome. She glanced back to her sleeping arrangements for the evening - the hardwood floor the Great Hall, and a high quality, expensive sleeping bag, though a sleeping bag nonetheless. The makeshift wall of boxes would afford her a modicum at least of privacy, but spending the night even in the same room as so many annoyances, and criminals, left a bad taste in her mouth, and in no world would she be found sleeping in line with the rest of the student hopefuls. Albedo could only hope that the morning came swiftly, so that she might never see the majority of them again. In the meantime, she took to settling herself, and retrieved her Scroll from the pile of clothes stashed within her luggage, intent on passing the minutes reading, until the disturbances around her quieted enough for her to sleep.