[center][h1][b]Iraleth Kyrios[/b][/h1][/center]

A race to the auditorium? Curious. No doubt that the threat of losing one's place at the academy would prompt a mad scramble to begin in the next few seconds. Certainly not the High Bishop's style, at first glance. A desperate stampede in the name of competition didn't quite seem like something he would approve of. Either there was something beyond this or he wasn't particularly involved in how the school was run. 

Regardless, it seemed as though she didn't have a choice at the moment. With a resigned sigh, Iraleth joined the rush of prospective students, starting to simply shove through several with a combination of her natural height, muscled form, and plate armor providing bulk. She didn't employ direct violence, of course. But she didn't let anyone in her way slow her down, either. 

A few moments of the obvious approach told Iraleth it wouldn't pay off in the long run. There were simply too many students in the way for her to keep this up for the better part of an hour to reach the front of the pack, or close to it. Anything less was too much of a risk to not be able to make it into the auditorium. And she'd sworn to her father she would succeed. His hopes and the legacy of his dead fellows were riding on it. 

Fine. She'd invoke her Ethos, then. After all, this was ostensibly an academy intended to train everyone enrolled in such. There was little reason to restrain herself that she could see. A sweep of her plated arm shoved aside those nearest to Iraleth. She would need the space. The other fist clenched, held in front of her. 

[b]"On borrowed wings."[/b]

The Inheritor's armor materialized around Iraleth in a flash of light, revealing an eight foot-tall holy warrior completely encased in gleaming plate. Wings of light spiked out from the armor's back, and Iraleth took flight, literally soaring above the rest of the competition as she made her way towards the auditorium.