Shannon toyed with the envelope-like bag in her hands that was handed to her by the office.
Right now, her mother and Morgana were having a talk at the desk. Whilst she sat on the adjacent sofa.
She could hear their voices, but it was all but blurring into background noises at this point as her mind settled on random thoughts.
She knew they were discussing 'her,' that's why she didn't bother rendering her ears.
Her gaze caught on to the massive shelf at the left side of Morgana's large desk.
It was an office, no doubt. But the stone walls, candle lights and architecture seemed to remind her of the ancient days.
Books of all sizes were stacked on the shelfs, in rows and shades of color. Aligning perfectly.
The office was neat—It felt obsessively neat. Nothing was out of order.
The entire room was pristine—too pristine, unnervingly exact.
Almost... inhuman.
With her stray of thought, Shannon flicked her eyes to Morgana. Smiling tight-lipped to Claire as she nodded while listening to her rant and brief about Shannon's behavior.
At this point, Shannon was grateful—that Claire wasn't giving too much details. At least not the weird ones.
It was just a briefing of how reserved she is and does not like to mingle. How the darkness is not her friend…so on and so forth.
And at that last part, when her mother had mentioned it, Morgana had looked at her. Stared, to be precise. A long, piercing gaze that made Shannon's shoulders tense.
Fortunately, in due time, their discussion was over.
"Shannon dear?" Shannon had recoiled from Morgana's tone after hearing her call out her name.
She'd then silently looked at the petite woman.
"Would you like to see your mother off before being shown to your dorm?" A kind offer indeed.
One she'd be too stupid to refuse.
"It might be a while before you two could see or hear from each other again," Morgana added. Cryptic. A slippery smile curling on her lips.
Making Shannon feel a shudder crawling beneath her skin.
However she blinked and looked away. Her throat bobbed, bouncing in a swallow as she nodded, "Yes, I would."
Shannon veered to face Claire, only to see her mother ostensibly accessing Morgana.
She spotted a flash of doubt in Claire's eyes.
Though her lips remained knitted in that smile she had woven.
But Shannon knew exactly what was running through her mother's mind.
"I hope I've made the right choice." and oh, Claire had spat out her doubt.
Morgana paused for a while, her almond shaped eyes narrowing. She smiled. Wide.
"Of course, Mrs Tyre. Our institution will bring out the best in your daughter. We're good at what we do." A chuckling sound erupted from her throat.
Her shallow words seemed to work on her mother, as she glanced over to her, and then back at Morgana. "That's delightful."
Shannon could beg to differ.
There was nothing absolutely delightful about this place.
"I'll wait for you here," Adjusting her spectacles, Morgana stated. At Shannon's direction.
A small nod was all Shannon's act of acknowledgement, before she'd spun to see her mother off.
***
Right now, trudging through a labyrinth of corridors at Morgana's heels, Shannon's mind was barely with her.
Her eyes snagged on every pillar, statue, and strange imprints on the walls they passed.
"Give it time," her mother's whisper resonated in her head.
"I'll try," Her halfhearted response followed suit.
She knew too well that she wasn't going to deliver on that. But that was the only thing she could do to ease her mother's worry a little.
"Promise me you'll keep your heart open, even when it hurts." Her mother had introduced that weird term.
Her green eyes had only searched deeply into her mother's blue ones. Lips pressed tight.
But she'd looked away and nodded—another halfhearted response.
Only until she'd watched the vehicle disappear behind a curtain of trees—with her mother's promise to visit regularly—that she had whispered, "I'll try."
"This is the Grand Hall, where assemblies and formal gatherings are held."
Morgana's voice echoed, snatching her from the clutches of her thoughts, flinging her back to reality.
As they entered, Shannon tried not to let her awe show. The foyer ceiling stretched three stories high, supported by massive wooden beams. An ancient chandelier dripped with unlit candles. Footsteps echoed against polished stone as students passed through arched hallways.
Shannon sidestepped, almost staggering as she shifted to let a student pass.
Her breath clogged in her throat when she realized there were lots of students walking there.
Her self-consciousness began acting up as she struggled to shrink in on herself. Suddenly feeling too seen.
Her gaze faltered downward. Battling to avoid eye contacts with anyone.
However, they still noticed.
Shannon heard their whispers, as clearly as hearing any normal speech—A gift that has been more of a curse to her. At least at this very moment.
"Why would the school make an exception?"
"I thought admissions were over?"
"Do you think she knows where she is?"
"This has never been done? Who thought almighty Verdes would bend its own rule." The sarcasm in that male voice was heavily piercing.
The mini talks went on and on. Far and near. Yet it all seemed as if they were spoken right inside her ears.
"Since you're a victim of late resumption, it'll be difficult to master venues, seeing our orientation for our freshmen was long over. We'd have saved a slot for you."
Morgana stated as she continued in her equal strides towards whatever destination they were headed to.
However, Shannons attention was solely on the people surrounding them.
The hallway suddenly became small and confined to her. Almost difficult to breathe.
Each one turned to look.
Some whispered.
Others just... stared.
Shannon kept her chin up, though the urge to hide behind Morgana was embarrassingly strong. Her palms dampened, nerves prickling beneath her skin.
That's when she felt it.
A pull—like an invisible thread snapped taut inside her chest.
She turned instinctively, eyes searching, and then locked onto someone.
A boy.
Tall. Rugged in a way that didn't belong to the boys she used to know. Broad shoulders carried a relaxed kind of power. His hair was thick and dark, falling slightly over his forehead, while his eyes—stormy grey and disinterested—met hers for just a moment.
A single second.
Not more.
And then he looked away, casually, as though she hadn't just felt the earth shift beneath her feet.