3 o'Clock Good Afternoon | Kaname & Kobato
"Good afternoon!" Kobato Hanato chimed to the fellow security guard performing his duties in the premise of the Pravian high school. Once descended down the corridors of the SOA gates, after delivering a basket full of fresh spring blossoms for the faculties, she was done for the day. One of the higher-up administrators was fond of having vases of fresh flowers, and had them delivered straight from Belle Fleur each week. Those were only the tip of the iceburg of the luxuries deep pockets could afford.
The school guard had eyed her suspiciously, at her lack of proper school uniform and the unsettling conclusion that she was old enough to work, but still young enough to blend in with the crowd of affluent students scattering out.
Kobato, not noticing any difference in the man's demeanor or what it could entail, simply smiled as she would to anyone, and made her merry way off the school ground. St. Orwell's Academy's locale was certainly something, landing right across the less opulent Prava Secondary. The boundary was indicated only by a solitary treet, whereas on each respective sides, mingles of students flourished out, tuning to their own rhythms and minding others little.
Crossing to the middle, the pink-haired teenager stood unaccompanied, between the Pravaian secondaries who were eager to catch a spot on the afternoon train, and the expensive cars driven by chauffeurs and students alike for the academy students. If she looked like a lost little lamb in the middle of a crowded street, divided by the strip of land, it was because she really was one.
Alone in a crowd. What a paradox.Â
To think, each and all of the students were around her age, and in another life, could have been classmates. She had a wonderful life her grandparents, who taught her the good lessons in life, but wandering about life down the road not taken was rather melancholy. Kobato gripped the handle of her now-empty basket, lowering her gaze and finding the hems of her floral spring dress duly more interesting than pondering about the ill-fitting daisies mismatched in a field of roses.
