She grew up in the clutches of poverty; He was raised in the lap of luxury.
She hated nobles; He couldn't be bothered with commoners.
Her heart hidden deep in thorny vines; His one burning in his sleeves.
She was the recently orphaned flower seller;...
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LOOK down, fair moon, and bathe this scene; Pour softly down night's nimbus floods, on faces ghastly, swollen, purple; On the dead, on their backs, with their arms toss'd wide, Pour down your unstinted nimbus, sacred moon.
- Walt Whitman
ISOLDE'S POV
Instead of the expected obnoxious sound of the bell, today's morning started with the sound of footsteps and voices coming from the stairs near our room.
It has been a week since Dhara arrived and I was just starting to get used to her snores.
I don't know who was trying to complete with the morning bell but they honestly need to put a sock on it. Who speaks so loudly at the crack of dawn?
The voice became clearer and clearer as the speaker drew closer to the room.
"But Dayuu, why must I share a room with strangers? The rooms are too small apready, it'll be packed when I set up my vanity and closet," a girl's young voice floated in.
There was a moment of silence which I'm assuming was Dayuu answering the girl.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN NOT SET UP MY PERSONAL CLOSET?" the unknown voice screams in frustration.
"There are certain rules and regulations that are to be followed whilst in the Academy, Miss Abdallah. You are given a closet in your room which you will use. I do not care if it's too small for all your clothing," Dayuu's voice was loud and full of authority.
So she really had it in her all this time, huh? Couldn't have guessed from her ever smiling demeanor.
And with that, the door of our room opened and Dhara woke up with a jerk in the next bed. How was she sleeping through all the ruckus?
"Girls, this is your last roommate. Miss Eboni Abdallah. Please, do help her get settled," Dayuu said, reverting to her sing-song manner of speaking.
Behind her stood a girl of my age at a much taller height probably because of the high-heeled shoes she was wearing.
This new girl with her smooth chocolaty skin that had a touch of shine and long braided hair looked striking in her sparkly pink knee-length dress and a pink stone necklace wrapped around her slender neck.
Her whole persona demanded attention and screamed high fashion.
Everything about her seems to be shinning like the dancing reflection of the full moon upon the gently swaying bamboo forest. I had read something like that in a book once.
A glow that was not blinding in it's ferocity like the sun but gentle and quite to melt itself into the dark night sky, peeking through the crowd of bamboo that always seems to be separating it from the moon-drunk lovers.
