She couldn't tell if it was an accomplishment or a travesty that rumours were already being spread about her.

She had only taken three steps into Haven and she was already hearing the ambient chatter of the student, the socialite buzz that drowned out all rational thought and replaced it with casual conversation. While normally she didn't find it so bad, today it was insufferable. Mainly because of the subject matter. Her.

The girl didn't think of herself as famous, but some of her classmates from combat academy were here and their loose lips would tell a tale, and that sound would travel in the air to the ears of another, and this would continue the chain of gossip. Or perhaps someone's eyes would miraculously turn, observe the diminutive stature of the girl, her attire and weapon choice, and comment on that. There were many options.

The girl twirled her umbrella idly, as she kept her mind on the prime directive. Moving forwards. Slow footsteps that graced the cobblestone, posture high. Lady like, proper, plus it added a few inches which she desperately needed. It was not good for her eye to be nipple level, that simply wasn't proper.

She walked slowly, eyes turning side to side.

What's with the umbrella? Is that her weapon?

Yes it was, and while she would love to give a live demonstration, that simply wouldn't do. She would simply twirl it again, pretending she couldn't hear it. She had a place to be. So the answer was yes, the umbrella was her weapon. It was never a bad idea to blend some fashion into weaponry, plus it had never let her down before.

I heard she went psycho on her combat exam.

That one brought a sneer and a cringe to the features of the young woman. That one was...true. To an extent. Though she did say it was justified as it was the final test of literally everything she had ever learned, and her once chance to get into a very prestigious academy. Her life was in danger to say the least. Though it was ruled that perhaps kicking her opponent three times in the ribcage while they were done was perhaps an excessive and brutal show of force. Regardless, her skill was considered adequate to be accepted.

I heard she's not even really mute.

That one didn't even deserve the time and dignity for a mental retort, even if it was just for a comment that would never leave her lips. That one she would simply brush off like a speck of dirt, a waste of time and breathe from the speaker.

What she did spend her time on was a brief but vivid fantasy of turning around in a confident stride, and in one sophisticated motion, bringing her hand and slapping the gossiper across the face in punishment for her actions. A tranquil woman with often violent fantasies, to say the least. Despite the cathartic satisfaction it would bring, it would not help her fledgling reputation. While she had the goal of being a huntswoman, it would also be quite nice to establish a...sense of restraint. While she was trying to exercise that now in her simple walk, she needed to know how to keep her battles short, efficient and graceful. Not bloody and messy, on top of some of the moral arguments, it was inefficient and...well a bitch to clean blood stains out of her umbrella.

She sighed, looking up to the buildings of Mistral. It was a brilliant morning, with a shining sun that created quite the sight as it hit the white marble of the academy of Haven. She felt a pang of hope inside her, that renewed her spirit. That is what she needed, she grinned on her features, twirling her umbrella as she closed it slowly, turning and entering the academy for real now. Nothing could stop her now.

LATER

Grimm Ecology. It was a class with a formal name, but it was a rather simple idea at that. Literally just the art of understanding and learning the prey that would be hunting her down for the rest of her life. It was necessary to the art of being a huntswoman. To complete it, there was room for stories. Anecdotes, legends, and experiences that would bring about interest in any recruit. So what was not to love about a class that guaranteed future survival?

Literally everything about it, from the beginning. First it was a cramped room, with very few windows. In humid Mistral country, it made the room sweaty and uncomfortable. It made every single moment one of agony, as thighs ground together in a state of red, bloated uncomfortableness. So on top of that, it didn't help it was dense with students. It was necessary to get students educated about their prey, and there was a crippling lack of space for their numbers. So packed classrooms only helped amplify the heat of it all. It was dark outside, more humid than ever.

Then there was a teacher. While his subject matter was not boring, or winded, it was the smallest possible detail that annoyed her. It was his lisp, perhaps it was massive in the man's childhood, it had lost it's significance. But it was still present, like a boil on the ball of the foot it was still THERE. She found herself cringing anytime he had to say any word with more than one S. He was also diminutive in stature, and shook sometimes in his stories, a quirk perhaps brought on by the growing humidity.

On top of that was the fact th-

Hmmm?

A small eyebrow perked in quiet question, turning her body properly as she faced one of her classmates. It was a burly man, hairy with dark curly hair. He offered her a shrug, and said nothing else than handing her a folded slip of paper. Her name was written on it, in a frantic and quick handwriting. It was not almost as if there was no consideration into the note making, but she found herself curious regardless.

She looked to see the professor, his back was turned so she opened the note. It was almost...ravenous. Like it was the booty that some naval privateer spent every waking moment in an attempt to find. It was not often she got notes passed to her. The paper opened slowly, and her eyes looked upon the writing on the paper.

She slowly squinted as she read. The writing was small, chicken scratch but legible. She deciphered the notes in seconds, looking at it strangely.

"You look two steps away from some beauty sleep."

She looked forwards to see the professor with his back still turned. Looking down at the paper, she drew her writing utensil and with great care, wrote her message back. The calligraphy was down right near perfect, with each loop symmetrical, and the message looking rather professional.

"Our professor is a trained professional and I am simply listening to his enticing stories."

She turned around to the burly man behind her and handed him the wad of paper, listening to him grumble something as he passed it to another student, then to another. While the girl hoped she could simply trace the pathway of the note down the class to her correspondent, the voice of the professor drove her attention back to the front of the class. She would not see whoever was trying to get her attention, but in five minutes, and after a brief lecture about how useful shots at the legs of Ursa grim were, she felt a familiar finger poking her back, and another piece of folded paper.

"I am sure that was a joke so you'll have to excuse if I'm not laughing, on account of our teacher. I hear that you're a psychopathic actor, pretending to be a mute, with an umbrella concealing a sword and an elephant rifle, who is not a virgin and also has a pair of shitty shoes."

Her eyes scanned over the comments, these preposterous rumors were really starting to get annoying as they slowly turned from idle chatter into besmirching evidence people were using against her. Her skin turned from her fair porcelain into a fair shade of red as she wrote roughly on the paper, even tearing slightly as she hastily constructed a proper response that the note maker surely deserved.

"I don't know who told you such slander, but I can guarantee to you that all of that is false. Except for the umbrella, while I do have one, it certainly does not hide a rifle. And as for the insults against my character, I hope that you have the strength of personality to simply forget any of those lies."

The burly man let out an audible sigh as he moved it down the line again. The girl turned to observe the professor, worried that she would get in trouble if she continued focusing on other endeavors. A note soon made it's way back to her.. This time it was a fresh sheet of paper, titled with umbrella girl right across it.

She unfolded it again.

"Don't worry about it."

Was all it stated.

The rest of the class was rather silent as it seemed no more notes were ever passed to her, and the class could rest and continue their task of listening to the professor, instead of having to devote time and effort to passing little slips of paper down an almost assembly line. It would be nothing of interest. Her mind slowly wondered who in the class would send her notes, nobody looked at her during the class, no secret admirers or curious outcasts.

When the class would end her question would slowly be answered. The fair majority of students would flood out of the classroom, taking their belongings and leaving in a quick blur, like lava erupting from a volcano or blood from a spewing wound. She would grab the umbrella, and her belongings and wait for the herd to leave, before she slowly went up the staircase. Her footsteps echoed in the near empty classroom, the professor organizing notes for his next class of students. As she turned back to look at him, she'd find herself colliding with someone, stepping backwards slightly, steadying herself on the stair below her as her eyes hurriedly looked to what was in front of her. It was not a wall to say the least.

A student, taller than her but average height in general. He had grey hair, medium length, messy all over. His face was pale, with dark rings of wrinkles that hid misty blue eyes that were wide and expressive. He looked at her with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. He wore the school uniform, of uniform black and gray. However something curious made him stand out, tied around his waist was a more casual jacket. It was of red, brown, and grey squares and lines, a plaid jacket he wore when he was allowed to take off this tight uniform.

"You know I've heard many stories, but I've never heard so many stories about a student that has said so little." He explained, smiling as he looked at her, now moving out of the way as he turned and began to walk up the staircase. "You have certainly garnered my interest." He commented.

He walked out of the classroom as the sound of rain pounding against the roof drowned out the sound of breathing and footsteps as he looked at her, smiling. "An umbrella hey? That must be quite nice for these Mistral showers, eh?" He asked her, speaking lightly. His voice was certainly not deep, but rough, average but scratchy. He did not seem nearly as refined as the majority of students, but he was making pleasant conversation at least.

"I assume you're next class is sparring class which is alllll theeee waaaay across campus, correct?"

The girl nodded as the man slowly smiled, they would leave out the classroom. A few dark and narrow hallways, and a pair of doors that lead outside, large windows that showed the surroundings of the campus and green campus. The rain was visible as it pounded against the campus, the stone walkways stained and shining with the liquid layer.

She felt almost excited as she held her umbrella, slowly opening it before they stepped outside before he stopped her, one hand on her arm and the other frantically waving.

"Hey, it's bad luck to open that indoors."