"BURVINGTON ACADEMY IS LOCATED IN RURAL ENGLAND, SURROUNDED BY ACRES AND WORLDS OF TREES AND HILLY FORESTS, HIGH HILLS AND LOW BOGLAND, DEEPER THAN THEY MAY LOOK. With worn roads up until the gleaming subtle , golden shine of the Academy."
"We'll start with the "Elder Atrium", the older but robust fortress of the 2 castles."
The guide spoke with a sudden wave of confidence.
Lorna nodded and they all followed suit.
The girls walked on clear paths across the grass. Lush, verdant high trees and bushes covered most of their sights. The humming of birds and the snapping of branches, quietly calming their souls.
If this weren't enough to expel any feelings of familiarity, then the strong white pole, flowing the British flag in the slow wind were sure to do the trick.
The quiet and stillness all around them felt eerie almost. They truly were no longer at home.
They arrived to what was shaped to be a mini labyrinth-like planted creation. Perfect bushes with crimson roses scattered perfectly across the bushes in a maze. The girls found themselves lowering their heights to smell and truly take in the beautiful scents. Isalina lingered on for a moment, her eyes closed, enraptured by the numerous flowers and their natural beauty.
The familiar feel of watching boys on them, intrigue and something else lingering in their eyes.
Across the lawn was a near perfect Olympic sized track, perfectly symmetric grass cut to perfection.
Perfect white lines painted across and around in a perfect manner.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
The guide turned to them, walking backwards assuredly, he knew the place by heart.
Let's get this out of the way.
He stopped.
"Here we are.... ladies., the Elder of the Atriums."
He did not have to turn around.
YOU ARE READING
THIS MEANS WAR (ONGOING)
Teen FictionBurvington Preparatory Academy of Excellence. Home of the "Burlie" Boys. The richest , said to be strongest and some of the most genius minds in all of Great Britain. Home to the 4 most powerful boys (and then some) . They do, say and be who the...