Burvington 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...
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Time has blurred.
With his hands stuffed within the deep dunes of his tweed pockets and his golden monocle having long sisnce lost the shine along with his eyes, Headmaster Wentworth looked gladly towards the passerbys.
Burlies.
His boys, every single one of them, his and entirely their own, unique in all ascpects that mattered and would account for something one day.
He smiled at as many as he could as they bumbled and brawled past him along with the massive crowds towards Methven Hollow's pristine sports pitch.
The rugby match of the season was upon them and there would be war. It was the Burvington way.
The various denizens of Methven Hollow and surrounding towns all treaded down that grassy and worn path and towards their beloved pitch. The blueprints of the pitch had been set by Hugo Burvington himself eons ago and it showed. The pitch was oddly situated, Serafina thought to herself. It laid smack dab between the road to Burvington and the bottom road to Methven Hollow and as the Girlies walked down along with their male students they could still make out the golden gleam of the Senior Atrium's top buttresses and crown tops.
"Ah! Girlies! Glad you've all decided to come down for the game!"
Orpha spoke with her signature smile of light and all goodness that could come from the world. "We're excited to be here, thank you for graciously having us." The Girlies nodded in agreement sporting pristine looks and shivering cold.
"But of course! You're honourary Burlies!"
"Good, cause I was afraid we'd have to prove it like the other boys." Sera mumbled.
"What?" Principal Wentworth blinked.
"Nothing, just American ramblings." Isalina grinned and side eyed the sniggering red head.
Principal Wentorth shrugged and smiled. "Right, as long as you don't make a habit of saying those here. It's unsettling. "
The Girlies blinked rapidly. "Being American? Or the mumbling?"
"I just hope the prior events have not marred your views of us and if so, then the brawling victory of today will renew your fervour." Wentworth grinned.
The Girlies kept their narrowed eyes on him while he continued to smile at the passing Methvians.
Lorna Simmons spoke with her father's Southern twang making an unauthorized appearance. "It ain't like football back home, so we won't be expecting much."
