<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: teal">The mixed sounds of the doorbell and knocking rang down the oddly silent hallways of the ghostly building. It caused a sudden chill to run through all of the lives living within- who seemed to be more dead, honestly. Isra had just been about to step to the bottom step when the obnoxious ringing reached her sensitive ears. Hazy, icy blue eyes widened in realization at who it must be. Already? Why so early? How annoying. To top it off, the angry footsteps of a certain someone stormed noisily down the main hall, startling any of the young lives who had crept out cautiously to glance at the newcomer at the door. The heels of her brown leather boots clicked impatiently towards the front door- and as Isra liked to joke, from the unbearable weight her top gave her. Not that she'd ever voice this opinion. It might even be a compliment to her, as sick and twisted as she was.<br/><br/>The Warden. 5'6, loud, and deathly unbearable. Her voice was the equivalent to the sound of nails on a chalkboard and most could swear her skin was like the scales of a reptile. A sickly, disgusting creature. Her expression constantly was as if she knew something you didn't, and her body language dared you to argue. She was always itching for someone to blame, to scold, and to humiliate. Not surprisingly, usually Isra ended up at the end of those lines. To top it all off she was pretty much past insane when no one was looking. Much to the kids' dismay, no one ever was. <br/>The older woman halted a few feet in front of the staircase, her back facing Isra. The teen shuddered. Wherever the Warden appeared, she swore the temperature dropped at least 40 degrees. As if sensing her thoughts, the Warden turned and gave her a steely grin, her eyes holding irritation within. She knew that look. It was the look of 'what the hell is going on'. The expression she usually had whenever something was annoying her deeply. It was also a bit of an accusing look- as though Isra was always the reason for her misfortunes.<br/><br/>"Dearest Isra, how are you this morning?" <br/>Forget Lancier calling her 'Little friend'. Forget him saying her name in his weird... demon voice. She would rather hear him call her anything than the Warden saying her name. Isra's eyes narrowed sharply, glinting with an unreadable emotion.<br/>".....Do not ever call me 'dearest'."<br/>The Warden faked a frown and held her hands up in false confusion and disappointment.<br/>"Oh, Isra. Don't be like that!" Then she straightened up and held her hands on her hips, head tilting as her foot tapped lightly against the floor. <br/>"Would you be so kind as to inform me what guest we have at the door?"<br/><br/>Isra sighed inwardly but maintained her steady silence, uninterested in talking with this horrid excuse of a woman for long. Talking to her like this... so terribly casual, with venom laced deep down where no one else would notice... it was truly despicable. She hated it. In fact she hardly hated talking to anyone else nearly this much. <br/>"...I don't know. A newcomer?" <br/>Little did the Warden know she had already met this 'newcomer' last night. But there was no use mentioning that. It would get her in trouble, considering the Warden had her under lock down during most days now. It wouldn't end well for her. <br/>Seemingly satisfied by her cold and abrupt answer, the Warden turned and approached the front door, undoing the multitude of locks and latches she had put on it. Most of them were high up, to prevent the children from being able to reach. Long ago she'd even tried putting a special bolt in, to keep Isra from walking out- but that proved to be too difficult for her to manage. Now she just kept a very careful eye on the door from her office, and if Isra was in the main hall near that door, she would walk out to drive her away. What a clever woman. Using hatred to her advantage.<br/><br/>The Warden turned the handle and pried the door open, eyes slightly narrowing in distaste for the sunlight that flooded into her face. In front of her was a male, with long blonde hair. He seemed to be near Isra's age. What was a boy of his age doing at the orphanage doors? Then again... did it really matter to her? That was a laughable question. An insane laugh, by the way. She beamed at him like any normal lady would do to greet someone at the door, and Isra wished she were the one in front of her to punch it right off. It was such a stupid mask. <br/>"Well hello there, can I help you?" the woman asked with what seemed to be genuine interest.<br/>It seemed as though her hunch was correct. Isra angled her gaze slightly over the Warden's shoulder from the staircase, catching a glimpse of the 'newcomer'. He was more human in appearance now, but the style of hair and the general face was the same. A simple appearance technique to disguise himself while he was here. Everyone else would be fooled, but nothing would get his true image out of her head. Before she could make eye contact she turned her back and walked upstairs, not caring how introductions between him and the Warden went. <br/> </span></div>