Getting into all kinds of special schools, Angel had always been referred to as a "natural talent", but in the end she hated that term. Sure, she might have some sort of talent, but why tell her that she was like that when it was only her skills and practicing of these skills that made a difference? Angel had gotten into college for two different things, counting as her majors; music and singing, as well as sword-fighting. She had won duel after duel, even against the male teams, and she was a pretty renowned fighter, and people were trying to scout her for her teams. She didn't know what she wanted to spend her life on, so she was practicing basically everything she was good at, which was her singing, and her incredible handling of a sword. She didn't like the term of "fitting in" and ended up dressing completely different when she became older. Her favorite outfits became outfits that made her look exactly like a guy. It was hoodies and button shirts, long jeans and then her short hair. Most think that she's a boy, also judging from her name. It didn't annoy her but she didn't approve of it either. She just went with the flow, so to speak. When she had gotten into college, she had gotten a roommate. It wasn't that she didn't like this roommate, but for some reason, they didn't get along at all. They were just too different to even be friends, and in the end, they pretended they hated each other instead. A bit strange, but she didn't think too hard about it. She didn't want to make life worse for herself, after all. Then she'd rather be on bad terms with her roommate, than trying to make friends with someone who obviously hated her with a passion, partly because of her appearance. (or so Angel had guessed, anyways) It was morning, and as usual, Angel was up first and had showered, dressed and packed her things when her roommate woke up. Before Irene could even manage to talk to her, she was out of the door and walked towards the training area with her katana in a strap over her right shoulder. When she got there, she walked into the gym hall to shield herself from the powerful wind, her pink hair a mess as she finally got inside. She took off her hoodie so she was only in a black tanktop and a pair of grey cargo pants. The clothes made her pale skin and flat chest stand out, and the scars on her arms made her seem like a wounded warrior. She had gotten those wounds from fights before in time, and she was filled with scars. But they didn't hurt anymore, of course. Angel took out some of the dummies and began cutting after them, her movements swift and her body moving with an agility likely to that of a cat's. The "cat" image was strenghtened upon seeing her hazel eyes that most of all seemed yellow, yellow like a cat's eyes.