Correspondence Scholarship, Class Three [Tuesday Morning, June 24th]

[theexdisgracedacademic]

This week, The Academic was on time for their own class. They’d cleared the chalkboards, refilling them with an extensive list of symbols. Though each clearly corresponded to The Correspondence, not one was scarcely more complex than the radicals they’d learned last week.

“While technically correct, you will almost never see any of these symbols on a plaque or temple wall. We’re still one step away from proper symbols." The Academic stepped away from the display, inviting the eyes of the students to begin to roam over the writing." But put your goggles on now, and look! You can see it now, can’t you?”

Not all of the symbols were rendered in plain white chalk. Every tenth symbol or so, there were tinges of something else, something reddish, or violet, or-

The Academic smacked the dust from their claws. “Yes, there is a touch of violant pigment in some of the chalk. I’m making very, very sparse use of it, in order to assist you in memorization of these patterns and connections. Under regular circumstances, it would take a scholar roughly a year of back-breaking expeditions to The Forgotten Quarter, or Bazaar Back-Alley deals to find and collect scraps of symbols from under the watchful eye of the government.” The Academic clasped their hands behind their back. “Don’t try to memorize it. Simply take your time with it, as you might glance at a broadsheet on your way to the green grocer.”

It wasn’t impossible to look away from. These symbols were laced with neither compulsion nor trickery. If anything, it was little more than a word search. There was no need to read from right to left, when the pattern is as interesting upwards, or diagonal. 

But the longer you look, the less the symbols seem to be aligned into strict rows and columns. The entire thing feels convex. But that can’t be right, because each one is right above the other. Some on either edge of the entire grid have more in common with one another than the ones that are next to them. But why does the noun for “light” have so much in common with the verb for “to commit violence?” Why is your stomach so tight? How does your gut balance that with the satisfying scratching under the surface of your skull, the itching sated again and again by noting which symbols connect to which ones connect to which ones connect to which-

A snap as wood clatters against wood. You aren’t done when The Academic pulls down a second layer of boards, filled with another grid. But when you glance at the wall, over an hour of the class’ time has fled into the void of the past. That feels wrong both ways. You’d only just looked up. But you’d also been playing for days. Playing? Yes, of course. If it hadn’t been fun, you would’ve looked away. But your mind feels as though you’ve finished solving a fiendishly tricky puzzle. Indeed, as you look back to the new symbols, you’re about to connect new information. You’re not just looking.

You’re reading.

The Academic clapped their hands, startling any new reveries before they began. “You may wish to stretch your legs before diving into the next set. These ones shouldn’t take quite as long, but you’ve already been working very hard.”

Faces stirred around the classroom, the other students managing to blink. Each stirring snap of eyelids knocked tears loose to stream down their faces, landing and pooling in the cups of their goggles.

Oh. There was a tickling sensation on your cheek, and a coldness at the rim of your googles. You too. 

Perhaps that break wasn’t such a bad idea.

Once everyone had a good chance to stand up, get a good drink in and a good cry out, The Academic reconvened class. 

“This is applied use of The Correspondence. Heavier usage of violant pigment can force a reader to recall certain words, and there are ways to inscribe symbols in a way that conveys, conducts, or enhances meaning.” The Academic gestured back to the board. “This grid system invites the reader to draw connections, and the use of the faintest dash of violant helps the mind to hold onto important information while continuing to read. This effect is only temporary, but the best study happens when you are able to begin employing the symbols on your own terms. Perhaps the effect could be made permanent if I’d written the entire thing with a stronger shade of violant...” The Academic clucked their tongue against their teeth. “But I’m not looking to burn my readings on these symbols into your mind. It’s much better for me to pass on what I know as a foundation, and to get you building your own voices as quickly as possible.” They tapped their boot on the stone floor, and lifted an eyebrow. “If we wanted everyone to simply agree with me, we might as well throw me into a Rubbery vat and attempt to make copies. But your perspectives are valuable. Irreplaceable. Don’t forget that, while you look at the next set of boards."

As before, the end of class came before anyone was quite done. The Academic rolled up each and every board, spiriting the grids out of sight.

“That’s it. Don’t ask for any more time with them. The correspondence can be highly addictive, but looking at these grids won’t teach you anything else you don’t already know. If you’ve still got the itch, look over your study materials this week. Next week you’ll begin writing in earnest.” 

The Academic gripped their lectern. “You may be experiencing the dread beginning to overtake you. This is normal. Learning languages opens up new ways of thinking. Learning The Correspondence opens up venues of cognition man was not meant to know.” Claws adjusted their monocle, like fingers worrying at a cuff. “And the speed with which you have all broken new ground this week will be…trying. Your sleep tonight will be unpleasant. That is one side effect of studying The Correspondence. Thus, you have two homework tasks this week. First-“ The Academic added this to an empty chalkboard, “-write down one of your nightmares. Especially if a particular vision proves to be recurring. You don’t need to do anything but be aware of it. If a dream repeats, there is a kernel of truth in it, and it’s better to be aware of what it’s telling you.

Second assignment: get rid of the nightmares.” The Academic underlined this, twice. “If they get worse, you’ll be forced to take a stay in hospital, and that will get in the way of your studies, and effectively waste MY time, too. So. Find something soothing. A good meal, time spent with someone you think you can trust, several bottles of opiates. I don’t care what you use, so long as it works. You don’t need to bring it into class; I’ll be able to look in your eyes next week and tell. Anyone who comes into class with a haggard and haunted look will…” The Academic looked from face to face, then smiled.

“…not receive homework points!” They tossed their chalk back to the lip beneath the chalkboard. “That, of course, is all the punishment which I care to offer. If you choose to ignore my warning, then tonight you will immediately receive a somewhat more natural incentive.” They took up a rag and an atomizer of their own, before promptly beginning to clean the chalkboards.

“Class dismissed!”

Comments

[the_brash_devil]

The Brash Devil sat in his chair, casually eating his scone. He seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone, given he was watching the class door.

[theanachronistictailor]

A very worn down Tailor entered the classroom. The door did not slam shut behind them but it was a near thing. There was an aura that implied they were to be avoided if one valued one's limbs, and it was clear that they had not slept well, if they had slept at all. Their hair was only mostly set, and their vest was buttoned properly but they were without necktie.

Their eyes found the Devil, and their eye twitched. Their lip curled into something like a sneer, or maybe a snarl. Peligin was a monstrous color, but it wasn't one that could set a person aflame, tragically.

Their grip tightened on the strap of their bag and they signed in. Face set grimly, the Tailor walked past the Devil, ignoring him and the Maven, and dropped into a seat in the back row. They did not remove their daycoat as usual. They set their unopened bag onto the desk and glared at it like it had murdered their mother.

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Professor caught the Tailor's eye and felt a shudder run down their spine. Did they just hiss? Rattle? They would like to offer solace, but their instincts are too strongly activated by the Tailor's aura, made worse by the peligin in their eyes. Better left alone for now...

[the_brash_devil]

The Brash Devil grinned as soon as Tailor walked in. Man, did they look like shit.

He waited until Tailor sat down, glanced over to make sure Maven was engrossed in conversation with another classmate, then after finishing up the scone he walked over. He grabbed a chair in the row in front of Tailor, turning it to face them. He was leaning back, seemingly not anywhere in Tailor's personal space like he would be if he leaned forward.

"So," he said in what would have been a casual voice if it weren't for the grin on his face, "how are you today?"

[theanachronistictailor]

A dangerous flick of their gaze up from their bag to the smile across from them. It was a miracle of restraint that the Tailor did not throw themself across the table, grab the Devil by the collar, and throw him to the ground.

"I," they said slowly, darkly, "have spent the last week cleaning up the mess you left for me." Oh, yes, that was a snarl, wasn't it? That was a bared canine. Didn't the Devil know better than to antagonize a growling dog? "If you're not here to apologize, then fuck right off."

The carefully crafted persona of a put-together individual of society was more than a little cracked. They didn't even have the energy to care. Not for him.

[the_brash_devil]

"Oh I'm sure Maven will apologize enough for the both of us," The Brash Devil put a hand to his chest in a show of mock contrition, lowering his head for the effect but not losing the grin, "Sounds like you had quite the week. If it was that much of a challenge you could have just asked us for help."

He was careful enough to not actually say what it was Tailor needed help with in case anyone else overheard, nor did he raise his voice any higher than a casual tone that was still way lower than his usual speaking voice. Maven had practically drilled it into his head not to tell anyone since it was clear Tailor was trying to keep it a secret. Didn't mean he couldn't just casually, teasingly talk to Tailor about the thing they clearly didn't want to talk about.

...Plus he knew if Maven saw him talking to Tailor she'd make a beeline for him. That's the whole reason he waited until she was busy with her own conversation.

[theanachronistictailor]

"Fffffat lot of good your help did to begin with," the Tailor spat. "I need your help like I need a hole in the head."

The lip was still curled in real anger, because anger concealed panic and anxiety.They knew the Maven could be trusted to keep quiet about their work, but the Devil? The fellow who went out of his way to poke at the Tailor's reputation? Who couldn't be arsed to keep quiet in face of a fight? Insulted the Emissary to their face and spread rumors about some kind of relationship with the Masters? He was the one the Tailor had to worry about?

"You don't even understand why it matters, do you?" they hissed. "You don't care, you just think it's funny to mock me. To hold over me."

Their arms were crossed over their chest, the pull of their gloves taut with the tension in their fingers. Anger concealing panic. Anger concealing fear. And just plain anger. Apparently, they did have the energy to care.

[the_brash_devil]

As the Tailor went on, the grin began to fall from the Devil's face. This... was not fun. He expected the defensiveness, the panic of thinking he was gonna spill their stupid little secret, even anger he had expected. What he wasn't expecting was for the pathetic look in the Tailor's eyes to remind him of the countless scared urchins he'd seen in the past.

Now he was annoyed.

He suppressed the feeling in the pit of his gut, sat up straight, and looked Tailor in the eye as he said, "Okay you little shit, what the fuck is your deal? If you're that panicky over the secret, calm the fuck down cause I don't care at all about it. The only reason I'm even over here is because you make it so easy to tease and bother you, but you aren't even making it at all fun because you're being such a little baby right now. And yeah, I don't know why this one hunt matters so much, but you acting like-"

At that moment Devil was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Maven had finally noticed and went straight over to stop the conversation, "What did we talk about?"

Devil rolled his eyes, "You said don't say anything to anyone, which I'm not."

"Can you please just leave the Tailor alone?" Maven asked.

Devil rolled his eyes, getting up, "Fine, if they're gonna be a massive baby about it."

[theanachronistictailor]

The more the Devil spoke, the more tension climbed into the Tailor, like winding a spring. Tighter, tighter.

Don't jump over the table. Don't beat his head into it. Don't crush his skull. Don't. Don't. Don't CALL ME A BABY-

The Maven's approach did not ease the tension a terrible amount, but it was a forcible reminder. There were witnesses. People would see. If they killed him here, with their bare hands, people would know. Word would get out.

They inhaled sharply through their nose.

"You're the one who's proven he can't manage himself," they said, dark and low. "Without self control. Good b____y riddance."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

There were a lot of things Maven wanted to say. Many of which she was sure would be pointless. She just looked at Tailor remorsefully, "I'm sorry."

[theanachronistictailor]

The look the Tailor gave the Maven, through narrowed eyes, was hostile. They forced their eyes shut and tried to control their breathing.

"Keep him away from me," they said simply. "For all our sakes."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven nodded, "I'll talk to him." She then sighed and added, "I'm sorry about everything else as well, for last week. And I promise, neither of us are going to tell others. I know you probably don't believe me, but I wanted to tell you that. I felt you should have an actual apology and reassurance."

[theanachronistictailor]

Some level of tension finally dropped from their shoulders, but the Tailor only cracked one eye open and said, voice weary and hollow, "That's what the Piper said, too."

They pinched their brow, and waved a hand, grimacing. "Put it out of your mind. Go on. Class is starting."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven nodded, then turned to leave Tailor be.

[theliedpiper]

The Piper wasn't sitting too close to the conversation, but eavesdropping was second nature for one who spent most of their time around rats. And of course, hearing one's name is always bound to spark interest.

"That's what the Piper said, too."

A sinking feeling in their gut. They. They probably had said that. They didn't remember. They didn't remember needing too, I mean, who doesn't want to talk about their hobbies, and what was wrong with enjoying monster hunting, didn't everyone enjoy monster hunting?

None of these justifications made them feel any better.

Maybe they'd get lucky and the Tailor would forget, too. Though somehow, it never seemed like anyone ever forgot to be mad.