![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theexdisgracedacademic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
benthic_university2025-06-24 12:01 am
Correspondence Scholarship, Class Three [Tuesday Morning, June 24th]
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!”
Re: Break Time
"M'just...m'tired. I think."
They swallowed around the tightness in their throat. They still felt embarrassment, maybe shame, for such a potent reaction. The Correspondence was a language of truth, and nature's law, things one Knew without thinking about it, without directly facing it. Their head was beginning to throb, and they'd gone unblinking for an hour.
But god hadn't it been fun to do? Something in them missed it already. Curled toward it like a moth to--
To light.
Light sees things, it exposes the flaws, and they wondered if looking at the light had forced them to see their own cracks. They were numerous.
"I 'aven't cried in years. Body weren't--" they swallowed again, and forced it out properly, through it felt like talking around needles. "Body wasn't used to it. S'all."
(The truth was the Tailor felt things constantly. Anger, mostly. They let themself feel anger, because if they were angry they could point it somewhere. Fear, constantly simmering. Disdain. Impatience. The need to win, if only to prove to everyone who had looked over them how wrong they all were. The feelings were always present, and the Tailor saw them for what they were. But to express them? That would never be approved of. It was vulnerable. It was weak.)
"I'll... be alright," they croaked. "Jus' need water. And sleep."
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
He quietly poured out the water from a carafe and handed a couple to the Devil. "Thank you. For assisting. I greatly appreciate it."
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
"Thank you so much" spoken from the heart, taking a glass of water and promptly emptying it in but a second, then holding it empty between cupped hands as if some emotional support device. No scones were touched by them, though.
Re: Break Time
After making sure everyone else got water, and after Maven was done with Piper, he picked up a scone and gestured for her to come over.
Maven was downing her own cup of water, and when she saw him she shook her head, "No no, make sure everyone else gets them, I shouldn't-"
Devil sighed a little, "Please don't do this. Just... don't fight me on this and take care of yourself."
Maven stared at him, an internal struggle going on in her. She then also sighed, walked over, and took the scone from him, "Thank you."
"Thank you," he said back.
Re: Break Time
"Now, I think something bracing--yes, exactly," they continued, forcing their body forward on slightly unsteady footing to take a scone from the tray. Beyond this, they ignored the Devil completely, turning back to the group. "Anyone else? I find that something sweet can help with the headache, short-term. And of course, the Maven's baking is excellent."
Their voice was still ragged, and when they set their cup down, a hand lay flat on the table they had braced a hip against to keep upright, but the Tailor's poise had all but returned.
Re: Break Time
Re: Break Time
"Yes it is. Excellent I mean, and good against headache. Thank you."
Eating slowly and enjoying.