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benthic_university This week’s trouble didn’t begin until after entering the classroom. But even as students approached the domed room, a sudden and striking sight at the precipice inspired the requisite amount of natural foreboding. 
A blazing sigil upon your usual classroom door. To look upon it was to know that things was wrong now. But who could say what? Who could put a digit on a crisis? Not you. But a factor in your vicinity was offputtingly odd.
Your classroom had a normal look about it. But why such hush from surrounding pupils? You could still talk aloud, right? But not without difficulty. Your instructor stood avant, gripping podium with both claws.
“You saw our door?” Angry words through tight lips and flashing fangs. “A Law is now functioning in our classroom.”
Chalk in hand, a diagram was drawn on this board.
“A, B, C, D,” your instructor’s hand shook, and a fifth symbol was nothing but a scrawl.
With a hiss, chalk hit floor. “It is taboo! An awful prohibition upon our writing and talking!” Palms hit podium. “STILL, CLASS WILL CARRY ONWARD.”
“At your stations, you will all find small vials and a writing tool. This is violant ink.” A sigh of comfort: two words vital to this class’s curriculum also would carry on.
“Violant is a shortcut to notability. It’s a flashy trick, though a formal artisan should work grandly without it. Think on italics, or bold fonts. Should all words show as bold, this would simply harm its impact.”
“Thus: you will try this ink. Your vials may only hold a small amount. Limit your utility. Thin it down as you dip it. Scratch most words in a dissimilar ink. Vary your trials.” Going for that front door, your instructor brought additional round optics atop long sinus. “But look out: Too much violant will burn into your mind, dwindling down to only a brain which cannot think of anything but that information. No risk of smoky conflagration if scripting in good ol’ British! But do NOT mind-sully your copains, s’il vous plaît.”
Ah. Whipping out that trusty gaulois. This door difficulty was holding your instructor’s focus. As pupils try out violant ink, difficult work occurs on that door. It is a tricky sigil, and two hours pass in mum workmanship. It burns away additional nib-work, and hands too if both approach too nigh.
Occasionally, soft complaining would waft across your classroom. All originating from your instructor.
"Soon. I will again lay hands onto that odious myotis…that nyctophilic cr- monst-“ Hissing turns to snarling- “that THING! It will gift a thousand sorry-s by that hour of my talion!”
Many not so softly.
Toward conclusion of your class, this placid air cracks in an…
…explosion.
Embers, enormous eruptions ejecting erratically. Exhaust evaporates, Ex-Disgraced Educator’s eyebrows elevated; exasperated expression evolving exceptional enmity.
Utterly enraged, The Ex-Disgraced Academic shrieked: "The Eejit Aerofauna implanted three fail-safes?! Ever extremely excessive! The excess, indeed, the overplenitude regarding appending MORE instances re: the frequent-est English letter! The miscreant!”
Forearms flexing beneath tattered sleeves, they grabbed the singed door, wrenching leftward. There the starkest splintering, then the entire panel ripped free.
They chucked the porte twenty feet outside, then stomped behind it.
“SESSION ADJOURNED!” They yelled, departing.
Re: Prior to Class
Date: 2025-07-12 04:25 am (UTC)It shouldn't be. It was very kind of Tailor to show a good way to communicate these thoughts that she had been having difficulty with this morning. She appreciated that the Tailor was trying to help.
So why did the phrasing specifically bring her back to those memories of the classes her Uncle and his wife would give her? And how they would punish her for any slip of the tongue?
To Tailor, Maven looked petrified. Weirdly petrified, considering how calm she was the night in the marsh and how calmly she faced the Tailor's murderous glare in her face. Her hands her clasped at her front holding each other in death grips. It's the most shaken the Tailor has ever seen the Maven look.
Despite herself, Maven managed a smile at them, "I-I am a-also m-managing. Th-thank you for your input. I'll... c-carry it forward." Her stuttering this time had nothing to do with the imposed ban on communication.
Shoot, a tear slipped out.
She quickly turned away, "S-Sorry, d-don't know what's wrong."
Re: Prior to Class
Date: 2025-07-12 05:08 am (UTC)The Tailor half stood with a hand on the desk, already pulling out a handkerchief. It was, in fact, the same one that had been gifted to them some few weeks ago, and they offered it now to the woman.
"Did I off--" They shook their head, trying again. "I did you harm of a kind. My utmost apolog--apology. Singular. Damn. It is irritating, isn't it?" They tried for an apologetic smile, even if it was strained on their face.
"At a point in my own growth, I was... put into a position of losing my natural... way of talking. My... tutor, that works, my tutor, was unkind about it. Horribly insulting. I worry I'm showing off, but." Their eyes crinkled in a kind of sympathy. "This was not long ago. I think through--" they choked, and then continued after a breath, "all my words. Almost always. But I still did harm to you."
Re: Prior to Class
Date: 2025-07-12 05:03 pm (UTC)Re: Prior to Class
Date: 2025-07-12 05:31 pm (UTC)Their own tutor had fueled the already existing anger in them. Their mask was a fixed thing, walls that only slid down in millimeters to ease others. If they spoke about things that had happened without distress, then they were fine, clearly.
"I won't hold you long. Thank you for saying good morning."
Re: Prior to Class
Date: 2025-07-13 04:07 am (UTC)Maven turned back to Tailor at that, "Oh, okay. Thank you for your handk-... the fabric. I wish you a good day... additionally."