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benthic_universityThis fine evening you are returned to your home classroom. Gone is the festive decor, including all the elephants which can now be assumed thoroughly refuted. The posters with your artwork done during the first class remain, although they seem to have switched places here and there. The paper certainly seems newer. On the other hand, the bowl of apples has returned. The apples are smaller, darker and lumpy. They taste sour, and try as you might, the brown juice will drip down your chin, it is entirely unavoidable. They are also very fulfilling, you don’t have to eat too many to feel full.
As you mingle and find your seat – God gracious, have you forgotten your usual spot over the course of the winter break? – there is something odd in the air. It takes you a moment to put a finger on it.
The teacher is absent!
Actually… The teacher is late. By ten-and-something minutes. You’ve known the Soft-Eyed Mycologist to be most punctual, at least for the class.
He does arrive though, and with him he brings the trolley cart you’ve come to learn to love, or at least get higher expectations as to what is going to be the practical portion of the class. Today it holds small round aquariums – the kind in which you are not supposed to keep fish long-term. The interior is full of something dense and white. Milk or sentient fog would be a fine guess, but the contents do not slosh nor swirl like a fluid would. A particularly homogenous cotton?
Massaging his temples, the Mycologist begins the class without any further ado. There are none of the jokes lecturers usually do in the first class after any break. Maybe he is not pleased to see you didn’t get yourself killed for good. Maybe he has a headache that threatens to claim sovereignty. This is as bad a moment as any to start a betting pool on when exactly that is going to occur.
“This is our last class before the final exam. As revising time is only two weeks–” you all are students, s long as you’ve got, like, four hours and enough willpower which can be supplanted by caffeine, you can pass any exam (besides Modern English Literature 101, because the Upset Lecturer is a hateful coot), as long as nobody asks about the results – “I will not use materials from this lesson in the examination. However related questions pertaining to general knowledge might appear, and this could be a refresher of the topic for those of you who need it.”
Using a stick of chalk as his weapon against the void, the Soft-Eyed Mycologist proceeds to defile the emptiness of the blackboard. The header and the bullet-points are written too fast to be properly eligible unless you already know what their content is, though.
“One of the most overlooked areas of any work is the fringe, the hybrid cases that surely are someone else’s responsibility, and the naturally repulsive. This course above such mistakes.
A well known hybrid in the mycological practice is lichen. ‘Tis a symbiosis of a fungus or several fungi and algae. On the Surface this is an equal partnership: While the fungus provides a stable position and heterotrophic nutrition, the algae photosynthetises. In the Neath, of course, there is little sunlight to speak of. Virtually the otherwise primitive aquatic green buggers are exploiting the fungal ability to gather resources from decomposition.
In spite of the academic attempts, such as they are, the common laymen populace can hardly differentiate lichens from mosses, so even species discovered in the Neath often bear ‘moss’ in their name.”
You get to hear the names of several species which you’ve seen and perhaps never identified: Mushroom hair which is the long strands that hang in the fungal forests and the mushrooms growing in Bugsby’s Marshes. (The specimen is unremarkable, but edible in case of emergency. You will recognise a case of emergency by trying to eat mushroom hair.) Minor tanglemoss, which looks like dead grass, but responds to touch by rapid growth of sticky strands that will try to trap whatever touched them. Harmless to humans, deadly to Rattus Faber and other small creatures – they starve to death, and the mushroom part of the tanglemoss calls that dinner. Fun fact, the Elder Continent is home to the major tanglemoss which is capable of restraining much larger vertebrae, humans included.
The Roof is home to miser-moss, an arrangement in which the algae is pulling its weight in the parasitic relationship by being bioluminescent in the glim-blue spectrum, while the fungus has evolved spores imitating insect pheromones. Posing as the native fauna of the Roof, this lichen is also actively predatory.
“Moulds are seen as one of man’s greatest enemies. They settle in a slightly damp house and poison the air with their spores. First they drive you mad, then they drive you dead. But the truth is that the majority of moulds are harmless to us and our bodies, while living, easily deflect their attempts to eat us. To our great benefit they proceed to decompose dead tissues, thus we are not knee deep in dead bodies, potato peels nor fungal shavings. Being reminded that we eventually end up in their undiscriminating care is a small price to pay for that.”
With that he lets circulate charcoal drawings of mouldy apples, dry rot on wood and fungal-wood (curiously there the rot forms circular patterns) and several polypores.
“Most moulds are poorly classified and examined. Not many people want to work with them, both on the Surface and the Neath. Not only they are a constant reminder that our own decomposing process is merely postponed, every time anyone sticks one under the microscope, it seems we have discovered a new species.
Take this beauty for example,” he picks up one of the aquariums. Indeed, upon closer inspection it is full of white hair-like mouldy growth. Your teacher’s eyes shine and his smile shows too many teeth for comfort. Well, he is a lecturer of natural sciences and he is talking about a topic close to his heart.
“I’ve had it in my lab and on my table since the end of the summer. I presume it is from the penicillium genus. Provisionally I’ve dubbed it penicillium agnum. I am hoping to find use for it in archiving work, because it is capable of receiving and reproducing information. There are, of course, some kinks to that.”
He picks up one of the remaining gnarled apples and effortlessly slices through its thick skin. Sour juice drips over his fingers and onto the desk where it forms foamy sticky puddles. He throws a slice of the apples into the aquarium he’s picked up before.
A blood-curdling scream of absolute agony fills the air. It is loud, sudden, and it sounds desperate. Clearly it is coming from the tank which seems far too small to hold such a rich and pained baritone. Subtler, but not beyond noticing, is the scent of sandalwood cologne that fills the air. The scream fades into a whisper of pleasepleaseplease before it dies out completely.
The Mycologist, apparently used to thai reaction from the sample, has in the meantime finished cutting up the fruit. He looks at you with a fascination that most would hope would not be directed at them. Definitely not coming from a man with wet hands and a knife.
“I have no idea how it did that. Have a go at it. Take it home with you, if you would so please.”
As you mingle and find your seat – God gracious, have you forgotten your usual spot over the course of the winter break? – there is something odd in the air. It takes you a moment to put a finger on it.
The teacher is absent!
Actually… The teacher is late. By ten-and-something minutes. You’ve known the Soft-Eyed Mycologist to be most punctual, at least for the class.
He does arrive though, and with him he brings the trolley cart you’ve come to learn to love, or at least get higher expectations as to what is going to be the practical portion of the class. Today it holds small round aquariums – the kind in which you are not supposed to keep fish long-term. The interior is full of something dense and white. Milk or sentient fog would be a fine guess, but the contents do not slosh nor swirl like a fluid would. A particularly homogenous cotton?
Massaging his temples, the Mycologist begins the class without any further ado. There are none of the jokes lecturers usually do in the first class after any break. Maybe he is not pleased to see you didn’t get yourself killed for good. Maybe he has a headache that threatens to claim sovereignty. This is as bad a moment as any to start a betting pool on when exactly that is going to occur.
“This is our last class before the final exam. As revising time is only two weeks–” you all are students, s long as you’ve got, like, four hours and enough willpower which can be supplanted by caffeine, you can pass any exam (besides Modern English Literature 101, because the Upset Lecturer is a hateful coot), as long as nobody asks about the results – “I will not use materials from this lesson in the examination. However related questions pertaining to general knowledge might appear, and this could be a refresher of the topic for those of you who need it.”
Using a stick of chalk as his weapon against the void, the Soft-Eyed Mycologist proceeds to defile the emptiness of the blackboard. The header and the bullet-points are written too fast to be properly eligible unless you already know what their content is, though.
“One of the most overlooked areas of any work is the fringe, the hybrid cases that surely are someone else’s responsibility, and the naturally repulsive. This course above such mistakes.
A well known hybrid in the mycological practice is lichen. ‘Tis a symbiosis of a fungus or several fungi and algae. On the Surface this is an equal partnership: While the fungus provides a stable position and heterotrophic nutrition, the algae photosynthetises. In the Neath, of course, there is little sunlight to speak of. Virtually the otherwise primitive aquatic green buggers are exploiting the fungal ability to gather resources from decomposition.
In spite of the academic attempts, such as they are, the common laymen populace can hardly differentiate lichens from mosses, so even species discovered in the Neath often bear ‘moss’ in their name.”
You get to hear the names of several species which you’ve seen and perhaps never identified: Mushroom hair which is the long strands that hang in the fungal forests and the mushrooms growing in Bugsby’s Marshes. (The specimen is unremarkable, but edible in case of emergency. You will recognise a case of emergency by trying to eat mushroom hair.) Minor tanglemoss, which looks like dead grass, but responds to touch by rapid growth of sticky strands that will try to trap whatever touched them. Harmless to humans, deadly to Rattus Faber and other small creatures – they starve to death, and the mushroom part of the tanglemoss calls that dinner. Fun fact, the Elder Continent is home to the major tanglemoss which is capable of restraining much larger vertebrae, humans included.
The Roof is home to miser-moss, an arrangement in which the algae is pulling its weight in the parasitic relationship by being bioluminescent in the glim-blue spectrum, while the fungus has evolved spores imitating insect pheromones. Posing as the native fauna of the Roof, this lichen is also actively predatory.
“Moulds are seen as one of man’s greatest enemies. They settle in a slightly damp house and poison the air with their spores. First they drive you mad, then they drive you dead. But the truth is that the majority of moulds are harmless to us and our bodies, while living, easily deflect their attempts to eat us. To our great benefit they proceed to decompose dead tissues, thus we are not knee deep in dead bodies, potato peels nor fungal shavings. Being reminded that we eventually end up in their undiscriminating care is a small price to pay for that.”
With that he lets circulate charcoal drawings of mouldy apples, dry rot on wood and fungal-wood (curiously there the rot forms circular patterns) and several polypores.
“Most moulds are poorly classified and examined. Not many people want to work with them, both on the Surface and the Neath. Not only they are a constant reminder that our own decomposing process is merely postponed, every time anyone sticks one under the microscope, it seems we have discovered a new species.
Take this beauty for example,” he picks up one of the aquariums. Indeed, upon closer inspection it is full of white hair-like mouldy growth. Your teacher’s eyes shine and his smile shows too many teeth for comfort. Well, he is a lecturer of natural sciences and he is talking about a topic close to his heart.
“I’ve had it in my lab and on my table since the end of the summer. I presume it is from the penicillium genus. Provisionally I’ve dubbed it penicillium agnum. I am hoping to find use for it in archiving work, because it is capable of receiving and reproducing information. There are, of course, some kinks to that.”
He picks up one of the remaining gnarled apples and effortlessly slices through its thick skin. Sour juice drips over his fingers and onto the desk where it forms foamy sticky puddles. He throws a slice of the apples into the aquarium he’s picked up before.
A blood-curdling scream of absolute agony fills the air. It is loud, sudden, and it sounds desperate. Clearly it is coming from the tank which seems far too small to hold such a rich and pained baritone. Subtler, but not beyond noticing, is the scent of sandalwood cologne that fills the air. The scream fades into a whisper of pleasepleaseplease before it dies out completely.
The Mycologist, apparently used to thai reaction from the sample, has in the meantime finished cutting up the fruit. He looks at you with a fascination that most would hope would not be directed at them. Definitely not coming from a man with wet hands and a knife.
“I have no idea how it did that. Have a go at it. Take it home with you, if you would so please.”
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-22 07:17 am (UTC)They look at it with disinterest, and then leave it on the desk to depart for the door. Why would they want a screaming mould, anyway?
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-22 08:12 am (UTC)While Devil was busy talking with Milo, she approached the Tailor, "Wait, Tailor? Can I please have a moment, I just wanted to say something quickly before you go."
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-22 08:34 pm (UTC)"Oh? What?" Their tone was snide. "Is it important? Because I would like to go rather than be held up again."
It was the party all over again. All the Tailor wanted to do was leave, and here was one more person keeping them from doing so. They were all the damn same.
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-22 11:31 pm (UTC)As disappointed as she was in the Tailor's behavior, and as angry as she was about how it had affected Devil... if Tailor was in some kind of trouble like Persephone was worried about, then she wanted them to know they weren't alone. And as angry as Devil is, she knows if anything happened to the Tailor it would still devastate him.
She didn't know if they would believe her, but... she had to at least try to make that known.
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-23 12:01 am (UTC)A step back. The head tilted just a bit. "You just want to be needed to fill up your empty life. And god forbid anyone refuse you, heaven forbid anyone tell you no, actually, you've overstepped- we certainly can't hurt perfect Jane's feelings, can we? There simply must be something for Jane to do, otherwise what's the point of you?"
They shook their head. "I think we both have better things to do than pretend you mean it, don't we? For once in your life, focus on your own problems. There's still an Enforcer out there, isn't there?" The Tailor smiled grimly. "One who gets into your house somehow without anyone seeing? Why don't you do something about that instead of poking your nose where it isn't wanted for once?"
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-23 01:40 am (UTC)She felt her muscles tense as she fought back the tears that seemed to be fighting to form at the Tailor's tone and words. It all reminded her of before. Of the beginning of the summer course, and even before then, when they barely knew each other and Tailor kept that mask of theirs so firmly in place. Was this how they really felt, or was this yet another mask to try and keep her at a distance? Did it matter?
And that... she had to fight the rise of anger at first at the 'Saint Jane' crack. Raising her up in such a way, even derogatorily... It was precisely why she tried to never connect herself with her father's family (well, that and the danger). She did not want others viewing her as better for any reason.
She had... she knew she had an issue with overstepping. She'd been trying to get better. Had she not done enough? Had she-
No, this isn't about her feelings. This is about making sure the Tailor knows there are still places they can turn. She was not going to defend her own character when there were more important things to focus on.
So she continued to keep her face blank of all but concern. If there was ever a time to school her face it was now. Though, she couldn't quite manage to keep the shine of tears from her eyes.
She let out the breath she'd been holding, staring evenly at the Tailor, "I am sorry that is how you see me. I don't know what qualifies 'meaning it' to you, but the offer is genuine should you need it. If you do not, then you don't need to pay any further mind to what I said. That's all I wanted to say."
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-23 02:04 am (UTC)Nobody was that stupid or naive as to be so kind without gaining anything from it. It had to do something for her on an emotional level. Unfortunately for the Maven, the Tailor no longer had the patience or energy to try to manage her emotional needs. They had bigger monsters to tackle.
“Sure,” they said flatly, unconvinced. “You’re always so generous, Jane. No wonder the needy flock to you.”
They turned, their sour expression returning to the flat uninterested aloofness they had adopted, and lifted a hand briefly to their nose once facing away. There was another bead of red on the fingers of their black glove. Annoying. They lifted it in a parting gesture.
“Be seeing you.”
With that, the Tailor strode away.
Re: After Class
Date: 2026-01-25 09:22 pm (UTC)Do not start crying, if Derek sees you he will ask what is wrong and probably connect the dots and it'll cause trouble-
"I know that!" Maven whispered under her breath sharply. She tried so hard not to respond (when she could hear, of course), but... sometimes it got to be too much.
She turned back and walked into the classroom, glancing around. Spotting the Piper she walked over to them, unshed tears still in her eyes as she said, "Excuse me, Piper?"