Correspondence Scholarship, Class One [Tuesday Morning, June 10th]

[theexdisgracedacademic]

It took a while to find the classroom. The halls of Benthic were in turns stately and wild, and to catch snippets of conversation is to risk getting drawn into conversation (risky), or someone else's research project (perilous in the extreme). The little slip of paper with the classroom listing was even worse. The number didn't relate to any floor or door, and those that managed to get their nerves up enough to ask for help were treated to scornful chuckles.

"I knew that class was one big prank," chortled a passing member of the Stoats' Club, "even ol' Percy Winship-Widgon wouldn't fall for it, and he's only got half a lobe left to spare!"

As the starting hour for the class drew closer, and whispering doubts threatened to increase in volume, something important clicked into place. The classroom number might not exist on the walls of the building. But it did correspond to the table of contents in one of the many volumes of required reading. And that pointed to a section that referenced a paper that was also in the course materials, a seemingly unrelated architectural discussion of Benthic's construction…

Ah. The dome at the top of the building. Most students hadn't known that there was a room there. Had there ever been a room there?

Regardless. Members of the class made their way higher and deeper into the center of the great structure, and finally came upon a door, labeled with a lead plaque, and the numbers for the much-sought classroom. To squint at it, one would notice the numbers going funny for a moment. Perhaps they didn't look the same to other people. Though to look around, each member of the class would have noticed that they'd made the trek alone. There were no other people to see these numbers.

The room itself was too big for such a small class; three rows of university benches with shelf desks sat in the middle, facing a lecturing podium and a freestanding chalkboard. There were at least four independent layers to the board, and it wrapped a semi-circle around the benches, closing the space off into a much less agoraphobic classroom area.

Atop each bench were sets of goggles, and several silver atomizers. Atop the lecturing podium was a congratulatory fungal bouquet. If your fungiography isn't too rusty, those were ink-caps for success in scholarly ventures, amanita virosa for permanent consequences, and false-blemmigans to wrap the entire thing in a fantastically sarcastic tone of voice.

Class hadn't started yet, and the professor was absent. Students had a little time to introduce themselves to the others.

Was it true that if the professor arrived late, everyone was allowed to go? Surely it couldn't be, in a university setting. But whether it was mis or good fortune, there came the sound of yelling from the hallway.

The voice was a very unpleasant one. In some, it might've inspired fear. But any ear could detect an uncanny edge to the high timbre. "-certain that you could find a last-minute replacement!" 

"There aren't any others with your qualifications!" The second speaker's voice had a posh, Etonian lilt, and though he'd raised his volume, his emotions weren't half as compromised. He seemed patient, bordering on amused. "I promised to attempt to find another professor, but it's a very delicate matter-"

"What nonsense!"

"As you say."

"Absolute rot!"

"Indeed."

A sigh. "It's in here, is it?"

"Yes."

A louder, more beleaguered sigh. "Don't think that this is the end of this. We'll speak later."

"Good fortune and happy teaching."

"The next living creature to wish me that is going to learn their first lesson, and it'll be a keen one, I'll have you know that!"

Somewhere behind the chalkboard, a door slammed, and a pair of heeled boots tapped quickly toward the students. Then, a billowing silhouette of opulent white fabric rounded the corner, as their professor strode into view. Threatening a height of seven feet and staring from behind a semiotic monocle and a shock of gray hair, The Ex-Disgraced Academic all but stomped over to the lectern. Their eye seized upon the fungal bouquet, and their long, clawed fingers seized upon the accompanying card. With two passes of a roving eye, they found immense displeasure with whatever was written. They removed a pen from their breast pocket, scribbled something onto the paper. 

Then, the entire bouquet went up in sudden, twenty-foot flames, nearly high enough to singe the domed ceiling above them.

As the welcome gift quickly reduced itself to ashes, The Academic took chalk to chalkboard, and addressed the class.

“Well! You’ve all successfully found yourselves in Benthic’s 1899 summer course on The Correspondence. I will be your Professor-” and here, chalk tapping, The Ex-Disgraced Academic wrote their full name on the board. It was a distinguished and somewhat melodic arrangement of syllables, as instantly memorable to the students as it was illegible to their players. “But you may all conform to the decency of good manners, and either refer to me as ‘Professor,’ or ‘Emissary.’”

This second title, they underlined twice, with great relish. “It would happen to be this duty upon which I ought to be spending my time focusing. Vital matters across the sea and on the roof wait for no man. But the Dean is currently embroiled in a-“ the Academic scrawled the words: 

PHALLUS-MEASURING-CONTEST

“-with members of the Ministry of Public Decency, and this class is the result!”

It was only at this point that The Academic turned around, to actually look at their students. The sneer wasn't a particularly kind reaction. “The study of this language is only nominally legal. I have been given impeccably strict definitions as to the limits of what may be taught in this class. Which brings us to the prerequisites before we begin The Correspondence in earnest:”

The Academic waved a gloved hand, signalling all the nerds of the class to open their note-books and begin the note-taking.

“Safety Precaution the First: A law is only a law if it is enforceable! Thus, you are highly advised to keep your course notes under lock and key. Anything you learn here might be made retroactively illegal.”

“Safety Precaution the Second! Correspondence symbols are highly flammable! The more flammable the surface, the fewer symbols a material can hold before combusting. Lead can hold precisely seven symbols. So imagine how careful you will have to be with untreated paper.

“Safety Precaution the Third! The threat will come for you-“ the next words rendered in large, block letters, “-IN THE NIGHT. If your housing is anywhere near a sorrow-spider clutch, start sleeping with an eye mask, as well. No more counting on your roommate in the lower bunk to have their eyes taken first: the study of The Correspondence will make your eyeballs like catnip to the sorry scoundrels.”

“And that brings us to the last and greatest peril to your freshly opened eyes. Safety Precaution the Fourth: When practicing, from now on, you will always wear your goggles. It doesn’t matter whether you are crafting poetry or practicing penmanship. You never write a stroke without eye protection, because you are always one mis-stroke away from permanent injury.” The Academic tapped a claw along the edge of their Semiotic Monocle. "I never take mine off. Easily solved."

The Academic tossed the chalk aside, and returned to the lectern.

“Today will be a warm-up. Practice writing sentences in English with no more than four words. One sentence per page, and do not use the back. I want twenty sentences from each student by the end of the period. If you notice another student writing a fifth word on any paper…” The Academic picked up the nearest atomizer, regarded the smoldering wreck of the bouquet…

…and then let loose on the nearest student; spraying water from the atomizer straight into their face.

“…douse them.”

The Academic placed the bottle back down, careless and casual as though they'd done no more than continue talking. "Get to it!"

As the class drew to a close, not a single eye was watching the clock more closely than the unblinking pupil of the professor. The second hand hit twelve, and they were to their feet.

“Well? Off with you! Haven’t you anywhere better to be? I certainly do.”

Comments

Sign In

[theexdisgracedacademic]

Post your character’s name here and describe them taking their seat. Time to make a first impression!

Re: Sign In

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Chimeric Professor signs in for class! Taking one of the front-row seats. Being the first to check in, they'll pick the central one as well, to have best perspective of the professor's desk and, hopefully, the Academic themselves.

Re: Sign In

[theanachronistictailor]

The (Aspiring) Anachronistic Tailor signed in after leaving their bag and coat at a seat in the final row of desks, second closest to the back door. This was not the best vantage point for the center-most chalk board, and they could only hope they had not had the misfortune of sitting behind taller or broader classmates. (Ugh, classmates.)

Well. If they were so unfortunate this week, there was at least no assigned seating. Next week might be better.

Re: Sign In

[stygean]

Introduced by a clanking, hurried cacophony, the Star-Collared Scientist rushed into the auditorium, perhaps tripping over their own boots but quickly daring anyone to comment about it with one single glance. After a swirly signature on the register, he dropped his bag on the seat closest to the window, soon following it, maybe even in terms of grace employed

Re: Sign In

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

The Soft-Hearted Maven signs in, speaking in a low volume to the companion coming in behind her so as not to disturb anyone else coming in or already there, "Alright, we should probably get seats close to the front so we will have the best view of the chalkboard and so we'll hear the lecture better."

Re: Sign In

[theliedpiper]

The Lied Piper belatedly realizes that they were supposed to sign in, and speedwalks back to the front of the room to do so. After a brief pause, they also snag one more mushroom from the bouquet and shove it in their mouth before returning to their seat at the back of the room by the Tailor.

Re: Sign In

[themorbidsocialite]

The Morbid Socialite strode with an unearned confidence into the classroom, signing in and taking a seat near the front middle to simultaneously keep an eye on the professor as well as his fellow classmates. He held himself with all the poise of a lady of fabulous means and all the intention of a slathering hound; eager and yet stoic, itching and yet balanced, hungry and yet stifled. His gladstone bag sat firmly under his chair, the ankles crossed beneath him just barely missing scuffing the leather surface with a heeled shoe.

Re: Sign In

[tolpen]

The Soft-Eyed Mycologist is one of the last to arrive. He tiptoes into the room, just in case the class has started early. He brings with him the air of scorched mould.

Seeing that he is not, in fact, arriving late, he signs himself into the register and then with a much more confident stride he seats himself in the row second to the front.

Re: Sign In

[the_dye_stained_socialite]

The triple-click of boots and a cane announced The Portentous Pawn's arrival, which was nearly as late as the Professor's themself. They signed in under the name of Thursday in a hurried hand, then made a beeline towards the back-most, and right-most seat in the classroom. They mumbled both apologies and curses as they hurried past the first rows of desks. Perhaps the 'foreboding' meaning of their title simply applies to the waves of anxiety that emanate from the young student.

Re: Sign In

[theidiosyncraticmechanic]

The Idiosyncratic Mechanic, moments after cracking in through an understandably overlooked window lock and dragging their soot covered body down a fall that would look like it would hurt, stumbles over to sign in much too late

Before Class

[theexdisgracedacademic]

Have your character take a seat. If you see someone you'd like to talk to, respond to their post with an in-character post of your own.

Re: Before Class

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Chimeric Professor opens the delightfully mysterious door and, to someone versed in interpreting bandaged face expressions, would be only slightly sad at discovering there's no more mysteries to solve. Ah well, this was a fun first test indeed, just like the timetables at Surface universities, but better.

Taking some time in the initial companion-and-professorlessness to look around, would have taken a good look at the congratulatory bouquet, and upon remembering the meaning behind the fungal choice couldn't help but laugh, thinking someone thought themselves really funny and some other, most likely the Academic, wouldn't be amused. The card was intriguing as well, but that would be a blatant invasion of privacy, so it'll be left be.

Once the room and implements were noticed, the Chimeric Professor chose the central front seat, unburdening themself from the required books, a complementary notebook that probably holds personal notes, and a pencil-case holding way too many writing instruments, yet only a couple of them seem used at all. Eagerly waiting for fellow students, and of course for the notable Academic, to arrive.

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

The Undistinguished Pupil signed in, swiftly snagging up a rather unremarkable seat on the far side of the second row. Meticulously they set up their desk by placing their note taking paper and quills just so before following suit with their hat, settling it atop the desk out of the way of their work space with a ginger hand.

A well cared for macaw opens its eyes, talons curled around mourning band and seemingly growing agitated by its grand perch no longer being stationed atop their "attendants" head. Before the bird could raise her full ire a compact mirror set out beside them caught their full attention -- and how could they not admire such a reflection? How could they not take the time to preen and only enhance such a gracious visage for the poor un-feathered, unblessed attendants to marvel at.

With troublesome squawks abated for the moment, The Undistinguished Pupil
allowed their eyes to roam the room in an honestly rather shifty manner... They figured they were still early and the class would fill out

They themselves had made sure to dress well, their finest coat smelling of mint and millennium roses with a tightly tied cravat encasing their throat's flesh that matched the secondary color of the coat for extra bit of flare. Rags just wouldn't do for the company of academics including The Academic. (Not that they tried to wear rags on even the worst of days, that just wouldn't do!)

Re: Before Class

[theanachronistictailor]

Now, no one could accuse the (Aspiring) Anachronistic Tailor of being late to their first day of class--this would as a matter of fact be untrue. They were not the type of person to be tardy, not for work nor for social gatherings, and indeed tended to be frightfully early when it wasn't considered rude (and even in some cases when it was).

This was less out of etiquette, and presumably more out of an urge to study others from a vantage point they would have had the time to locate before the arrival of the to-be-studied. One could learn a lot about individuals from watching when they arrived to scheduled events, and how those individuals acted at those times whether they were early, punctual, or scandalously late. But ignoring this reasoning, to watch and gather information, was the sorry fact that the Tailor was terribly impatient.

So they should have been early, in fact they should have been early by at least twenty minutes; more than enough time to choose a seat and study the length of the 'classroom' and the flowers and card before anyone was the wiser, before a single other student arrived to be considered early--and in fact the Tailor was early when they arrived at the place they believed they had been pointed to by the cryptic guidance. They'd taken in the information given, worked with the information they already had, and given their background, it was not hard to see where the confusion had come in.

Oh, yes, it was the dome. They'd simply made the error of believing class was to be on the dome, and not in it.

Excruciatingly embarrassing, if anyone had seen this display. As it was, maybe a bat or two heard the snarl of frustration when the Tailor had finally finished scaling the height of the building, looked at the dome top distinctly not arranged for a classroom setting, looked at their sketched copy of the Benthic architecture, and turned on their heel to slide back off the roof and clamber back down to and through the window they'd opened to climb up to begin with.

When the Tailor finally did find the 'classroom' in question, it was with three minutes (and some seconds to spare) before the scheduled beginning of class. Flush was high in their cheeks, though whether it was from exertion or embarrassment or anger was hard to be certain, and anyway it was already fading quickly as they quietly found an open seat in the final row, not quite next to the back door, but close. (Rather far from the chalk boards, and yet still enough to hear, of course, the ensuing discussion, but with the volume it would be at, that was not exactly a difficult feat for anyone in attendance.) They slung their bag over the chair and then pulled off their jacket and draped it over the back of the chair and the strap of the bag. Now in just their shirtsleeves and waistcoat, the unfortunate 'student' dropped somewhat heavily into their seat and with one hand dug into the bag to pull out a small leatherbound book only barely larger than their hand and a stub of pencil.

Class had not yet begun, and yet, with only minutes before the scheduled lecture was to begin, the Tailor was already scanning the room and its occupants, and taking notes.

OOC: I am going to try not to write something long like this again. someone just had to go make a fool of themself as an opener

Re: Before Class

[stygean]

The lack of lecturers proved itself a quite welcome distraction, as it was combined with such intriguing fungal composition left unsupervised. The Star-Collared Scientist was not late, not really, but not really quite on time either, and yet this didn’t prevent them from poking around between the fungi, examining them one by one in quite a curious fashion and even poking the most irritable of blemmigans with their finger. Ah. It snapped. A satisfied chuckle escaped his lips, and with an almost unnoticeable flip of the wrist the blemmigan was now cupped in his hands, carried against both its wishes and anyone’s common sense towards the Scientist’s seat near the window, where it got placed down next to books and pens. Apparently unbothered by the feistiness, the Scientist rummaged a bit in the corners of their bag, before offering something to the snarling thing. The snaps quieted down, and a pen started to write… something in a corner.

Re: Before Class

[theliedpiper]

The classroom was pretty full by the time the Piper found the place. It wasn't that the riddle had been terribly hard, but they'd overslept (as usual) and gotten distracted by about ten other neat-looking spots on campus (was that a music hall? How could they get booked there?) on the way. At least the professor wasn't here yet, it looked like.

Instead, at the front of the room, were... snacks? Was that edible arrangement of fungi for sharing? It looked like the fellow by the window had snagged a blemmigan, so the Piper was going to take that as a yes.
After plucking out a few ink-caps, the Piper turned to find a seat--

"Oi! Tailor!" They beamed, stretching up on tip-toe and waving to the fellow at the back. The wave was unnecessary, as the Piper wasted no time in claiming the spot on the bench next to them. "Nice to see a familiar face! And pretty nice of 'em to set us up with snacks AND drinks, eh?" They waved one of the mushrooms at the silver spray bottle-looking-things. Whatever was in them must be pretty tasty to deserve such a fancy container.

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven gave The Brash Devil a look that would have suggested exasperation if it wasn't tinged with fondness, "You shouldn't be doing that anyway." Rolling her eyes she gestured to the seats, "Why don't we compromise and sit in the middle?" Before he can even say anything she begins making her way there and chooses a seat.

Before she sat down she took out a couple of packages. A couple of wrapped tins of biscuits and loose jasmine tea leaves. She hoped the professor was alright with jasmine tea. She walked to the front and was about to place them at the lectern when she noted the fungal bouquet. She raised an eyebrow at the message, then not wanting her gift to be mixed with this bit of passive aggression she opted instead to put it on the chalk shelf on the bottom of the chalk board before walking back. The attached note read:

"Thank you for the opportunity to learn the Correspondence. I look forward to learning from you and improving on my knowledge. I hope these gifts are an acceptable show of gratitude, and I hope you have a good day."

She hadn't signed the note, she didn't want the professor to think she was trying to curry favor before the class even began. She simply wanted to express her gratitude that this class was available.

Learning the Correspondence on her own had been an arduous process. Even having a devil companion only made it marginally easier. She distinctly remembered the time she tried to ask him the difference between two symbols and he gave her a look before saying, "What are you talking about? This is this symbol, and that is that symbol, they don't look the same at all how can you get them mixed up?" It was a good reminder that knowing something didn't necessarily make you a good teacher of it.

Making her way back, she sat down, removed her bonnet and shawl to set beside her bag, and began to take out all she needed for note taking, also reaching in her bag and popping a humbug in her mouth. The sharp taste of peppermint seemed to help her focus, or perhaps it was just in her mind, either way it couldn't hurt.

Re: Before Class

[the_brash_devil]

The Brash Devil returned the eye roll, although it went mostly unseen behind his smoked lenses. He followed the Soft-Hearted Maven to the middle seats she indicated, glancing around the room as he sat down.

This was ridiculous. Why was he even here? In a class to teach something he was already fluent in? More fluent than the friggin' professor. There were a million better things he could be doing with his time; heists he could be planning or casing, fights at the rings he could be winning, monsters he could be hunting down for the reward and the thrill of it, urchins he could be causing mischief with. Hell, at this rate he'd rather be in Maven's death trap of a zubmarine than here.

At that thought he glanced at her as she dug through her bag. His insides twinged. He remembered the nights she spent pouring over symbols until he had to make her stop because her eyes would bleed or the tips of her hair would catch on fire. Him trying to make her understand something but there being some... disconnect, something he couldn't explain. How her face had fallen one time when he couldn't explain something she asked.

He didn't have a word for this feeling. He settled on annoyed. He felt very annoyed. He wanted to see what this human professor could do that he couldn't, IF they could even do it.

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

Even having solved the riddle quickly, the Morbid Socialite was still one of the last to arrive. It was an entirely intentional state, having stayed at a distance from the dome for some time before deigning to enter. They'd spent a few minutes watching someone scale the side of the dome and disappear, watched yet another become distracted by the various buildings that dotted the Benthic Campus, then thought it best to cease the delay. While arriving later than most was entirely in the fashion, a move to draw attention to one's self, it was in poor taste to arrive late and brought about entirely the wrong attention.

The Socialite's heels clicked satisfyingly against the tile, the sound echoing about him as he walked into the classroom and found a seat in the second row, just right of the middle. He set his hat to the side and retrieved his stationary from his bag: a gladstone model, just as one might expect of a doctor, holding a great number of supplies, only half of which they thought might be useful in a classroom setting. Hidden among his assortment of supplies was a small stoat, winter coat permanent and stark. She crawled up his arm and settled herself on the brim of the hat set on the desk, wide-eyed and attentive.

Stationary retrieved and assembled in working order, the Socialite gazed around the room, taking stock of his fellow classmates before the Academic could arrive, golden eyes glancing over and through every individual in turn.

Re: Before Class

[tolpen]

The Mycologist shifts in his newly acquired seat a few times, testing the squeakiness of the chair. The level is t unacceptable, however, and thus he moves one to the left. Better.

He hasn't brought a bag. But he has brought his lab coat of many pockets and suspicious stains. From its singed depths the Mycologist produces some writing utensils and a brand new notebook.
He has also brought his own goggles, forgotten on the top of his head. It doesn't take a detective to figure out someone was in the lab and had completely forgotten that they were supposed to attend a class. However, it would take someone bothering to ask around to find out who had reminded the Soft-Eyed Mycologist that he had somewhere to be.
No point in dwelling on that. After all, he came on time. Unlike the lecturer, apparently.
He takes a few moments to bring out his pens (3), a mechanical pencil (1), and after some considerations a steel slide ruler and a drawing compass. Not that he thinks he is going to use the last two, but they've been digging into his thigh for a while.

He uncaps one of the pens with a flourish and resolutely opens his notebook on the first page and in a decisive and almost unreadable writing declares this to be Lecture 01. He moves the nib tot eh corner of the page and- And nothing.
The Mycologist clicks his tongue in disappointment with his own self. But he doesn't cap the pen yet.

Re: Before Class

[the_dye_stained_socialite]

The puzzle had not posed so much a problem as the layout of Benthic itself. In their quest to the dome, multiple wrong turns were made into Sommerset halls. Several people were sporting new bruises that day, but that did not assist in getting Thursday to the bloody dome. Never has there been anything more labyrinthine, save for what was commited to myth and legend, and it seemed as though they had delved every cupboard, closet, and forbidden wing in attempts to find the correct damn staircase. Thursday could have kicked the architecture itself when he had finally made it.

Arriving as late as they had, the Pawn had scarce enough enough time to dump out their pens and notebooks from an atrocious carpet-bag. Organization was nowhere to be found, chaos reigned upon their desk. The nearest notebook was grabbed and opened to blank page. Their handwriting took a messy turn as their pen flew along the lines. It was hardly distinguishable from chicken scrawl- no, it was shorthand? No, it was encoded shorthand. The lecture had not even begun, what on earth was she writing? She studied the students around her in turn, then wrote a just little more.

Lecture

[theexdisgracedacademic]

Respond with what your character is doing during The Ex-Disgraced Academic's lecture. It can be something as simple as an emotional reaction or taking notes. Or it could be more complex, like raising your hand and asking a question.

You may also respond to other students' reactions. Try not to worry too hard about which of your conversations is happening in which order. Just have fun with it!

Re: Lecture

[ticktopis_observatorium]

The Chimeric Professor tried with all their composure not to show how amused they were at the dialogue having place outside. Of course, it was all the more understandable after the explanation, to which they tried to show some comfort before thinking twice that the Ex-Disgraced Academic, certainly, doesn't need such thing. Especially after seeing the fate ill-intended "present". Thus back to paying attention.

The safety rules here are the best explained they have ever seen in the Department of ______________, and took good notes for future related classes. After the Fourth rule they instantly donned the goggles, replacing their sunglasses trying not to show too much of their eyes. This paid back when, being the one who deliberatedly chose the closest seat, it was upon their face the wrath of the atomizer was unleashed. Unexpected as it was it prompted a short laugh and some mostly fruitless application of handkerchiefs to dry their bandages, which showed some textured reddish-colored skin in the wet transparence.

In their notes, a simple drawing of the fearsome atomizer could be found together with "DOUSE" underlined twice.

Class has begun

[theexdisgracedacademic]

Come up with sentences that are no more than four words. You of course don’t actually need to write twenty real sentences.

If your character slips up and writes a longer sentence, then it's an invitation to get sprayed by another student. The atomizers have been modified to behave less like a perfume mister, and more like a club soda bottle picked up by a cartoon character.

Re: Class has begun

[ticktopis_observatorium]

"The assignment is easy enough", the Chimeric Professor thought. Just a bit of practice in the art of prudence when handling highly flammable sigils and learn how not to overexert the support. Correspondent 101. So they start:

1. "All shall be well", of course.
2. "Look always to love", valuable advice.
3. "Long live the Fifth", that would be nice.
4. "The Correspondence catches fire", theme-appropriate.
5. "The Correspondence IS fire", emphatic correction.
6. "Yes or No question", always a favourite of all professors.
7. "Please don't douse me", when being closely watched by a companion.
8. "Please if you may", manners above all.
9. "Are question marks words?", rhetorical question, they know perfectly well they are. Douse them!
10. "Question Marks Are Words", written in the 'bored' caligraphy of one punished with writing several times.
11. "The weather is nonexistent", many times heard around London, probably.
12. "My tailor is rich", mandatory honor to the English teachers from Spain.
13. (to be continued)

20. "Did I do well", risking the Emissary's wrath, at the lack of a question mark.

After Class

[theexdisgracedacademic]

Pack up, chat with your new friends and academic rivals, or flag down the Professor before they're able to abscond.

Re: After Class

[theanachronistictailor]

Despite everything, they had survived the ordeal. It had not been necessarily easy and it had certainly not been smooth sailing the whole way through, but the Tailor had survived it, warts and all. It was important to be positive, even if they were struggling a bit to grin and bear it.

Class was over. They had managed.

Now came the time of packing ones things, both dry and wet, and exiting the room. The door in the front was how students had come in, but it passed the podium and, by extension, the professor, and for the way things had gone the Tailor found they either would be in need of a distraction to feel comfortable passing; or they needed another way out.

But there was a door in the back, and so the Tailor turned from their seat and went out that way.

It was a supply closet.

They closed the door behind them and put their head in their hands.

Maybe they could just stay in here for a bit. Maybe nobody noticed! Maybe they'd sneak out in an hour when the shame had faded.

Yeah. Maybe.

...Probably not, though.

[theexdisgracedacademic]

In the Out Of Character thread, you can post asides, ask questions, and generally have out of character discussion. Shitposting encouraged.

You can also make an OOC comment at the bottom of any other post, if you need to clear something up! Just type "OOC:" before whatever you need to say, so folks know you're speaking out of character. ^-^

Woooooo! Okay, that class post was likely the longest one I'll be writing. Do not worry about matching my wordcount, because I'm certainly not going to in the future. XD Just wanted to give you all a proper introduction.

[ticktopis_observatorium]

Hello, Ticktop here! First class and I am loving it so much already. The setting is possitively hilarious, the writing is so Fallen London-esque, and the poor Academic sure doesn't want to be here. Now with classmates? That'll be even better.