![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theexdisgracedacademic posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
benthic_universityIt 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.”
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-10 09:48 pm (UTC)It wouldn't do to be immature about this. It was simply that the classroom structure had always been an area in which the Tailor chafed, since their early years during brief stints in orphanage classrooms, and despite the years, little had changed. here they were, being quietly petty about something really quite easy. With their mouth drawn into a thin line, they tapped their pen to the paper twice in thought, and then wrote:
"Measure twice; cut once."
"Cut for seam allowance."
"Aim for the eyes."
Another two taps.
"Keep your mouth shut."
"Keep your eyes open."
No, that was too repetitive. They folded that sheet and put it to the side, and then rubbed their brow. This was not hard, for heaven's sake. Words, in an order, on pieces of paper.
They got by, their sentences often related to work, and then they wondered belatedly if double-words like 'can't' actually counted for one word or two. They pinched their brow over the goggles and then wrote, on the twentieth sheet, "Off to a great start." Wait. That was five. For god's sake.
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-11 09:09 am (UTC)Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-11 09:50 am (UTC)Impressed, and a little disappointed they didn't get to draw first blood, (After The Emissary, of course) The Undistinguished pupil dawdled back to keeping an eye for another easy target.
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-11 05:50 pm (UTC)"Well deserved," they muttered, eyeing the Scientist as he returned quickly to his own notes. "Although you seem to already be fairly advanced from the lot of us, skipping to already playing with the symbols instead of the basic task of lines. One wonders if you could focus on if your own tasks were properly understood."
They turned back to the sheet in front of them, and then glanced forward towards the Pupil's desk. A quick count.
"And is the professor's friend also an overachiever? I can't imagine you'd need to be. Unless you'd like someone to check your work?" It was said so innocently. "Perhaps I could learn from your own methods."
Their hair was dripping, and after all that work styling the curls into place too. They wrung out the bangs trying to escape into their face and decidedly didn't huff about it.
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-11 09:14 pm (UTC)Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-12 01:16 am (UTC)They returned to their own papers with begrudging awareness their classmate was correct, and wrote, with swift finality, "I have many regrets."
"Take care who you direct your amusement at," they said, distracted as they straightened their stack and tried, with little success, to push their hair back from their face. "Not all are as easily swayed as myself. Though I suppose having a powerful friend helps there."
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-12 11:14 am (UTC)In some regard they had expected him to step out for a moment perhaps, or maybe in fact this wasn't all too well thought out. Say, was The Tailor a touch handsome with their hair thrown back in such a way? (Surely not, perish the thought!)
"Mmhm, my deepest apologies." Was muffled as they turned back to their desk with a rigid posture. A breath returned their composure and with another glance back sporting a much diminished grin with a light shrug to their shoulders. "Perhaps a friend of a friend could put in a good word to smooth some things over before next lesson? As an apology for japery coming across as mockery? Or mayhaps I could offer some cool advice; Caution toward absorbent layers." Of course it was four words, the bit wouldn't be complete without it being four damn words.
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-12 05:08 pm (UTC)They had been prepared to open their mouth at the suggestion of assistance, to outright refuse it (because help was only further embarrassment, to need help was to show weakness), but the Pupil's final line, said placidly and yet so markedly on the nose with its structure, surprised an exhalation of laughter out of the fellow instead.
"A lesson we could all stand to learn moving forward, perhaps. You have me there, at least. In any case, don't feel put out to speak on my behalf. Perhaps next week, you'll be the one doused and I'll be the one with the sharp tongue." They glanced at the bird. "Or if not me, then your feathered friend, I'm sure."
They sat forward on the table, assignment complete, and cast their gaze around the room, and their hair fell in their face again, eliciting a frown. They were going to be pushing it back all morning, apparently.
Re: Class has begun
Date: 2025-06-14 08:23 pm (UTC)"Oh, trust when I say I don't plan to push the agenda too far," The Pupil eased, resting their chin on folded fingers. "If they've decided to make your life a nightmare there is not much one such as myself can do, I doubt an acquaintanceship could budge such a matter and I don't plan to sit alongside you in that fire. Hooooow-ever... If it's just a hairline slight then perhaps it can be built from. Think of it; A few good words, a shared joke... Were I you, I'd prepare a show of fealty, a gift of some kind to our magnanimous professor; Everyone likes buttering up, even the Emissary!" (Surely!)
The Pupil's eyes went to the resting bird beside them; Peaceful, for now, and they sighed recalling his feathered companions last accidental bath. "Oh, but you are certainly correct about that... I'll take your words to heart, dear friend, and I do hope you'll do the same!~"