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

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

[leviathanlovely]

The Undistinguished Pupil was something of a cheap imitation of the man who walked in and as such had their eyes drawn immediately to the lacksadaisy yet purposeful snap of The Socialite's steps. At once The Pupil felt a swell of something familiar, within the crowds of spite he might attempt to lift something from this gents pockets and then shadowing that feeling was a nagging of insecurity; how devastating would it be if The Pupil couldn't keep up in a conversation amid peers and they could all see the difference between tin and true gold... It was the difference of their eyes even. (Though The Socialaites' golden eyes could have very easily been a hint toward an addiction to honey, at least that's what The Pupil's pals within bohemian circles said and they couldn't verify its truth in entirety.)

Another set of eyes found The Socialite as well if only momentarily, The Preening Macaw fixed atop The Pupil's set aside hat gave a distasteful leer at the lounging stoat - noting a predatory critter and puffing their glorious blue and green feathers up to look slightly bigger to dissuade any form of dispute.

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Socialite crossed sights briefly with the Pupil and halted, immediately turning back towards the front to avoid being seen casting glances. His heart hammered with something familiar and stinging and he gripped his quill tighter to release some of the growing tension. In their head, they swore. They could feel the eyes on them and knew in a moment what the gaze meant: the Pupil must be privy to the ruse. Opulent attire with not a stitch out of place that cast them in a stunning silhouette, a beautiful bird to perch with them in elegance and knowing silence, fabric in dyes not often found in the Neath, surely, and must be a task to maintain in the prime of their vibrancy, the Socialite's own pyrite appearance could never amount to it, not after everything. Worse than that, the gaze peered into him from both sets of eyes, making the Socialite feel seen, exposed, vulnerable to the eyes of someone who surely was closer to the shores of prosperity than he was. Here the Socialite was, in muted colors and his middling hat and with a companion no higher in propriety than an Araby fighting weasel in anything but ermine coat! Surely, this young Pupil must see through him entirely and know how low he had fallen, regardless of his confidence (a trait he felt rapidly dwindling).

The Stoat stared at the Macaw and laid down, eyes unblinking and staring into the bird just as much as the bird stared into the mustelid. The small predator, with dark eyes standing out clearly from white fur, turned quickly and sniffed, as if the Macaw was nothing to her, barely worth the moment of attention.

There was still time before the class was to begin, perhaps longer. The Socialite steeled his nerves and turned with a charming smile, their voice low so as not to interrupt the idle chatter of the rest of the class. "Pleasant morning," they purred, walls quickly going up around their fearful, envious heart. "And a pleasure to meet another at Benthic with more refined tastes."

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

The Macaw's feathers folded evenly as its head turned slowly back to its previous attention catcher; The compact beside it holding the visage of the most beautiful bird to ever grace The Neath; Belladonna herself, of course. It sussed out the Stoat as possibly a cowardly dullard to whom the only compliment they could bestow is they were smart enough not to test her well treated talons.. Now if only The Stoats' attendant would follow suit.

"Charmed!" The Pupil controlled themselves as best they could but felt far too many teeth in the smile they presented toward The Socialite. "I am but an Undistinguished Pupil in these academic efforts," Keep humble. "But certainly one should always endear themselves to the fineries here and there!~" Their nose crinkles with the smile and they pull back a bit--

His coat, comment on his fine coat! "You know, I was just speaking to my Tailor -- fine chap -- they were telling me about a coat just the same styling of yours, apparently they are all the rage at the moment, especially with the right pop provided by your lax companion there!" In Ernest The Pupil had no idea what their friend really was talking about in terms of style, but they could pretend and then be impressed with whatever turned up looking good and wearable to them-- But with hope The Socialite wouldn't see through the bluff... If they kept talking then surely The Pupil's own attire wouldn't be sussed out as an apprentices' art project (A beauty to The Pupil, but surely it might be gauche and far too bright for The Neath... SURELY, gulp, it may come across as someone trying far too hard.)

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Socialite didn't catch on at all, too engrossed in their own shortcomings to notice any the Pupil might've had. Rather, he smiled, just a tad strained at the corners, and rested his chin on an elegant hand. "Why, this old thing? I do appreciate the flattery, my good fellow, but I can assure you I fretted before the wardrobe for far too long over what I was willing to lose to a potential Correspondence mishap. No, you, my fine featured friend, are á la mode, in the fashion. Do give your tailor my regards, if it is their work you now wear." The Socialite withheld a sigh of relief, having gotten through a discussion of clothing without accidentally arising the topic of clothing scissors and the frustrations of medical practices through the layered and restricting attire of the elite.

Pleasantries of appearance aside, the Socialite leveled an even and analyzing gaze over the Pupil, perhaps cutting to the casual observer, but digging and desperate to those familiar with the workings of the Morbid Socialite's mind. They finally latched onto a topic and batted the witful exchange back to the Pupil. "One must wonder what brings such a young and spirited individual to a class such as this. Is it merely to pass the time in curiosity? Or perhaps there is a goal in mind which the Correspondence can help you to attain? Pray, I must be sated by your response."

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

It would seem The Undistinguished Pupil was maybe keeping up in lip-service but felt the weight of each prose-like syllable The Socialite spoke. Ah, so THIS was how a true dandy strutted and further carried himself, and with such care taken in choosing his attire for the day -- THE IDEA that this was a coat worth putting through its paces and it still looked perfectly fine to them, The Pupil hadn't even considered how heartbreaking it would be to ruin their own coat quite so soon after getting it dolled up. This gent was a sociable genius.

Those sharp, golden eyes paused The Pupil's frets, demanding an answer;

"My interest?, Purely Academic of course!" They gestured toward the front where their teacher would soon be and gave a sing-songy trill of a chuckle. "That is to say, The Academic (Ex-Disgraced in nature) never has a dull lesson. I've dabbled in a good few curious classes here and there but nothing beats a true personality on the stand!"

Without knowing just how true it would actually be The Pupil would add; "I assure you, if this is your first lesson with him it will NOT be dry."

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

Such was the microscopic lens of self-judgement that one should see only flaws where another can see only praise. To the Socialite, the Pupil's opulent attire was daring, bold, and spoke to a subtle wealth of either funds or creativity. Surely, if the tales of the Ex-Disgraced Academic were to be believed, then someone so experienced in their company must know how dangerous some of these fields could be. If this coat was one the Pupil was most willing to have damaged, then they must surely have a wide and fanciful array of clothes even more stunning and eye-catching.

As well, it occurred too late to the Socialite that the lie about his own wardrobe- that this was not his only coat and that he most definitely had others to choose from- was one that would have to be maintained in front of someone with so keen an eye. Fear flooded the Socialite's veins, but he scarcely let it show.

Rather, the Socialite leaned in further, projecting an eager and curious expression- one not entirely untrue. "I've heard spare few tales of the Academic, yet have never met the fellow. Wonderfully dangerous tales, some of which may be best not shared so publicly. I don't expect any interaction with the Academic to be boring in the least, but I will admit that I do not know what to expect. You say you've learned under them before? What shall I be prepared to experience?"

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

The Undistinguished pupil for a moment felt a surge of power -- They could give the wrong impression of the course, they could insinuate and manipulate the Socialite before them into saying something to gain The academic's ire and work to make themselves look far better, certainly it would be an obvious slight, CERTAINLY but the option was there and it hinted in the small smirk forming on the individual's pale lips... But perhaps a different manipulation was in place; after all this man from looks seemed more a fan of honey (purely theoretically, hypothetically even--)and perhaps a sweet approach might earn them a favor of sorts from the high profile sort.

"I have," The Pupil began with a lift of the shoulders. "Much like how one can tell something is coming when standing and staring out from The Docks... You'll be able to tell how The Academic's courses will go from the very first. It could be vindictive, grueling and hectic as you will see they are much like the zee they excel in zailing."

It was almost acting prose, the way The Pupil waved a hand before really slouching into a shrug. "They can be harsh, but I wouldn't describe them as unfair..." An addendum to the factual; The Academic had never been unfair to THEM, Occasional acts of nepotism would sing that grace in the same tune a myriad of previous peers might bemoan. "My advice? Stick on the course, take notes and get good at reading a room... Should you need anything further, from sharing notes or just a shoulder to listen I'd be ever pleased to be that."

Yes, their fine manipulation ha begun; Just Being A Nice Goddamn Person.

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Socialite eased into a sense of trust, a layer of their expression opening into something soft and truly appreciative. They trusted the Pupil for the moment, however foolish that may turn out to be, and they did value the advice. "I thank you, young sir, for the offer. It truly is kind. I suppose we'll see soon just how effective the advice is, if I will end up needing your assistance further. Until such a time, then my hope is that the bond struck here may persist into the future. Two scholars, continuing into the class with a sense of respect and comradery. As well, should you require my assistance, I would be more than happy to provide. Tularemia is a skilled messenger, so should you need of me outside of class, do not hesitate to send your calling card through her."

At the mention of her name, the ermine stoat perked up, paying attention to the conversation once again. She was rather smart for a stoat, noting when bonds were being made and approaching the border of the Pupil's space to be within reach, to extend a paw in service. Or perhaps just for the hope of affection. In either case, she watched the Pupil, almost knowingly, and waited.

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

The Undistinguished Pupil gave a non-derisive snort.

"Of course, it is as gentle folk such as ourselves should be in polite society." The Pupil extended a hand almost on instinct to interact with the mustelid slinking upon The Socialite's form. They froze, a second from engaging with another's messenger in what would SURELY (Oh, surely) be an inappropriate way for the setting... A flick of the wrist provided some form of dried jerky hekd between their pinched thumb and index. (the slight oily smell encouraged the belief it might be of some form of fish)

With another inhale, they added with a wink; "I'll remember that, and I myself extend the very same branch..." Their eyes flick to The Macaw. "My Belladonna does not offer the same service, but I find my mail just as easy as any other Londoner."

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

Tularemia, as pleased as the cat that caught the canary, stole the fish jerky aside and noted the Pupil's face as a trustworthy one, perhaps planning on bothering them further in the next class for more treats.

The Morbid Socialite did not miss that the two animals were named after a disease and a poison. Memento mori was alive and well in the streets of London- ironically so. "So it would seem. Just as well, then, that it still finds its way to you. Forgive my curiosity, but what sort of macaw is that? She is quite beautiful."

Re: Before Class

[leviathanlovely]

"Well, her beak leads me to believe she is a Severe-- That and her shining personality contributes to such a breeds name." The Pupil sighs, folding hands atop the desk. "If only her necks patterning didn't make me question if she was really a Harlequin or some other kind..."

Aligning themselves in their seat to lean forward onto their own risen, steepling fingers as they recalled their acquiescence of the colorful creature; "I don't believe I got too many details taking her in from a lovely associate of mine, I can hardly recall a time she did not grace my home in spite if it surely not being too long ago..."

They paused, the memory truly was hazy, though it could be blamed on the burning look in the eye of their associate; a devil rather pleasant on the eyes and ears gifting them something with insistence. It was no bother, really The Pupil loved animals dearly and fought to some degree to keep their rather humble home from degrading into a barn. (They really would need to look into bigger and better housing soon.)

"Do tell, dear Socialite, your Tularemia do you know her origins?" Though it was a pretty pet, likely a stalwart companion; The phrasing and the name really did sound unfortunate for the topic and the half cocked grin, not quite bellowing a bark of laughter in an attempt to keep platitudes, spoke of just how The Pupil shared his sentiment.

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

"She is, of course, a Eurasian ermine or a stoat. I believe it may be a mutation of some sort that provides her the permanent ermine color, regardless of season or temperature." The Socialite deftly dodged the meat of the question as he watched Tularemia perch herself upon his hat again. In truth, she had been bought for a fair price from Nasso's Zoologicals. Though, it was strange, he could swear she had been a long-tailed weasel before. And she had been a ruddy brown rather than ermine. But the last two years had felt like an eternity, an age, time dragging slowly ever since he...

The Socialite smiled. "She's rather smart for a stoat, which would be why I trust her with my mail. But let it not be forgotten that she is an animal and, having been fed, will continue to beg for table scraps from you. I would be prepared for either a raiding of your pockets or an intrusion into your bag next we meet." He laughed behind a hand, polite, but hiding a tricky and mischief-minded side. Perhaps a stoat was the perfect companion for someone like him.

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

The Soft-Hearted Maven spotted the gladstone bag and deduced the Socialite is likely a doctor. Likely, but not necessarily the case she reminded herself as she glanced at her own floral carpetbag that might give the impression of a nanny or governess (not an inaccurate impression, to be fair), but which very much did not scream "Doctor" at a glance. At the sight of the stoat she smiled wide; it was always a delight to see people bring their pets wherever they go. Even though they were different types of mustelids, this little one made her think of her salt weasel Snowdrop. She caught the Socialite's eye, nodding her head in greeting, "Your stoat is very adorable."

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Morbid Socialite glanced at the Maven and smiled warmly. The stoat ascended quickly up his chest and across his sleeve at the slightest implication of attention, eliciting a soft chuckle. "It seems she appreciates the sentiment. This is Tularemia, my devoted companion. If she's this eager to meet you, I would assume she would let you hold her for a moment." The Socialite offered out their arm and let the stoat stretch from their fingertips to try and meet the Maven. Small as it was, it wouldn't be able to reach the Maven from there unless she offered a surface of her own to climb.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. Might I be honored to know to whom I speak?"

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

The Soft-Hearted Maven smiled at the little creature, reaching out to bridge the gap and let Tularemia climb over. As she did, Maven introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you and Tularemia as well. I'm Doctor Jane Rosewood." She chuckled a little, petting Tularemia with one finger as she spoke, "Though some also tend to call me The Soft-Hearted Maven, or just Maven for sort. And you are?"

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

"I've gone by many names in my time. In the world before I was Doctor Mement-" The Socialite was so caught up in meeting a fellow doctorate holder that he forgot that he no longer counted. His credentials meant nothing in the Neath and he needed to remember that. He cleared his throat, effectively erasing his mistake, and smiled. "Let us forget all the formalities of names. I am known as the Morbid Socialite, though many to whom I am quite close refer to me as Maury. I pray there are close compatriots to be found in this class. Those of the scholarly sort already seem to be in attendance." With such a bold claim, the Socialite winked, flashing a charming smile in the Maven's direction. In all things, flattery was key to progress, so he thought. It was only natural that his charm be bolstered in an attempt to create smooth connections. Such was the way of the socialite and such was the way of the Morbid sort.

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

(OOC: Sorry it's taken so long to respond, I just wanted to clarify before I do, is the Socialite flirting just now or are they just being generally charming in a "socializing and making connections" kind of way?)

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

(OOC: For first interactions, the Socialite tends to do both and then commits to one or the other depending purely upon reaction from the other party. So, if the Maven doesn't want to be flirted with, then it was never flirting and he back off. But, if she responds in kind, then perhaps it was flirting this whole time. Letting the other person lead on whether the engagement means anything, if that makes sense.)

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

(OOC: Ah, Schrödinger's Flirtation XD)

She was tempted to ask them to continue what he was going to say, but it felt rude to do so. Whatever he was going to say, they stopped himself for a reason, and seeing as the both of them were still strangers it would be rude to pry. She did catch them say that he is, or at least used to be, a Doctor, and she filed that information away for later if needed but politely ignored it for now.

Ah, there it was. There were the charms and the flattery. She gave him a friendly smiled as she verbally sidestepped the implications, not being flirty back but also showing no offense to their words, "I'm sure there will be many chances to get to know each as the class goes on. Everyone here seems very friendly, yourself included. Not that it's a requirement, but it's always preferable when you can get along with your fellow classmates."

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Socialite caught it, the verbal avoidance. He stepped back a small amount, if only in behavior, ushering his charms from flirtatiousness into manners and polite interaction. They propped their chin on their hand,giving something of a cheeky grin. "I'm glad to be among the kind and friendly, although it does inspire me push that boundary. My own understanding of the Correspondence- or, rather, its uses- is sparce. I'm certain the class shall explain in full, but my lingering does draw me into curiosity about my fellows here, including yourself."

Those golden eyes watched the Maven, as if cutting with precision into gossamer webbing. "Pray, tell me, what purpose do you have in studying the Correspondence?"

Re: Before Class

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Ah," at that question Maven did become slightly flustered, averting her eyes a little, "Well, there were a few factors in my decision. Of course there is the scientific curiosity, wanting to figure out the mysteries behind the Correspondence and what individual symbols mean and how they combine to form meaning. Which I think is a motive most of the class shares. And well..." she glanced at the companion sitting beside her, a light blush on her face, "there are many benefits to learning another language, particularly one that a good chunk of London's population is already fluent in."

Re: Before Class

[themorbidsocialite]

The Socialite paused, watching the interaction, the way the Devil looked at the Maven and the Maven at the Devil. There was something familiar in that glance and the Socialite couldn't help beaming. A cheeky grin crossed his face, playful and engaged. "Is that so?" They inquired, voice gaining an almost song-like melody. "My, my, what a lovely and selfless purpose. Was there a certain muse that inspired you, perhaps? An Adonis or Aphrodite to draw you in? To pursue something so dangerous for such a noble reason as personal connection, your bleeding heart surely has a font of reason, an event or person for which you feel the call to speak on equal terms." His eyes flicked rapidly between the Maven and the Devil, expecting a certain answer, yet more interested in the details of said answer.

Re: Before Class

[the_brash_devil]

(OOC: For the sake of simplicity I'm just gonna use one comment for this)

The Brash Devil watched Maven's face get redder as the Socialite went on. He grinned at the look on her face; she was always cute, but it was always a treat to see her normally composed and put together demeanor break, whether through embarrassment (like now), righteous anger, or other means.

(Plus, this line of questioning did help alleviate that earlier feeling that he couldn't name but had settled on calling annoyance)

Before she could even attempt to respond he poked her arm, "Yeah Maven, tell us. Is there a certain someone that inspired you to take this class? Maybe a certain roguish trouble maker that caught your eye? I'm sure we're all dying to hear the answer~" He also ended in a sing-songy tone and a snicker.

Between the two of them, Maven was absolutely beet red. She hid her face with one hand and smacked the Brash Devil's hand with the other, "Oh my goodness, you are simply incorrigible!" There was no anger in her tone, just more flustered, embarrassed amusement.

Re: Before Class

[the_brash_devil]

The entire time the conversation was happening The Brash Devil was watching and listening from his seat with a passive interest. He may not be as good at these social back-and-forths, but he knew flirting when he saw it.

The commonly expected response among humans would probably be to get all overprotective and jealous, particularly with his personality. But really, what was there to be protective of? The human probably just wants sex, which is whatever. It's not like the Socialite is a devil, they're only after one thing.

He briefly considered bringing up the idea of ditching class with the two for something more fun, but he already knew Maven's response based on when he tried to do that in a previous class she had. 'This is no time for such things, there will be time for that after I have given my presentation on the regenerative properties of amber on human anatomy, this is too important for my overall grade to miss!' There's no way she'd want to miss the first class for no good reason, it would 'reflect badly on her in the eyes of the professor.' She's such a nerd, he thought as he resisted the urge to smile.