benthic_university | Correspondence Scholarship, Class Two [Tuesday Morning, June 17th]

Correspondence Scholarship, Class Two [Tuesday Morning, June 17th]

When the students arrived to their domed classroom, there was a broad-shouldered clay man standing before them. A pair of goggles were awkwardly affixed to her face. The hour to begin arrived, but no other tutor came with it.

The Clay Substitute laid her hands upon the podium. "PLEASE. OPEN YOUR TEXTBOOKS TO PAGE-"

Much the same as last week, there was a hubbub in the hall outside. The door slammed open, and one figure marched another to the front of the class. The Beleaguered Dean, swathed in a coat of thick tweed and a thicker coat of nervous sweat, was all but pushing The Ex-Disgraced Academic back into their pace behind the podium.

The Academic wasn't missing a beat in the argument: "-can't at all see what the issue is, so long as they learn the material-"

"You cannot offload your duties to an Underclay aspirant!" The Dean's fury is only matched by the fearful tension in his voice, "And an unfinished one at that! How did you get it up here-"

The Academic's eye widened in almost-honorable affront. "You can't prove that this perfectly capable worker is unfinished, can you?"

"No, but I can certainly prove that it's not on the faculty list." The Dean wiped his brow. "Get on with it, man!"

The Clay Substitute barely moved, but the grinding of her turning head rumbled through the floor. "I WAS TOLD THAT I WOULD BE PAID IN FULL, REGARDLESS OF HOW LONG CLASS WENT?"

Coin was exchanged, and, the Dean ushered The Clay Substitute out of the room. The Academic hissed through their teeth, clearly ready to vent their terrible mood at the first faces to cross theirs.

They turned to look at the class. And smiled a terrible smile. "Good morning."

Targets acquired.

"So! You've all decided to return for a second week. I suppose it can't be helped. Any damage you incur from here on out is upon your own heads." They began their lecture.

“English is a phonographic language, as the distinct letters of the alphabet each represent units of sound. The Correspondence is logographic, meaning that similar to the languages of the second and fourth cities (and the Khanate, of course), Correspondence Symbols each represent units of meaning.”

In bold, rapid strokes, The Academic scrawled a symbol onto the chalkboard:

They whirled around, pointing an accusing claw at anyone unfortunate enough to still be moving their pens. “Do not copy this into your notes! If you fancy yourself cheeky and attempt to copy it whilst my back is turned, I will still know, so do NOT try me.” They turned back, circling the image. Anyone foolhardy enough to ignore the command would earn immediate combustion to their notebook, and a quick, scathing look of satisfaction from The Academic.

“This is the symbol for “an unmappable direction. It is one of the more frequent symbols to be found in practical human application of The Correspondence, as well as in architectural engravings ranging from first city ruins all the way up to lapsarian London. It is also exceptionally flammable. None but the most expensive of papers can contain it.” And with a terrifically wicked smile: "Chalkboards are fine, though."

They continued. “The Correspondence is a purely semiotic construct. There are currently no known pronunciations or verbal applications for these signs-“ The Academic covered a bark of laughter, and then continued, “-apologies, but I would hate for my lectures to contradict the well-documented research that the Ministry of Public Decency has gently requested I adhere to."

The Academic pushed their current chalkboard up and out of the way, revealing an unblemished second layer. They added a tidy column of six simple symbols. "There are one hundred and eight basic radicals, and we've discovered twice as many in total. But for this course, we will begin with six."

Six symbols

And, after writing these on the board, the academic turned to the students. “These you may record in your notes, however-“ their tone sharpened, slicing through the momentum of those who may have rushed to begin- “confine each radical to its own sheet for practice. None of these, alone, is a complete symbol. But some can be converted very easily into real Correspondence symbols, and it is vital that you do not accidentally do so. Spend the rest of today's duration memorizing and practicing these radicals until you can reproduce them by heart. You'll know if you're doing well, because you paper will become warm to the touch once half-full. I will also be writing additional complete correspondence symbols on the other chalkboards. Your homework is to discern which of these six parts of speech each of the symbols is.”

symbols

The Academic pointed once more at the spray bottles on each row of desks. “At any sign of smoke, you are to douse the offending student’s work, without hesitation. Last week was not a one-off exercise. Consider this both a basic safety precaution, as well as your first taste of operant conditioning. Get to it!”

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They should have been more discomfited by the movement, but the idea that was in their head was pressing at them.

"The verb in the symbols I keep coming back to. It has flourish to it, here, and here," they pointed at the first and last symbols, to the chevrons in each shape. "If it's to indicate action, why the gestural looping? It's not English, it's not the loop of a g or a y in a poem. But..."

How to explain this? They didn't even know if they were on the right track.

"There's something... playful, to curves. A curve is relaxed, unlike a stark line, which implies strict law. If form matches function... does this verb relate to something like play? So the meaning of the first symbol, it's a person who plays, perhaps?"

The Socialite gave a gentle, thoughtful hum. He analyzed the movement of the lines, following their flow with his eyes. "Keeping in mind that we don't yet have all the necessary words to decipher certain concepts or turns of phrase, I believe you may be close to something. If the flourishes do speak to a quality the person possesses, then the idea of play following the style of the verb would be accurate.

"However, keep in mind, our own English has a great many characters that resemble each other, such as the B and P and R, V and W, O and Q, and on and on. We do not know that this is a verb. It could be a marker of the possessive or reflexive, perhaps even place marker to denote the location of the person speaking. If I recall correctly, Russian has pronouns that denote the proximity of subject to the speak in the realm of space. We might ask the Emissary, though I do not know how well they will take the question. I've not yet had direct contact with them..."

The Socialite shook his head of the thought and returned to the subject at hand. "Regardless, I think your theory is quite sound, a wonderful application of deductive reasoning that I'm certain will serve you well in learning."

The Tailor lowered their hand back to their own papers, index finger running over the sharp point of the chevron. Their eyes stayed fixed on the board, but the furrow of focus that had been forming between their eyebrows had loosened. "Yes," they said, a little subdued, "I'm probably trying to run before I can walk, again. I do find I have a habit of that."

They had been so certain that was a verb... but the Socialite knew far more in terms of other languages, it was apparent from how they spoke. And the letters he mentioned, even in English, had given the Tailor some level of trouble when they were young.

"Thank you, for your insight." They looked at their own notes, the list they had formed, and picked up their pen. "Maybe I will ask them after class, if they are free. They do at least seem to enjoy... sharing how much they know."

The Socialite nodded and backed away once more, giving the Tailor room to breathe. "Of course, never take my word solely. You may very well be right that it is a verb. If it is, I invite you to inform me so I might study the provided information as well."

He seemed much more put together now, having been given sufficient distraction from whatever troubles may have been haunting him. They opened their outer coat and pulled out a small card, no bigger than a playing card, and passed it across pinched between two delicate fingers. "Your theories are worth exploring. Do not forget that. If you wish to trade ideas once more, perhaps over a cup of tea, hand this card to Tularemia and she will lead you to me, wherever I may be in the City."

It was then that the Morbid Socialite realized his usual companion was not perched on his hat. He swore under his breath and sighed. "If you can find her, that is. She has an uncanny ability to be where she's needed only when she's needed. Regardless, if you spot a small, ermine stoat who doesn't run from you, you'll have her."

The Tailor accepted the card, eyes flicking back to their companion. They tried a smile, sliding the card into their bag. "I will keep you in mind. And if I see your companion, I'll trust you're likely not too far to reach."

It was not often they received such a compliment. They tried to take it to heart. Even so, when they looked back to their notes, it was with a newfound skepticism.

Their pen raised and they nearly scratched the whole thing out, but finally thought better of it. Instead, the Tailor chose to lay a long line of separation underneath the notes, and they began again.

As a small afterthought, they added, "I hope all will be well."

The Morbid Socialite did pause, his complexion taking on an ivory pallor at even the proximity to a certain phrase. That brief stint working for the Royal Beth left him with nightmares that continued to this day...

"I'm certain they will be. And, if not, then we shall make them well." They returned to their seat and began reviewing their work, analyzing mistakes and ensuring their next attempt would be perfect.

"Playful!" the Professor snaps their fingers at the Tailor, to no effect due to the gloves covering them "Thank you so much."

Then returns to their notes, excited.

"You--you think so, professor?" The student asked, somewhat startled out of their disappointment. "I admit I was feeling less confident about the thought." They looked back down to their own notes, tapping the grip of the pen on the paper.

They really, genuinely didn't know much about Correspondence beyond what it felt like to them, but to go with that instinct seemed silly. Such an instinct didn't work with English, obviously.

Not leaving their scribbling, they answer nonetheless.

"Yes of course! It seems consistent with the verbal radical coupled to the curved shape... Remember, good Tailor, that this language is both born in the stars and involved in almost everything we know and are. It is by definition both eldritch and natural, so a good way to interact with it (when in a safe environment) is through instinct. Try to learn how your first impression interacts with the actual meaning, once revealed, and progressively angle that perception into a more accurate base, and it'll start making more and more sense."

The Professor encouraged, their tone seemingly proud, slightly sibilant though.

"Th-- Thank you, Professor. I'll keep it in mind."

The Tailor ducked their head a little from the praise. Usually, their instincts were good for hunting, but a more practical application had yet to be realized. When your gut feeling was that everyone was keeping secrets, that really did only get you so far. This was London for God's sake.

So it was likely a verb radical, they hadn't been off the mark. Could their instincts about this be more reliable than they had been in other formal education settings? They glanced to the board again.

"What about you? Are you making progress with these? I had just been trying to identify the radicals in each, but do you see more than that so far?"

"Beyond the basic radicals I'm just taking wild educated guesses so far... I can show you my conclusions and see how they compare with yours. Maybe we can reach a better understanding. Synthesis, as it is."

If accepted, the Professor would share both their written notes and side thoughts stemmed from them.

Edited 2025-06-19 21:41 (UTC)

"I would like that," they said quietly, looking up from the new sheet they had begun to leave their additional thoughts on. They looked from it to their first, more formal sheet, and then tucked it under with slight embarrassment before handing the pages over. "I'm hesitant to draw any conclusions, though. I might be thinking too small, still. I only know English, and even then, the formal rules are still a struggle."

(ooc: for ease, the Professor might do the trade and share their thoughts, and as followup the Tailor will consider the Professor's notes? This way we don't have to mix up threads when we've already got links to them.)

OOC(Sounds good to me)

"Don't be afraid. The way of learning involves giving unsteady steps, making mistakes, developing ideas and refining them until they're closer to reality. Prudence, beyond preventing something catching fire or causing harm, isn't useful in the endeavour. Trying your best implies trying, after all."

The Tailor hummed quietly. "I think you'll find most professors don't share your opinion. Especially not when teaching youth."

Trying, meant risk of failure. Failure was frustrating; it meant a lack of skill and ability despite all attempts to improve and--ah, that was an unnecessary tangent. They took the Professor's proffered notes and examined them. Some of their thoughts were reflected back to them, others were a new angle they certainly hadn't considered. Maybe their idea of boxes relating to confinement said a bit too much about them...

"You think the slash in some of the symbols is a negation?"

A jester, for that last one, now that was a thought. They had nearly considered an actor, possibly from their own experience around them in the costuming rooms at Mahogany Hall. And "to do something strange", yes, they could see how the Professor had gotten there.

"Then they do it wrong." an affirmation so rotund it may look like the Professor shared at least some of the Tailor's past experiences with formal education. A polite cough allows recovering composure.

"My apologies" said, simply. "And yes, I'm not entirely sure but it seems likely. After all, if a radical has a meaning, an antonym may be easily formed by denying it, rather than through an entirely new radical... I can be wrong, though. But it looks fairly common, looking at the given examples... Also taking into accoun the first example, the 'Unmappable direction'. See how the slash is placed right next to the verb radical? And acknowledging the place and adjective with now an obvious interpretation leaves the bigger radical, looking like a curved place radical. I thought it seemed like a place radical was becoming a noun radical, thus the individuation of a place, or its mapping. Then we have the map, the place, the verb, an adjective... What's missing? The 'Un-' in 'Unmappable'."

This explanation, despite excited, was obviously open to debate. The look directed towards the Tailor, in fact, could have been a request for feedback.

Edited 2025-06-20 21:38 (UTC)

The expression the Professor found was a little... perplexed. Not necessarily blank, but it had been a lot of information to try to sort on a theoretical level. The Tailor looked back to the Correspondence on the board: the first symbol, the one they had been told not to duplicate. They tried now, very hard, to see what the Professor was seeing.

There was the verb radical. There was the place radical. There was the adjective radical, on the very outside of the symbol, possibly indicating the entire subject was an adjective? Or was it just the looping radical that it claimed as one?

Their mouth moved silently, their finger trying to draw the shape without consigning it to ink, but maybe that in itself was still risk. They didn't know, they weren't paying attention to the action.

"Verb intersecting with place, a verb being done to a place, or in relation to a place--but if it's a negation, the verb cannot be completed... But then why not intersect with the verb? Why the place? The place itself can't have the action done to it?" They shook their head. "Even knowing what the symbol means, I don't think I see all that you're finding."

And then, looking back to the homework: "If it is a negation, then I don't know that these first and last symbols are right. The slash doesn't run parallel to the verb, so would it be attempting to negate the noun?" Their finger tapped on the page. "I keep.... seeing it in a third dimension, if that makes any sense. Like when a thread is run through a fabric, and exists on either side of it and needs to be illustrated as passing through. But that, I think, is a little unlikely."

"That's... A very fair point, actually. And a great perspective to take into account."

The Professor observed both the symbols and the Tailor's hands intently before looking back at them with an excited smile, the overstretched makeup already revealing the the red scales around too thin white lips, from which two sharp fangs poked out.

"It's a good thing we are here. There's so much to learn, and these classes provide the means to do so"

Smile matched weak smile. While the Tailor had noticed the Professor's appearance, being seated in the row behind meant they had not taken in the full details--but this was London, with Devils that had eyes that glowed and the passing person could have a tentacle for an appendage. It did lead one to wonder just what the makeup covered, how far the scales went.

But they detected absolutely no threat, and that instinct at least was honed. So there was only the barest moment of adjustment when they responded, "I really am looking forward to this semester, I think. Thank you again."

"Glad to know. Now let's see if we can finish the assignment" nodding in encouragement, then back to their notes.

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Correspondence Scholarship, Class Two [Tuesday Morning, June 17th]

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