Late Afternoon, 28th Yaris, 2711
Lecture Theater 12, Brunnhold
Niccolette was almost sure that the clock on the wall was broken. Surely time could not actually pass so slowly? It seemed impossible to the Bastian that there were so many seconds in each minute. Niccolette glanced at it again, then back at the front of the classroom where the professor was talking, still.
A whisper from the row before her caught her attention, and Niccolette’s gaze flickered over the two Anaxi students, one red-headed and one blonde. “... ages working on my essay...” Niccolette heard.
The Bastian made a face, sighed audibly, and fished a notebook from her bag. She plopped it onto her deck, took a pen from her case, and began to write.
Dearest Gia,
The distance from Brunnhold to Florne is too long, and yet not nearly long enough! I am glad beyond words to hear of your continued joy. Truly, it is enough to offset even my own misery on this hot, dry day. As I write, even now, Uzoji prepares to leave for the entirety of the weekend. We have had barely any moments together since the term began, and now he shall be gone until the evening of the 30th - truly unfair! And yet, by the time you receive this missive, he shall have returned, and all will be well.
Niccolette tapped her pen against the paper. She shifted against the seat, green skirt half-tangled over her knees, and began to write once more.
I must tell you that I have determined not to return to Florne after graduation. I do not yet know what I shall do, but I plan to stay with my darling friend Miss Deschamps in Vienda for some time, and then I shall see where I may go. Uzoji tells me that he must return to Thul Ka, but I -
Niccolette paused, her hand hovering over the paper. She pursed her lips, then went back and carefully scratched out the last line, all the way back to his name, and resuming from where I may go. She kept writing, filling the page and continuing into the next, far too absorbed now to notice as the minutes of the class marched steadily onwards.
It is selfish, but I cannot help hoping that you will be forced to travel for performances once more. I know it wears on you, but I would so love to see you dance in Vienda.
Pray for me, dear cousin. I know that Hurte cannot have meant for this marriage, with nothing in the least beautiful to recommend it. If I do not return to Florne, then surely there is nothing they can do? If you see the Villamarzanas, kindly tell them you have not heard from me, and you fear my studies must have swallowed me whole! Perhaps
Niccolette heard the shuffle of students around her. She glanced up to see students packing up their things, some already shuffling past the front of the room and leaving their essays behind. Niccolette flipped shut her notebook and tucked it into her bag. She rose, slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder, flicked her skirt straight with a careless hand, and made her way smoothly and steadily towards the door, without even a half second glance back at the podium.
Professor De Silver’s voice froze her in her tracks. Niccolette made a face, trying to decide if she could pretend she had not heard...?
But no, the Bastian decided. She ought to have kept walking, if she meant to do that.
Niccolette sighed, and turned back, jostling back through the other students. She heard a low giggle: “Nicco’s in troubleee....” and shot a glare at the whisperer.
Niccolette let her bag dangle from her shoulder. She ran her fingers through her hair, shoving it back off her forehead, then crossed her arms over her chest. She came to a stop just shy the podium, and stood with her hips cocked, jutting slightly to one side.
The tenth form student blinked kohl-rimmed eyes at her professor, then raised an eyebrow, for all of Vita as if she had no idea why Professor De Silver wished to see her. “Yes, Professor?” Niccolette asked.