Professor Gilardioni's eyes scanned the crowd, their cold blue landing on each of the sixth form student's face before flicking off of them. Behind him, a diagram of the galdor body was enlarged on the board, drawn expertly and covered in blank lines. The wooden pointer, tipped with a darker wood to distinguish exactly where it was pointing, was raised to the man's throat. He stared ahead, as each sixth form student kept his or her mouth shut, and the professor's lips formed a thin crease. At the back of the classroom, a woman the professor knew well sat, silently observing.
"Half of the time, I cannot get even one of you to stop blurting out answers so that I may explain, and this is the day you all decide to play the quietest mice? Do not fear, you may answer freely," he said, and finally, a plucky young girl poked her hand up. A withering look affirmed she should have just answered, and so she did.
"The larynx, professor, used for speaking and singing," she said, and the professor merely nodded. Ironic that he should ask for the larynx as an answer, and everyone in the room fall silent. Still, he withdrew the pointer and led it slide through his palm to clatter into the marble floor. Turning his cold gaze back across the room, particularly staring at each student that was not the one who answered, Professor Gilardioni let the answer hang in the air. Clocking children, he thought.
"Very good, Sienna. The larynx, the voice box. Folds of cartilage within the throat that expand and contract to produce sounds, varying pitches and tones. With the lungs, this is your main source of communication. In the future, I would suggest you all exercise yours when I ask you a question. There is no reason for our guest to feel ostracized because the classroom is acting differently since she is here. I would highly encourage each of you to participate. I have yet to assign any course work for outside the classroom just yet," he cautioned them, his face a mask of amusement mixed with displeasure. Sienna, the girl who answered, sat straighter in her seat. She was ready to answer more questions.
"Class, some of you are taking this class for the credit alone, and others because it matters to you. But I assure you, what I have to teach is useful long beyond your years here in Brunnhold. Our guest today is Elisora Rivaen, a notable healer who also attended this school. And her knowledge of Anatomy has helped her with her proficiency in Living Magic. Professor Hulle himself has said she is one of the most gifted Living Mages to come out of the university, and her knowledge of the mortal form has helped her knit wounds and coax disease to recede. Elisora, would you care to educate the class as to how much the knowledge applies to practical uses outside of the classroom, please?" He asked, putting her on the spot. His smile was not warm, nor was it humourous. Instead, it was coaxing, begging her to stand from her spot at the back of the classroom and come to replace him. He walked the slight incline towards her, waving a hand to indicate her rising from her seat. He replaced her, the warmth of the chair a discomfort to him.
"I will continue the lesson after you have regaled the students with your affirmations, dear Elisora," he assured her, almost mocking in his tone. There was a palpable tension in the air, as if he was annoyed at Elisora for his students' lack of participation. He blamed her, after all. If she were not present, they would have answered like clockwork, as they were all trained to do.