“Fifth forms, last class of the day, hall six and classroom F.” She muttered to herself, reading the parchment in her hand for the seemingly thousandth time. She’d chosen today the black dress in her wardrobe, decently proper according to Anaxi fashion with a high neckline and long sleeves, cinched again at the waist this time with a jacquard print corset that ran through the petty coated skirts of the dress. It was elegant, it was poised…and it was really clocking uncomfortable. Smoothing the strands of hair that hung loosely around her face, the Gioran Ambassador looked up at the signs on the wall. She was definitely in the right hall, at the right time. She just needed to find...
Classroom F ->
Following the arrow, the blonde galdor found herself at the very end of the hall. Tiptoe-ing, she looked into the room and finally saw what she’d been after with a slow smile.
Professor Nauleth Siordanti.
Grasping the handle of the door, Athrym quietly turned the knob and opened it slowly, trying to avoid disturbing the lesson too much. She had asked specifically for his classroom, completely for her research purposes of course to see one of the school’s classroom environments. Or so she told herself. Of course she could have gone to Hulles Living lesson, but what value was that? Maybe even to Moore’s theoretical exploration of the mona. That probably was more appropriate.
But it wasn’t anywhere near as enjoyable as dropping in on the red-haired Anaxi.
She had promised to give the man a demonstration of the less stinging, burning side of Living conversation, and unfortunately their library escapades the few days prior had not gone quite to plan. Therefore, with no hard and fast plans made, the Gioran took it up on herself to find him.
Still smiling, cheeks dimpled slightly, the blonde quietly made her way to one of the vacant seats to watch the tall professor as he spoke to his class. It was interesting to note how he commanded the room, but not in a stern dictatorship kind of approach. The students clearly respected the young professor. Her entrance of course, was not completely unnoticed, causing a minor kerfuffle in the room. At the front of the class, a set of young girls watched her with suspicion, whilst a few of the other students began to whisper between themselves.
What was the tow-headed ambassador doing here?
From the front, the gaggle of girls hid whispers behind their hands, glancing back at the woman with giggles. Athrym fixed them with a cold hard stare, even if her smile remained. The head of the group, a pretty flame haired girl quickly turned away to face the front. It was painfully clear that Nauleth had a rather devout following within the little clique. Amused, Athrym focused her attention back on the Professor, crossing her legs under her skirts and listening carefully.