[Open] The Fields We Know

[Cerise Vauquelin]

Brunnhold Student Cafeteria
28th of Vortas, 2719 - Lunch

There were few hours of the day as purely chaotic as that of lunch. Every student in Brunnhold shared the same lunch hour, and while they had more than one cafeteria to choose from, the tumult was unavoidable. An outside witness, should one be so inclined as to take note of such things, would find clear divides across any one of the facilities across campus. Lower-form students, by and large, were seated together with others of their same age range. It was always easy to pick out the first-year students, small and nervous even by Vortas and easily half the size of their peers.

The older the diners got, the more the lines were divided less by age than by social status. The children of politicians and elites jockeyed for power over ham sandwiches; prospective matches were made and broken. Nothing was enforced, and yet the lines of peerage seemed clear and strong.

At the corner of a table towards the middle of the room, Cerise Vauquelin sat alone. This was not wildly unusual; it would have been a stranger sight for any of the seats in her immediate vicinity to be occupied. As it was, she appreciated the arrangement. It certainly gave her a bit more room to spread out her things. The incumbent's daughter had perched the ankle of the leg closest to the edge of the table on top of her opposite knee; the other was left to jut out awkwardly into the aisle. The posture was far from appropriate for a young lady of any status; if this bothered her at all, none of it showed on her sharp, pale face. The riot of her dark curls had been pinned away from her face by a series of clips that were doing their valiant best to keep her hair out of her eyes; it was something of a battle of attrition on the part of her hair.

Her lunch was arranged somewhat awkwardly in front of her; she had clearly adjusted it to make more room for her reading. While this might look admirably studious at first glance, a closer inspection revealed that the book she held in front of her was hardly academic. The tattered copy of Tales of Near and Far had clearly seen better days. The paper cover was creased and seemed to only be attached to the rest of the book by force of will. There were stains visible on the pages, from water or tea or who knew what else; more than a few had been dog-eared and smoothed out again.

Still, it was this and this alone that held Cerise's grey-eyed attention. No matter that she'd read the book many times before, or that she should probably be eating her lunch. A bite did manage to make it to her mouth every few minutes, when she paused in her reading. Every once in a while, she would spear a bit of food on the end of her fork and it direct it to her lap instead. When she pulled it back there was nothing on the fork any longer. Where it was going wasn't clear from casual observation--it could very well have been her pockets or the floor, for all anyone else could tell.

Eventually Cerise shifted posture slightly; not to correct it to something more befitting of a young woman, no. If anything it got worse, her knee extending further into the relatively narrow aisle between her corner and the next table over. She shifted and twisted, her spine snapping into place with an audible crack. There was a plaintive noise from the vicinity of her lap. Cerise looked away from her book to the source of the sound, unaware of the rest of the world around her.

[Theodore Orthosophos]

Vortas 28, 2719 - The Lunch Hour

Cafeteria

The cafeteria. The ideal place to sit and relax while having a meal and socialize with the rest of the young promises that one day would become the important scientists, sorcerers, businessmen, politicians and clergymen that would move the world. Or at least that was what it seemed to be for everybody around but Theodore, who usually felt rather abashed by the chaos reigning all around.

Every time he thought about it, Theodore felt amazed at the fact that, while theoretically the same people had to go to the cafeteria day after day, they did not occupy the tables in the same order and, therefore, Theodore had to search for an empty spot whenever he wanted to have lunch. Shouldn't people end up finding an arrangement of eating places suiting most of them? If there was a pattern, Theodore had not found it yet.

So he had to wander around for several minutes before realizing there was no empty table and a few more minutes until he decided to sit beside the girl with the book. He must have seen her somewhere, but he did not remember where... or perhaps he had not. At any rate, he was almost sure he had never spoken to her yet, so he would just greet her with a formal and hopefully short exchange of salutations.


"Ahem", he cleared his throat. "Excuse me. May I sit in this place?", he politely asked her trying not to stare at the breadcrumbs all around.

[Cerise Vauquelin]

Brunnhold Student Cafeteria
Vortas 28, 2720 - The Lunch Hour

Cerise looked up with a scowl already fixed on her face. It had been ready and lying in wait when she had felt that mingle of physical and quantitative pause near her instead of moving on as she had expected. There had been a brief moment when she had thought whoever it was had simply paused to find somewhere else. The sound of a voice had dashed all such hopes.

There was, quite clearly, sufficient space around her for him to take a seat. More than sufficient, in fact; the whole half of the table she occupied was conspicuously empty. She still sighed as if it were some kind of great imposition, heavy dark eyebrows furrowed. A younger student, though she couldn't immediately tell how much more so; he was either brave or foolish, she thought, to ask her. Likely the latter--she saw very little of bravery in his deeply Anaxi face.

The heavy ramscott of her field pressed against his, less a polite caprise as one might expect and more an irritated flex. The fork was still in the hand that did not hold her book, a bit of broccoli on the end of it. She used fork and broccoli both to gesture at any of the seats around her with haughty disdain.

"By all means." Her tone of voice made it extremely clear that she didn't wish for him to take her words at face value. Surely he had other place to sit--with friends, for instance. Why he chose here of all places to stop was beyond her. It wasn't that she specifically needed the space of course. There was just always the risk with people who seemed not to know her, either by truth or by reputation, that they might feel obligated to attempt conversation.

To cut off any possibility of such ill-advised action, the moment Cerise delivered her message, she turned rather deliberately back to her book.

[Lilanee Kuleda]

28th Vortas, 2719
CAFETERIA| LUNCHTIME

Lunchtime.

It was never really a time of day Lilanee enjoyed in the past, a scheduled moment in which students were squashed together in an act of social engagement to partake in the consumption of nutritional matter, in the effort to keep a sort of control to the affair. It should be a time of comrade and shared intelligent discussion.

Should, being the key word.

What is was however, could be loosely defined as a sideshow event of the traveling circus that visited Vienda every so often. Chatting children and flaunting teenagers, full of rambunctious activity and mischief. Of course, there was some seblence of manners, but you could be certain that if you got the right kids at the wrong time, then all bets were off.

Apparently, on occasion, there had even been fires set at the tables.

Scandalous.

This day was no better than any others before it, except since Clocks Eve at the least, Lilanee had a partner in crime, an intelligent conversationalist whom she could engage in proactive discussion about tangible interests. Like the narrowing definition of galdori jawlines through the past thousand years or so, or the hypothesized burial rights of Before Time tribal Giorans. The russet brunette had entered through the double doors, her green skirt swishing around her ankles annoyingly, blue eyes looking for the Hoxian in question. Ezre Vks, mortuary science major and something-more-than-a-friend.

It seemed however, something-more-than-friends was always complicated. Way more complicated than hormones and chemicals and biological functions. There were feelings, and emotions, and words that in the past slung by anyone else didn't matter at all that now suddenly did.

Ungrateful heathens.

She took a moment, adjusting her glasses, moving with a slow searching walk towards the buffet line.

“What takes your fancy, Miss?” The passive dishing out her meal asked politely, green eyes wide in a Bastian face. Lilanee pursed her lips, pointing with thought.

“The cucumber sandwiches, beetcakes with syrup and the onna-stick.” The bowls and plates containing her choices were placed on her tray, along with a mug of something fruity—blistleberry juice maybe?--and the Hessean collected it with a nod. Still looking for Ezre, she made her way through the crowded cafeteria, avoiding a thrown ham sandwich with a well timed duck.

After all the shenanigans these seasons past with the East Garden, the ninth form had developed a good sense of her surroundings, and the avoidance of airborne projectiles.

Pausing where she was, Lilanee turned. And turned. And turned.

Well, it was fair to say Ezre Vks was not here at present.

Maybe it was on her part. They were always here, together, for lunch. But only a week prior the world had become more topsy turvy then ever before, and the young woman was not at all herself. She had been buried in books about Western Anaxas. Charts and maps. Legends and stories.

Stone gates. Not Fennecky. From Florne.

Ezre had waded into the unknown, and she'd slipped in along side them, lost in the grau and frightened by the shadows there. But the Hoxian had pushed on, pressed through, nearly clocking drowned. And Jonathan Emmett was alive.

He was alive.

Looking around, she spotted a large table that was relatively vacant, save for a young woman with dark curls and a red haired boy. Putting on her best smile, the freckled teenager promptly approached, the maps and books tucked in the back of her mind.

“Hello! Mind if I take this seat? It’s quite the busy house today, honestly I suspected it would be a bit quieter but I suppose that’s too much to ask for Brunnhold. Though the food fighting seems to be tame thus far, maybe the fare is decent today, I mean to be fair I think it’s okay everyday. It has to be, given the fees our parents pay, right? Imagine the uproar that would happen if it was garbage.” She sat down, beaming at the brunette, clearly not taking in the book situation.

“Oh I love your hair, it’s so bouncy. Does it bother you? Mine bothers me, clocking curls turn into frizz and it’s awful. I usually braid it, just to keep it out of my face, though today I thought you know what Lilanee today might be a good day for wearing it out but honestly that was probably my worst idea because now its just annoying, but I can’t braid it because well half the day is done may as well just let the rest of the day happen.” Laughing she looked at the boy.

“Of course you don’t have these issues, but that’s not to say gentlemen don’t have bad hair days. Did you know, there is an oil that can be pressed from certain nuts to help keep hair smooth and in place? I mean, I don’t use it myself, seems an odd habit, but I’ve heard good things. Sorry, Lilanee Kuleda, ninth form. I was looking for a friend, Ezre Vks, though I don’t see them yet, so figured I should sit and wait rather than stand around like a stunned kenser!” Taking a bite of her sandwich, the autumn girl paused, allowing others space to speak as her warm field filled the area like a heavy blanket.

[Ezre Vks]

brunnhold's caffeteria

Lunch Time on the 28th of Vortas, 2719

Today had yet to be a particularly pleasant day. Ezre was still very tired after all that had happened over fall break—from dealing with ridiculous parents to Clairvoyantly crossing Anaxas, from writing a political paper as a group project to preventing Lilanee from dragging them both across the Kingdom before the school year was even out. Deep blue nicium stains still clung to his nails, had added a rich depth to the dark of his hair, and still sometimes haunted his sense of smell and taste. He'd had too many bloody noses to blame it on the dryer Vortas air, and sometimes his sinuses still ached from just how far he stretched himself in his magical reaching.

But, even in the bright light of such an achievement, his heart ached more than anything else. Things had not gone well—not with the Hessean's mother, not entirely with Tom, and certainly not about Jonathan Emmett's actually being alive. The young Guide felt hopelessly too Hoxian to understand, and the whole thing had been easier to just quietly endure until classes were finished, finals were taken, and projects were turned in. At least, in Ezre's opinion. Whether or not Lilanee agreed, he'd not wanted to ask.

To top it all off, some rather unexpected (read: terribly unpleasant) things had happened during anatomy class this morning. Admittedly, some of the corpses Brunnhold was given for study were of above-average quality, coming mostly from the Stacks and rather comfortable citizens, even if they were, of course, of the so-called lower races. This much, he'd come to expect. With the colder weather, the radiators were already at work across campus, but one place they didn't need to be improperly tempered was, of course, the morgue.

No one needed a corpse to decay too rapidly. No one needed somebody meant for dissection and study to rot—worse, to explode.

But, unfortunately, their precious laboratory time was spent cleaning instead of actually working on any final techniques, much to the nauseated displeasure of all eight mortuary sciences students, Ezre included.

The Hoxian had barely managed to crawl home and change before he heard the midday bells ringing in the crisp Vortas air. For a moment, it was very tempting to curl up on his bed and forget about the rest of his afternoon, but, unfortunately, he had a presentation to give on sensory deprivation experiments and the history of Clairvoyance (of course, he'd chosen the final topic on purpose). Even with the acrid lingering of an improperly cared for body still cloying to his senses, but thankfully not his too-hot, too-itchy uniform, the dark-haired divinipotent mustered up the willpower to drag himself to the Cafeteria.

Lilanee would most likely already worry he'd abandoned her to the cafeteria alone. Immediately stuck in line behind a handful of up-coming sixth forms, the busy mixed gaggle of them chattered on about their choices of focus, individual fields a jitter of slowly coalescing senses of direction in monic form. The shorter, older student attempted to peer at the menu, shuffled along by the flow of bodies and voices, hearing the bemoaning of an exam behind him from another pair of students who'd clearly not bothered to actually pay attention most of the year, too distracted, it seemed, by their professor's method of taping his spectacles than anything he had to teach.

Dark eyes came back into focus on the food presented to him, colors and steam immediately bringing him back to a tiled bathroom floor and then to the scene in the mortuary lab all at the same time. While no sign of distress passed over his delicate features, inside, Ezre was definitely frowning,

"What can I serve you today, sir?"

Trapped now, expectant eyes on his disheveled person, he couldn't say none of it, thank you! "Tch, just the vegetables, please." The least he could do was push them around the tray, he supposed, "And bread, please."

Dsoh would be better, but, alas, Anaxas.

Shuffling away, the Hoxian had little trouble spotting the Hessean who'd probably been waiting longer than she was used to, nearly alone at a table with only two other students. She was, clearly, the only one talking, and while he said nothing, the airy lightness of his Clairvoyant-laden field caprising the table in expected politeness as he set his tray down, the weightless strength of it was unavoidable.

He didn't nod or speak up in greeting, not right away, gaze lingering on his food for a moment before he glanced at Lilanee (who had just finished talking), tilting his head to notice the younger student with them and then finally, feeling the press of so much physical mona across from him, he looked up into the face of Cerise Vauquelin—

Of course he knew her face by now, even if their class and social circles didn't overlap. He'd seen spectrographs in the Vauquelin home. He'd padded barefoot and delirious through the hallway of Tom's stolen vessel's home. He knew her as someone knew hearsay, knew rumor, more than he knew the other ninth form as a friend. They were not. Friends, at least—and he had heard all the various reasons this table might have been unoccupied previously. The young Guide also knew that rumors were often not what they seemed to be. Either way, they were stuck here.

What a day.

Ezre's deadpan expression didn't falter even if something inside his narrow, tattooed chest writhed and fluttered against bone. He poked at his steamed vegetables with a fork before offering a glance at the younger man, Lilanee, and Cerise in that very specific, slow, measured order:

"Good afternoon. I was most disastrously delayed by anatomy class, Kuleda-vumein, but I see you have made interesting choices for dining companions in my stead."

[Theodore Orthosophos]

Vortas 28, 2719 - The Lunch Hour

Cafeteria

By politely replying to Theodore's request, the girl with the book was accepting his company during the brief time they had for lunch.

Theodore smiled at her while pulling a white silk handkerchief from his left chest pocket and using it to remove a few crumbs from the chair. Then he extended it on the surface he had cleaned, keeping the side that had been in contact with the dirt down, so that he could sit without staining his drab green trousers.

"I hope you are enjoying your food", he commented before biting his beef steak and lettuce sandwich. The side of the bread in contact with the steak had been previously covered on a fine layer of mashed tomato, so that he did not end with a dry mouth. In one word, it was delicious.

"... as well as your book", he completed after having munched his bite and swallowed it, oblivious of the fact that she had not paid more attention to him since she allowed him to take a seat. "What is it about?", he asked before taking a more generous bite at his sandwich.

It was then that the red-haired girl with the nice green skirt approached and asked permission to sit down. He smiled and looked at her with his pupils dilated, ready to reply with a polite acceptance of her company when she just assumed that and sat down.

"Theodore Orthosophos, sixth form", he replied to her introduction. "I've never tried the nut oil to fix my hair, but you would be terrified to see my hair early in the morning", he added, comically rolling his eyes but blushing in the process.

One of the good things about uncontrollably speaking people is that you do not have to worry about uncomfortable silences. They can speak for hours and you only have to listen at them, maybe add some commentary from time to time. That was probably the cause of the fact that Theodore's friends were mostly eager conversators.

And that explained the heavy silence that oppressed the group when the Hoxian with the stained nails came to the table and quietly greeted them. He must be Lilanee's best friend and it was evident that they would continue to be forever.

Replying to the mute salute with a nod, Theodore assumed he was the Ezre that Lilanee had spoken about and took another bite from his meal.

It was when he spoke that he turned pale and began coughing bits of half-chewed sandwich.

[Cerise Vauquelin]

Brunnhold Student Cafeteria
Vortas 28, 2720 - The Lunch Hour

The younger student took a seat next to Cerise; subtext seemed somewhat lost on him. Her eyes skipped over the words in her book as he kept talking to her left ear. Cerise's frowned deepened. Perhaps if she kept ignoring him, he would get the general idea and not keep opening his mouth to fill the air with inane comments, like that he hoped her lunch was good, or questions about her book. Then, ideally, she could keep eating in peace and quiet, interrupted only by Sish. Sish of course didn't count, being hardly an interruption at all.

Then their merry band grew inexplicably larger, as another redhead came to join them. This one, a young woman, sat and immediately assaulted her with a veritable wall of chatter. Cerise actually thought she had seen her around before, although they were not even acquaintances let alone friends. In some of her physical conversation classes, she thought, taking note of the combination of physical and living mona that wrapped warmly around those present. Cerise could not for the life of her remember the girl's name. Which was not, it had to be said, particularly unusual. She didn't usually bother to try.

Although she'd also asked for permission before she sat, much like the young man next to her the overly-enthused and freckled girl didn't actually seem to care if Cerise wanted company or not. Somewhere in the middle of the speech about hair, Cerise set down her book with an exaggerated sigh. It didn't seem like she would be getting any more reading done at the moment. Her grey eyes were flat as she listened with no comment, stabbing a chunk of meat with her fork. She tapped it irritatedly against her plate, waiting for the torrent of words to come to an end.

Kuleda--yes, Cerise had been in classes with her certainly. The name was familiar, at least, although she felt as if she would remember such a large combination of words and hair. Cerise resolved to forget again immediately, as well as to forget the name of the sixth-form. Belike mona intermingled, but Cerise kept her field a heavy sort of wall. She didn't bother to flex at Kuleda, as it hadn't seemed to have worked on Orthosophos and she doubted she would have more success with subtle methods of communication with Kuleda either.

"Genetics," she said dryly, raising two dark eyebrows on the subject of hair care. She was not precisely accustomed to having her hair complimented. Bouncy seemed to be a flattering way to describe what she knew was a wild thicket that resisted all attempts at civilization. As if reminded by mention from Kuleda, another clip came undone and slid quietly towards her shoulder.

Perhaps all of that would have been fine; certainly it seemed as if the two other students could keep each other occupied without needing to include her. A single lunch hour spent in company she did not want wouldn't kill her; she couldn't read, but she didn't have to participate either. Cerise stopped tapping her bit of chicken against her plate and moved her fork--not towards her mouth, but instead her lap. Her hand paused when a fourth person came to join them, airy clairvoyant field joining what had been so heavily tilted to the physical until his arrival.

This one was very obviously Hoxian, but strange even by foreign standards--she could not think as any other students from Hox were quite so tattooed as this one. At least he didn't feel the need to say anything immediately; if it had been just him at the table, Cerise thought sourly, perhaps she could have gone back to her book. Cerise didn't move to take up less of the table space with her possessions even now, firm in her mental insistence that they were the ones imposing on her--and if any of them objected to how she had sprawled out across the table, well, they could sit somewhere else. Away from her.

Cerise did not like the way he looked at her. The other two didn't recognize her at all, not even Kuleda who probably should have from classes alone; he did. Her sharp mouth curled into a sneer as she looked back at him. Interesting was too often a veiled way of saying unpleasant.

"Have we met?" she demanded, looking at the Hoxian student. She assumed this was the Ezre Vks that Kuleda had mentioned somewhere in the torrent of her introduction. "Because I don't believe we have. Cerise Vauquelin." Cerise brought her chin up and straightened her back, drawing herself up to her full slightly-above-average height. She looked to all present in turn, starting with the Hoxian and ending with the younger boy who she held solidly responsible for instigating the interruption of her reading time. The weight of her field spread out, weighty and solid, pushing against all those present in a too-aggressive-for-politeness caprise. Just to make a point.

As she did so, tiny golden jaws came up to snatch the chicken off the end of her fork before disappearing back into her lap. Wet gnashing could be heard, though the source was still below the level of the table and out of sight.

[Lilanee Kuleda]

28th Vortas, 2719
CAFETERIA| LUNCHTIME

Lilanee laughed at Theodore’s comment regarding his hair, simply unable to imagine it all a tizz with its neat and tiny lines at present. Her periwinkle gaze swept to Cerise without seemingly any off-putting at her tone.

“Right!? My father has the curliest bright red hair, and my mother has dark straightish locks. Now you’d think I would have gotten some more of her looks, but it appears Anaxi trumps Hesse in the genetic department there.” She was going to say more, when Ezre’s field swept against them. There was something in the brush of the Clairvoyant field that poked the butterflies in her stomach, sending them whirling and twisting around like paper kites caught in an autumn breeze. Any other season, that would have been excitement and eagerness that she felt, churning up and swirling with delight. Ever since the bathroom however, it was tainted with other things.

Guilt. Shame.

Chewing on the mouthful, Lilanee looked up at the Hoxian, not needing to nod in return. Well aware that xi didn’t need her acknowledgement of their presence. If she was disappointed in their lateness, it didn’t show. Instead, she offered that same overly enthusiastic smile.

“Ah, delightful! I do hope anatomy wasn’t too awful, nothing worse than being delayed by classes. Hrm? Oh! Yes, I have, haven’t I? Though, I am afraid I’ve not yet learnt everyone’s names, I’m sure we were getting to that of course. This is Theodore Orthosophos, he is in the same form as Madeleine Gosselin! Did you know that the act of giving one’s name is a sign of respectful friendship? I mean, now-a-days we use it to define who is who, but the mere act of it Before Time was so much more ceremonially important than it is today.” She waved at Ezre.

“Ezre Vks, as discussed—oh Theodore are you alright?!” The Hessean asked without pause, putting down her sandwich in concern at the other boy’s coughing.

"Have we met? Because I don't believe we have. Cerise Vauquelin."

The autumn toned ninth form looked at Cerise, her eyes widening slowly and the cogs of her mind almost visibly turning. Vauquelin?! Not…surely…perhaps in the chin?

By Ophur it was!

Lilanee turned her head almost stiffly to look at Ezre with a sort of strained smirk.

“Huh. Fancy that!” She said suddenly, before looking back at the girl and blinking. She frowned in confusion.

“Are you aware that your lap is—oh my word, is that a teacup drake?! How marvelous! Did you know they are native to my homeland? I mean, you can get them almost everywhere now, but they are regionally native to southern Hesse, along with the full sized drakes which of course would never fit in someone’s lap.” Lilanee felt the press of the other girls field, though she didn’t fold her own, instead flaring with welcoming lavender tones before glancing guiltily at Ezre and clearing her throat.

“No relation to the Incumbent Vauquelin, perhaps?” The Hessean asked, before shifting her glasses and offering a smile and a small tilt of her head, surprised and curious now about the young woman with the little drake.

[Ezre Vks]

brunnhold's caffeteria

Lunch Time on the 28th of Vortas, 2719

The young man was possibly choking. The Incumbent's daughter was feeding something under the table. Lilanee's voice was weaving it all together into a combined experience for the Hoxian, who set down his things and glanced behind the Hessean to watch Theodore, who was coughing instead of panicking, which meant if his lunch had traveled the wrong path, it was not entirely obstructing his airways. He knew better than to offer him water right away, though the dark-eyed Guide's body tensed and his field dampened as if ready to spring into motion, not yet touching his own meal as he let the conversation about genetics and hair pass totally over his own head, given how his own was straight and thick and what wasn't shaved from the sides of his own scalp was currently braided in a pleasingly intricate topknot.

He had seen the young Vauquelin in passing. They had, perhaps, even shared an elective class or two. He'd known her name before he'd met Anatole's body in Ghost Town in Bethas, and he'd seen plenty of her spectrographs in the Incumbent's Vienda home just over the past week.

Eyes still on the younger student, quite certain he heard the sound of something other than a galdor eating, he felt the physical-laden press of everyone else's fields, weighing down the airy lightness of his own bright and surprisingly strong clairvoyant aura. There was nothing belike or familiar about the gravity found in Cerise Vauquelin's field, for her not-father's was slowly, carefully emerging from an entropic, self-destructive existence, blossoming into something much different than he assumed it'd ever been in life. Like a gust of wind carrying sound, he flexed his in response to all of the monic communication, though he didn't quite fully settle into his seat right away.

Instead, shift for but a moment, Ezre didn't hesitate in his familiarity with Lilanee, reaching behind her and placing one hand on her arm while reaching with the other to give Theodore a few very firm, anatomically-aware claps on the back with the heel of his tattooed hand. Straightening again, palms coming to rest on the table, he arched a delicate brow as the redhead turned toward him with a smirk that set him ill at ease, as if all the conversations not yet had settled on the freckled face he'd come to care about so much.

He opened his mouth to comment—to admit that he knew—only for the Hessean to fill the close space between them with a flurry of excitement over whatever was in Vauquelin-vumein's lap. Oh, a miraan. Perhaps she felt the expectation next to her, the Hoxian sitting impatiently waiting his turn, deadpan expression hardly revealing the internal annoyance that had seethed heatedly in his chest since long before his classes today,

"A direct relation, zjai." Ezre's dark eyes darted to Cerise, studying the lines of her face with some softening in his delicate features, some faint hint of humor warming in the otherwise unemotional tone of his voice, "Lilanee, I am surprised you did not recognize Incumbent Vauquelin's daughter—she is—what is the Estuan phrase? oh—a dead ringer, in my opinion."

As usual in public view, the Hexxos' Guide's humor was almost private, subtle, and delivered in a way that bordered sarcasm in the way that Gior and Bastia shared borders—begrudgingly. He didn't smile, but he knew exactly what he said and exactly why he said it, vaguely confident the young woman in front of him had no idea the man she knew as her father had been wrestled free of his body and in his place resided the displaced, entropic soul of one Tom Cooke, a raen.

"I can see the relation in the sharp angles of your similar facial structure, for Lilanee and I know the Incumbent personally, having just returned from visiting your family home in Vienda over fall break."

Quite personally, to be fair. And it was hardly a break nor a social visit of the entertaining variety. For class, he could have said. For totally ridiculous reasons, he could have said. Only, he didn't. He couldn't. Not really—

Leaning forward, shifting his attention for but a moment, he made sure to check on Theodore one more time, using the movement as a way to further deflect from his very limited-audience joke. Finally, the Hoxian glanced from the miraan to Cerise again, quite sure that bringing pets to the cafeteria was not acceptable, but deciding that infraction was most likely the least of his worries.

[Theodore Orthosophos]

Vortas 28, 2719 - The Lunch Hour

Cafeteria

Theodore was too busy coughing to pay attention to the subtle details in Cerise's words of self-introduction, but the way she pushed her field on everybody around made him think they might have arrived in a bad moment. Might it be something that I have said?, he thought, shying his own field out of her reach.

He did not pay more attention to the issue, because somebody was mentioning him. Introducing, to be more precise, and asking if he was fine. He opened his mouth to reply to Lilanee, but all he could utter was another cough.

It was then that Lilanee noticed the teacup drake on Cerise's lap. So she was not in bad mood, Theodore concluded, relieved. She was just looking after that small creature and she felt protective about it, as though she were its mother.

What he did not expect was the student of anatomy clapping on his back with a hand that might have been touching a corpse several minutes before. Able to breathe again, Theodore inhaled in a deep and noisy manner - far from elegant, to be honest - and looked at his savior still gaping, his eyebrows flying high over his widely open green eyes. Then he blinked and forced a smile.

"Thank you", he gasped before biting his sandwich and starting chewing again.