before you know it, it's gone and you're dead again
Dave is sitting in one of the Kashtta's lounges, grading quizzes.
This is what he's supposed to be doing, anyway.
What he's really doing is sitting there at the table he's commandeered, papers strewn across its surface-some marked up with red, some now-staring at the pen in his hand. He's having one of those I don't belong here moments that all Wanderers are wont to have, except the sensation is so strong within him that he almost feels nauseous. He wasn't meant to teach and that, he thinks, is evident in his students' grades.
He's the Prime Merlinian. Balthazar never said anything about teaching high school science.
After a few minutes of uninterrupted staring he finally blinks, sets the pen down, and runs his hands over his face with a sigh.
The room reeks of peppermint.
Gilderoy is also in the Kashtta, but not in any lounge. He's on the stage in the bigger of the two auditoriums, pacing back and forth with a book in hand. It's an old edition of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, borrowed from the Looney High library. He's studying the lines carefully, mumbling under his breath and every so often pausing to look up and survey the area around him.
Can a group of high school students really fulfill his vision for the Bard's masterpiece?
"Highly unlikely," he answers himself, frowning at the realization. But his contract says he has to try, so try he will. He's just not sure it will end well.
Of course, when did anything involving him end well?
This thought occurs to him as well as the narration and he promptly slouches just a fraction.
And then we have Ford, who isn't having any kind of personal crisis. His day is actually going pretty well, all things considered.
"All things" being the utterly shaken look about him and the scabbed-over gash running down the left side of his forehead. But that doesn't bother him, because he's still running off the high of a recent kill (two hours ago, to be precise) and everything is just fine. So fine, in fact, that he thinks he'll pop over to the Crowbar for a drink.
So he does.
Catch him there, or on his way.
This is what he's supposed to be doing, anyway.
What he's really doing is sitting there at the table he's commandeered, papers strewn across its surface-some marked up with red, some now-staring at the pen in his hand. He's having one of those I don't belong here moments that all Wanderers are wont to have, except the sensation is so strong within him that he almost feels nauseous. He wasn't meant to teach and that, he thinks, is evident in his students' grades.
He's the Prime Merlinian. Balthazar never said anything about teaching high school science.
After a few minutes of uninterrupted staring he finally blinks, sets the pen down, and runs his hands over his face with a sigh.
The room reeks of peppermint.
Gilderoy is also in the Kashtta, but not in any lounge. He's on the stage in the bigger of the two auditoriums, pacing back and forth with a book in hand. It's an old edition of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, borrowed from the Looney High library. He's studying the lines carefully, mumbling under his breath and every so often pausing to look up and survey the area around him.
Can a group of high school students really fulfill his vision for the Bard's masterpiece?
"Highly unlikely," he answers himself, frowning at the realization. But his contract says he has to try, so try he will. He's just not sure it will end well.
Of course, when did anything involving him end well?
This thought occurs to him as well as the narration and he promptly slouches just a fraction.
And then we have Ford, who isn't having any kind of personal crisis. His day is actually going pretty well, all things considered.
"All things" being the utterly shaken look about him and the scabbed-over gash running down the left side of his forehead. But that doesn't bother him, because he's still running off the high of a recent kill (two hours ago, to be precise) and everything is just fine. So fine, in fact, that he thinks he'll pop over to the Crowbar for a drink.
So he does.
Catch him there, or on his way.