[Frollo hasn't been seen since his most recent outing. His door remains shut, and no sound but the occasional crackling fire has issued from within. No one has spotted him on the way to the dining hall, so whether he has even emerged to eat remains a mystery ( Read more... )

[The old-fashioned oil lamp smashes to the floor, and in mere moments the room is in flames ( Read more... )

Achoo.[As it turns out, Frollo has very violent sneezes indeed. He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head in irritation as he delicately brings a white handkerchief to his nose. He never faced such allergies in Paris. Blasted botanical gardens, no doubt. Everything was in full bloom, which meant Frollo's mood had moved distinctly north for the ( Read more... )

Miss Arista ( Read more... )

[As per, Frollo glares down at the communicator as he speaks. For once it's not out of frustration with the device, but rather with those he addresses ( Read more... )

[There's a particular chill in the air tonight, and it isn't just the winter cold. Soft murmurs may be heard in the hallway, drifting in and out of your hearing, most will ignore them ( Read more... )

[Frollo appears only as a black streak as he makes his way across the quad, robes billowing in his wake and his hands clapped firmly over his ears. He appears to be greatly distressed and he mutters to himself as he walks, paying no regard to anyone who might be around him, straight down to the chapel. He flings the doors open and slams them shut ( Read more... )

[Frollo's quite fond of the newly crisp weather. And, as this seems a pleasant enough afternoon for a stroll, out he goes, his robes rustling the few leaves that have fallen to the ground as he passes.

He supposes he might as well hold class soon, now that the school is back to its normal operating procedures.]

[The Mist has got someone a little riled, as usual, and that man is Frollo. He's been pacing before his fire all day, hat cast aside on his desk in his irritation. Underneath is a transcript of a message he received from a certain Scar, whomever that could be, regarding a disciplinary matter involving one of his residents. He didn't particularly ( Read more... )

[Frollo awaits Quasimodo's arrival from behind his office desk, his fingers steepled together in front of his face. He is certain the poor boy will be swayed by the others' friendly appearances, but he knows far better. Quasimodo is so naive, so trusting. He would never be able to detect the evil that stalks the Academy's halls every minute of ( Read more... )