At five bells the monthly mail was delivered.
At half past the fifth hour of morning, Thraah was running full tilt down the halls of the Academy. To the office of the only Proctor she could think of.
The blue one was a creep.
The old witch was worse.
But still...
Her mind was bubbling with concepts.
Fear being the worst of it.
Fear of what she'd say, what she was about to do and what might happen as a result.
The letter was pain. A cold death that leeched up her arm from the crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
Her feet almost slid past the door as she arrived. Momentum threatening her to slow down but there was no slowing down. No catching her breath. Only the door and who lay beyond.
Does she knock?
Call out?
Cry?
She slumped her stupid head against the door and curled her fingers on the deaf wood.
For all her insistence on being there for others, even when she was not wanted, her body refused to move when she needed anything from anyone.
The thing that drove her arm to motion was the knowledge that the help she would be asking wasn't for her, not really.
There was a soft eternity between each clumsy thump of her hand.
"P... proctor... PROCTOR URAHIL?"
Oh shit.
She really was about to ask *her* for permission to go.
Perrine Urahil
At half past the fifth hour of morning, Thraah was running full tilt down the halls of the Academy. To the office of the only Proctor she could think of.
The blue one was a creep.
The old witch was worse.
But still...
Her mind was bubbling with concepts.
Fear being the worst of it.
Fear of what she'd say, what she was about to do and what might happen as a result.
The letter was pain. A cold death that leeched up her arm from the crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
Her feet almost slid past the door as she arrived. Momentum threatening her to slow down but there was no slowing down. No catching her breath. Only the door and who lay beyond.
Does she knock?
Call out?
Cry?
She slumped her stupid head against the door and curled her fingers on the deaf wood.
For all her insistence on being there for others, even when she was not wanted, her body refused to move when she needed anything from anyone.
The thing that drove her arm to motion was the knowledge that the help she would be asking wasn't for her, not really.
There was a soft eternity between each clumsy thump of her hand.
"P... proctor... PROCTOR URAHIL?"
Oh shit.
She really was about to ask *her* for permission to go.
Perrine Urahil
Last edited: