- Messages
- 182
- Character Biography
- Link
Alistair sat in class, a spellbook open on the desk before him. Quill in hand, he fervently copied down the runes the Professor was writing, all the while listening to the technique he was explaining to the class. He was enjoying writing runes less and less, and would have preferred to just practice the technique. He had learned a lot of new hydromancy spells while living with the dragon keepers and wanted to try them out, but instead he was stuck back in a classroom, memorizing runes. One eye trailing upward, he paused to shake the cramps out of his wrist, then lowered his head and continued writing the runes as the Professor explained them.
The class was moderately large, encompassing an entire lecture room. Torches flickered at the sides of the wall, much to Alistair's chagrin. With every movement the flames made, he shuddered, swallowing as he repressed memories of Professor Sparhawk being incinerated. Walls of stone encircled the students, overcast by a yellow balm from the torches. Silence hung on the air, marred only by the scratch of the Professor's chalk as he wrote and the nasally drawl of his voice.
"Once you've finished writing down your runes, I want you to pick a partner and apply what you've written in practice," the old mage said, trapping his pointer against the blackboard.
Eyes darting to the front of the class, Alistair arched his neck back and had a good stretch. He had been sitting and writing since the class had begun and his backside was sore. Reaching around, he scratched the back of his head and looked over his shoulder. He was keen to practice the new technique he had written down, but had nobody to practice it with. He was sitting by himself, and the rest of the students already had partners. Recoiling into his capelet, he swallowed nervously, knowing that he was the odd one out who didn't have a partner. Just as he braced himself for getting up to look for one, the door opened with a thud and the attention of all the young mages in the class was pulled to the side of the room.
Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman, and if Alistair was not mistaken, he had met her before. He had run into her about a week before Pas Esvada and had been rather smitten at the time.
Before he could turn away, the woman was walking towards his desk. Breathing in, he shrunk into his capelet and looked down, staring at his desk. He swallowed to moisten his parched throat and shifted his eyes to the side, avoiding the woman's eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her standing above his desk.
Slowly, he turned around to face her, "uh, hi."
There was a pause, and he furrowed his brow slightly, glaring at her.
"You know you're like forty-five minutes late?" He said accusingly.
The class was moderately large, encompassing an entire lecture room. Torches flickered at the sides of the wall, much to Alistair's chagrin. With every movement the flames made, he shuddered, swallowing as he repressed memories of Professor Sparhawk being incinerated. Walls of stone encircled the students, overcast by a yellow balm from the torches. Silence hung on the air, marred only by the scratch of the Professor's chalk as he wrote and the nasally drawl of his voice.
"Once you've finished writing down your runes, I want you to pick a partner and apply what you've written in practice," the old mage said, trapping his pointer against the blackboard.
Eyes darting to the front of the class, Alistair arched his neck back and had a good stretch. He had been sitting and writing since the class had begun and his backside was sore. Reaching around, he scratched the back of his head and looked over his shoulder. He was keen to practice the new technique he had written down, but had nobody to practice it with. He was sitting by himself, and the rest of the students already had partners. Recoiling into his capelet, he swallowed nervously, knowing that he was the odd one out who didn't have a partner. Just as he braced himself for getting up to look for one, the door opened with a thud and the attention of all the young mages in the class was pulled to the side of the room.
Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman, and if Alistair was not mistaken, he had met her before. He had run into her about a week before Pas Esvada and had been rather smitten at the time.
Before he could turn away, the woman was walking towards his desk. Breathing in, he shrunk into his capelet and looked down, staring at his desk. He swallowed to moisten his parched throat and shifted his eyes to the side, avoiding the woman's eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her standing above his desk.
Slowly, he turned around to face her, "uh, hi."
There was a pause, and he furrowed his brow slightly, glaring at her.
"You know you're like forty-five minutes late?" He said accusingly.