diatu | bubble bubble toil and

Who: Alec Hardy and You
What: General Catchall
Where: In town, in class, in the cafeteria, outside
When: First week or so
Warnings: none atm

Town

Alec is wandering around town, looking lost, if only because he is. Also looking exceedingly disgruntled for reasons to be seen above. His strange whip made grim is padding along at his heels and occasionally going off to chase someone. Upon seeing you, the grim immediately charges toward you, a hundred pounds of not!dog gallumping toward you at mad speed and joy. There is the overall impression of a tongue hanging out even though the creature lacks evidence of a mouth. Brace yourself.

Teammates

Alec looks dubious about the magical equivalent of a trust fall. He is supposed to trust his partner, someone as green as himself, to keep him aloft in the air? Or trust himself to do the same? He had tried to ask if this was too advanced, but all he'd gotten was a smile and a patronizing pat and told to try it. He felt seventeen again and hated it. He was pushing fifty, not a bloody teenager.

"Right. Let's try not to break each other." He cleared his throat and pulled unconsciously at his tie. "You want to go first or should I?"

Dining in

Or not dining as the case may be. Alec has a plate of food in front of him, largely untouched. He is mostly involved with reading a tome or magical arcana. Others books were stacked up by him. There has been some evidence of eating judging by the corner being nibbled off the toast, but the tea has grown cold and steam is a memory and he has been there for a few hours, since breakfast or lunch depending on whatever time of day it is. It may be there is only one seat left opposite him. Be prepared for riveting conversation.

Beautiful? Disaster?

Alec is practicing a spell on the grounds. Does it go wonderfully? Terribly? Or you caught up in it or the witness to something...indescribable. Maybe it's better to sit this one out, just in case.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What?" He looked up distracted. Then shrugged. "No it's fine. It's not bloody edible, but help yourself. Just leave the tea." He was going to drink it, eventually.

"There is no reason for this spell to be twenty syllables long. How can anyone even remember all that."

She definitely started to tuck away what was on the plate. She ate pretty fast, but there was a very well-practiced neatness to her despite the way she talked while eating and scrambled to get it all eaten as fast as was physically possible.

"Wouldn't dream'f drinkin' that shit, I got self-respect. But'f this isn't edible to you I'd kill to be from wherever you're from."

She had to stop to snort at the mention of the spell being some twenty syllables long. She chuckled a bit at it, almost choking for half a breath. She stopped eating long enough to swallow and respond.

"Fuck'f I know. I went to all my classes on day one'n they started puttin' numbers'n letters all together on a board'n I said fuck this shit. So who knows how the hell anyone can remember that," she motioned to the book, "bullshit."

"Maybe." It was said reflectively, as if in agreement, and he did agree if food for her was hard to come by. But where he was from-- was a bloody good question that he had no idea how to answer and wasn't prepared to look into the gaping maw of the problem.

So he ignored it, flipping the page and idly listening to her.

"Maybe they can write it down." He had the idle image of a wizard in traditional robes and beard, reading his hand to perform a complicated spell and shook his head. "Are you not planning to learn magic here then?" Magic. Magic. Christ. "I've heard it's not a good idea if you let it run its course."

"I mean it's already written down right there." She motioned to the book he had his nose shoved into with the piece of toast she'd picked up, the very same he'd nibbled. She took a bite from it. "Jus' carry the book 'round with ya'n bam, got it written down." Could probably write down the ones he used most in a notebook or something, too, to make it easier.

"Don't really do good with people tellin' me what to do." She was quiet long enough that could have been her final answer, but she eventually piped back up again. "'M goin' to my fantastics class'n the afternoon class I picked, but I got put in that one house, uh." A pause as she tried to recall the name. "Purifeul? Walked into my required classes'n saw the math on the board'n," she shook her head with disgust on her face. Math was clearly not her first choice. "Not interested in th'boring shit."

"Maybe you can write it down somewhere, but that's not going to do you very well in a crises." He picked up his tea like he was going to drink it, then seemed to change his mind and lower it to turn a page. "This is all ridiculous."

He hummed at her not liking being told what to do. Another rebel without a cause. Who did like being told what to do? But sometimes that had to happen. She was old enough--or looked old enough so that she should be used to it, but then again, maybe she was usually outside the system. He didn't envy whomever she had to work with, if anyone.

"Yes, well the boring shit can form the blocks of the interesting shit. If you don't want to be shit you might want to apply yourself."

No shit writing things down wouldn't help in a crisis - don't have time to read when someone's breathing down your neck and trying to grab your hair to pull you back and--

She said nothing of it and he only earned a furrowing of her brow. He was the one that suggested having it written down, after all; he was the one complaining about the difficulty of all the words. She frowned at him with the next thing he said and she could feel her anger rising.

"You can't expect me to believe that bullshit's got anything to do with anything interesting. I seen what that fuckin' hexed bennie put up on that board in the later class for mathematics and ain't nothin' worth learnin' that. Rather deal with your twenty syllable bullshit, 'least that's just learnin' some words'n spittin' 'em out in order."

That was the problem with it, wasn't it? It was too long and complicated to remember without effort and too long and complicated to write down-- which was why it was ridiculous.

"Well I suppose you know better what will be useful or not here. I suppose you're an expert. Good thing you're smarter than everyone so you won't be stuck with busy work." He said all this mildly while he read the same sentence over and over.

"I'm glad someone finally understands me'n isn't makin' a ton of assumptions about me. Real nice to know I'm talkin' to a real refined type'f gentleman who knows how to treat a person right'n isn't judgemental at all."

She returned the mild tone as she polished the rest of the plate off, pushing the dish back towards him. She eyed the tea, considering, but made no move as of yet.

"Glad to finally meet someone that recognizes my brilliance." She sounded more bored than anything in her last comment.

"I'm not sure where you're finding someone like that." He understands what she's trying to say, but all he's seen from her so far is complaining. Anyway he would be the last to call himself a gentleman and the first to call himself judgmental. Of course he's bloody judgmental. It's part of his job. Or was. Or might have been.

"I recognize the potential of it if it wasn't diluted with so much whining."

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