Hey yew over there

Kylar

Professor Fritz, hah. It had a funny ring to it, especially when young wolves would call her that while staring up at her with big, round eyes. Sometimes there were delicate leaves plastered to their chins and crumpled petals under their paws, their hearts heavy with the blood of unusable herbs on their consciences. Although Kylar couldn't say that she really liked the weight of such a title (it was needlessly heavy in her opinion), she did find it a little amusing. She liked to stand up tall and puff her chest out a little, really drive home the sense of impending doom... only to conjure up a mock punishment or laugh.

As such, she had a bit of an unorthodox reputation in the college.

Partially because her visits were rather rare. After adopting Luca, Willa, and Anthe, Kylar had sought an arrangement where she taught out of her garden. That way she could bounce a baby on one knee and teach with the other. Not that... knees were particularly useful but the sentiment was there.

Her visit today was sponsored by the need for assistance. Nephele was with the kids on a picnic and Kylar wanted some help digging up some vines that were threatening Nephele's chamomile. That, and it'd be nice to start a fire in the stony cottage to put the bee hive to sleep so that they could harvest some honey... winter was coming up and Kylar feared the worst. With so many families displaced by the war, there would be many sick children without shelter.

Oh, goodness, she shivered to think of it.

...
...
...

There. He was a fine specimen for delicate labor. Long legs, nose buried in a book, expression completely sharpened by focus. The image of perfection.

Pausing, Kylar peered around a bush at him. Then, waddling out a little further, she barked. "Hey, hey you." Black-tipped ears twitched and she took another hobbling step. "Come here."

"speak"

code & art by claerie

He loomed over the book. His nose was nearly pressed into the pages as he stared down his muzzle at the words scrawled across the surface. He probably didn't need to push his nose this deeply into the folds of the thing, he could see just fine from what would be considered a 'normal' distance -- but he couldn't deny how much he loved the smell of the aging parchment. And each book held a slightly different scent, based on what it's been through throughout it's life. This one was one of his favorites, "The Fair Folk and the Common Folk". He had read it through dozens of times, and he was beyond it in his studies as it was only an introductory tome-- but every time he looked back at it, he managed to find a new nugget of information, found with a more knowledgeable lens. The feeling of being watched suddenly pricked along his spine. He didn't lift his head, but instead only shifted his eyes discreetly from the book. Someone was peering at him from around a bush. The young man let his widened eyes slowly drop, attempting to avoid eye contact at all costs. He stared down blankly at the book again, trying to ignore those bright red eyes. He knew who this was. This was Professor Fritz. He'd never met her, but he'd heard of her-- the Professor who taught classes from her home, supposedly with kids running around-- as if that was professional and normal. Her apparent eccentricities were something that Arthur was uncomfortable with-- after all, he was a creature of habit, and liked when things had order. He had done a good job of avoiding her thus far, for his studies didn't normally cross into the plant realm-- but now he felt her eyes on him, and then-- "Hey, hey you." Could he pretend he didn't hear her? He tried to pretend to be deeply enthralled in his book, brows furrowing together in feigned focus. He could hear her approaching. "Come here," she obviously saw through his act, or didn't care that he was doing something else. Impulsively, as f he couldn't help himself, his yellow gaze lifted to her. "Uh, me?" he said stupidly, as if it was his last ditch effort to get out of being addressed, as if she could be talking to anyone else as she stared right at him. He cringed at his own dense response, and rose to stand while delicately swiping the book closed with his paw. He stepped forward, obeying. It also wasn't in his nature to disobey, or be rude-- which he felt he'd done and now had to make up for awkwardly. "Professor Fritz, right? What can I do for you?"

ART ➤sealoon

Kylar

Hmmmm... his hears don't work too good, she thought with a note of sympathy. Her daughter was hard of hearing and life was a tad more difficult than it had to be. But he's sturdy enough. Granted, his eyes might have been waning a tad too. Why else would his face have been pushed so deep into that book of his?

Ah, and maybe a tad... slow... too...
Ruby eyes met those of pollen, soft and subtle with a golden hue. Idly, she glanced left then right. No one was within speaking distance, something she had found to be evident when she had ensnared him in her little web. Surly he knew that too? "Do tell me if you're seeing ghosts," Kylar chirped. "I know a good exorcist."

It was called a hard day's work, and she could book him in early for an appointment.

...

Her face brightened when he referred to her by name. So he knew her! That would make things easier. "Yes, yes. I need some help today and you seem perfect for it." Black-tipped ears twitched and she tipped her chin up to look at him. He was a little tall, now, wasn't he? "I hear that you are a dependable student from your professors, and this little task will earn you some extra credit. And maybe a recommendation if you play your cards right." The professor chirped, tail swishing back and forth once or twice.

"Ah, but what's your name, young man?" Kylar asked then, shamelessly ignoring the vapid compliments she had just paid him.

"speak"

code & art by claerie

“Do tell me if you’re seeing ghosts,” she said after giving a glance around the clearing. He could feel his cheeks burning. “I know a good exorcist,” Arthur wasn’t sure if he grimaced or smiled, but he attempted to make it good-natured. He hoped she was joking. “Ah, no, I’m good-- thanks,” he mumbled in response, not understanding the true intentions behind her words. “Yes, yes. I need some help today and you seem perfect for it.” she spoke brightly, and Arthur was beginning to regret asking her so plainly what she needed. And yet, he was also a smidge curious as to what she needed help with -- perhaps some research? His honey eyes flicked across her expressive face as she blinked up at him, and he found himself with a small, genuine smile on his muzzle. “I hear that you are a dependable student from your professors, and this little task will earn you some extra credit. And maybe a recommendation if you play your cards right.” Arthur’s brows furrowed, somewhat doubtfully. He wasn’t aware any of his professors even really knew he existed-- yes, he worked hard in his studies but… sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was taken seriously, or given any thought at all, given his area of interest. Even still, if he could earn a recommendation… if he could start getting some accreditation… “Ah, but what’s your name, young man?” the inkling of a smile dissipated into that of faint incredulity. “You just -- “ he stopped himself. His lips pursed briefly as he rolled the words on his tongue before speaking again. “Professor Fritz, I feel like you’re making fun of me,” he said in a more measured tone, and it was unclear if it was in good humor or something else. “My name is Arthur Locke, I study Highlander lore and it’s links to the natural world,” he said as an introduction, and perhaps also as a bit of a challenge. Even still, he couldn't help but leave out the word 'Fae'. “Your expertise is plants, right? I’m not sure I’m the best choice to help you,” that was his best attempt at ending this conversation, and getting out of helping her.

ART ➤sealoon

Kylar

She had pierced the worm upon her hook and waggled the treat before his nose. That small smile had been a metaphorical bite, one that held him onto her bait whilst she reeled him in. Slowly at first, then faster and faster and—“Professor Fritz, I feel like you’re making fun of me." Ah, damn it. Her fish was pulled from the water but he did not land within her paws. If left too long, he would flop back into the river and never be seen again. And she really did need some roots dug up.

A wry smile curved on her lips for she had been caught red-handed. It wasn't in her nature to keep up a ruse when she had been de-masked before the public.

"But Arthur, what is more linked to the natural world than plants?" Ruby eyes sparkled with notes of passion, mischief, and the certainty that came from being in authority. Although it was not above board to use her sway to squeeze out a bit of manual labor, she was certain to make it educational for him too. "Do Highlanders not celebrate Samhain by lighting torches and burning branches? Is there not a meaning to the wood? Or where it's grown or where the fires lead those restless spirits?" Her head canted to the side. She was no master of Highlander traditions, but she knew enough to get by. Kylar had been in Rionnach for little over a year and her time had been spent doing more than simply tending to her garden.

"Who is to say that faeries and other myths do not spring from the same mysticism that herbology does? Herbs were long misunderstood for their healing properties until scholars took the time to study them too."

"speak"

code & art by claerie

She offered him a wry smile, not even bothering to defend herself or claim wholesomely that ‘No, of course she wasn’t making fun of him!’ Again his brows furrowed together as he stared down at her, his own lips tightening just a bit. Instead of defending herself, she continued on with exuberant confidence. “But Arthur,” she began and he was a little concerned that he’d given her his name to use so casually, as if they had been friends for quite some time. It was like a weapon against him. “what is more linked to the natural world than plants?” He could not answer. If wolves knew chess, Professor Fritz would be a master of it. “Do Highlanders not celebrate Samhain by lighting torches and burning branches? Is there not a meaning to the wood? Or where it’s grown or where the fires lead those restless spirits?” He rubbed a paw on the side of his leg, as if he was dusting off some dirt though it may have been an uncomfortable, self-conscious gesture. It felt like he was using his passion, is area of study, his life’s work-- to coerce him into doing something he probably didn’t want to do. “Who is to say that faeries --” his ears flicked at the word, “-- and other myths do not spring from the same mysticism that herbology does? Herbs were long misunderstood for their healing properties until scholars took the time to study them too.” At his, his pale eyes lifted with a glint of interest. This was something he hadn’t known. “Really?” he asked. Hook, line, and sinker. The cogs in his mind began to whir. He hadn’t known this about herbology -- it was a very accepted art in the College and throughout most of Rionnach, but if it had started out as something as taboo and untrusted as Highlandic lore… how had it achieved such official status? Perhaps Professor Fritz knew. “I can help you with your task,” he said, knowing he may regret it, but hoping that perhaps, indeed, he would learn something useful. "Lead the way,"

ART ➤sealoon