Sorting things out [Tag Professor Brooding] on Potions

Dorian Montoir

September 01, 2018 7:02 AM

Sorting things out [Tag Professor Brooding] by Dorian Montoir

It had not taken long for Dorian to come back. He had dropped his bag off in Teppenpaw, still thinking about Professor Brooding’s offer. It didn’t seem like she was going to force him to talk. Unless he was missing the point, she was just offering him somewhere to be. Somewhere to be sounded good. It was remarkable how few quiet places there were in Sonora. The Hall and the library were very public, there was a definite risk of crossing paths with specific people, and almost dead certainty of having to have some kind of interaction with someone. And the library felt like intruding on Jehan’s territory. He had noticed how unconcerned Jehan always was with curfew whenever they met there. And given the house’s reputation… Well, it didn’t actually take an Aladren to figure out where the Aladren Common Room was, at least roughly speaking. If it had just been Jehan he was avoiding, then Teppenpaw would have been perfectly safe. He found himself glad for the first time in his life that he and Jehan were not roommates. The thought of them having to share such a personal space right now was enough to make him burn with embarrassment. But he just didn’t know how to deal with anyone. Obviously Vlad knew something was wrong - he had walked right into the middle of a complete scene, or rather something that had quickly escalated into one. Dorian had no idea what to do with anyone, except fake a smile and say that he was fine, an act that he suspected was wearing thin with all of them. He just wanted some space of his own.

He was a little bit anxious about being around Professor Brooding. She had read him so easily last time. And he knew how bad he was at hiding his feelings. But before now, he had also rarely tried. He had rarely wanted to hide anything, except what Matthieu was doing, from anyone. He had never really thought of feelings as being a problem. Clearly he could not hide that he was miserable from Professor Brooding, but it didn’t seem obligatory that he told her why, and he hoped that, if he was careful, he could keep things to himself. She had, after all, mentioned finding some space away from his peers. And that was what he wanted.

He knocked on her office door, going in when she called to.

“Hi,” he managed. He held her eyes whilst he said this but then seemed to give up on that effort, scanning the interior of this new room instead. His body radiated tension, like he was poised to run at a moment’s notice. “Are your books still need the sorting?” he asked, as his eyes landed on them. He glanced back at her. That had not been on her list of suggested activities, but it sounded appealing.

13 Dorian Montoir Sorting things out [Tag Professor Brooding] 1401 Dorian Montoir 1 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 01, 2018 4:09 PM

By all means. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary was not under any false impressions about her own mental state when Mr. Montoir returned to the classroom and her office space there. Thoughts of Tabitha and their recent fight, if that was even the right word, had been plaguing her all week and she hardly knew what to do about that. Offering a little bit of understanding to someone else seemed like literally the least she could do, but it was also about the most she could handle.

She had gone to lengths to make the classroom space more comfortable. Her desk, usually featuring a cauldron and some ingredients and notes on whatever the day's lectures were, now featured a more simple spread. A teapot full of hot chocolate was in the center, near a glass canister of marshmallows. An additional carafe of cold milk, mostly just because Mary thought it was hilarious to drink milk from a carafe, was present. She always thought it best to have both hot and cold drinks available because one rarely was as satisfying as both.

Mary herself was sitting at one of the student desks, sipping a mug of hot chocolate and surveying the classroom with a thoughtful expression. Everything felt wrong today and she supposed she should've worn something else or done her hair differently. Perhaps if she felt lovely on the outside, her insides wouldn't hurt so much. As it was, she was focusing on what she must look like to others. She tried to take her students' seats as often as possible to remind herself what it was like to be one.

When Mr. Montoir knocked, she was startled back into the moment and smiled as he entered the room. His expression was so sad but almost determined not to be sad, and she was determined to respect that.

"They do," Mary said, acknowledging his question about the books. "If you're willing, that would help a lot."

She felt like screaming inside her head. You're valuable. You're helpful. You're special. You're a beautiful young soul with so much potential. But she saw in him the same things she saw when she sat at student desks: all the memories of what it was like to be a kid again.

"Thank you," she added. "Feel free to have some hot chocolate. I was thinking of getting some snacks, too. Any preferences?"

22 Professor Mary Brooding By all means. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 01, 2018 8:04 PM

The healing power of book arrangement by Dorian

Dorian wondered whether this was always how Professor Brooding’s classroom looked when they were not in it, or whether she had made the effort in case he came back. He felt vaguely guilty if it was the latter because he wasn’t sure he really wanted any of the things on the desk.

His tension eased slightly when Professor Brooding confirmed that he could sort the books out. He did library duty on a regular basis, and he knew how calming it was to sort books. Having some kind of purpose for a little while, making something neat and tidy and better - that would help. He turned to the bookcase, feeling comforted.

“I am unsure,” he replied, when she mentioned snacks. He did not really want any hot chocolate. He was torn between whether it was polite to fake an interest in the beverage, because it had been brought and offered, but he honestly wasn’t sure he could force it down. His stomach was still in knots and his throat felt all closed up, and the thought of the sweet, claggy beverage made him feel sick. He searched his thoughts, trying hard to want something. “Maybe some apple?” he suggested. “I feel…” he made a wavering gesture with his hand. “So, nothing that is… is too much. Maybe later,” he added, gesturing to the hot chocolate. It seemed like he was really allowed to choose with Professor Brooding though. To come back or not come back. To talk or not to talk. To have hot chocolate or not. He liked to please people and it was hard not to feel some inherent guilt at not wanting any, but he also felt that it wasn’t going to be a problem that he didn’t, and that was reassuring. He gave an apologetic half smile, both for rejecting her offers and also for his English. He often ran low on English by the end of the week, and with everything else going on, his brain was struggling more than usual.

He turned his attention back to the bookshelves, wondering what to do about them. When he worked in the library, all the rest of the books were in the right place, and he just had to make room and slot the returns back in. Here, nothing was right. He could remove everything and start putting it back but he was unsure how long exactly that would take, and he did not want to make a huge mess that he only had time to half clear up. He could look through and find all the ‘A’s and then shunt everything down into the spaces they made and put them at the front. That seemed like it might work. He supposed he could also take all the books from the top shelf and put them in order, then there would not be a lack of space for anything. He could then take the second shelf and work it in, pushing the latter half of the alphabet gradually down as he worked more and more books into the arrangement. He liked that plan better because it involved creating less mess in the process of doing the job.

“You wish it to be in the order alphabetical with the authors, yes?” he confirmed, “Are there to be subcategories also, or just all together?”

13 Dorian The healing power of book arrangement 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 02, 2018 12:43 AM

And conversation? by Professor Mary Brooding

"The best time to drink hot chocolate is when you're really excited for it," Mary said as she sipped from her own mug again. "I love that moment. It's best to wait until you are ready," she smiled softly.

She watched as Mr. Montoir made his way to the bookcase and she decided to drop the topic of snacks until he expressed a greater desire. The last thing she wanted was to put more pressure on this obviously stressed out young person.

"I was thinking," Mary began, considering his question as she pushed herself to her feet and stood a short way off from him, facing the books. "That that makes the most sense to me. Sub-categories would be nice but lots of them are general, so maybe just the author? If it's easiest to just take them all off and sort into stacks, I can always float them back into place in whatever state you end up leaving them. This isn't a project for one day I think." She made a point of examining the nearest collection of books, although her attention was focused on Mr. Montoir in her peripherals. "What do you think?" she decided, turning towards him. "What would you do if this was your bookcase?"

She nibbled the edge of a marshmallow as she turned back to the shelves, preferring not to stare at Mr. Montoir while he thought of an answer. "Let me know if you'd like my help at all," she smiled.

22 Professor Mary Brooding And conversation? 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 02, 2018 1:26 AM

The last time I said what was on my mind, it didn't end well by Dorian

The best time for hot chocolate is when you’re really excited for it.

Dorian nodded mutely. He could not fault Professor Brooding’s logic there, although he couldn’t imagine a time when he would be excited for hot chocolate again. Or anything. He vaguely thought that feeling like this was not sustainable. It surely could not go on forever. But right now it felt like it would.

He felt on steadier ground as she talked to him about the books, glad for the change in topic, glad that he had a clear answer ready.
“I can rearrange the first shelf first. Then take the second and work the two shelves into the right order. This way, I can do as much as possible but without leaving mess behind. If I am not finished, it is not inconvenient, and then I can return and do more another time,” he explained his plan. “Subcategories are nice but maybe not possible.”

He considered her offer of help. On the one hand, the thought of Professor Brooding just sitting at her desk whilst he worked away by the shelves seemed a little strange. There was something to be said for completing an activity companionably. He could not say he had been companionable with anyone except Melodie since Wednesday. His cat had spent plenty of time snuggled up with him in his room, and he liked to credit her with enough intelligence and sympathy to say that she understood his mood and was concerned for him, although perhaps she just enjoyed the extra attention. Spending some sort of time with another human sounded nice. On the other hand, he didn’t want to make her sort books with him if she didn’t really want to.

“If you like,” he nodded. And whilst this was not the most strongly expressed desire for company that had ever been uttered, it was clear that it this was meant sincerely, and that Professor Brooding was welcome to join him at the bookcase if she genuinely wanted to.

“I started a letter to my grandfather. About the arranging of the Chinese books,” he informed her. On his first visit, he had explained the idea of arranging by the number of brush strokes in the first character, and had noted down a list of the book titles and authors with a promise to investigate further and get back to her. “But not yet finished…” he added. His written Chinese was much less proficient than his verbal, although he tried always to write to his mother at least some lines in it, so he still got practise when he was at school in spite of the lack of tutoring. With his mother though, he could switch to English or French if he got really stuck, balancing the need and wish to use his Chinese with the practical concerns of communicating with a sufficient degree of efficiency. With lao ye though, there was no such option, and Dorian also felt the expectation to prove himself eloquent and elegant in his written expression was higher - his mother cared for his news and his stories, his lao ye cared for how nicely the piece was composed. Thus writing to him was something of a project, and one that he had not been in the right frame of mind for since Wednesday night. He gave a small sigh as he began reordering the first shelf.

13 Dorian The last time I said what was on my mind, it didn't end well 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 02, 2018 2:35 AM

Ah, but this isn't the end yet. by Professor Mary Brooding

"That sounds like a good plan," Mary replied, controlling her excitement. She maintained an even temperament on the outside, but her insides were dancing and singing and just generally being excited that Mr. Montoir was at least interested in coming back. This checked a number of important boxes in Mary's welfare check for the boy. Signs of suicide often included seeing no point in planning for the future and Mary was glad to see that Mr. Montoir didn't seem to be exhibiting this particular signal. She breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Making her first move to actively require something of her companion, Mary went to her desk and retrieved some parchment, quill and ink, and some reference books. Then, she took a seat at one of the student desks nearest Mr. Montoir, where she was clearly available for conversation or to answer any questions, but pointedly not helping unless he requested it. She also tried to look like her work-- planning future lessons-- was extremely interesting. whether it encouraged Mr. Montoir to dive into some as-of-yet undiscovered passion for potions, or whether it encouraged him to acknowledge his curiosity instead of only his grief, Mary would count it as a success.

"That's wonderful!" Mary said when he commented about writing to his grandfather. "Does your grandfather know Chinese?" she asked. "Or did you ask him because he's a clever problem-solver like yourself?"

22 Professor Mary Brooding Ah, but this isn't the end yet. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 02, 2018 2:54 AM

I hope you're right by Dorian

Professor Brooding appeared not to want to help with the books, which was fine. He could sort and she could work, and then he wasn’t in anyone’s way, but nor was he having to be out and socialising, but nor did she have to look after him if she had something better to do.

She appeared keen enough to chat though, when he opened up an interesting topic, although he found her question a little strange. He had told her in their first conversation that he spoke Chinese with his mother, had he not? Admittedly everyone had two grandfathers, but it seemed like it was quite clear from context which he meant. Still, she was giving him a chance to talk, but not about what was bothering him, and he couldn’t bring himself to over-analyse.

“Mama’s father,” he clarified, “Yes. He is in China. We are there too in the summer. And he has a very good library. He explained me a bit about how it organised but I still need some help to understand the system. It is not so very easy to sort in Chinese. There is… a degree of interpretation, I think.”

He was about to turn his attention back to the bookshelf, when the other half of Professor Brooding’s words caught up to him. Or not half, really. The last two. Like yourself. Is he a clever problem solver like yourself.

“Like me?” he asked, hesitantly. He definitely didn’t feel like he solved problems lately. He felt much more like he created them.

13 Dorian I hope you're right 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 02, 2018 3:27 AM

I promise. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary smiled at first, enjoying Mr. Montoir's explanation of his grandfather and sorting Chinese texts. Then she beamed.

"When I was younger, I really wished I was more patient. I decided I would work on it, but I had no idea how hard that would be," she said, speaking slowly and hoping desperately not to bore this poor kid. He seemed the kind to respond better to a rapport-based story than to empty words, but she wasn't sure. "The thing about becoming more patient is that you don't just get to be more patient. You have to go through situations that test your patience. I think that you don't get to be a good problem solver until you've experienced problems, or clever until you've had to think hard to figure something out."

She looked up from her work and considered Mr. Montoir for a moment. "You don't learn to be loving until you meet people that are hard to love, either because they don't seem very lovable, or because they don't seem like the people you are supposed to love. The hardest thing is to remember to love yourself regardless of your impatience, your problems, or your heart."

Mary's own heart seemed to gasp for relief and her eyes stung as she said this. She knew all the words were true and she knew that accepting them would be one of the hardest things for this young man ever to do. She hadn't yet managed it herself if she was honest. Again, the thought of Tabitha walking away from her played through her mind and her voice caught in her throat for a moment. She threw her thoughts into the moment at hand and considered another realization.

There was an odd line in having such a serious conversation with someone who did not have native fluency in the conversation's language. Culturally and emotionally, such general language worked well, and Mr. Montoir was certainly proficient in English. Still, Mary worried that she would either miss the point or overwhelm him if she didn't make it explicit, too.

"You possess great strength of character, Mr. Montoir," she said softly. "And I suspect that comes with great depth of feeling."

22 Professor Mary Brooding I promise. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 04, 2018 7:33 AM

You read my mind by Dorian

Dorian had to listen hard to Professor Brooding’s answer. She went off on quite the tangent. He didn’t mind that as such, although she was one of those people where you had to wait until the very end to find out what the point of the sentence was. Usually it was a good point though, so he didn’t mind waiting. He was not sure what the point was this time… She had said he was a good problem solver, and now she was saying that he would have to go through a lot of problems to become one. Which meant she didn’t think he was one yet.

He did not have too much time to dwell on this though, as she was suddenly exploring a whole other tangent. One that made Dorian feel like she must be using legilimency on him. He had known it was a risk, coming to talk to her, when she had seemed to read him so easily before, but… but they had been talking about China, for Merlin’s sake! A perfectly neutral, safe topic, and now she was talking about loving people you weren’t supposed to love. And about how deep his feelings were. All of it swirled around Dorian’s mind. He was scared by the degree of insight Professor Brooding seemed to have into his mind. He sorted of wanted to reply to what she was saying, but if they started, where would they stop? He couldn’t find any thought that seemed safe to express, like it wouldn’t just start a landslide, pulling everything down with it until he’d told her everything.

Professor Brooding seemed gentle and nice. She seemed like she wanted to offer love and kindness to everyone. Dorian was pretty sure he could tell her that he’d tried to kiss a boy and she wouldn’t tell him that was bad, especially as he was in love with the boy in question. But he still hesitated. That was private. He didn’t want to try to explain his feelings because he didn’t understand them and he was only going to make a mess of it. Sometimes, of course, it helped to get someone to sort through them with you, but this was too personal.

Dorian looked away from her, glancing down at the book in his hand in order to have somewhere else to focus his attention, and realising as he did so that he had been holding the same one for quite some time.

“I think I cannot sort books and have this kind of conversation at the same time,” he said, somewhat apologetically. And he made it clear which one he was choosing by turning back to the bookshelf.

13 Dorian You read my mind 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 04, 2018 6:22 PM

Sorry about that. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary was surprised when Mr. Montoir seemed to recoil some, and even more so at the fact that she found this so surprising. She'd been a student once; how creepy would she have thought it if her professor tried to hone in on her private affairs with no real outside connection to her wellbeing other than teaching one of her classes. Mr. Montoir hadn't expressed explicit interest in Potions in any way that made Mary qualified to counsel him, and she felt a bit like she'd swallowed her tongue when Mr. Montoir turned pointedly back to the books on the shelf.

Determined not to make the situation any more awkward for either of them, Mary decided it would be better to remain where she was rather than relocate herself elsewhere in the room. Nodding politely, she turned her attention back to the work she'd brought with her and dove into planning future lessons and things.

She thought to apologize. She thought to verbally consent. She thought to leave the room entirely. Instead, she settled on quietly debating whether poison identification and antidote matching would be a satisfactory advanced lesson for her students later in the term. Her papers were spread around the student desk and she made a point not to cover them, figuring that if Mr. Montoir wasn't up for conversation, then at least she could offer him an 'in' if he changed his mind.

22 Professor Mary Brooding Sorry about that. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 05, 2018 5:06 AM

It was probably my fault by Dorian

Silence reigned. Dorian tried to focus back on the bookshelves. But it didn't feel like comfortable silence any more. It didn't feel like they were two people working companionably in the same space. It felt like he had pushed Professor Brooding away. He wasn't sure his tone had been polite. He thought it might have been cold or snappish. He hadn't meant for it to be. He just was scared.

He leant to the far side of the bookshelf, firmly slotting Nottwood into the As so that he could half turn without it being so obvious that he was looking. Professor Brooding was bent back over her lesson plans, ignoring him.

He sort of wanted to start chatting again. But he wasn't sure how. He couldn't just pretend everything was normal when he had just been rude. And he still didn't really want to talk about himsellf either. He just wanted to feel like he wasn't by himself. What was wrong with him lately? He had always been so good at talking to other people, and now it felt like he was messing up every single social interaction he had.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "A-are you mad at me now?"

13 Dorian It was probably my fault 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Brooding

September 05, 2018 6:48 PM

Certainly not by Professor Brooding

Guilt and sympathy washed over Mary in equal measure and she felt herself relax into the situation. Realizing she and Mr. Montoir were equally human was encouraging and she smiled warmly at him.

"Not at all," she replied genuinely. "I want to respect your privacy and I shouldn't push you to talk if you don't want to. That's your right and not something I will be upset about."

She cocked her head at him, wondering if he felt bad simply because he was the sort to blame himself, or if he actually wanted to chat and simply didn't know how to advocate for a topic change.

"What do you prefer?" she asked. "We can chat about something else if you want, or we can talk about what's bothering you. We can sit in companionable silence. It's up to you and I won't be mad whatever you choose."

Sitting back in her chair, she rolled her shoulders and took another sip of hot chocolate, finding it empty when she was done. "I'm also happy to request some food if you get hungry," she said, standing and making her way to the desk to refill her cup. "But only if you want me to."

She was pretty sure she had all the wrong words. How could she help him understand that this was a safe place to be and he could do whatever he'd like, be whatever he'd like? What she have wanted to hear when she was that age? Maybe he didn't want to hear that at all. She knew she had a tendency to talk too much. Had she been unclear before?

"Whatever you'd like. What were you looking for when you came back here today?"

22 Professor Brooding Certainly not 1424 Professor Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 05, 2018 8:39 PM

I don't know what I want, if I'm completely honest by Dorian

Professor Brooding was a strange kind of grown up. Most grown ups set lots of rules. And, even when they didn't, they still wanted you to be a certain way. He was thirteen - people didn't usually give him many choices, or care a lot about what he wanted. He wondered whether it was because Professor Brooding was quite a young grown up, and remembered what it was like being his age, or whether she was just special. He sort of wanted to tell her that she was lovely, but he recalled the last time he had done that with someone... And also she was a professor. And also he thought she was lovely because she was strange and different but he wasn't confident he could make that come out right. He didn't want to make her think she was bad-strange, or feel like she should change and try to become more like other grown ups. He wanted her to stay just like this.

"I don't know," he admitted, confused in the face of having to make a decision. He had thought he just wanted to quietly sort the books but now that felt lonely. "Not talking about me," he ruled that out, because he just didn't have the words and because opening up about everything was a frightening prospect.

"What do you do?" he asked, nodding to the work on the desk. Having been given permission to open up a conversation about something other than himself, that seemed like a comfortable middle ground between the deeply personal and oppressive silence.

13 Dorian I don't know what I want, if I'm completely honest 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 05, 2018 11:34 PM

Good. Not knowing means you have a place to start. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary smiled, glad to see Mr. Montoir making a choice and asserting himself, even if it was done so passively. This was a boy who had been through a lot, that much was clear, and she couldn't help wondering how any hint of assertiveness was treated at home. In any case, he was asserting himself now and she intended to encourage it. But not too assertively.

"Lovely," she said, smiling and nodding. She thought to make a joke about taking him off the table but wasn't sure how well the pun would come across so she left it. When he asked about her work, Mary turned her attention back to it, wishing she'd done a little better at actually focusing on that instead of worrying about Mr. Montoir. Either way, she was concerned with students' wellbeing, so she supposed it wasn't all bad.

At first, she wasn't sure whether he meant to ask what she did in general as a professor or whether he was asking what she was doing at the moment. His gaze and nod indicated the latter so she answered that.

"Well, at the moment," she started, hoping it would help transition if he had indeed meant to ask the former, "I am trying to sort out some ideas for some of my upcoming lessons. I'm a bit chaotic, so I keep lots of lists and notes and then put them all into a lesson when I find some cohesion."

She turned the papers on the desk so they could both read them. Several sheets were dedicated to notes she'd made in class about what seemed to interest the students she would be working with and how she might incorporate that into future lessons. Another detailed the relevant notes from various textbooks she might draw from. The inventory of the ingredients cupboard and a list of what she needed to restock helped her rule out some of the more complex ideas that might require things she didn't yet have. She also had some notes and drawings with information about what aspects of various lessons students had done well on or done poorly on, a guide to figure out what areas the students most needed to improve. Finally, she had notes about what she knew of various students' ambitions for the future. This came up the least often as her curriculum was fairly standardized regardless of student ambition, but it seemed reasonable to touch on the uses of potions in various fields if she had students who were interested in that area.

"Do you think you'd like to be a professor someday?" she asked. It would be so inspiring to students from diverse backgrounds to have a multilingual professor, but she didn't want to make him feel pressured. Besides, he seemed empathetic enough to recognize this without her saying so. "I think you'd be good at it."

22 Professor Mary Brooding Good. Not knowing means you have a place to start. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 06, 2018 2:59 AM

It doesn't just mean you are lost? by Dorian

It was strange, seeing lessons from this side, when they were not quite lessons yet. It was also curious and alarming and surprising to hear Professor Brooding say she did not have a plan for everything. She was a grown up. They were supposed to know. He knew that a lot of time and care went into planning lessons but he sort of assumed that it was all set up and ready to go by the time they came back to school. They had set texts to read, after all, and things that made it seem like there was a big overall plan to it all. It was a little unnerving to hear an adult call themself "chaotic."

"C'est tres interessant," he smiled, lapsing into his other languages as he relaxed around the Professor. It was not that he spoke the French unconsciously, he knew that he had switched languages, and took care to pronounce clearly. He would pepper his conversation only with those phrases that were close enough to the English or clear enough to be understood from the context alone. He just trusted her not to mind.

He peered curiously at the papers she fanned out. It was sort of like when someone opened the little door on the back of a clock and you got to see all the wheels and the little whirring pieces that made it work. It all seemed so smooth, so orderly and reliable on the surface, but inside it was very complicated. He found the insight interesting but also found himself not wanting to peer too closely. It felt like getting a glimpse inside his teacher's head. And, whilst she was showing him that perfectly willingly, he wasn't sure it was somewhere he was really supposed to be.

Luckily, she provided a perfect escape route for that with her next question.

"No way," he replied quickly, looking up at her in evident surprise and perhaps even mild horror at the idea. A slight blush had crept into his cheeks at the suggestion. Not wishing to seem like he was insulting it as a career choice he ventured to explain further, although it was probably unnecessary given the colour he had gone. "I could not. Standing up and talking to a whole class..." he shook his head again, the blush intensifying a little as he pictured himself at the front of a room full of people.

13 Dorian It doesn't just mean you are lost? 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 06, 2018 3:18 AM

I hope not, for both of us! by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary laughed, surprised by Mr. Montoir's sudden change of tone. He almost seemed at ease, and certainly a little curious about her work. His blush reminded her yet again how young he was and she suddenly felt like twenty-eight was an advanced age. She hadn't really considered that she was speaking to a whole room full of people when she taught and she had to admit that the idea of doing so made her nervous, too.

She confessed as much to Mr. Montoir. "I think I just love Potions so much that I don't mind much," she added. "It's easy to talk about things you're excited about if it means somebody else might get excited, too. Hoping to change the topic a bit before Mr. Montoir's face turned a full shade of purple, Mary shuffled the papers to make some noise and shake whatever he was thinking from his head.

"I didn't know what I wanted to be until I was already grown up," Mary said, offering it like a confession.

She decided it wouldn't do to get into more detail than that. I decided to become a professor three months ago when my ex-girlfriend got pregnant and I felt insignificant would probably be too much information.

22 Professor Mary Brooding I hope not, for both of us! 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 08, 2018 4:17 AM

It definitely feels like it right now though by Dorian

"I like to do that too," he admitted, when she talked about sharing the things she was passionate about and making others feel the same way. "But more just with one person, or a few people. Not with everyone." With someone special. With someone who it felt safe to share them. He pushed those thoughts aside, as Professor Brooding confessed to not knowing when she was his age what she had wanted to do with her life.

In one sense, Dorian knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. He had always had a solid answer to that. It was ‘married to the love of my life.’ He had never thought much about jobs, but he had thought a lot about the future. Finding his soulmate had always been what life was about for him. It was a goal that had always suited his parents too, in a sense. His father always put it in terms of marrying well. His mother was a bit more romantic about it. She always talked about him finding the right girl. Whichever way you put it though, his parents’ plan for him was pretty clear, and did not involve what was currently going through his mind.

“It feels like a long time away,” he agreed flatly. He supposed a lot could change between now and then… Except- “I want to think for a bit,” he informed Professor Brooding, because it was getting very loud in his head, and he wasn’t sure he could make it go away by talking about class notes or the weather. He turned back to the bookshelf, taking Nottwood back out from A and moving it along to where it was supposed to be.

Except he didn’t think he really wanted things to change. Not in the sense of making all of this go away. How he felt was how he felt. Someone being your soulmate was the most important thing in the world, and was the thing he had been looking for. He knew his parents hadn’t met until his father was over twenty, which would have meant waiting over half his life again to find someone. And the point about soulmates was that there was only one. If he was right, and Jehan was his, then he could not let him go, not for anything. The first reason it all hurt so badly right now was not to do with Jehan being a boy and everything to do with the fact that he had run away. But Dorian could not deny that Jehan being a boy was going to bring in a lot of hurt from other places, and other people. It was so tempting to picture him and Jehan having a little house in the middle of nowhere, with a living room decorated to look exactly their MARS room… But he might never get that. And that hurt. But there was another issue, and he was trying to ignore the nagging doubt about what would happen even if he did, because he could not process that much misery right now. And because Jehan was still the most important part of it all, and wanting to get him to love him back. But if Jehan returned his feelings, they would be in for a world of trouble. He had always enjoyed the stillness and the quietness of their escapes into MARS, shutting the rest of the loud, unpleasant world out. But he hadn’t ever wanted that to mean literally everyone. Your soulmate was important. You only ever got one.

But you only got one mother too.

Dorian had never believed in all of Matthieu’s rhetoric about what was important. The two useful things his brother had taught him were not to trust other people lightly, and that you should choose for yourself what mattered. He had been willing to act on it last year, when Professor Wright had insulted Tatya. Her hurt mattered more than Professor Wright being a teacher. His mother wanted him to marry a nice girl. And he knew that he couldn’t, there was no nice girl out there for him.

He pulled a new book down, the author’s name skipping about, blurring unsteadily. He tried to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. Except now he needed to breathe, because he hadn’t done that for a minute, and he was putting it off because he knew that when he did, it would be audible and juddering breath of someone who was crying. He wondered whether Professor Brooding was going to be polite enough to pretend not to notice that. Books. He was sorting books. Except the jerky, crying breaths were getting more frequent and he didn’t think either of them could pretend that he wasn’t crying any more. He placed the book down, flat on the edge of the shelf. Professor Brooding had said he could ask her for any sort of help. Not exactly, not in those words, but she had meant that. He gave up trying to hide it, turning his tear stained face towards her, his voice hitching and halting, sounding utterly pathetic as he requested the one thing he really wanted right now.

“Am- am I allowed to ask you for a hug?”

13 Dorian It definitely feels like it right now though 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 08, 2018 9:24 PM

You're killin' me, kid. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary looked into Mr. Montoir's eyes and might've been a kid herself again. Every tear that slid from those innocent eyes made her feel like her heart was going to blow up and she starkly shoved Deputy Headmistress Sky's voice warning her to maintain appropriate boundaries out of her head. It was never wrong to care about somebody, particularly somebody who clearly needed it.

"Of course," Mary said, trying not to let her own teary eyes show. She hadn't ever thought of herself as one with a maternal streak but she couldn't help feeling protective of this poor boy.

She got up and crossed the room with careful steps, not sure how to hug a child that was about her own height. She felt like she was hugging an adult, or that she herself was a child again.

What seemed like a lifetime ago, she'd stood in this same classroom and cried to herself as she worked on a potion she didn't remember now. She'd gotten a letter that had rocked her world and she knew better than to promise that everything-- or anything-- would be okay again. For all she knew, it wouldn't. Things had gotten better and things were the good sort of different, but whether things ever were okay after so much pain was less clear. Instead of trying to be a fixer or a helper, Mary let herself just be a feeler and she offered a hug to Mr. Montoir from a place of understanding. Or as much understanding as someone who didn't know what was going on could offer.

"I'm so sorry you're hurting," Mary said as she wrapped her warms around him. "I wish I could make it better."

22 Professor Mary Brooding You're killin' me, kid. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 09, 2018 7:49 AM

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to by Dorian

These were not the first tears he had shed since Wednesday, but all the others had been restrained, he had done his best to keep them under control, because there was no such thing as privacy anywhere in this school. They had been cried when it got too miserable, mostly into his pillow in Teppenpaw, but he had tried quickly reign them in, not allow them to be seen, not bother other people or embarrass himself. And he should do the same now. He should try to stop crying. Because he was verging on the sort of crying that, if he let it go any further, he wasn’t going to know how to stop.

He felt Professor Brooding’s arms go around him, and he held onto her. She was such a comfortable height to hug, being almost the same size as his mother. Dorian buried his face against her shoulder, finding that on top of everything else, he was now imagining things, because he swore he could smell the familiar scent of jasmine that his mother always smelt of, alongside something sharper, which was presumably Professor Brooding’s smell.

He wished she could make it better too. And he knew that she couldn’t. There was no potion or spell that was going to make any of this better. Because all of this centred on the most powerful magic in the universe. He had always, always believed it when people said that about love. But he had believed in it as something perfect and wonderful, something that magic could not synthesise, could not fake, could not compare to. Now, for the first time, he really saw how powerful it could be - how it was possible that it might rip apart a human being and leave them in pieces that no one could put back together. He believed that his mother loved him, and that Émilie did too. Did that mean they would overcome everything, or did it just mean he had the power to break their hearts and make them hurt as much as he was hurting right now? That was a terrible power, and he didn’t want it.

He sobbed harder and harder on Professor Brooding’s shoulder, past the point where he was going to bring this back under control, and where the only place to go was to keep crying until he had no tears left. He sort of dreaded reaching that point because what would he do when he got there? He would have to offer Professor Brooding some form of explanation as to why he was going completely to pieces on her shoulder. He couldn’t say anything about Jehan. There was no way to phrase it - what had happened? They hadn’t had a fight. They… weren’t speaking? He wasn’t sure. He was just too scared to go near him and find out, to see Jehan be anything less than he had been to him before. And he was sure if he mentioned Jehan she was going to know. Boys didn’t feel this deeply about their friends. And to explain the rest… To try to explain that he wasn’t sure he could be what his family wanted? Without explaining about Jehan, that made it seem like all the tears he was currently crying were their fault, like they had done something terrible to him, put some kind of pressure on him that he couldn’t handle, and that wasn’t true or fair. The only one who had ever tried to do that was Matthieu, and he could rot in hell, he wasn’t relevant to any of this, he did not matter.

He had no explanation. He would not have any explanation for Professor Brooding because he still didn’t understand some very important, fundamental things.

“Why - why life has to hurt so much? And what if it never is better?” he sobbed.

13 Dorian I'm sorry, I didn't mean to 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 09, 2018 1:29 PM

No, it's good by Professor Mary Brooding

Mr. Montoir's racking sobs were too much for Mary and she couldn't stop the silent tears that slid across her cheeks. Something in her chest was still throbbing with her own pain and thoughts of her family and Tabitha stormed there like a relentless torrent of guilt and shame and things she couldn't otherwise identify. At the same time, this moment was nothing to do with her and her tears had only Mr. Montoir's pain in them. She held him until he let go, knowing that being warm and being present was the most she could offer in that moment.

She couldn't answer his question and was pretty sure she had officially discovered the hardest part of being a professor.

"We only recognize the good when we have experienced the bad," she said, thinking of how much she'd taken her family for granted before losing them and of how much she'd learned to appreciate the little things since then. "And that doesn't make it any easier at all," she admitted. "But it always gets better."

So many words came to mind but they were all empty and she knew it. They were the sort of words she hated hearing and maybe that's why they burned in her head. It gets easier when you're older. You just have to suck it up. Everything will be okay.

The question remained: What if it never gets better?

Mary had no answers and didn't want to pretend, so she just held Mr. Montoir until he was all dried up and made the decision to let go himself. If anything, this was a boy who needed to have a little more control in his own life.

"I'm probably not supposed to pass out potions to students," Mary admitted, feeling a little bad about that. "But might I suggest you visit the Hospital Wing for a sleep or peace potion? I'm worried you probably aren't sleeping well right now with so much pain."

22 Professor Mary Brooding No, it's good 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 10, 2018 6:31 AM

But I made you all soggy and full of feelings by Dorian

They only knew the good when they had experienced the bad... Hadn't he already had enough experience of the bad with Matthieu as a brother? And he thought he would have been quite as capable of appreciating the good people in his life without that. He would have been able to appreciate Jehan and what they had without having fought with him. He was done with bad. He wanted everything to go back to being nice, as it had been at the start of the year. Didn't he deserve that?

The fact that it would get better with time was, at least, reassuring. That was something people often said, and he believed it, especially coming from Professor Brooding. Time was, perhaps, the second most powerful magic then. It could crumble buildings and reduce people to dust, none of which was that impressive as there were curses that could do the same, but it could heal things that spells and potions could not. Of course, love could do that in a second, and maybe more effectively. There was 'better' meaning 'improved' and there was 'better' meaning 'completely healed.' Did all wounds heal completely with time, or did they just improve enough to stop hurting?

His sobs gradually subsided, and he nodded vaguely as Professor Brooding talked about potions. As his tears dried, his misery was lessened enough to make way for teenage self-consciousness, both at his display of emotion (although he would not go so far as to call it a 'ridiculous display' or any such - whilst somewhat embarrassing, every sob felt completely justified) and at the fact that he was hugging a teacher.

He withdrew, pulling a handkerchief with embroidered initials from his pocket to dab his eyes and blow his nose. The shoulder of Professor Brooding's robes was all soggy where he had cried on her, and she herself looked sort of upset.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

13 Dorian But I made you all soggy and full of feelings 1401 Dorian 0 5

Professor Mary Brooding

September 14, 2018 4:35 AM

Feelings are meant to be felt. by Professor Mary Brooding

Mary stifled a chuckle. There wasn't a lot of humor in it anyway and she was pretty sure that Mr. Montoir would not take it with the bitter irony it was intended. When he pulled away, Mary couldn't help thinking of how glad she was not to be his age anymore. The awkwardness and horror of being a teenager would make almost anything worth it just to keep from going back.

Instead, Mary smiled softly, offering warmth as she let Mr. Montoir wipe his eyes. It was humorous to see someone so small and innocent pull out a handkerchief that seemed excessively fancy.

"Don't worry," Mary said, wiping her own eyes with the side of her fingers. "Feelings are meant to get out or they all stay inside and make you feel sick. I've never regretted feeling anything, even if it doesn't feel good."

She considered this for a moment before taking a deep breath and settling a bit. Smiling at Mr. Montoir, she wondered what exactly might be bothering him so much. Her mind turned to questions she hated to consider, like whether he was being abused, whether there were some sort of relationship problems occurring, or something else. She didn't want to push but didn't want to leave it if he was in danger, either.

"Let me know if I can do anything to help," she offered gently. "You don't have to know right now, but if anything comes to mind, just let me know." Mary smiled and kept her expression neutral, ready to either laugh or cry depending on whatever Mr. Montoir needed in that moment.

22 Professor Mary Brooding Feelings are meant to be felt. 1424 Professor Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 14, 2018 10:49 AM

Otherwise 'ploding happens? by Dorian

Dorian nodded, as Professor Brooding said that feelings were meant to get out. He was reminded of Jehan in MARS, telling him he didn’t have to apologise for crying, and for a second he found his throat constricting but then it passed. He had always believed that what a person was feeling was important. He just wished…. He just wished what? He wished he wasn’t feeling quite so much right now? He felt that was true in some senses, but it definitely wasn’t the case that he wanted it all to go away. Only the bad bits, the heartache and the worry… But at the moment, there were only two options for that to be possible - either Jehan had to return his feelings (and then he still had the rest of the world to face anyway) or he could never have realised what he felt. He didn’t like the second option, regardless of how much it hurt right now.

“I think I agree…” he told her, some wheels still clearly turning as he thought over what she said. “For some types of sadness, anyway,” he added. He wasn’t sure yet that it was true of every negative feeling, although Professor Brooding seemed generally right about such things, but he couldn’t quite get all his thoughts on the subject togeher, so he tucked her remarks away for later, to think about a little more.

And then she was saying again about how he could talk, now or later, or not if he didn’t want to. He still felt like his behaviour was, at best, seeming wild and irrational, and at worst was damaging her opinion of him or causing her concern, and he still felt that he really owed her some sort of explanation. Yet she didn’t seem to expect one.

“Maybe… Maybe at another time. I…” She had been so nice. She was willing to give up her time to look after him, letting him lurch wildly between wanting to be left alone and wanting to cry all over her. And he wanted to give her something in return. He still felt he couldn’t explain though, and that meant that on the surface, maybe things seemed unaltered. He was still sad, still confused, and still hadn’t told her what was wrong. But there were things she had changed, even if she couldn’t see it, and he could at least let her know that her efforts had not been in vain. “I do feel some better,” he assured her, “And… And you are a nice adult, and I trust you. I think you understand things… differently than other grown ups do. Better,” he assured her. Speaking of other adults prompted him to consider the world beyond her cosy little office. The network of staff that she was a part of… They were always told to talk to their Heads of Houses about their problems. Was she now going to have to go and report on him to Professor Xavier, tell him there was a problem with one of the Teppenpaws?

“Does this stay….. private, between us?” he asked, “And if I talk to you about things, I have… confidentialité?” he asked, chancing that the word was likely to be similar in English. There was a certain class of words that was just complicated enough, or just came from the parts of French that English had liked, that they were often the same.

13 Dorian Otherwise 'ploding happens? 1401 Dorian 0 5

Mary Brooding

September 15, 2018 10:46 PM

Lots of 'ploding. by Mary Brooding

Being a teacher was not a job Mary expected being drawn to. When she applied, she didn't expect it to be easy. When she had considered the personal interactions with students who were struggling in their lives outside the classroom, Mary had been excited for the opportunity to help them. She hadn't really thought about how hard it would be for her, and she didn't feel sixteen anymore, or thirteen. Instead, she felt centuries old. Like the cobweb of an old ghost story caught in the rafters when the last breeze blew by.

"Anything you tell me is your business," Mary said. "Gossiping is bad and I wouldn't want to gossip about you." She wondered if this was an adequate explanation but thought she'd best leave it there. "If you're in danger, though, I'll have to talk to Deputy Headmistress Skies," she added carefully. "She cares about students and if you're in danger, then she wants to see if she can help and make sure that if there's an adult being mean to a child, that she can help. Does that make sense?"

She wasn't sure whether she hated the idea of warning Mr. Montoir about mandatory reporting and then having him clam up, confirming that he was indeed in danger, or the idea of not warning him and then him feeling like even more people were betraying him when he found out she'd told Deputy Headmistress Skies more. Honesty did seem to be the better option, and she waited for his reply with some nervousness, leaning towards her desk to take another cup of hot chocolate so she didn't make him uncomfortable.

22 Mary Brooding Lots of 'ploding. 1424 Mary Brooding 0 5

Dorian

September 17, 2018 12:28 AM

Luckily I have anti 'ploding potion by Dorian

Dorian breathed a sigh of relief as Professor Brooding told him that she wouldn’t tell anyone the things that he told her. There did seem to be a caveat to that though, to do with keeping people safe from danger, specifically dangerous or mean grown ups.

“This makes sense. But it is not happening,” he assured Professor Brooding. He wasn’t sure whether she was talking about other teachers or parents or both, but either way, he didn’t want her assuming that any of them were causing him a problem. He wondered where older brothers fit into that… Matthieu was not an adult yet, but legally speaking he would be next year. He knew though, that it would be far too telling to ask for a specific clarification on that point. And he didn’t really see what Professors Brooding and Skies would be able to do anyway. If a teacher was being mean, Professor Skies could tell them off or fire them, but they couldn’t remove him and Matthieu from each other’s lives. It didn’t matter anyway. Now that he knew better than to listen to what Matthieu was saying, it didn’t bother him half so much. It was just a few weeks a year. Matthieu was a bit rough with him sometimes, that was all. He wouldn’t say he was in danger from his brother - that was being melodramatic - it was more… an inconvenience, than anything.

Not that Matthieu was the reason he was here at all… This was all to do with his feelings for Jehan. That certainly fell under the first type of problem, the type where Professor Brooding would not tell because it would be gossiping, which was reassuring but still not to the extent that he actually wanted to talk to her about what was on his mind.

He watched her pour the hot chocolate. His thoat felt raw from all his crying, and he felt considerably less sick than he had done when he had come in. He supposed she was right regarding keeping all his feelings inside... He still wasn't sure he wanted the rich, sweet hot chocolate, but he knew something he did want.

"Perhaps there is something you can help with," he said softly, "A... particular potion, that would help me feel better. Very ancient Chinese idea, can cure almost anything." He was starting to smile as he said this. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small black tin decorated with various scenes of Chinese figures sitting under blossoming cherry trees. Although he had dropped his bag off in his room, this most essential supply travelled with him wherever he went. He flicked open the small hinged lid, his hand disappearing improbably far inside, and pulling out a tea strainer, which he placed over the spare cup on Professor Hawthorne's desk, followed by a small packet, labelled in handwriten Chinese, from which he tipped some small dried leaves. "You can make the hot water please?" he requested. "I mean, if you do not mind to do," he clarified, quite certain that Professor Brooding knew how to do the spell but wanting to make sure she did not mind either doing it for him or the lingering presence in her office that making him a cup of tea implied. He was relatively confident that neither of those points would be problematic, and was seeming more relaxed both by the prospect of tea and the fact that he felt familiar enough with Professor Brooding to ask for her assistance in making it. His life would be so much simpler once he had mastered the water conjuring charm and its varients. He had mastered heating water by magic, so if he had some, he could fend for himself, but he had not stocked up before leaving the dormitories. "Around eighty degree is right for jasmine, if you are to be this specific. Uh, that is centigrade," he added, remembering the confusion he had felt over the medic's thermometre and its improbably high readings last year, "Just small amount from exactly boiling," he offered, able to give an explanation if not a conversion. "Please also take if you would like. There is also smoked oolong and green tea. Perhaps also some others..." He routinely had at least six main varieties of tea in stock in his room, plus currently there were several types of some of them (green teas from different regions, for example) although it was only the three he had mentioned that he made sure to keep about his person at all times, occasionally others msde their way into his pocket tea caddy if he thought he might need them.

13 Dorian Luckily I have anti 'ploding potion 1401 Dorian 0 5