Pouring out my thoughts on Care of Magical Creatures

Lawrence Marsh

May 03, 2020 2:59 PM

Pouring out my thoughts by Lawrence Marsh

The dark liquid slowly ran into the decanter as the sweet aroma rose to Lawrence’s nose. His father had been adamant that he take some of the port with him, even though Lawrence kept trying to remind his father that he was recovering from addiction.

“Nonsense. I bought this for you when you were born. Now, you need to take it with you and consume it.” Lawrence had tried to fight, but had decided in the end that maybe those in his flock might need a drink every once in a while. Not the students of course, he wasn't looking to lose his flock, just the teachers.

Lawrence’s father tended towards upholding specific traditions in weird ways like that. Buy port for your son when he’s born and save it till he’s 21. But his father, being that Lawrence was his first and only son, had gotten excited and bought four cases, and then saved it till Lawrence was 34. Now his father could now drink because of gout, nor Lawrence because of his past. So Lawrence brought back a case, hoping someone, maybe Killian of Gray, would enjoy it.

Still, Lawrence had enjoyed his time at home this summer. He’d gone and visited his former Care teacher, Professor Mahanand, surprising him in his classroom as he finished grading paper and cleaning up from the school year. It was strange to think that this man who’d seemed so old and mature when Lawrence was in school was still teaching. Lawrence now guessed that the man had been roughly the age Lawrence was now when he first started taking classes with him. But Professor Mahanand, “Please call me Jason”, had been welcoming. Showing Lawrence around and excited to hear that his former pupil was now a teacher at an American school. They had talked late into the night about a myriad of things and as Lawrence walked to the floo he’d been sad to leave this older man. One who’d seemed so strong and put together in his youth and who now seemed so, alone and without friends. Yearning for the interaction of humans, not just animals. He felt like his former professor was pacing like captive Snow Lions he’d seen in his studies. Producing milk to nourish the soul and minds of those who consume it, but constrained and with the look of an animal that had abandoned.

I can’t have that happen to me, thought Lawrence as he waved goodbye, promising his Professor that he’d write and send a bottle of port.

As soon as he’d gotten to his parents that night, Lawrence had cut his beard and hair. He didn’t shave it off, which had been his initial instinct. He’d been Mahanand’s student the last time he had a clean face, and the thought of what he might look like with a shaved face and head scared him a little. Still, he felt that a short crop beard was necessary for blending in with his found flock and ensuring that they kept coming to see him.

Lawrence sent the now empty bottle to the trash can as he finished tidying up his office. He folded his arms in front of himself. New year, new Lawrence. He was going to ensure he wasn’t alone, after all humans, unlike many animals Lawrence had dealt with, were social creatures.

41 Lawrence Marsh Pouring out my thoughts 1462 1 5

Killian Row

May 03, 2020 3:23 PM

Cheers, mate! by Killian Row

Killian spent a lot of time before students arrived trying to be helpful. He had his own lesson plans to work on and he had things to get in order, but not like the academic staff did. Perhaps he was hard on himself, but he didn't see himself at their level. He saw his work as equally important, but it didn't take an expert to set young people up with jobs or schools or help them practice this skill or that.

It was the evenings that got to him. The evenings when couples were tucking into their quarters, night owls were working on the next piece of their curriculum, and others just were there. Killian was just there.

But, to be fair, he suspected Marsh was too. He was hopeful that after the conversation at the Ball, he had made some real friends. It would be nice to finally have some. Plus he'd spent the summer with his recently un-estranged recovering alcoholic brother and he could really do with a stiff drink. Normally he wasn't one to indulge that way but this coming year might just drive him to it. However, he had no way of knowing which if any of his colleagues dealt with similar problems, and so he'd brought a fresh loaf of warm sourdough bread instead. Who didn't like bread? Plus it had the lovely side effect of filling a mouth when distractions or stalling were helpful.

Also it was stinking delicious.

He knocked on Marsh's door, suddenly feeling the need to adjust his clothes or something. But he was just wearing a tee shirt and jeans, and there wasn't much to adjust when wearing literally the most casual thing his colleagues would ever see him in. Probably. So he did not adjust a thing and stood there for a moment to see whether Marsh would let him in.

22 Killian Row Cheers, mate! 1450 0 5

Lawrence Marsh

May 04, 2020 1:39 PM

Salaamat! or Maujaa!... probably more apt for you Slainte? by Lawrence Marsh

There was a knock on the door, almost like a large woodpecker. Lawrence turned slowly from his desk. He was not used to students, or really anyone, knocking on his door. He supposed he might appear intimidating to some of the younger students, but the older ones never appeared either. Then again, none of them were here yet, so it was probably one of the other teachers.

“Come on in,” Lawrence said as he put the stopper in the decanter, the dark liquid sloshing around a bit as he put it back behind his desk. If Lawrence had not grown up in his house, he might assume that there was a big potion bottle behind his desk. As it was, he knew that this was a Waterford decanter from 1900. One his great grandfather received from some Minister or another. And it was filled with a delicious port, one he would not imbibe. Actually, come to think of it, this was a potion bottle. Just a potion that taste more delicious.

Even before the door opened Lawrence’s nose poured into his stomach. The smell of deliciously warm bread filled his nostrils. It took a moment for Lawrence to get his mind out of his stomach.

“Whoever that is, your bread smells delightful. I hope you are coming to share” Lawrence said, suddenly finding himself hungry.

41 Lawrence Marsh Salaamat! or Maujaa!... probably more apt for you Slainte? 1462 0 5

Killian Row

May 04, 2020 1:56 PM

You've figured me out! by Killian Row

Killian grinned to himself as he pushed the door open. "Good nose," he told his colleague. "Definitely coming to share. I could eat it all by myself but that seems a bit much."

He shut the door behind him and took a seat across from the COMC professor. It was the third sort of way Killian had seen him after the Ball and his usual class presence (which he extended to staff meetings and school meals, so perhaps 'staff' presence was more accurate. It was nice to see the man and Killian realized for the first time how much summer had really taken out of him. He was close to his parents and happy to have visited them, but getting to know Bonny and Lorcan (again in the case of the latter) was exhausting, on top of all the work he'd done. He probably could have waited on that, because now he was mostly just ghosting about the halls of Sonora, but that was just as well.

He'd brought the bread in a paper bag - because only a maniac would carry a loaf of bread around with him with full raw fingies to loaf contact - and removed it in order to share. It crackled under his touch, giving all the signs of a friggin' delicious loaf, and he sliced it with a quick charm before passing Marsh a slice and sitting back in his chair. "You got a trim over summer," Killian acknowledged, scratching at his own overgrown stubble with a smile. He hadn't done a thing about his hair either, of course, but his dirty pirate appearance was mostly chocked up to a passable beard, from what his mother had to say about it. "It looks good," he added, in case Marsh was one to overthink a comment like that in passing. "Other than that, did you have a good summer?"

22 Killian Row You've figured me out! 1450 0 5

Lawrence Marsh

May 04, 2020 2:15 PM

Just the Irish Part... the rest is still a confusion by Lawrence Marsh

It was Killian. Except not exactly? Lawrence had pictured Killian as some kind of predator in a wide open space waiting, but now he looked... worn down. Maybe he was still a predator, but more like a gryphon that hadn’t been able to catch pray for a while. Lawrence’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. Something seemed wrong. What do you do when the counselor is the one who is in trouble? Lawrence hadn’t experienced this before.

He brought out a bag that the smell was emanating from and pulled out some amazing looking bread. He rummaged around in his desk and pulled out a bowie knife in its sheath and then looked around for something to cut it on and then looked down at his desk. It wasn’t going to be perfect forever, so he might as well right?

He grabbed the end of the bowie knife and pulled it from the sheath holding it in one hand. “Oh… thank you,” he said, his other hand running his hand over his beard. “It feels weird still. Especially the long hair.” He reached up his unencumbered hand to play with the air next to his head which used to have hair.

“Can I cut off some pieces?” Lawrence asked before realizing Killian had cut some. “Or I could pour you a glass of port,” he said pointing the knife towards the decanter behind him.

He thought that Killian just needed to sit and relax and possibly not do anything. Lawrence did many things, true. He felt like he was partially the grounds keeper as well as the Care teacher. It was only when teaching though did he really do them with people. Killian seemed to only do things with other people. Just thinking about it made Lawrence tired. Maybe that’s why Killian was tired. He doubted it though. Killian was a social animal. Much more so than Lawrence. But Lawrence did find he enjoyed company, especially in small groups, like the three of them at the dance. Or now with just two.

41 Lawrence Marsh Just the Irish Part... the rest is still a confusion 1462 Lawrence Marsh 0 5

Killian Row

May 04, 2020 5:54 PM

Eh, that's the most interesting bit about me. by Killian Row

Killian chuckled when Marsh's instinct was a Bowie knife. That seemed like something he would have added to Marsh's file too, probably under proficiencies. Maybe also philosophies. It was a bit like how Gary looked at the world through a gaming, strategy lens, and Mara looked at it through a business one. Maybe Marsh looked at it in a wild way, as something to hack through as necessary but otherwise leave to grow wild as it would. Did that make him a wild animal? Or a feral child?

"I sort of wish I'd let you do it now," he said, gesturing at the knife with a smile. "But I wouldn't say no to port. Thank you! My brother's been in recovery for a while and I'm not usually much of a drinker, but it's been a long summer and a good drink sounds like the right medicine for it. And good company of course." He smiled at Marsh. It was easy to do. For all that the man seemed not to be terribly comfortable with social settings, he was pleasant to socialise with. Plus he was one of the ones Killian would put into the 'pleasant to look at' group too, which was definitely a perk. It made Killian feel a bit more like a potato, but at least he looked okay in a tee shirt. Pretty good, actually, for a potato.

Long hair was not something Killian could imagine having the patience for. Crying kids and job fairs were much easier than basic hygiene most days, let alone anything more extensive like brushing his hair. "Probably a lot cooler, right?" he asked, taking a bite of bread and a drink from the glass Marsh gave him.

22 Killian Row Eh, that's the most interesting bit about me. 1450 Killian Row 0 5

Lawrence Marsh

May 04, 2020 7:35 PM

We all have our interesting animals inside us too. by Lawrence Marsh

Lawrence could see Killian thinking something behind his eyes. A gleam came up, like a fire in the night. What was that Muggle Poem his mom was always quoting? He thought as he laid down his knife on the desk.

For some reason, the way Killian was looking at him briefly made Lawrence think about that poem again. The line In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? etched its way across his mind as he turned around to grab one cup and the decanter.

Luckily, Lawrence’s face was turned away from Killian when he mentioned that his brother was a recovering alcoholic. It was just a brief second of hesitation. He assumed that Killian, being a counselor had a file on him, and maybe he was letting Lawrence know. Lawrence turned back with a cup in one hand and the decanter in the other. Was it comforting chatter or was it an emergency call stating that there was a danger nearby.

No, it looked more like Killian was trying to tell Lawrence something else and Lawrence couldn’t figure it out. What signal was Killian trying to give. Or maybe he just needed to not be a counselor for a minute. Lawrence paused, he didn’t know what Killian knew or didn’t know. He knew Selina knew enough, she had after all come to him in the clinic to give him this job. He could hear his counselor from the clinic. Let people in. It’s good for you. Maybe all that doddering old man had said wasn’t dribble. He didn’t want to end up like Manahand right?

“Well, if you haven’t seen my file. You should know your brother and me have something in common,” Lawrence said as he poured. “Alcohol wasn’t my alteration of choice. But I don’t imbibe all the same. Still, my dad…” he said waving his hand towards the decanter of port sitting on his desk. “Thus, when you need a drink, feel free.”

Then Killian seemed so calm and collected. Like an animal in his element. How was someone so calm like that Lawrence wondered. Killian looked tired, but still in his element. Lawrence looked down Killian's arms. He didn’t expect to see any marks from the dark cloak. Still, never hurt to look.

“Umm, I hadn’t noticed a change in heat,” Lawrence said seriously. “I have noticed that animals can’t catch hold of me as easily. Also it is a shorter time to get ready in the morning.” If Lawrence had been thinking about it more clearly, he would have done some experiments to test the heat reaction. He’d always wondered about the effect shearing animals has on them and he’d gone and sheared himself without doing any evaluation of it.

“It is an interesting thought though,” Lawrence said as he picked up a piece of bread. “Maybe I’ll have to collect some data on it.” Then he took a bite and the warm feeling of fresh bread flowed down into his stomach. It hit a few spots he didn’t know that needed to be hit with his food.
“Did you make this? Or did one of the Prairie Elves? Tuppy and Chit are good bakers, but I don’t remember bread like this.”

41 Lawrence Marsh We all have our interesting animals inside us too. 1462 0 5

Killian Row

May 05, 2020 12:42 AM

What's yours? by Killian Row

Killian himself was a fairly careful person. He was messy, sure, but he was deliberate. Each piece of paper had a place, each stack had a purpose, each file had a name. But Marsh made him look like a brute. He moved like he could individually control each little muscle, and did so just to do things a little more carefully or gently. There was no doubt that he was a strong dude - his job demanded it - but he didn't slam anything and the difference between him moving and him pausing was the almost imperceptible shift from moving muscles to sustaining muscles. Killian had seen street fairs and things where people painted themselves to look like statues and then stood still on the sidewalk or something. The very best ones were impossible to pick out until they moved, until they decided the charade was over. He was surprised, then, when Marsh decided right then to move.

He had, of course, suspected that there was something in Marsh' past that made the man react a little differently than may have been expected, but he hadn't known for sure what that might be. The look in his eyes, the way he tensed or untensed... those could be the signs of trauma as well as addiction as well as anything else, but those were often intertwined and Killian found that it was best not to make assumptions.

"I don't have files on staff members," Killian smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement as that was precisely what he'd been thinking about. "At least not physically. I have found that keeping so many feeling cabinets and drawers has given me a habit of thinking in compartments as well. Or perhaps it went the other way." He'd heard it compared to waffles before, where each little waffle box filled up with syrup and several could be full without running into each other if one tried. Except . . . well, were waffles all boxy because people wanted to keep the syrup like that? Or the syrup was simply like that because of the boxes? Perhaps it was something else entirely; a waffle without boxes was just a crappy pancake. A Killian without files was just a dork in a tee shirt.

He wasn't about to tell Marsh not to give him a drink if he wasn't also going to have one, but it was a bit awkward drinking in front of someone who wasn't going to at all. Really, it was just a few lines of small talk away from drinking alone with an audience. Not that this was necessarily small talk.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Both for the drink and for telling me." He paused in case Marsh wanted to say anything else, although he filled the moment with grabbing another slice of warm bread. He knew it was a tactic he used with students - be quiet without making them feel awkward, and if they had anything to say, they would. If they didn't, then it wasn't awkward and they could move on. When he was confident that that topic was concluded, he asked about Marsh' hair.

The professor was a serious man, which struck Killian as very funny. Somehow he seemed like someone who would do a back handspring off a surfboard, tuck and roll into a somersault across the beach, and then jump up and shoot finger guns at someone because they'd made a pun. Maybe that said more about Killian's tendency towards lightheartedness than it did about Marsh himself. Either way, data was something Killian could get behind, and his job would be easier if others would too, so he nodded encouragingly at the idea. "That would be very interesting to think about. I wonder if it's not too noticeable because humans don't have that much hair on the whole? Like it isn't as if we're walking around covered in it the way animals and such often are."

He grinned at the compliment about his baking, and further added a note to his mental file on Marsh, both that he could be won over with quality baked goods and that he was probably an elf rights activist to some degree. Both of those things were very interesting, but it was the first that begged more questions. Did he like the bread because he had never had much by way of homemade goods, so it was a delicious surprise? Or because he had had so much that it was a nostalgic reminder? Perhaps he was simply very hungry, or else he had a sore throat, for which soft warm bread was a good remedy. Perhaps he just liked sourdough, which was perfectly fine because Killian thought it was better than-- well, he really liked fresh sourdough bread.

"I did," he said happily. "And thank you. The elves make incredible food here, but there's something so special about making it yourself, you know? Bread especially is such a physical task and there's some level of risk involved, all to get a relatively small thing of bread. But yet, people have been doing it for hundreds if not thousands of years, and in much greater quantity than I've done. To bake is to participate in the oral tradition of our rumbling bellies, I think." He savored his own bite for a moment before following it with another drink of the port. It really was very good. "Do you cook much? What are your hobbies when you're not professoring?" he smiled.

22 Killian Row What's yours? 1450 Killian Row 0 5