fandomhigh | Applied Inventiontronics, Perid 4

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Applied Inventiontronics, Perid 4 - Week 6

Glitch was at the front of the class again today, and on each desk were a few sheets of clean, un-lined paper and two pencils.

"Today, you're going to be working on the look of your inventions. For the first half of the class, I want you to sketch out a design. It doesn't have to be too detailed, but, the idea is that you'll get a feel for how it will all come together and look when it's done. Remember things like functionality and overall aesthetic appeal."

He smiled reassuringly at them, because this next part he was afraid they wouldn't really like.

"The second half of class, you'll be showing your sketches to your classmates and critiquing each other." There was a stern look before he continued with, "Nicely, please."

A moment, then, as he looked at them a bit expectantly before he realized he hadn't told them yet to begin.

"Oh, uhm, right. Go ahead. Begin!"

[ooc: ~~Please wait for~~ The OCD is there, waiting for you.]

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If you just can't leave yet or need to talk, he's hanging around afterwards.

There was a nervous bundle of Ozian waiting for him at the end of class.

Glitch was there, expecting said Ozian.

"Have you decided anything? You don't need to right now, you know, if you want more time to think about it."

"No," he said quickly, eyes flicking to the zipper. Between the zipper and his eyes and the green holds quite a few things: nervousness, a strange sort of terror, and a painful kind of empathy.

"No, I'd like to meet the Queen and ask for her help. I'd say it was necessary, even."

He nodded seriously, if one can nod seriously, and looked to Liir.

"I'll send word and see about arrangements, then. Did something else happen?"

"Yes."

Wait.

"No."

Oh this wasn't going well.

"That is, something didn't happen but I need to speak with you about something I remembered because, um..."

Dammit.

Edited 2008-02-11 21:52 (UTC)

He sat up a bit straighter with worry.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

He breathed out. One. Two.

"Can I speak to you privately? Or, um, whatever level of privacy you'd be comfortable with that's private enough for--"

He breathed in now. One. Two. He was making Ino so many cookies.

"I just had something of a slap to the face," he said, more calmly now, "and I need to speak to you about it but I wanted you to know that I would definitely like to go see the Queen because I don't think I can keep what little sanity I do have otherwise."

Without doing something.

Without knowing he was doing something. That was the worst part.

Glitch took a moment to look around the empty classroom.

"You can tell me here, now, unless you'd like to see me in my office tomorrow about it."

"I remembered something of yours."

And it was a mark of how young he was in some ways that his eyes were right no the zipper.

Oh, he saw where Liir's eyes had gone and there was a sudden, horrible guilt building up in his stomach.

"What was it?"

"Don't," and it came out an order. He didn't know where it had come from, or why, but there was authority in his voice. The second after it was out of him, he almost startled at the idea that it'd been him. Especially with a teacher!

His voice softened.

"Don't, please. It's my fault. Whatever it was, and I'll only tell you if you're sure, it's not your fault. It's mine."

He swallowed, hard, and sat up almost painfully straight.

The look he gave Liir now was as devoid of guilt as he could make it, and as full of concern as he was.

"It isn't your fault. Now, tell me what you saw."

"It's my fault whether I meant to or not. I'm not claiming malignancy, only incompetence."

He breathed out.

Closed his eyes.

And all he said was

"Count backwards from 100..."

He gasped, then frowned, then looked down as his back slumped.

"I'm sorry you saw that."

Even now, he could barely remember it, but he knew what memory it was and how horrible it had been. It wasn't something Liir should ever have to see.

He shook his head, but didn't look up.

"I'm sorry it happened. I'm sorry I had to tell you. I--"

He breathed out.

"Whatever it is, this can't continue. I can't let it continue because... because I can't. I don't have the right to... to let whatever I think, that is, whatever it is, I have to do something about it because if I don't I'm just letting it happen and I can't do that."

He reached out a hand as if to touch Professor Ambrose.

"You're--"

He swallowed.

"You're too important for that. Especially to me."

Glitch looked up at that, and put a hand on Liir's arm.

"I'll send a letter today, then."

He breathed out and nodded to Professor Ambrose.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

Re: After Class (2/11)

a-no-brainer.livejournal.com - 2008-02-12 00:32 (UTC) - Expand

Re: After Class (2/11)

new-to-liirness.livejournal.com - 2008-02-12 02:46 (UTC) - Expand

"Professor," Doom said, approaching Glitch. "Doom requires your assistance on a scholarly matter."

Oh, Ozma, it was the one made of metal. He tried to remember what Harriet had said about detention.

"Yes?"

[ooc: Sorry this took so long. Children are very distracting.]

"I need access to the Special Collections section of the library in order to do the advanced research on potential fuels for my invention that I wish to employ. A pass from a faculty member is required in order to enter it, however," Doom said. He was leaving some unimportant information out about what else he might wish to read up on in there, of course. "Therefore, Doom requests that you provide him with a pass."

Almost as an afterthought, he said, "Please." Politeness might make him seem less like a maniac in armor, after all.

[OOC: Not a problem! Some slowplay may be necessary due to sleep, though.]

Glitch nodded. Research was good. Less things went wrong when there was proper research. The whole thing where he was talking in the third person was a little off-putting, but, he could overlook that. He probably shouldn't, but, there you have it.

"Is there an official pass I need to fill out for you? Or do you just need a piece of paper from me that says you can go in?"

"A piece of paper should suffice," Doom said. "Doom offers you his thanks. This will make my invention all the greater."

"Alright, then," he said, getting a clean sheet of paper and writing down his permission.

There may have been a few synapses, near back, firing away that this was a bad idea, but they were generally ignored as he handed the paper to Doom.

"You're welcome."

Doom nodded regally as he took the paper, then turned on his heel toward the door, sweeping his cape behind him with practiced flair.

Because if you dressed, spoke, and acted the way Doom did, and actually had the audacity to call yourself 'Doctor Doom', you went the extra length to make sure that you had the proper amount of flair when exiting a room.

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