History of Poisons, Thursday Per 2

[glacial_queen]

Class was once again in a Danger Shop meadow. This time, instead of being surrounded by poisonous plants, there were easels set up surrounded by various art supplies. Oils, watercolors, pastels, and, of course, charcoals. She couldn't leave that out. There was also a stranger sitting in the middle, in front of his own easel with a palette of oil paints.

"So, we're taking it easy this week," Karla said, likely to the surprise of no one. "I can't see any of us looking to discuss poisons today. Draw, paint, color--do whatever you want to do. Paint through your trauma if that's your thing, paint anything that catches your fancy if it isn't. Or, if you'd prefer, watch Mr. Ross paint whatever he has planned today. Relax and enjoy your day." She nodded to a table full of moddable snacks. "Eat up. No tricks, no sneakiness, nothing to watch out for today. Just have a good day, okay?"

Self Defense, Thursday, Period One

[suitably_heroic]

They were in the Danger Shop today, sure, but it was set up more or less exactly like the gym with a shooting range attached. Both in the gym and as the targets in the range were dummies. Dummies whose faces provided a close, if not exactly 1:1 (both because Atton had no pictures and because he didn't want to re-traumatize any kids by making this too realistic) representations of a melodramatic evil demon grifter they might recognize.

"Hi," Atton offered. "Today, we're not so much doing self defense as self-therapy."

He pointed at a rack that hosted an array of weapons, ranging from the traditional to tire irons and a baseball bat. Then he pointed at a table full of blasters.

"Have fun," he said.

And then he sat down behind his desk.

...with the remains of his phone.

Library, Thursday (4/2)

[wildandbrave]

Productivity, it seemed, was going to be a challenge today.

The problem -- to start with, at least -- was that Cosette's morning walks lately had revolved around checking up on things, making sure that the island's recovery from the last few weeks was still progressing well. She wasn't worried, exactly; she was just relieved to see things going back to . . . well, relatively normal, and she did have a certain mother-hen capacity.

Preoccupied with the preserve as she was today, Cosette didn't seem to manage to stay at the circulation desk or anywhere in the library for very long at all before disappearing.

. . . and then reappearing shortly afterward. Her consternation at constantly ending up back in the preserve was offset by her trying to figure out how she'd gotten there: she kept tracing her steps back to the library and thinking about that in the process of attempting to puzzle out why she kept reappearing in the preserve, and, well.

Really not a productive day.

[OOC: No OCD today but open!]

The Art of BS, Thursday, April 2, 2015

[professor-lyman.livejournal.com]

"Yesterday's phone problems should have been this class's FINEST HOURS," Josh declared, sipping from his mug. "Tell me your tales of glory and what messages you sent out into the void to make life more confusing for everyone. I share with you the finest muffins and bagels in all the land."

He gestured to the pastries on his desk. "Or at leat the good ones here on the island. Anyway. Tell me about your trolling yesterday. Or make something up. Like I care."