fandomhigh | Debating: In Defense of Rhetoric, Tuesday

Entry tags:

polar opposites

Debating: In Defense of Rhetoric, Tuesday

To say Alistair was twitchy in his new uniform would be massively understating it.

For one, it didn't quite... fit. For two, it was itchy. For three, it meant leaving his armor at home for the day, which felt wrong. He'd tried to compensate for it by wearing his shield on his back, but the whole affair still felt light and wrong and... ... he scratched at his arm. "Hello everyone," he said. "Today, we'll be having your final. We talked about this last week, obviously..." Had they?

He couldn't remember. The uniform. It was itching.

HE didn't have to wear these pumps or whatever on his FEET. Morrigan was not amused. In protest of taking away her leathers, she'd stuck some raven-feathers into her usual hairstyle, and let her various bangles and necklaces chime freely. She'd rolled up the ridiculous sleeves so she could at least feel the air on her arms, if nothing else.

"We did," she stated firmly. "For those members of class today who are NOT normally enrolled--" Fade-cursed demons that they were, "--students were to pick a topic near and dear to their hearts, and today either debate for or against it, and prepare to defend themselves against their classmates using the proper rules of debate."

"Which we have been teaching them," said Alistair, who had affected something of a hop as he attempted to scratch his ankle, "these past few months-- I'm sure they'll be-- good at it--"

"And if they aren't, they fail." Way to be cheerful, Morrigan. "In the light of sharing and continual learning aspects of Fandom High School, we also invite our school board members and benefactors ~~if they are here~~ to participate as well."

That's right, students. Morrigan just declared Open Season if any of the observers are ~~stupid~~ brave enough to join the debates today. She and Alistair figured it was a civilized method of revenge.

Yes, they agreed on something. Don't faint.

Alistair had at last scratched the itch on his ankle, and was now lowering his foot with a mildly guilty expression on his face. "Sorry about that," he said, "You know-- plaid."

Actually, he didn't know about plaid. Except that it was itchy. "But yes, you are all invited. We'll be starting with whoever's first at the front, unless someone would like to volunteer, and you're all invited to debate whatever point has just been raised. Everyone at least try to have something to say, please?"

Alistair beamed at the class. "Get to it," he said encouragingly, and rolled his shoulders to get rid of some of the strain the uniform was putting on him.

At which point the stitching tore and half the sleeve came off. "Oh, Andraste's flaming bloody sword, again?!" Beat. "Pretend I didn't say that."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Like your uniform actually fits.

Gabrielle

Quinn Fabray

Percy Jackson

Annie Edison

Dana Scully

As you do.

The skirt didn't bother Gabrielle, and she'd worn itchier fabrics before. What was making her uncomfortable here was this whole covered-midriff business, though. It had been years, okay? Barring the few occasions where she'd had to wear a disguise or something, she wasn't used to that sensation any more.

So . . . she was listening to the instructions and all, just fidgeting the whole time, and debating whether she wanted to just sort of . . . rip the bottom half of this shirt off and claim an unfortunate mishap with --

Well.

She'd have to think of something for that.

One thing you believe in strongly. Defend it.

Everyone else is welcome to join in, including our benefactors.

Scully stood up, face set, and then smiled. "I'd like to put forth the idea that private school uniforms promote conformity, elitism, group-think, and itching."

Once she's pinged in!

Quinn had hemmed and rolled her skirt so it was about as short as it could get and still legally be considered a skirt, and somehow her blouse had lost a button or two. She was actually getting kind of into the schoolgirl look.

... as for class, she was just hoping nobody decided to debate on "best invasion ever" or something.

Itchiness and heels and all.

Alistair was there, and still really, really itchy. And partially sleeveless.

Oh, Alistair, you lucky man! You get to meet Thurston Howell III!

Who's, frankly speaking, a little concerned about all of the itching.

"Hello, my good man," he said, holding his hand out to have it shaken.

Well, Thurston Howell the Third, Alistair was... a bit busy using that hand to hold up his sleeve, as a matter of fact.

"Yes, hello," he said, finding himself forced to make a razor-quick judgment between hand-shaking and losing the rest of his sleeve.

The sleeve fell merrily down to the floor. Er, sorry if his grip was a little strong, Thurston. "It's an honor to meet you."

He had no idea who Thurston Howell the Third was. But he knew nobles.

Thurston flexed his fingers a bit to get the circulation going again and stared at the sleeve. "Something wrong with your shirt?"

"It's... not... quite... my size?" Alistair tried.

The shield on his back probably didn't help either.

"Well that won't do at all!" Thurston declared, finally noticing the shield. "Did it rip across the back too?"

So he had to cover it with a car's hubcap?

It was sort of big and... decorated... for a hubcap. Not that Alistair was at all interested in debating the details of his shield with Thurston when he was supposed to pretend to be 'normal', whatever that was.

"Yes," he tried. "Lots of ripping going on. I'm a bit new here and I'm used to clothes being heavier and... less... stretchy?"

"Well that's just terrible!" Thurston declared. "Where's the money going if it's not being spent on non-tearable uniforms?"

Or non-terrible ones, either.

Alistair shrugged his big shoulders. "I don't know," he said. "Field trips? Education? That's an important thing, you know. Educating youth."

He was just saying what he thought he should be saying.

"What sort of educational trips have you offered?" Thurston wondered.

"We don't really do any trips?" Alistair offered. "I mean. We mostly sit about and talk about... all those terribly important issues that men argue about."

Thurston nodded. "War, politics, religion, the financial section of the Wall Street Journal?"

Alistair squinted. "Right," he said, "The Wall Street Journal. I've been to Wall Street a few times myself... it's very-- well-garrisoned."

"Riiiiight," Thurston said slowly. This was reminding him of trying to hold a conversation with Gilligan. "Probably to keep those cut-throat brokers in their proper offices!" he added, laughing.

"Don't you people have swords for that?"

It was a toss-up whether he was actually that naive about the 21st century, or just making a joke.

Thurston laughed even harder. "Of course we do!"

It entirely ~~probable~~ possible he wasn't sure he knew what he was laughing about.

Morrigan was there, and trying not to walk too much, least she fall over.

Apostates in Thedas didn't exactly ever learn to walk in heels. Too busy wearing boots and staying away from civilization.

Oh, Morrigan, you weren't getting out of an awkward conversation, either.

"Hello, young lady! I am Thurston Howell III."

"Morrigan. I'm sure I'm charmed." Morrigan, that wasn't a smile, it was basically showing your teeth. "Have you seen everything you were curious about yet?"

Please say yes, Thurston?"

"Oh, I'm just getting started!" Thurston said jovially.

"Oh. Lovely," she managed. "What sort of things are you planning on doing before you leave?"

Thurston smiled. "Well I have to buy my wife something from the jewelry store, of course, try out some more of the restaurants, find a real estate agent...you know, the usual sorts of thing."

"Real estate agent?" she asked slowly. Morrigan wasn't familiar with the term, but she tried to phrase it as an innocent question. "Why, indeed, I do not think I have heard of one here. What do you need one for?"

"To talk about real estate, of course, my dear!" he said, laughing. "I collect islands, you see."

La! Last class!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Debating: In Defense of Rhetoric, Tuesday

Sign In!

Re: Sign In!

Re: Sign In!

no subject

no subject

no subject

Listen to the Instructions

Re: Listen to the Instructions

Get Up There And Debate!

Re: Get Up There And Debate!

Talk to the TA

Re: Talk to the TA

Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

Re: Talk to the Teachers

OOC