fandomhigh | Independent Study: Thursday

The door to Jones' office was open and she sat behind her desk waiting for her students to arrive. The office was currently filled with several boxes filled with books waiting to be unpacked however there was just enough room for Jones and her students to squeeze in.

When everyone had gathered, Jones greeted everyone politely though it seemed to lack any kind of emotion. She then launched directly into class discussion.

"The goal of this course is for you to pursue a course of study that interests you," she began. "At the end of the semester you will be doing a presentation in front of the student body on the topic of choice. How you present this information is up to you though I will warn you this is 100% of your grade. There will be other activities in class as we go along. Some will involve your topic of choice. Others will not."

She leaned back slightly in her chair causing it to groan loudly. She leveled a look at each of her students as though she was evaluating their every move.

"You will be expected to do research outside of class as well as within. Today we shall keep things simple: Tell me and the group what topics you would like to research and why."

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"My world is a horrifying example of what happens when humanity stops giving a damn about rules," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "So many people think anarchy and lawlessness would be some sort of nonstop party. They forget about the worst of humanity. Orphanages selling children for medical experimentation, prostitution, drugs and weapons sold on every street corner. Life is cheap."

Sparkle... couldn't quite help but shudder a little at that thing Eleanor said about orphanages. That...

That was fucked up in all kinds of ways.

"Does that really happen?" He glanced her way. "The kids being sold... thing? Like, I wouldn't put it past, I've seen people do a lot of fucked up things to kids when they think they won't get caught. But I've never heard it... you know... listed like that before."

Eleanor could easily lie, here, or even be vague. Except -- Sparkle had seemed to know, when she had first arrived here, how to make money stretch. Sparkle had seen some ugliness himself. So ... maybe he'd understand, and not treat it like it made her some kind of freakish alien.

"I was one of them," she said, softly. She folded her arms around her chest and carefully didn't look up. "It wasn't even a secret. Everybody knew. No one cared."

Sometimes, she dreamed about going back there just long enough to burn it to the ground.

Sparkle just nodded.

Yeah. He'd been afraid of that answer.

"It's fucking sick," he noted, "how hard it is to find somebody who actually gives a shit enough to do something about it. There are plenty of people who say, 'but think of the children.' It's a way different story, finding someone who actually does think of the fucking children."

At least, it had been from where he had been standing, too.

"'Think of the children' is just a manipulative ploy," Eleanor nodded. "A way to appeal to the mawkish sentimentality. Actually giving a damn about the children requires effort, and who has time for that, when there's profit to be made."

He could join her in the Cynics' Corner. Always room for more.

It was a good corner. It was full of excellent company.

And full of survivors.

"Pretty words make more money than results half the time anyway," Sparkle snorted, shaking his head. "Fuck, I'm sorry you had to go through that bullshit."

He'd kind of figured there was some sort of history when she'd showed up at Demon Marcus that one time. It seemed to him like maybe that was going to become his new-semester ritual. Clothing the naked, or whatever it was.

Maybe it was just that there was a look in the eye of the people who knew what it was all about.

"I got out," Eleanor said. "That's what I remind myself, whenever I get too angry about it. I got out."

That didn't make any of it okay, but it was so much better than it might have been. It was the silver lining she focused on, when the rage got too strong.

"... and thank you," she added. Because -- from him, it didn't sound like pity. It sounded more like he understood.

Sparkle just nodded. He didn't say 'you're welcome.' That always seemed to cheapen it, like he was doing people a favour or something when really, he was just telling it like it was. And anyway, when someone who got it was in a position to say it, that was just as good for him.

It meant he was that much less alone.

"You got out," he agreed, instead. "We all got out. We're here, right? So fuck everyone who made it so we know how to talk about this shit in the first place. This is our victory."

Jones waited for what she thought was an appropriate time for what appeared to be an emotional topic for Eleanor.

"With your personal history tied up with such atrocities, would you be willing to research such topics?" Jones asked. "I would understand if you chose something easier for you to research."

"I wouldn't mind," Eleanor said. "In fact, I might prefer it. But it might not make for a very pleasant -- presentation, to the student body."

The downsides of anarchy, or genetic experimentation throughout history. Neither of those were especially cheerful. Just a forewarning.

"Making something pleasant to the student body doesn't interest me," Jones clarified. "In fact showing the students and faculty here such topics could open one or two minds."

Independent Study: Thursday - Period Three

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