fandomhigh | [Tactics of War] Monday 6-8 PM

Eighth purses her lips and glares at her students as they file in.

“I hope you are all well and had a pleasant spring break. I apologizing for missing class two weeks previous but I see you survived my absence. ~~Pity~~.

Now, please pull out your notebooks and pay sharp attention and take good notes.”

She lectures on the English Civil War (called the Anarchy) between King Stephen and the Empress Maud which occurred around 1135 to 1154 A.D. It should easily be obvious who Eighth supports as the rightful ruler of England, especially considering her marriage choices and ability to form worthy allegiances with the right men.

She also tells the story of how Maud escapes from a besieged castle – once cloaked in white and lowered from a snowy tower wall and thus camouflaged and once carried out as a ‘corpse’ and easily whisked away to safety once passed the guards.

“Now, for your in class assignment – and do turn it in before leaving - I want for you to write three discussion points for next week’s class concerning the difficulties and challenges women leaders have in wartime. If, for example, you come from the background of Miss Sun where gender is irrelevant, please discuss examples from cultures that are not as enlightened as hers.

Also, I would appreciate it, Miss Carter, if you remained after class for a moment, thank you.”

[[ooc: *sniff* This is RC’s last class teaching at FH. Much love, kisses and happy mind probing to you all.]]

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Snarling again, she turned to flee out the door, but not without leaving a quick present of acid, shooting out of her hands and hitting desks, wall, floor and Mac's cast. And she was gone.

Janet ducked over Sam to block the acid, but hoping none splashed on either of them.

Thankfully, none seemed to.

Mac looked down and saw his cast swiftly dissolving under the acid. He immediately pulled out his knife and started to cut through the cast before it could do any damange. "Is she all right?" Mac called out to Janet.

"She's going to have one hell of a headache," said Janet. "But she'll be fine." She glanced at Mac's cast. "You?" She hoped he had enough sense not to put a single ounce of weight on that leg.

Mac ripped off the cast and tossed it to the side before checking his leg for acid burns. "I'm fine. It didn't get to the skin."

He looked at the door where Eighth had left with a grim look. First things first. "We need to get her to the clinic, just in case."

Sam shook her head. "No clinic. I just need to rest." She struggled to her feet, balancing herself by leaning on Janet's shoulder. "My head just hurts."

Wow, understatement there. "I could probably use a couple of ibuprofen."

"Let's get back home," said Janet. She frowned. "I've got ibuprofin back at my room."

Mac struggles to a sitting position and eventually gets up on his crutches. "Take care of her Janet," he said gruffly and headed off to get a new cast.

Sam made her way slowly to the door. "I can't stay in there, Janet. If he shows up...I can't face it tonight. I'm sorry."

"Then we'll get the medication and go to your room," said Janet quietly.

How to say this to Janet? Sam winced as her shirt collar brushed against her neck. She couldn't wait to see the bruises. "I have somewhere else to go. I'll take the meds, I promise."

"Fine," said Janet shortly. She walked over to get her backpack, opened it up, pulled out a bottle of ibuprofin, and held it out for Sam.

"Thanks." Sam took the bottle, popped the top, and shook four tablets into her hand, then dry swallowed them. She winced. "Do you mind if I keep the bottle?"

Sam hoped Janet would understand, but she was a little too worn out to care too much at the moment.

"Fine," repeated Janet. She slung her backpack over her shoulder. "I'll see you whenever it is that you feel like it, Sam."

Sam closed her eyes. "Don't be that way, Janet. I just need to process. Or ignore it, I'm not sure which. It's been quite a week, and it's only Monday."

Janet took a deep breath, counted to ten, and exhaled slowly. "You're the one who wants privacy after not seeing anyone for a week and a half," she said. She took everything she was feeling and shoved it ruthlessly aside. "Don't blame me for reacting badly to that."

"I don't want privacy, precisely," she said, trying to will Janet to understand, or, failing that, to at least leave the argument for another day. Her head ached. "But the last week and a half had nothing to do with this. This is separate."

Janet reached up and pulled her hair back, then twisted it into a knot. She pulled a pen out of her pocket and stuck it through her hair, then tucked a couple of strands behind her ears. When she felt in control enough to speak again, she took a deep breath. "I see," she said. "Or rather, I don't. But I'm leaving now, before I say something I'm going to regret."

She turned and left, blinking a lot on the way out the door. The fumes from that acid were really bad.

Sam watched Janet go. On the one hand, it would have been nice to have her help. On the other, she really wasn't in the mood to think at all. She wanted comfort, and support, and she didn't want to be judged.

She walked slowly back to the dorms.

[Tactics of War] Monday 6-8 PM

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