Jonathan Sims (
intheeyeofthebeholding) wrote in
fandomhigh2025-05-12 10:58 am
Entry tags:
The Art of Conversation, 3rd period
Jon looked at his (thankfully small) class and sighed. "Hello. I...well, I've given up on asking the moose for specific courses at this point. So. I'm Jonathan Sims, and welcome to The Art of Conversation, apparently. The first week of classes is traditionally for introductions, which seems like as good a start of conversation as any. If you're going to talk with someone, you should know who they are and vice versa."
He took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. "As I said, I'm Jonathan Sims. I come from England - Bournemouth originally and London more recently - and roughly this year. And I am here because I'm meant to be instructing you. Now you." He nodded to them.
He took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. "As I said, I'm Jonathan Sims. I come from England - Bournemouth originally and London more recently - and roughly this year. And I am here because I'm meant to be instructing you. Now you." He nodded to them.

Sign in!
Listen to the lecture
Class activity
Talk to Jon!
OOC!
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"I'm Luma Zarrin," she stated, giving her hair a small toss over her shoulders. "I'm originally from Winterport, Maine, although we moved recently, and from the year 1976. And I'm here because...well, I never had a chance to go to a real school before. My sister, maybe you know her? Eleanor? Well, she started to go to school here, too, and I've come to understand that it's actually a..."
Her eyes, for a moment, darted suspiciously, cautiously, between her instructor and classmates, and she drew in a bolstering breath before continuing.
"...safe place. For people like...us. I guess we'll see if that's true."
Her nervous, wary glance now seemed to hold a sort of challenge in it, the challenge of a dog backed into a corner, a challenge that just dared any of them to prove her wrong about that now.
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Look, she was from the seventies. She could mean queer people or women!
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"Werewolves," she said, and she flashed Jon her biggest smile, all full of sharp, canine teeth, and maybe a small thread of the lunch she had before coming here. "Witches. Whatever it is," her hand waved dismissively in front of her, "that my sister is. That's the reason why I wasn't allowed out much, lest the villagers come calling with pitchforks and torches."
Ironic, really, that then Eleanor came home and all but threw the door open for them.
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"Right, yes." He nodded. "It is absolutely...well, I can't say 'absolutely safe', but as safe here for you as for anyone else. I don't think we've got any other werewolves on the island, but I do know we have a few witches. And at least one vampire, if that helps at all."
He frowned. "You're likely to have more difficulty coming...good lord, fifty years into the future. I wonder if anybody has told you about phones yet."
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Jon would definitely be calling him Adrian.
"Hello again." Jon nodded to him. "Um. I'm not sure what you mean by Gilgamesh's scales."
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"Welcome, Boston. I wonder if you'll be participating in the class or just watching."
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Like cat videos. Definitely research cat videos.
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Or, you know. How much he wanted to nap in a sunbeam.
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"Fair enough." Jon nodded. He hesitated. "Is...I have a cat at home, and I could bring her for company if you like. But I'm not sure if you're more intelligent than other cats and that would be an insult, or if the only difference is that she can't speak human language."
Issa certainly seemed to think she was as smart as any human, but that could just be a cat thing.
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"I don't know," she said, "if that's how most people would describe their first encounter with a werewolf, but there's usually a lot more running involved."
But some of the humor and the confidence seemed to falter just slightly, as if she was trying to remember what she should say next.
"But it's nice to meet you, too," she said, but it felt a little untrue, because she didn't know that yet, did she? "I think. Maybe. It's probably a little too early to tell."
Him being a witch didn't mean anything, either, because so was her cousin Charlie and his mother, and they were always so stuck-up and prudish.
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"It is rather nice," she admitted, "to have her able to clear the way a little for me. I've heard it from several people that it'll be a blessing to have her rely on."
It was said in that slightly sickly sweet way that could almost be sarcasm, but not enough to definitely be sarcasm. Because it was true, that Luma was grateful to have Eleanor here to help her, but there was a certain irritation in it, too. Saint Eleanor, here with all her sage guiding light...
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"We'll say it's nice to meet one another, but we're still withholding opinions on whether that pleasure extends to a continued acquaintance?" Adrian suggested with a return smile. "After all, there is that running you mentioned, and I do live out in the woods."
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Her attention, though, seemed to perk a little at the mention of the woods. "Oh, you do?" she asked, with that same pang of worry that struck her on Saturday when she was thinking about hunting. "The ones on the west side of the island? They're far less wild than the ones to the north, I've noticed."
And to brush off her interest and concern, she added, blithely, "I'm sharing a room with my sister in the dormitory. I'm not used to sharing a room, but it'll be nice to get to spend so much time with her."
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Boston hopped up in Adrian's lap, eyeing Luma closely. "Your sister? Not one of Miss Bennett's sisters, surely."
A cat could hope. And pine.
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Because you'd think a werewolf might not think twice about it, but a talking cat was still quite removed from her wheelhouse of experience.
Imagine. Being a cat instead of a wolf. Definitely couldn't be her!
"No," she said. "Miss Zarrin's. My sister's name is Eleanor. But I have met Miss Bennet. I think? That's Lydia, isn't it? Oh, I like her, too. She's so nice. And proper. And I guess I can't blame you for thinking I might be one of hers when she's got so many!"
And then she had to ask, "How do you do that? Talk? While a cat? Is it magic? I can't talk when I'm a wolf. None of us can. Well, not human language, anyway. I understand the other wolves perfectly fine."
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Boston looked at Luma, vaguely affronted. "I simply talk," he said. "I am a witch's familiar, talking is a requirement in assisting my witch properly."
"By which he means, yes, it is a kind of magic," Adrian said. "But not a spell or anything. Magic was used in the adaptation of previous generations of familiars and it's bred true."
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Granted, half the family was wolves half the time and Persephone's magic rarely was actual magic. And one could argue Arthur was a familiar of sorts, but Luma hadn't known enough about him to realize that.
"I guess we just don't need the assistance."
It was, genuinely, not said to be insulting or disparaging, though it did likely come off that way. It just seemed like as good an explanation as anything.
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There was a reason she was in this class specifically, after all.
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Look, not only was Jon Bad At People, he was also English. Understatement was only to be expected.