>>5779538School began not a day later. You’d fallen asleep in Pearce’s room—not afraid to face what had espied you through his window, of course, just tired. Depleted of the initial energies of discovery, you were STILL tired that next morning, sleepwalking through your first day. Not a few of your classmates were hungover from their last hurrahs, of course, so you were at least in good company.
You’d seen Izirina Henzler once, and she’d seen you, but the two of you had quickly looked away. You had been in no mood for THAT situation just now.
However, for all your progress in your areas of expertise—animal magic, anatomy, woundcare and natural philosophy, and of COURSE chimerical recombination—you found that the experience on the hill had changed you in other ways. Some were, arguably, good: you found your mood much improved, for one thing. Your patience and tolerance grew, such that as all your classmates began to grow and, ahem, BLOSSOM rom youths into true young adults and you decidedly did NOT, you were able to take it mostly in stride. However, other changes were less ideal: your thinking had become more lateral, less direct, and you found yourself coming up with solutions to problems which textbooks and professors deemed incorrect, even as you KNEW you were really quite right in practice.
Anyway, long story short, your grades were suffering in several disciplines. Disciplines that HENZLER was still excelling in. The next time the two of you exchanged a look, bumping into each other by chance in the hallways, she was several inched taller than you recalled, and—outrage!—more shapely besides. She was also, you realized, your best hope of rectifying your academic record.
“Henzler, a word?”
She’d said nothing, but gingerly stepped closer, like a deer fawn but with twice the awkwardness.
“I need something,” you said. “Help, with one of my classes.”
It was a testament to your growing maturity of SPIRIT, if not yet of body, that you didn’t even feel a twinge of shame or embarrassment. Or, well, hardly any.
“…The favour,” she whispered, and nodded.
You mulled that over before responding, telling her…
>Yes, this is the favour—might as well get it out of the way, yeah?>Actually, you’re saving that, but you’d be willing to trade her something else for lessons, such as…>>Introducing her to your friends, so she actually HAS some>>Helping her with HER worst subject, since it IS your best and all>>Telling her about the actual, real fairy court you danced with during break>Write-in 