Dovahkiin

Mica doesn’t need sleep, but it’s better than listening to the teacher drone on and on. One hundred and seventy-five years of existence hadn’t done much for him, apparently; Mica was childish and uncommitted despite it all.

Using his arm as a pillow, he closes his eyes, thinking about home. He has a bunch more important things to do there, and now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure if these people can really help him. His powers transcend the typical concept of “magic,” and he wonders if it’s even possible to teach an old God new tricks.

He’s suddenly jerked back into alertness as the person next to him whispers at him, asking for a pen. Pen… pen. Mica can’t remember to bring his own pen, honestly. But it is only in his nature to fulfill a mortal’s request, no matter how inconsequential.

“I’m sorry!” he apologizes, too loudly. “I don’t have one right now. I’m a failure! Please let me fulfill your request in some other way!” 

And obviously that means summoning his Divine Axe and ripping a hole right in the fabric of the space-time continuum to search for a version of her that remembered to take a pen in the first place and swap them. That’s Mica logic.

✦ - Little did she know that the other was sleeping, and little did she know that she was sitting next to a god. Coming from a land where the presence of gods were highly important, it was a privilege to be sat next to one... if only she knew about that though.

Little did she also know that her classmate was sleeping before she whispered to them, and that meant witnessing them jumping up and becoming suddenly alert and also way too loud. If only she was wearing her Nightingale Armour, because then she could just hide in the shadows without anyone knowing that she was dying inside from embarrassment. She had hoped that they had a spare pen, but it only caused a small commotion.

❝A-ahh! It’s fine! Don’t worry about it honestly! It’s just a pen! No need to label yourself as a failure or anything!❞ She said quickly to the other’s words. Her voice couldn’t have left her lips quick enough, especially since the attention of the whole class was now on them from the other being so loud. ❝But maybe... you could speak a little quieter? Just a little?❞

@fusrxhdah

Hauenkua’s in the middle of a particularly “gripping” (ahem) doujinshi when he feels a set of eyes bore into him. Taking his feet off the windowsill and spinning around in his chair so that he’s now properly seated at his desk, he breaks away from his precious 2D girls and returns to the realm of reality.

“S’up,” he says, meeting his visitor’s unflinching eye-contact as he sets the manga down, displaying it proudly on his desk. 

And he has to say, 3D elf girls are so much more disappointing compared to 2D.

(Of course there were girls with pointed ears back home, but they were all Satan-worshiping heathens, so why should he care about them?)

“Ne, I was in the middle of reading a fascinating article from a highly-acclaimed academic journal. Anyway, what do you want? Are you in my class? Do you need help with something?”

✦ - To be honest, nothing surprised the Bosmer anymore, since she had seen more than what normal people would probably see in their lifetime. So, when she stood there waiting for the other to pull himself away from his manga, she just simply acknowledged the fact that this teacher enjoyed perverted material. He wasn’t the first person to enjoy it, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Her eye contact failed to leave the other as she continued to wait, finally watching him place the manga upon the table so that she could talk to him. She was sent here by another teacher to give him some books that they borrowed. She just hoped that they weren’t any of these books, because delivering those would just be awkward.

She had already entered the classroom that house her fifth class; Stealth and Camouflage. Being an archer and a thief like she is, Elselyn knew that this was going to benefit her highly, probably a lot more than the other studies that she had. She was in a rather good mood, even when she found herself forgetting that she had nothing to write with when the class has began already. She had turned to the nearest person, hoping that they were kind enough to lend them a pen or pencil.

❝Um, excuse me. Do you have a lend of a pen?❞ She asked in a whisper, hoping that the teacher wouldn’t notice. ❝I’ll give it back to you by the end of the day, I swear.❞