Nobody's Home | ᵃᵖ |

Waverly filled a tea kettle at the small fireplace she had on the other end of the sitting room. She gingerly turned the metal arm into the fire so that it could heat the water, all while she sluggishly made her way to her cabinet to find two matching tea cups. They always had to be matching with her.

▤"It's been far too long since we've had c-company after all," she said, a dreamy tone to her voice. Her eyes were half-lidded and a soft smile was on her face as the drug took effect and made her loose and calm. "Alastair likes you very much, you know. H-he always tells me that I picked a good man, and he's right~"

She sighed contently as she spooned out an even amount of tea leaves, choosing an exotic spice blend that was all the rage in Europe right now.

▤"I would very much like to meet him too. Alastair has only t-t-talked about him briefly, given his new-found secrecies, but h-he said that he's quite brilliant for his young age. P-perhaps he's finally found a kindred spirit who can pull him out of his shell...and out of his arse. I swear, m-my cousin makes me look less neurotic sometimes, and that's a feat."

█"It has been, hasn't it? Seems we've just kept so busy that time's flown by and we haven't thought to have company over."█ His smile widened, looking a little proud to have gotten such approval. █"Aww. He's very kind to think so, as are you."█

Sottarfar settled back in his seat, smelling a faint hint of the tea leaves and spice in the air as Waverly spooned them out. He was distracted for just a moment, trying to place the spice purely by smell alone - it was a silly thing, but as a botanist he took pride in being able to identify such things. He was distracted by that effort as their conversation continued.

█"Hmhm, I hope that's the case. That is quite the feat, though based on what we've been seeing, I'm not so sure his friend's been as successful in helping those matters."█

In fairness, he didn't know what things were like between Alastair and his friend. Maybe things were better when they were together and he and Waverly had just seen the worst days that Al was having. Based on what he had heard, though, he was wagering that the fellow was potentially even seeing worse than they were.

He looked over as Waverly started trying to pour tea, realizing that that wasn't perhaps the safest decision.

She giggled, obviously joking, but there was some truth to it as well. She was concerned about Sottarfar, knowing that it wasn't likely many people would sign up for his very experimental tests. She had heard of the gruesome things that could happen to scientists who used themselves as guinea pigs.

The mention of Alastair's 'friend' made Waverly scrunch her lips to one side in thought. She was munching on another biscuit, already feeling the effects of the small dose of cannabis now beginning to hit her system and make her pleasantly loose and sleepy.

▤"To be honest, I don't know. It's p-possible there's a little trouble in paradise for my cousin and his...friend. B-but Alastair has always been prone to these secretive moods. The last time I spoke to him, I asked him about work and he was very shady and suspicious, almost like he was quite upset at me for j-j-just asking a question. He never did answer me." Waverly stood up slowly, brushing the front of her white nurse's gown. "Would you like a cup of tea while I'm up, sweetheart?"

As Waverly flitted about the room, a little slower and less spastic than before, she started to think about possibly visiting Alastair sometime soon. She would bring Sottarfar along, of course - at this point, Alastair considered him like family anyway, in every way except for in the courthouse documents.

Sottarfar was aware of the potential for things to go wrong if he had to resort to using himself as a test subject. He didn't want to have to resort to that method and was trying to do things as legitimately as possible with as little risk to himself. It was why he went through the animal trials, why he had documented everything to show he was taking the proper procedures. He just had to hope that it was approved to go forward.

He could tell that Waverly was starting to feel the effects of the treats he had offered her. She was slowing down, looking a little less strung out and frazzled - just what he was wanting to see. █"Hm. That sounds awfully concerning, when you pair it with everything else. I hope it's just something temporary."█ Sottarfar's grows furrowed with concern as he reclined back in his seat. █"Oh, yes please. Thank you dearest."█

He was content to sit and watch as she flitted about the room in a slightly slower manner than before. He perked up when she spoke up again, pitching her idea. He cracked a grin, giving a nod of approval.

Waverly hadn't yet divulged all of the details of her project with Sottarfar, or anyone for that matter. She was a little afraid to. If people knew she was trying to play God, she expected more than just appalled reactions. She could lose her job, lose her license to teach, be labeled a madwoman...unless it worked. If it worked, she would be a genius. It had to work.

▤"Ah, a new doctor-in-training, hm? Well, he's more than welcome to sign up for my courses. Lord knows I could use a few m-m-more students, with the way they keep dropping like flies the moment I bring out a cadaver. You've b-been my greatest source of advertisement~" She giggled and gave a playful wink, nuzzling his neck a little bit before munching on a thin biscuit laced with the calming drug. "Oh, gushing just a little bit, eh? You sweetheart...By the way, h-h-how is your personal project going, my love?"

Waverly was more than a little flattered that her lover had been bragging about her to a new student. But that blush on her face and that smile started to fade when Sottarfar brought up her cousin, Alastair.

▤"Ah...yes," she cleared her throat. "Dear Alastair has not said anything to me directly, b-b-but the last time I saw him, he reeked of alcohol and he hadn't shaved in a while. I've been meaning to speak with him about it. I doubt the good doctor Siddal would tell m-me anything confidential, of course, but perhaps Alastair would open up to you and me as family. I worry about him and his ... new friend."

█"From the sounds of it, he'll be signing up next semester for classes. He also said he might look into applying for a position here - not as a teacher, of course, but something to help him get familiar with the place. If you happen across a fellow named Nikolai Blackbourne, that'll be him. I think you'll like him. Hmhm, of course, I have to talk up the work of my dearest~" His smile grew so wide when she asked about his own project, "Oh, it's going well! The regenerative ability of the plants I've bred are remarkable and the animal trials are just about concluded. I'll be looking into human trials soon!"█

Whether or not he'd be approved for human trials was another matter. His human trials might end up being, well...him. It all depended if their higher ups considered his work an affront to God, being able to let people stitch together wounds and heal fatal injuries without medical intervention.

When the topic focused on Alastair, the smile Sottarfar wore fell to a concerned frown. It sounded so unlike him to be in that kind of condition. He had seemed so happy and excited even not too long ago. He had been telling them about his new 'friend', the nice constable he had been helping with cases occasionally. It was a far cry to how he had been lately.

It was clear that something had been bothering her lately, but not in a predictable sort of way. When she was upset, it was easy to tell. But this time around, there wasn't that dark cloud hanging over her. Instead, she seemed agitated in a more focused way, as if her mind was preoccupied by something extremely important. It was easy to figure out what was happening. She was a woman in a male-dominated field, a woman who had been refused the honor of being called a 'doctor' even after all of her colleagues gained their titles. There was great pressure for her to discover something truly remarkable and force her superiors to recognize her genius...she just had to make that discovery before someone else beat her to it.

She giggled when Sottarfar mentioned his fussy, careless students.

▤ "Seems like students getting sick in our lectures is now something you and I b-b-both share, my love," she crinkled her nose sweetly when she grinned. "But you made the rules very clear. It's not your fault if one of the students breaks them...Still, I f-find it very funny when students assume your class will be easy. I've sat in enough of your lectures to know for a fact that botany is anything but simple."

She smiled warmly when he offered her the box of snacks. He was always spoiling her like this, taking care of her and watching out for her because he knew that she often didn't take care of herself. She wore a sympathetic pout as she kissed his cheek, leaning her head on his shoulder.

█"At least when your students get sick, it is usually from squeamishness, not stupidity."█ Sottarfar cracked a small, amused grin in return. █"Hmhm, at least you know better than to think my classes are easy. But they will find out one way or another. I am sure those students will be weeded out before the end of the semester."█

It wasn't uncommon for his class to end up far more sparse by the end of the semester because of that reason. He would've thought that word would've gotten around the student body by now about the fact it wasn't an easy class, but alas.

He let out a pleased hum as she kissed his cheek and he felt the weight of her head upon his shoulder. He turned his head to listen as she admitted she hadn't been taking the best care of herself - for an experiment, as expected. It was the common flaw among the doctors there, once they sunk their teeth into a project then that was what they toiled over. Sleepless nights, skipped meals, it wouldn't matter if they were successful in the end.

█"Are not all the best experiments the risky ones?"█ He asked with a laugh, █"Well, I hope your experiment goes well and you get a breakthrough with it soon. Until then, I will just keep spoiling you and making sure you take care of yourself now and then~"█

The treats he made for her were special, and not just because they were made with love. They were laced with cannabis, the "miracle drug" of the century, used for so many ailments and problems. If anything could help encourage her to eat and at least take a nap, it would be that.

█"Other than the issue with the student, my day has been fine. Same old, same old. I've been working on my own project between classes, listening to the gossip students and other professors talk about in the halls. There's a new soon-to-be medical doctor touring the college today, wanting to finish his studies and figure out his residency options. I guess he inherited a fortune recently and moved here? At least that's what all the students were saying. I bumped into him this morning, he seemed quite pleasant, very polite and humble sort. He was actually interested in getting to talk to you at some point, wanted to meet the lady doctor and finish up the remaining classes with you come next semester. I miiiight've gushed about you a little bit."█

Of course he was going to gush about her, and the fact the new soon-to-be student wasn't an ass about her being a woman just meant he gushed more. He let out a sigh, thinking over the rest of the day and trying to think if there was anything else noteworthy.

Currently, Miss O'Toole was sitting next to a dim oil lamp at her desk, her hair tied up in a bun and small spectacles on the edge of her nose as she skimmed through a book about the science of the human brain. When she heard the small knock on the door, she glanced up at the clock and noticed the time. Ah, her beloved was right on schedule.

▤"Coming!" She stood up and pushed her chair in, meeting Sottarfar at the door with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, darling. I'm n-n-not doing anything important, at least nothing more important than seeing you."

She closed the door behind him, keeping away the prying eyes and ears of the students and staff. Their relationship was no secret, though they were often the subject of gossip due to the fact that they hadn't married yet. Sottarfar wasn't getting any younger, after all.

▤"I missed you today," Waverly said, standing on her tip-toes to give her lover a quick kiss. "I was actually just thinking about you. I was reading a most p-p-peculiar study about the effects of electrical currents on plant growth! B-but that's besides the point. Come sit, darling, t-tell me about your day."

Sottarfar knew the fact people gossiped about them because they had yet to marry. It wasn't for lack of trying, he had floated the idea across her a few times to gauge her interest but he never pushed. They'd get there when they were both ready. For now, he was content with things as they were.

█"Good afternoon, dearest. Hmhm, you're sweet as always~"█

Sottarfar slipped into her office, turning to watch her close the door behind him. He tipped down a little to help with reaching his lips for a kiss, a warm smile playing on his lips afterwards.

█"I missed you too. Oooh, that sounds like a fascinating read."█

He took a seat beside her on the sofa, taking a moment to look her over. She had been so...frazzled lately. Jittery, sleepless, secretive. He had seen it plenty in his time working there, both among their colleagues and their students. A project or experiment, something that might be revolutionary or worthy of recognition - it was the age when everyone was exploring the creativity of invention and the boundaries of science.

█"My day has been about the same as it always has been. The students are barely paying attention to my lectures, thinking it's an easy course to pad their credit requirements. One made himself nauseous because he messed with one of my experimental plants I explicitly have signs to not touch - and he did so. He'll be fine, the plant was meant to be used for inducing vomiting in case someone ingested toxins but..."█

He shrugged. He had little sympathy for students that refused to read and ignore the clear warnings on his experimental plants. It wasn't like that student would die - but oh, would he likely be wishing he did by the time the plant's poison left his system.

Sottarfar then glanced towards the box he had, holding it out for her in offering.

⚙"Oh, yes, you will not regret this, Dr. Ashewright, I promise! I-I swear, I will be the best, most loyal, most dedicated assistant you have ever had. No, the best assistant anyone has ever had! Of all time!" He stopped to catch his breath, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe. "Yes, I promise you, I'll start sleeping again. And I'll eat regularly too, a-and not just five cups of coffee a day and a whole pack of licorice, but real food."

He smiled proudly, hands on his hips as a few students started to enter the classroom in preparation of the lesson Ickabod had been an hour early for. He quieted his voice down as if this whole plan was a secret.

▲"Good, good. I will let you know and I'll have everything prepared. You work on taking care of yourself in the meantime. Now go take your seat, class will be starting in a few minutes."▲

---

Elsewhere on the college grounds, a certain botanist had just been freed from his classes for a few precious hours - and he knew another certain someone was free for a little while as well. To anyone who paid even a lick of attention when going through that part of the college, they'd know the routine. Dr. Lunde would escape his classroom and, normally with a gift in hand, start tracing a well-practiced route straight to where Miss O'Toole worked. It was like clockwork.

Today, Sottarfar carried a small box of snacks brought from home, an offer to make sure Waverly always had something to nibble on in-between all of her work. While working with bodies or pouring over medical diagrams wasn't the most appetizing of work, it was easy to get lost in studying and forget to indulge in something nutritious.

The tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in olive greens and browns looked intimidating only at first glance to the newer students - anyone who knew him and knew the routine was smirking as they saw him walk down the halls with his little box of treats for the woman he was head over heels for. As he reached the door of her classroom, he slowed to a halt and gave a small knock.

So when Barnaby said that he was interested in taking him on as an assistant, Ickabod's face lit up in a huge, toothy grin. His freckled cheeks flushed pink with delight and he had to bite his lip to keep from squealing with excitement.

⚙"...Human bodies and mechanical parts? Professor, I am human bodies and mechanical parts! I-I could help! I could be a test subject, even. I don't mind!" He leaned over the desk, jittery and excited as he put his chin in his hands and blinked in a comical display of charm. "After all, who could need prosthetics like that more than someone like me, huh? I promise, I'd be the perfect assistant. I'm a hard worker, I'm trustworthy, and I can work day and night without sleep. And I won't get in your way, I assure you. ...So? Could I help, like an internship? Please?"

Besides, maybe it'd keep him out of trouble and not as likely to end up visiting Miss O'Toole again...for awhile, anyways.

▲"Fine, fine. It wasn't like I was intending on saying no."▲ He said with a sigh, though a smile still pulled at his lips. ▲"BUT....I expect you to listen to me and keep yourself out of trouble. And you must take care of yourself better. No long stretches of all-nighters, no skipping meals - we can't test new prosthetics and your ability to control them if you're not in peak health."▲

In theory they could have tested things while he was sleep-addled and starving. It wasn't like people who had prosthetics were in tip-top health most of the time. But it would be good to work with as healthy of an individual as they could get first to make sure it worked and adjust as needed when they widened the pool of volunteers to test on...and it'd give him an excuse to get Ickabod to try and take care of himself more.

▪▪▪ It was a dark, gloomy morning in England. The blanket of storm clouds overhead blotted out the sun, swollen past the point of bursting. Rain tapped on windows and across cobblestones, leaving murky puddles in their wake. The soft breeze that weaved through winding streets left a chill in the air, a damp cold that could soak down to your very bones.

The sprawling university grounds, normally bustling with faculty and students alike, was notably quiet this morning. Everyone had retreated into the depths of the old buildings to seek reprieve from the weather, leaving only the poor souls that tended to the grounds and other menial work to face the elements.

The gas lamps hissed faintly, bathing halls and classrooms in golden light, chasing off the sleepy gloom that would've otherwise settled into every nook and cranny of the massive buildings. It was still early, certain professors setting up their classrooms and presentations for the day while others were already greeting their classes and starting their lectures.

Barnaby Ashewright was one of the professors who still had an hour's time before his students would start funneling in. The machinery for his class had already been set up, small models of engines that could be scaled up eventually for use in factories - now it was simply a matter of making sure he had everything written up on the stretch of chalkboard at the front of the class, and all of his supplies for the students were on hand.

Many of the professors at the university were focused on the sciences - all matter of new and fascinating subjects that were once only pipe dreams to humanity. Medicine, chemistry, what could be done with plants, fringe subjects that most scientists dared to brave. If you could think it, someone likely taught it - or pursued it outside of class hours. While he was not among those who pursued the more medically-inclined positions, he was still a scientist. And an engineer.

His study was machines, the future of industry and what machine meant for man. Whether it was mechanical beasts of burden, less dangerous machines that worked just as if not more efficiently, prosthetics that could replicate a living appendage - and his class was to encourage others to pursue that same lens and want to improve the world.

▪▪▪ Unsurprising that he’d end up gravitating towards a certain botanist.  It was good for him, in his opinion, to be in the company of someone  like Dr. Lunde. The botanist was a good, strong fatherly figure that served  as a perfect role model and a solid support for those who needed it. And boy, did Ickabod need all of those things.

          ▲”Right, it’d be very awkward to use. While I think you’d have  the element of surprise the first time, you don’t exactly have the best  track record for grace and balance, Ickabod.”▲ It was a little bit of a tease, a little bit of an objective fact. Ickabod practically stumbled or fell through life - trying to use a weapon that required any degree of grace was not going to end well in his favor. ▲”This is true. It’s not a  complete waste, and I’m sure you can refine the design to be more practical in time.”▲

Now that Ickabod’s project had been shown and critiqued, of course  that meant his student was going to turn his attention to what Barnaby was doing instead. He watched as he fidgeted with the things on his desk. Any other professor might have scolded him for toying with his belongings - but he knew telling him to stop fidgeting wasn’t going to achieve much.  He’d just find a new way to fiddle with things.

          ▲”This is for class, actually. I was setting up for a lecture on steam engines and the theoretical ways we could increase the efficiency and  safety of them. I made a few small scale models for everyone to test to  see how they work in action.”▲

Barnaby gestured to the small models he had put out on tables around the room. They were tiny little things, easily able to sit on desks, with  water reservoirs that would be heated with oil lamp burners. They would power simple pistons and wheels just to show the generation  of energy - nothing too fancy, in his opinion, but it got the point across.

          ▲“It’s not quite as exhilarating as some of my independent research,  but such is the case for most of the professors here.”▲

He pointedly eased some notes that he had left on his desk away from  Ickabod’s wandering hands, tucking them into the folder they belonged in to keep him from snooping - or, more importantly, smudging or damaging the pages. ▪▪▪

█ ▌Anyone who knew Ickabod could tell he tended to gravitate toward the older, more responsible gentlemen of science - and not for reasons of a romantic nature. Rather, Ickabod seemed to always be on the lookout for someone who could guide him, someone he could look up to. Growing up as an orphanage and working as a factory boy for most of his young life probably had something to do with that. But as funny and kind as Dr. Lunde was, Dr. Ashewright was always his favorite.

   ⚙ “Heh, I suppose you’re right. I may not have all the grace and poise in the world, but no one can be perfect, huh?” Ickabod chuckled and gave a playful wink. “Oooh, steam engines? I love a steam engine.”

Ickabod got close to the models and supplies on Barnaby’s desk, getting a closer look and squinting to inspect everything as he listened. He was always doing this, hanging around to get an extra chance to talk to Barnaby and learn more about his lectures before they even had class. He may have been a pest, but no one could say he wasn’t a good student. Perhaps not the best behaved student, but his good marks made up for that...sometimes.

  ⚙ “Independent research?” Ickabod suddenly seemed to perk up, looking more interested. “What independent research? Are you working on anything right now? Heh, you know, I was just thinking it might be fun to get some hands-on experience in the engineering field eventually, you know? Maybe as an assistant? An errand boy? A test subject? Last week, I spoke to Miss O’Toole -- she was helping re-attach my prosthetic when I took a tumble out of the rafters, don’t ask -- and she had a couple of assistant surgeons following her around for training. Mind you, I imagine engineering is a little different, but still...”

If they let Dr. MacGael teach, given he was only a little less chaotic than Ickabod, then they shouldn't fuss too much about Ickabod's work as a student... as long as he kept the explosions to a minimum.

Barnaby's mouth opened to ask about his tumble from the rafters - but he decided to refrain from asking. At this point, he should assume he wouldn't want to know. At least Ickabod hadn't ended up too injured from the event and Miss O'Toole was kind enough to assist him in getting it reattached. As he listened, though, he was picking up on what the young man was hinting at.

He was asking to be an assistant. Or, more like hinting and hoping he could be. Barnaby considered his options, glancing back to the folder he had stowed his notes in. His fingers tapped on the desk as he thought over it. It would give him more opportunity to work with Ickabod, provide him more structure and help rein him in a bit. It could be really good for him even.

▪▪▪ It was a dark, gloomy morning in England. The blanket of storm clouds overhead blotted out the sun, swollen past the point of bursting. Rain tapped on windows and across cobblestones, leaving murky puddles in their wake. The soft breeze that weaved through winding streets left a chill in the air, a damp cold that could soak down to your very bones.

The sprawling university grounds, normally bustling with faculty and students alike, was notably quiet this morning. Everyone had retreated into the depths of the old buildings to seek reprieve from the weather, leaving only the poor souls that tended to the grounds and other menial work to face the elements.

The gas lamps hissed faintly, bathing halls and classrooms in golden light, chasing off the sleepy gloom that would've otherwise settled into every nook and cranny of the massive buildings. It was still early, certain professors setting up their classrooms and presentations for the day while others were already greeting their classes and starting their lectures.

Barnaby Ashewright was one of the professors who still had an hour's time before his students would start funneling in. The machinery for his class had already been set up, small models of engines that could be scaled up eventually for use in factories - now it was simply a matter of making sure he had everything written up on the stretch of chalkboard at the front of the class, and all of his supplies for the students were on hand.

Many of the professors at the university were focused on the sciences - all matter of new and fascinating subjects that were once only pipe dreams to humanity. Medicine, chemistry, what could be done with plants, fringe subjects that most scientists dared to brave. If you could think it, someone likely taught it - or pursued it outside of class hours. While he was not among those who pursued the more medically-inclined positions, he was still a scientist. And an engineer.

His study was machines, the future of industry and what machine meant for man. Whether it was mechanical beasts of burden, less dangerous machines that worked just as if not more efficiently, prosthetics that could replicate a living appendage - and his class was to encourage others to pursue that same lens and want to improve the world.

█ ▌Barnaby was a good instructor. He was kind and patient, he was a voice of reason, and he was gentle with Ickabod’s…strange behaviors. However, at the end of the day, Ickabod was still wild and loose, and whether or not he chose to take that advice varied from day to day. It was unfortunate that no one could deny he was quite intelligent, even if he had no common sense in that fluffy-haired skull of his.

   ⚙ “I have been paying a visit to the greenhouses from time to time,” Ickabod giggled. It wasn’t difficult to tell who had been inspiring his sense of humor lately, as the pun-cracking Scandinavian botanist was always making jokes in and out of class. “Hm…you do have a point.”

Ickabod grunted as he let his prosthetic leg fall back to the floor with a loud clunk. He stumbled a little, his balance worse than usual, and gave the knife a little test shake in the air to see how easy it would be to maneuver.

   ⚙ “Now that you mention it, it would be very difficult if I ever wanted to use the knife to defend myself…Imagine trying to stab something and you have to keep doing high-kicks over and over again.” He laughed and did a little jog in place. “I’ll go back to the drawing board and see if there’s a way I can make the mechanism removable. At the end of the day, at least now I have a proper little cavity for storing spare change!”

He gave his leg a slap, making it creak and squeak as he did. He had a big, stupid smile on his face and dimples in his cheeks. He closed up his ridiculous mechanism and leaned against the desk, his chin on the surface like a puppy waiting for a treat.

   ⚙ “…What have you been working on? This isn’t for class, is it?” Ever the adorable pest, Ickabod started touching things on the desk.

▪▪▪ Unsurprising that he’d end up gravitating towards a certain botanist.  It was good for him, in his opinion, to be in the company of someone  like Dr. Lunde. The botanist was a good, strong fatherly figure that served  as a perfect role model and a solid support for those who needed it. And boy, did Ickabod need all of those things.

          ▲”Right, it’d be very awkward to use. While I think you’d have  the element of surprise the first time, you don’t exactly have the best  track record for grace and balance, Ickabod.”▲ It was a little bit of a tease, a little bit of an objective fact. Ickabod practically stumbled or fell through life - trying to use a weapon that required any degree of grace was not going to end well in his favor. ▲”This is true. It’s not a  complete waste, and I’m sure you can refine the design to be more practical in time.”▲

Now that Ickabod’s project had been shown and critiqued, of course  that meant his student was going to turn his attention to what Barnaby was doing instead. He watched as he fidgeted with the things on his desk. Any other professor might have scolded him for toying with his belongings - but he knew telling him to stop fidgeting wasn’t going to achieve much.  He’d just find a new way to fiddle with things.

          ▲”This is for class, actually. I was setting up for a lecture on steam engines and the theoretical ways we could increase the efficiency and  safety of them. I made a few small scale models for everyone to test to  see how they work in action.”▲

Barnaby gestured to the small models he had put out on tables around the room. They were tiny little things, easily able to sit on desks, with  water reservoirs that would be heated with oil lamp burners. They would power simple pistons and wheels just to show the generation  of energy - nothing too fancy, in his opinion, but it got the point across.

          ▲“It’s not quite as exhilarating as some of my independent research,  but such is the case for most of the professors here.”▲

▪▪▪ It was a dark, gloomy morning in England. The blanket of storm clouds overhead blotted out the sun, swollen past the point of bursting. Rain tapped on windows and across cobblestones, leaving murky puddles in their wake. The soft breeze that weaved through winding streets left a chill in the air, a damp cold that could soak down to your very bones.

The sprawling university grounds, normally bustling with faculty and students alike, was notably quiet this morning. Everyone had retreated into the depths of the old buildings to seek reprieve from the weather, leaving only the poor souls that tended to the grounds and other menial work to face the elements.

The gas lamps hissed faintly, bathing halls and classrooms in golden light, chasing off the sleepy gloom that would've otherwise settled into every nook and cranny of the massive buildings. It was still early, certain professors setting up their classrooms and presentations for the day while others were already greeting their classes and starting their lectures.

Barnaby Ashewright was one of the professors who still had an hour's time before his students would start funneling in. The machinery for his class had already been set up, small models of engines that could be scaled up eventually for use in factories - now it was simply a matter of making sure he had everything written up on the stretch of chalkboard at the front of the class, and all of his supplies for the students were on hand.

Many of the professors at the university were focused on the sciences - all matter of new and fascinating subjects that were once only pipe dreams to humanity. Medicine, chemistry, what could be done with plants, fringe subjects that most scientists dared to brave. If you could think it, someone likely taught it - or pursued it outside of class hours. While he was not among those who pursued the more medically-inclined positions, he was still a scientist. And an engineer.

His study was machines, the future of industry and what machine meant for man. Whether it was mechanical beasts of burden, less dangerous machines that worked just as if not more efficiently, prosthetics that could replicate a living appendage - and his class was to encourage others to pursue that same lens and want to improve the world.

█ ▌ Ickabod had certainly looked worse, that was for sure. The young man was known for showing up to classes with grease on his face, his hair singed, and maybe even half an eyebrow missing with no explanation of why. But at least it was better than showing up without a body part…again. Sweet Ickabod had already lost a couple of those, sporting a mechanical leg and missing a couple of fingers on one side. One of his ears had a chunk missing from it and he had a plethora of scars here and there on his body, each with an interesting story. And unfortunately for everyone, he was always way too happy to tell those stories to anyone who would listen…no matter how disgusting they were.   ⚙ “Oh! Am I now?” He giggled, embarrassed that he had misunderstood the time. “I haven’t seen the sun in so long, I saw it was one o’clock and figured it must have been after midnight! Imagine that.”

He entered the room clumsily, shaking out a squeaky gear in his mechanical leg as he blundered his way toward the desk. But before he could explain his amazing new idea to Barnaby, he was directed to go wash himself and be a bit more presentable. He blushed, his tan and freckled cheeks glowing red with embarrassment.

   ⚙ “Heh, yes, yes, sure, of course…Sorry, professor. I will try to fashion myself a more stable sleep schedule. Just give me ooone moment to, um…make myself presentable.”

He scampered over to the sinks to clean his face, doing so messily and with water all over his face and hair. His shirt was wet and he shook his hair out like a dog in the rain before he was properly cleaned up of all the dirt and oil on his face.

   ⚙ “Right!” he clapped his hands together and took on a crouched, goblin-like stance before jogging back over to the desk. “Sir…I’ve had an amazing idea and I’ve been putting it into action. Behold!”

With one wild motion, Ickabod lifted his leg and his mechanical limb clanked onto the desk, still attached to his knee. He pointed at it - or more specifically, to a brand new addition. There was a button on his knee that, when pushed, activated a strange contraption that sprung a sharp blade out of the side.

   ⚙ “Why carry around a Swiss army knife when you can be one, eh? Eh?? And that’s not it, I’ve got a can opener in there too…” He pushed it again, nicking himself in the finger in the process. “Ow! Heh, uh…still have to iron some things out. But look, look, look! It can also light a match! See, now if I’m ever lost in the woods - god forbid - I’ve got a full survival kit right here on the ol’ peg leg! That way I’m always one step ahead…huh? A leg up on the competition? Putting my best foot forward?”

He stared at Barnaby with this huge, stupid, expectant grin, his thumbs in his suspenders as if expecting to win a Nobel prize for his idiotic shenanigans. Bless him.

▪▪▪ Barnaby did do his best to be one of the voices of reason for Ickabod’s  eccentricities. It didn’t always work out, considering the young man was  missing a few more parts than was typical of someone his age - well, maybe  more comparable to the youths that worked in the factories...but the point was, Barnby did try to be a good influence on him. Trying to encourage  safety, self-care and slowing down to think about his projects before taking  the first idea he had and running with it, damned be the consequences.

Obviously, he didn’t have much success in any of those areas, but he hoped trying enough would end up with a breakthrough eventually. He let out a quiet sigh as he watched him go clean up. He did it messily and looked a little like a drowned rat afterwards, but at least he was cleaner than he was when he stepped through the door. It was a small victory.

Barnaby peered down at the prosthetic leg when it was slapped onto his desk  and the new addition to it was revealed. At first, it genuinely didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. A survival kit built into the very prosthetic, within reach at  all times without burdening his pockets. The concept was sound but as he  watched, the execution was lacking, to say the least. He’d give Ickabod credit  for the puns, though. A warm, rich laughter bubbled out of him as he shook his head.

▪▪▪ It was a dark, gloomy morning in England. The blanket of storm clouds overhead blotted out the sun, swollen past the point of bursting. Rain tapped on windows and across cobblestones, leaving murky puddles in their wake. The soft breeze that weaved through winding streets left a chill in the air, a damp cold that could soak down to your very bones.

The sprawling university grounds, normally bustling with faculty and students alike, was notably quiet this morning. Everyone had retreated into the depths of the old buildings to seek reprieve from the weather, leaving only the poor souls that tended to the grounds and other menial work to face the elements.

The gas lamps hissed faintly, bathing halls and classrooms in golden light, chasing off the sleepy gloom that would've otherwise settled into every nook and cranny of the massive buildings. It was still early, certain professors setting up their classrooms and presentations for the day while others were already greeting their classes and starting their lectures.

Barnaby Ashewright was one of the professors who still had an hour's time before his students would start funneling in. The machinery for his class had already been set up, small models of engines that could be scaled up eventually for use in factories - now it was simply a matter of making sure he had everything written up on the stretch of chalkboard at the front of the class, and all of his supplies for the students were on hand.

Many of the professors at the university were focused on the sciences - all matter of new and fascinating subjects that were once only pipe dreams to humanity. Medicine, chemistry, what could be done with plants, fringe subjects that most scientists dared to brave. If you could think it, someone likely taught it - or pursued it outside of class hours. While he was not among those who pursued the more medically-inclined positions, he was still a scientist. And an engineer.

His study was machines, the future of industry and what machine meant for man. Whether it was mechanical beasts of burden, less dangerous machines that worked just as if not more efficiently, prosthetics that could replicate a living appendage - and his class was to encourage others to pursue that same lens and want to improve the world.

█ ▌ Ickabod was a lot of things. He was impulsive, he was energetic, he was cheerful, and he was as foolhardy as a young man could possibly be. But beyond all of that, he was also something of a genius. At least, when it came to his odd feats of engineering.

Ickabod had entered the university on a scholarship thanks to his various misadventures as a young schoolboy. Growing up in an orphanage, he was often found tearing apart mechanical and clockwork doodads - sometimes ones that were discarded, but not always - and figuring out how to turn them into something new. And while it was the bane of the headmaster’s existence and the annoyance of his fellow orphans, it was enough to catch the eye of a Cambridge alumni who offered to give him a scholarship to finally make something of his odd predilections.

But of course, he wasn’t without a few causalities along the way - namely, some of his own body parts.

Ickabod rushed toward Dr. Ashewright’s classroom, his mechanical leg clanking on the floor as he went. He made an awful lot of noise wherever he ran, not just because of his clunky bronze prosthetic, but because he always had something to say. He was a young man of great enthusiasm for better or for worse.

⚙ “Dr. Ashewright!” he squeaked as he got to the door of his classroom. His dirty blonde hair was tousled and sticking up in random spots, his golden-tan skin speckled with grease and oil. He had a big, goofy smile on his face, made all the more silly-looking from a missing tooth on one side. “Dr. Ashewright…I-I have to show you what I’ve been working on. I’ve had the most incredible idea, and I just had to get started on it immediately! I’m sorry I missed class this morning. I haven’t slept in days, you see, and I couldn’t abandon my work to…um, am I bothering you?”

He gave his instructor an awkward smile, realizing he hadn’t even said ‘hello’ or asked if Barnaby was available for a chat. Instead, the half-crazed looking boy was just rambling in the middle of his classroom, disheveled and with one suspender hanging loose.

▪▪▪ As a professor, Barnaby got to see plenty of sleepy-faced students arrive in his class and coast through it at the best of times or drop the course entirely at the worst of times. While the matters of science and technology were new and booming, engineering and invention wasn’t  quite as tantalizing to the student body as some of the other areas of study were. Ickabod was a rare gem among the student body - someone that stood out, for better or worse, because of their sheer enthusiasm  for their area of study. Yes, many students liked what they came to study for, but there was a difference between simple enjoyment and  pure unadulterated joy and enthusiasm.

Maybe that was the reason the professor was so lenient with him. Oh, he graded him fairly against his peers, but he allowed for flexibility in the time frame for his projects and wasn’t as strict about his appearance  or tardiness as he could have been. Did the other students care of it much?  No. But the other students could barely keep themselves awake during  his lectures and demonstrations, much less show enough promise that he was willing to be just as lenient with them.

He heard Ickabod coming before he saw him and peered over to the  doorway to watch this awkward bundle of energy arrive. He was a mess,  disheveled and not at all meeting the standard expected of students. This was about par for the course when he went on one of his inventing binges - in fact, Barnaby would even argue that he was actually a little more composed looking that he usually was after a few days spent  chasing an idea.

          ▲”Not at all, Ickabod. And you have not missed class, you still have about...forty minutes or so before it starts? in a rare turn of events, you’re early.”▲ 

He set the piece of chalk down, reaching into his pocket to fish out his  pocket watch and confirm the time. With a nod, he tucked it away again and stepped towards Ickabod. He looked him over, and gently reached over to fasten the loose suspender again. There was only so much he could do to clean the young man up, but he’d help how he can.