As always, the reason class starts with apathetic response. He'd grown used to it. Ever since he had… 'accidentally' sent a foreign royal to the clinic with paralyzed limbs. It wasn't the true goal, not yet at least, but he'd made sure he could push these worms to their limits.
"Alright, let's finish up role. Linhardt? Is Linhardt von Hevring here?"
"They're here - just…"
One of his students gestures to the sleeping form of a green-haired worm.
Sloth should not bother Grima. This should not bother Grima.
This bothers Grima. This bothers Grima a lot.
"Linhardt von Hevring. If you find yourself so lacking in energy…"
'Don't do what I know you're about to, Grima…'
"How about you take some!"
Dark lightning arises from his hand, hitting around Linhardt, not close enough to hit, but enough that the ozone scent should wake them - if the thunderclap doesn't.
the meadow in linhardt's dream stretches far and wide, covered in stout flowers of every color of the rainbow. Â it doesn't matter where they step, or sit, or lay, the sturdy little blooms never get crushed under weight.
it's here where they lay under the sun, a cool breeze rustling their hair, relaxing. Â they close their eyes and breathe in deeply. Â it smells like flowers and a bit of honeyed tea. Â just as they prepare for a nap -Â
there's a thunder clap. Â the scent of storm wakes him both in dream and out, though despite the suddenness of the wake up call, linhardt is slow to rise. Â he blinks, noticing a scorch mark on the desk beside him, and sits up. Â the scent of ozone is unmistakable, and in response to it, his eyebrows knit in frustration.
“that's what i get for actually showing up?” they ask. “don't you know some of your students don't like lightning?  you shouldn't be carelessly slinging frightening spells around like that!”
