33rd of Summer, 514 AV
Aoren stepped into the classroom where his previous lessons had taken place. He had been attending the College of Djed for two seasons at that point. He had learned quite a great deal in that time. Professor Memry was a skilled teacher who had brought more insight into the weaving of Djed than Aoren had thought possible. Then again his experiences with magic had been limited mostly to what he had been able to perform himself. Before coming to the University he had possessed only the barest rudimentary understanding of what magic really was. He carried with him the supplies necessary for learning: scrolls, ink, quill pens, the materials he would be using to take notes and jot down his thoughts or observations. He learned quickly that the professor, while patient, very much expected that he retain the information she relayed to him.
“Good morning, Aoren.” Aoren smiled to the elder woman seated comfortably in a cushioned high back chair. It was not unusual. The professor was often seated during their lessons as she was weak in one leg. The result of stretching herself too thin with one of the disciplines that she practiced.
“Good morning, Professor.” She gestured for him to take up a seat just across from her. Aoren did as he was bidden. As he sat he took a look at the table that was situated between the two of them. Assembled on its surface was an array of odd materials he certainly wasn’t expecting to see. There were four bowls sitting in front of him. Three of the bowls contained food, eggs, flour and cheese respectively. The fourth bowl was empty but held two vials.
“May I ask what these are for?” Professor Memry had been observing Aoren quietly for a few moments then. She folded her hands in her lap nodding to the materials.
“These are the tools you will need to get started in the craft of Spiritism. You did intend to study it, yes?” Aoren blinked. He had been wondering when he was going to begin his studies on the Discipline of the Dead.
“Yes, ma’am. But…food? How will that help me to defend against the undead?” Professor Memry shook her head. She tutted softly.
“Aoren. I expect more from you. Do not debase yourself by saying such an ignorant thing.” Aoren looked down, chided. He chewed on his bottom lip not quite understanding how he had caused offense.
“I apologize, ma’am. It’s just that I do not understand.” The professor rubbed her wrists gently before speaking.
“How much do you know of Spiritism?” Aoren resisted the urge to shrug his shoulders. That would have been disrespectful and he had already caused one offense that day. He did not want to cause any more.
“Very little. I know that Spiritists protect the living from the undead.” Professor Memry inclined her head.
“That is partially correct. A Spiritist is a guide. I should clarify though, ghosts are not undead.” Aoren retrieved a sheet of parchment from his pack along with an inkwell and a quill pen. He opened the inkwell and began taking notes. He had learned to recognize when the professor was beginning a small lecture.
Aoren stepped into the classroom where his previous lessons had taken place. He had been attending the College of Djed for two seasons at that point. He had learned quite a great deal in that time. Professor Memry was a skilled teacher who had brought more insight into the weaving of Djed than Aoren had thought possible. Then again his experiences with magic had been limited mostly to what he had been able to perform himself. Before coming to the University he had possessed only the barest rudimentary understanding of what magic really was. He carried with him the supplies necessary for learning: scrolls, ink, quill pens, the materials he would be using to take notes and jot down his thoughts or observations. He learned quickly that the professor, while patient, very much expected that he retain the information she relayed to him.
“Good morning, Aoren.” Aoren smiled to the elder woman seated comfortably in a cushioned high back chair. It was not unusual. The professor was often seated during their lessons as she was weak in one leg. The result of stretching herself too thin with one of the disciplines that she practiced.
“Good morning, Professor.” She gestured for him to take up a seat just across from her. Aoren did as he was bidden. As he sat he took a look at the table that was situated between the two of them. Assembled on its surface was an array of odd materials he certainly wasn’t expecting to see. There were four bowls sitting in front of him. Three of the bowls contained food, eggs, flour and cheese respectively. The fourth bowl was empty but held two vials.
“May I ask what these are for?” Professor Memry had been observing Aoren quietly for a few moments then. She folded her hands in her lap nodding to the materials.
“These are the tools you will need to get started in the craft of Spiritism. You did intend to study it, yes?” Aoren blinked. He had been wondering when he was going to begin his studies on the Discipline of the Dead.
“Yes, ma’am. But…food? How will that help me to defend against the undead?” Professor Memry shook her head. She tutted softly.
“Aoren. I expect more from you. Do not debase yourself by saying such an ignorant thing.” Aoren looked down, chided. He chewed on his bottom lip not quite understanding how he had caused offense.
“I apologize, ma’am. It’s just that I do not understand.” The professor rubbed her wrists gently before speaking.
“How much do you know of Spiritism?” Aoren resisted the urge to shrug his shoulders. That would have been disrespectful and he had already caused one offense that day. He did not want to cause any more.
“Very little. I know that Spiritists protect the living from the undead.” Professor Memry inclined her head.
“That is partially correct. A Spiritist is a guide. I should clarify though, ghosts are not undead.” Aoren retrieved a sheet of parchment from his pack along with an inkwell and a quill pen. He opened the inkwell and began taking notes. He had learned to recognize when the professor was beginning a small lecture.