Zibriah
3rd of Fall | 10th Bell | University of Zeltiva | Herbalism
Breathe. Breathe. Zib's shoulders rose and fell visibly with her breathing as she tried to calm her nerves. 'Ridiculous to be nervous,' she gave herself a mental scold. But that was the problem: nerves. Zeltiva's university was well-known, extensive, and exactly the place she needed to be right now. Easy to lose herself in a wealth of strangers, all different types and races, and reasonable to seclude herself in study rather than social situations. But she was going to have to attend classes, specifically Professor Allis' class, this morning: herbalism.
Though not normally a subject she concerned herself with, enrollment in two classes per session was required in order to remain in the university housing, and herbalism both directly preceeded her true interest, carving, and was located only a short walk from it. Zib was keen on not wasting bells wandering around or killing time between classes, so on the strength of no recommendation other than time and location, she'd impulsively signed herself up. The registrar had assured her she'd made a wise choice, and that Professor Allis was a well-liked, if eccentric instructor, with some interesting ideas about herbs.
Zib had had just enough time to wonder if "interesting ideas" might just as easily be a bad thing.
"Best way through it is to do it," the words left her lips, a melancholy echo of one of her father's favorite phrases. Giving her bag a last peek, she satisfied herself that all her supplies were inside and took a decisive step out of her room and into the hallway, pulling the door softly closed behind her.
Once in the hall, Zib moved swiftly; she had practiced the route a time or two, to be sure she wouldn't get lost and, in less than a quarter-bell, had arrived at class. Stepping inside, Zib looked around with dismay; a surprisingly few chairs were clustered together around a single large table, set in front of the room's one large window. It seemed the professor was not expecting a large turnout for instruction. Still, the table held a generous selection of largely unfamiliar plants, and Zib peered curiously at them as she settled into one of the empty seats.
Small labels attached to the pots gave names, and a tantalizing instruction for each. Reaching out to the plant nearest her, a wrinkly-leafed thing with squarish stems, Zib read the label:
"Lemon Balm. Pinch me."
Green eyes inspected it carefully before she reached out and delicately pinched one crinkled leaf. Immediately a lighty, lemony scent filled the air; Zib inhaled appreciatively, disappointed when the aroma faded, and reached out to repeat the process.
"You can just pluck the one you've already pinched - no need to mangle the whole plant for a pleasant sniff or two," came a voice, amused rather than irritated, and Zib turned around to see a older woman, smiling at her. "Hello. I'm Professor Allis. Welcome to Herbalism - you're a bit early, eh? Its good to see students eager to learn. I guess you'll be borrowing that one, then," she nodded to the plant Zib still had her hand on.
Zibriah looked from the professor to the plant and back again, confused. "I'm Zib. It's - ah - nice to meet you. I'm sorry, did you say I'm borrowing a plant?" Her tone held a healthy dose of disbelief that she could only hope wouldn't offend the woman in front of her, and she began to wonder again if the registrar had been playing some sort of joke in praising her decision to enroll.
Though not normally a subject she concerned herself with, enrollment in two classes per session was required in order to remain in the university housing, and herbalism both directly preceeded her true interest, carving, and was located only a short walk from it. Zib was keen on not wasting bells wandering around or killing time between classes, so on the strength of no recommendation other than time and location, she'd impulsively signed herself up. The registrar had assured her she'd made a wise choice, and that Professor Allis was a well-liked, if eccentric instructor, with some interesting ideas about herbs.
Zib had had just enough time to wonder if "interesting ideas" might just as easily be a bad thing.
"Best way through it is to do it," the words left her lips, a melancholy echo of one of her father's favorite phrases. Giving her bag a last peek, she satisfied herself that all her supplies were inside and took a decisive step out of her room and into the hallway, pulling the door softly closed behind her.
Once in the hall, Zib moved swiftly; she had practiced the route a time or two, to be sure she wouldn't get lost and, in less than a quarter-bell, had arrived at class. Stepping inside, Zib looked around with dismay; a surprisingly few chairs were clustered together around a single large table, set in front of the room's one large window. It seemed the professor was not expecting a large turnout for instruction. Still, the table held a generous selection of largely unfamiliar plants, and Zib peered curiously at them as she settled into one of the empty seats.
Small labels attached to the pots gave names, and a tantalizing instruction for each. Reaching out to the plant nearest her, a wrinkly-leafed thing with squarish stems, Zib read the label:
"Lemon Balm. Pinch me."
Green eyes inspected it carefully before she reached out and delicately pinched one crinkled leaf. Immediately a lighty, lemony scent filled the air; Zib inhaled appreciatively, disappointed when the aroma faded, and reached out to repeat the process.
"You can just pluck the one you've already pinched - no need to mangle the whole plant for a pleasant sniff or two," came a voice, amused rather than irritated, and Zib turned around to see a older woman, smiling at her. "Hello. I'm Professor Allis. Welcome to Herbalism - you're a bit early, eh? Its good to see students eager to learn. I guess you'll be borrowing that one, then," she nodded to the plant Zib still had her hand on.
Zibriah looked from the professor to the plant and back again, confused. "I'm Zib. It's - ah - nice to meet you. I'm sorry, did you say I'm borrowing a plant?" Her tone held a healthy dose of disbelief that she could only hope wouldn't offend the woman in front of her, and she began to wonder again if the registrar had been playing some sort of joke in praising her decision to enroll.
Word count: 596
