[University - Wright Library] Stonemiller

[Aram]

Aram walked up to the desk and handed the man the note without saying anything. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as he was prone to do, and waitied for an answer to the note. After a moment he cleared his throat and spoke. "I got that from Professor Stonemiller, we just spoke. I've not much money so I can probably only afford one class, maybe two. Auristics and Reimancy are what I'm after." He was sure the man wasn't listening to his babbling, but he would continue to talk anyway, probably making himself look like a fool, not that he thought anyone seemed to really care. Aram wasn't used to a formal learning institution when it came to training, he had always learned from his master, now departed from their world to wherever it is the dead go. He missed his former teacher, he was really the only form of a guardian that Aram had had for most of his life. Sure he remembered his parents, but he hadn't seen them in quite some time, and he didn't expect that he would ever see them again. It mattered now, what mattered now was that he progress in his magics and training, and find a way to survive while he did it. A chill ran down his spine as he waited for the man to analyze the piece of paper, it was oddly chilly in this room to him, despite the season. Or quite possibly he could have just been very nervous. He wasn't exactly sure about these university people, how they responded to things and such. He looked around, taking in the interesting site of the office. They had interesting architecture around here as well.

[Hatter]

"What?!" The elderly man said. He leaned forward and tilted an ear closer to Aram, his head canted to the side. "Stonemiller? He's not here! You want, ah, well he's at-" He stopped as his eyes flicked to the extended note. Bemused, the man leaned back and blinked. A hand rose, grabbed the paper, then it was brought forward to be read. Silence permeated the office. At least from the man. Grumbles rose from those in the line behind, sour complaints, annoyed auras, but the man behind the desk did not care. He was busy. He took his time, eyes crossing over the same line once and again before he moved on. It felt like hours before he finished. The paper was placed carelessly among the other documents on the desk and the fellow produced a cartoonishly large tome. "Mmhmmm. Auristics and Reimancy, eh? Why! That's quite a few mizas for a semester's course, hm, what is it this year? Fifty-seven! Yup! No. That's wrong." The man stroked his long, grey beard with befuddled expression. This guy was in charge of paper work? "Ah! That's per class. But you, my friend; Stonemiller says you've got permissions for the work-study program, apprentice to Professor Rack-It I hear, yes indeed." The man paused and blindly grabbed at something below the mountain of files Somehow, he produced a specific document. He stamped the top with a seal of some sort and handed it over to Aram, content with his precision. "There you go m'boy. You're in the books, just make sure ya catch Rack-It today, he should be over in the Alchemical Laboratory. Get 'em to sign and keep that document, then you can pick'up your schedules here tomorrow." The man gave Aram a wily smile. He raised his hand and shooed the boy away, their business concluded, and bellow "Next!" The document issued to Aram was a simple form, one that waived the fees for his courses - up to three to be exact - in return for all of his wages made as an apprentice be given to the university for expenses of materials, labor, and a lot of other official jumble. Now all that remained was to finalize it.

[Aram]

Aram fidgeted at the annoyance he felt from the people in line behind him. He could feel their agitated glares on the back of his head as the man studied the note. He jumped a little at the man's sudden response. "Oh, um...okay. Yes sir, thank you sir." He said nervously and took the form from the man. "I'll be on my way..now." He said, walking backwards, still looking at the man. You'd think that being someone who's competent in auristics, he wouldn't shy away from this man, as he only seemed to be busy, yet Aram never did like people being hasty with him. Yelling he didn't mind so much, but being rushed was something he did not like. He had felt for a long time that his entire life had been rushed, and that scared him to a point. There was nothing he could do about it now. He turned around when he had walked a sufficient distance from the desk, and opened the door to leave. It was windy outside, so he tucked the form into his pocket and headed toward the alchemical lab. It took him quite some time to find the lab, as he had no real directions of where it had been. He stopped to ask a few students or professors, or whoever it may have been, where he could find it, and got very little useful information, as most appeared to be busy, annoyed, or scared of him. "That way," they would say about a general direction, or some of them would just point. Either way, he managed to get there. It was an intimidating place to him, just as the rest of the university so far had been, but nothing he couldn't get used to. Everything was just much larger here than he was used to. He warily opened the door to the alchemical lab, unsure of what exactly he would find inside.

[Hatter]

The lab was much more intimidating when one got closer. From a distance the building was like the rest of the university, a tall, stone structure taller than it was wide with several windows and a slopped, tiled roofing with a chimney to complete the image. Only standing next to it would the observer notice the burns. Explosive scars, chipped stones, and - worse yet - a door set against its hinges with no real support. On the front was a note in a messily scrawled hand, one that read simply: Please put the door back when you come in! Thank you! - Professor Rack-It Its meaning was clear. When Aram tried to enter the door fell to the side, in no way attached to its frame. Behind the broken portal was a hectic laboratory complete with an array of vials, tubes, and odd colored liquids that ran from one long table to the next. The inside was clash of a cacophony, boiling water, clinking glass, taps, raps, and the patter of small feet. The last one did not make much sense. Beneath all the smoke and rustle, there was what appeared to be a midget. No. It was not human. A creature of clay ran about, perhaps feminine in form, her small form clad in what appeared to be an iron-reinforced apron. She ran from one side of the lab to the other surprising speed, her almost human facial features contorted in a furiously furrowed expression. Then she stopped. With a start she turned around and took note of Aram before she jumped up wildly and pointed at a bubbling vial not by three feet from the man's position. "Quick!" She exclaimed, the voice akin to that of a normal - if hyperactive - woman. "Take it off the fire! Off! It'll explode!" With a start, the Pycon waddled her way toward the item in which she spoke, a magical burner of some sort that was in the processes of heating a dull red liquid. This could only end in tragedy. "Quick quick!"

[Aram]

Aram was surprised to find that when he opened the door, it did not simply open. It more or less fell open. He caught the door and hurried to put it back on it's frame as he entered. He hoped that he hadn't caused that, but by the note he would assume that it had been like that for a very long time. He was also surprised to see that the one that appeared to be running this place was much much smaller than him. Not that he wasn't used to people being much smaller than him, but this was no person, and no person he'd ever seen had ever been so small before. No doubt he would have to double over many times a day if this were who he was to be working for. He didn't like the idea of this, picturing himself standing next to her with his head near his feet as they worked. He could see a long line of back problems coming on. He didn't have much time to think about this, however, as the figure before him seemed to be excited about a boiling vial that was uncomfortably closed to him. She was frantic about this, but had an aura of comfort for this sort of thing. This was something she was used to. He rushed to the vial, quickly taking it off of...whatever it was sitting on, he wasn't exactly sure what one would call such a thing, and searched for something to pick it up with. He grabbed a nearby pair of tongs and carefully took it off the fire. He then searched for a place to put the bubbling, obviously explosive, vial down. Defeated by the messy layout of the room, he simply held it out to the small figure, eyes closed as if it were still going to explode. "Here you are, err, miss." He said, still facing away from the vial, and her.

[Hatter]

"Nonono! Don't hold it that way!" The Pycon exclaimed as she reached Aram. She leapt into the air and snagged the vial from the tongs with a precise hand, the heated liquid searing the material of her hand. She did not seem to mind. At least in action. "Hothot. Ooooh! Too hot. Reimancers! Always making things too hot!" The little woman grumbled. She was upset, sure, but it was almost adorable the way she conducted herself. With a dissatisfied sigh Rack-It waddled her way back over to the table she was at before and hopped up onto a stool, one designed to bring her up to the level of her projects. The vial was placed on a stand and summarily forgotten, all while she returned to work, her hands deftly plucking between a myriad of other materials and glass beakers. Elbows buried, she came to a sudden stop and tilted her head, almost as if something had just come to her attention. "Oh!" She turned and gave Aram a wiry grin. "Hello! I've never seen you around before. Or ever. You a student? Or a messenger? Or a. Ah. Or a... oh! I have no idea what you are." The Pycon's head bobbed as she examined her new subject. Was she studying him? Who knew. Even her auristic aura was a mess. The Pycon was a furious blaze of activity, ranging from curiosity to suspicion to genuine joviality, all of it switching within the course of a single chime. Even an experienced Aurist would be hard pressed to keep up with the little bundle of knowledge. "So! Whaaaaat can I do for you?"

[Aram]

Aram looked at her curiously as she took the vial from him, burning herself on with it's contents. He stared on almost in a state of disinterested awe as the small figure went back to her work, ignoring him for a moment before addressing him directly. "I..uh...are you Professor Rack-It?" He took a single step forward, reaching into his pocket with one hand to retrieve the form, and placing the tongs back on the table with the other. He was utterly confused by what he saw in her, more or less a jumble of sensations and emotions. "I'm a...um..student, kind of. I'm apparently on some sort of work-study program. Here, I have a form. I hear it's for you, or so they say it is...if you are who I think you are." He moved closer, holding out the form for her to take, examine, sign, do whatever she may with, as long as he got his work and classes. He was finding it very hard to be his semi-stoic intellectual image that he so arduously rehearsed. In truth he was still a boy inside, put through a mess of traumatizing experiences and yet managing to come out somehow unscathed. He was very light-hearted when he could be himself, and even managed to let off a joke or two every now and then, but being his first time in a formal educational institution, he was a bit panick stricken, and acted as such at times. "I'm to be working as an apprentice here in the Alchemical Lab, d-don't know much as of yet, but I'm s-sure I'll learn fast." He stuttered, now nervous for some reason, however a man as colossal as he could be nervous. The tiny woman-figure was very erratic of thought and action, not the sort of people he was used to dealing with. This university would be an interesting experience indeed.

[Hatter]

Rack-It stared up at Aram. She was comical in her manner, only three feet tall yet she was the one in control. What was there to be nervous about? The professor smiled and bobbed her head, one stub-fingered hand plucking the note away. She perused the contents once, twice, than a third time before she read it. The eyes were something else. This creature's features were in no way flesh, but they moved like a human. Except that she never blinked. Not even once. It was almost creepy. When Rack-It finished her study she gave a long, low pitch hum and swept her vision from Aram's feet to his head. Somehow she seemed more interested in him now. "Well! I need to sign this! Yes. But! First I need to make sure you know something! Already have apprentices. 'Nother one might just get in the way!" Rack-It released that low pitched hum again. Apparently she did that when she was thinking. "Hah! I know!" The Pycon spun around and pointed at the vial of dull red liquid Aram had previously saved from untimely explosion. "That fluid is a filter!" The professor spun around again and motion to the table that she stood over. The top of it was long, flat, and round. It was an alchemical doorway. The edge was a silver ring with several slots, ten in total - five on each side - and a small pedestal in the center that currently held a small purple chain. Apparently the vials and materials were all components to be used at the Pycon's whim. At least the lab was well funded. She pointed at the slots around the outside of the ring and spoke again, this time her tone holding something akin to a serious manner. "Over there," She pointed at one of the slots on the northern end of the ring, "Is a small bit of melted gold, yes? Yes! Why would I need to put a liquid, heated no less, as a filter for the receiving item in the center?" Rack-It turned about and eyed Aram expectantly.

[Aram]

"Well," said Aram, clearing his throat and stepping closer to the table. "A filter is used to negate the properties of likeness in the filter and fount, so that those properties do not become a part of the alchemical reaction, and the recieving object does not possess these same properties. In this case, it would appear that you do not want the object to retain the properties of fluidity, especially, and possibly the ability to retain heat, gold color, or ability to melt, though from my research I would assume that the gold is melted only to negate the fluidity of the fount, as I'm sure, most alchemical items do not stay hot simply because the fount was hot during the reaction. Although, most alchemical reactions do tend to produce objects of a heated state afterwards, and can then later be cooled down." He had been rambling on for about a minute and a half now, and was completely unaware of his surroundings as he spoke, so immersed in his little speech about the knowledge he possessed of alchemy, whether right or wrong. He was rather much of an intellectual show-off in cases, even when he didn't deserve to be. Sure he thought most of what he was saying was correct, but in actuality she could have been doing something completely different. He smiled an innocently crooked smile and waited patiently for her judgement.

[Hatter]

Halfway through Aram's speech the Pycon stopped listening. She bounced off her stool and pranced about the laboratory where she grabbed a few items that lay about. Ink, a quill, and various other vials full of peculiar substances. Who knew what she was up to. By the time the man finished she had returned and was arched over the doorway, scribbling various markings on the form Aram provided before. She was quick and she wrote in some foreign language, most of the lettering either some kind of short hand or - more likely - made-up. Somehow that seemed to fit the professor. When she was finished Rack-It spun about and offered Aram a big, lop-sided grin. She oozed pleasant emotions. It was almost disturbing. "Basic! Rudimentary! But it works." She said in her hyperactive tones, "Your first duty as my apprentice is to talk less. Don't use seven words when three will do." The Pycon gave the boy a nod and slipped off her stool again, forgetting the document on the doorway. At least she signed it. "So! I'mm'a guessin' you're too poor to pay for a room. Need'a place to stay?"