The Way They Come PV Rett

23 November, 2024
8:00 a.m. / 08:00
overcast, slightly chilly
@Dorion Anderson as Everett Brooks
------

Fabian regarded the stack of reports on his desk with a wary eye. This is what he got for taking a whole day out of the office to attend the various sporting events and oversee the new Defense Against the Dark Arts' instructor's classes a month in. The young academic had adjusted surprisingly well, better than the veteran teacher would've expected given the other's relative lack of experience.

He had only intended to spend half the day out, but time got away from him, and he found himself lost in what he do desperately missed. He could not deny that being headmaster was likely the greatest use of his talent at the moment, nor that he was doing a decent job of it, nor that he didn't enjoy being in a position to repair the school's image. But by God above did he miss his students. He missed the bright eyed first years who were oft now too fearful to approach him, as if his new title had stripped him of the warmth he extended while their instructor. He missed the early classes, especially the ones that counted themselves lucky to have such a class to start their day and were all attentive. He missed his regulars shuffling in and out of his office almost as if they were on a schedule, and the occasional new face. He missed pouring over books with them as he helped them search for the answers, he missed popping down to the duelling club every afternoon to see the talent, to see his kids putting what they learned to use.

Fabian dragged a hand down his face and shook his head. Thinking about his students and how everything had changed in the past month made him think of the boys @Remedy Norden, @Ulysses Drake. The hollow ache in his chest ever present while the school year dragged on had only been more painful and persistent since the accident in Scotland. He could not afford to dwell on such things for too long.

Fabian poured himself a cup of cocoa. It was spiced with cinnamon, star anise, ginger. It reminded him of Sarai, and of home, which was a little more bearable than thinking of Alphonse and Briar in the Amazon and Sarai at Hogwarts. He wondered how the winter holiday would look for him this year, tracing his finger along the vine tattoo he bore on his wrist. He hoped with everything in him that something could be arranged so that he could come home.

But for now, paperwork. Fabian worked in silence, relatively speaking, just the crackle of the fire and the song of the birds and the scratching of his pen to fill his ears.

Man muss die Dinge nehmen, wie sie kommen.
You have to take things the way they come.