Flying Professor's Office IC OPEN

Sunday, May 18, 2025

English - Thoughts

@Ruckus Weems

Flying Professor's Office

XXXThree knocks sounded on the door, a standard, evenly-spaced greeting. Not too harsh or demanding, but not too tentative, either. At least, that was what Eonaria hoped. Despite her general dislike of Flying Class due to her fear of heights, she could still appreciate the person behind the classes. Eonaria hadn't exactly visited a professor's office of her own volition before, and her heart was thumping with unnecessary anxiety. She had noticed that professors tended to change rather frequently, and each professor that took up a post and then left later was a missed opportunity to build connections.

XXXEonaria opened the door and heard a slightly rough "Good to see ye," to which she nodded shyly and smiled. "Um, hello," she greeted awkwardly, her gaze momentarily distracted by the collection of mismatched items in a mahogany shelf at the center of the room.

XXXThe rumors about his collection must be true, then. Otherwise, this would be a really weird visit. Her mother would often get annoyed when Eonaria horded random little things under the argument that they would find a use later, so here she was, clutching her bag with a few of the objects she had mustered up the courage to give away. The assortment of items already in the professor's collection were quite bewildering, though they assured her that no matter what she placed on the table, it wouldn't be seen as strange. Unless it would be odd to just enter the professor's office, put some things down, and walk away? Now that she thought about it, it absolutely sounded weird.

XXXWhy is there candy in his collection...? Eonaria blinked at the Jelly Slug packet, sitting innocently on the shelf. She suddenly remembered that she was still standing in his office and quickly cleared her throat, tugging her bookbag off of her shoulder. "Um... I have... things. I was wondering if you might like to take them?" Eonaria offered, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. "My mother is making me get rid of them, but it feels wasteful to throw them away," she added quickly. One of the items in her bag was a pair of Dream Pantaloons. She had no recollection of where they came from, nor of ever buying them or receiving them. They had just... shown up strangely. She would never be using them, but maybe Professor Weems could somehow find a use? Eonaria tried not to look too nervous.

.・-: ✧☾♩♪♩♬　. 。・゜✭・.・✫゜・。.　♬♩♪♩☽✧ :-・.

interacting: @Eonaria Kabukimono

Ruckus Weems—Professor Weems now—had his head buried in lesson plans. Felix Lin had left extremely detailed notes, and with only three days of classes under his belt, Ruckus was a bit overwhelmed trying to follow them. Final exams would be happening shortly, and Ruckus wanted to ensure that no student would feel the effect of the last-minute professor change on their tests. He needed to pick up exactly where Felix left off.

But next to his flurry of lesson plan papers, spread haphazard across his desk, was his personal notebook: It was now filled to brim with his own scrawls, his own ideas of what he wanted to teach next year. He felt a bit like a madman, his attention being constantly pulled away from the task at hand and into some creative wonderland where he was daydreaming about next school year.

The whirlwind of thought was cut short by three distinct knocks on his door. His office was open for student visitors. A lone first-year walked in, and Ruckus recognized from the past week's classes. Eonaria Kabukimono, Gryffindor. He suspected she might be afraid of heights with how she handled her broom. He quickly pushed his papers together in neat pile and placed his now-closed notebook on top. He turned his attention fully to the young Gryffindor. "Good to see ye."

He was bit nervous to have someone come to his office already. Had he missed something essential during class? Could this student be at risk of failing due to his greenness? Ruckus let none of this concern show on his face. He merely smiled warmly and waited for the girl to speak.

And she did so nervously. She gestured to her schoolbag—"Um … I have … things. I was wondering if you might like to take them?"

Ruckus realized she wasn't here to talk flying. She was here to talk trash. A wave of relief rolled over him, and the change might have even been visible to the young Gryffindor. "Why, yes, Miss Kabukimono, I would love to see yer collection of wares! They will feel right at home here with my other items. What've ye got?"

Sunday, May 18, 2025

English - Thoughts

@Ruckus Weems

Flying Professor's Office

XXXThe professor greeted her warmly, but internally Eonaria wondered if he had noticed her lack of aptitude during class. He had a rather surprising reaction to her statement; she almost expected him to give her a judgmental look or say that his shelf was full or something, though his demeanor was quite welcoming regularly, so why would he? Her hands were slightly sweaty as she reached into her bag, relieved that he had agreed.

XXXEonaria placed down a set of blue china teacups with a soft clink, one of which had colorful flowers painted carefully over its original design. She had gotten bored one day and sat on her bed, painting tiny daisies of varying color. She quite liked the end result, but it meant she would never be able to drink from it without risking consuming the paint, and it wasn't like she would take a teacup with her to the dining hall. Eonaria was very glad the tea set had not somehow broken on her trip from the Gryffindor common room. Then she tugged the aforementioned Dream Pantaloons out, folding them quickly and neatly to place them beside the tea cups.

XXXShe also had a Gobstones set, of which every single one of them had been cracked and then soldered poorly using Incendio, the metal filling in the cracks gleaming faintly in the light. Eonaria had bought them on impulse in Diagon Alley, remembering that it was a fairly popular Wizarding game. It wasn't something she had ever played at home, though. Upon discovering they actually shot a foul-smelling liquid, she had immediately vowed to never touch them again. They had somehow cracked, hidden deep in the many storage compartments of her trunk.

XXXHer collection looked like an extremely strange 7-year-old had gone on a shopping trip but didn't know what they were buying. Eonaria took a deep breath, finally looking up at the professor, folding her hands together behind her back. "Um..."

.・-: ✧☾♩♪♩♬　. 。・゜✭・.・✫゜・。.　♬♩♪♩☽✧ :-・.

interacting: @Eonaria Kabukimono

The young Gryffindor laid several objects out in front of Ruckus. He carefully looked at each in turn.

First, a tea set—a classical design, the familiar blue and white popular on teacups the world over. He carefully picked up one of the cups gently for inspection. "Ye know this pattern is probably from China, though it would take an expert appraisal to be sure. The English copied a lot of the designs, making their little changes here or there." And turning the cup around, that's when he saw it: a very original pattern. Assumedly, Eonaria's own daisy design, bursting with color. "Ah, so someone else has made quite a large change. Beautiful, and one of a kind!"

Next were a pair of trousers. They were … ostentatious to say the least. Ruckus rubbed the fabric from the legs between his thumb and finger. "A pretty pair of pants. Enchanted, possibly? I would be wary of puttin' them on, but they're perfect for the collection."

And finally, there was a Gobstones set. It was worse for wear; many of the pieces had seen better days, and the manufacturing looked shoddy in the first place. "Ye know, me brothers used to trick me with this game all the time. Didn't properly explain the rules, and I got covered in gunk every time. This set is unique though—I wonder if there was a mistake when they made it. Could be a one-of-a-kind error. This might be the only out there with these kinds of cracks."

Ruckus was grinning ear to ear. It wasn't every day that a student brought such a trove. He thought that Eonaria could be a burgeoning collector herself.

"Well, young lady, excellent work procuring these treasures. I would be happy to make room for them in me display case if you'd allow it. Do they have any special stories I should know about it? I'd like to keep their histories intact."

Sunday, May 18, 2025

English - Thoughts

@Ruckus Weems

Flying Professor's Office

XXXEonaria was in awe at how the professor could conjure up assessments of her objects like a licensed inspector. Are there actually people who professionally appraise tea cups? Her cheeks turned red at the professor's comment about the altered tea cups, ducking her head and mumbling a small "thank you." Eonaria had never experienced such big praise for such a small thing she did randomly out of boredom.

XXXShe grimaced slightly when he noted that the Gobstones probably had a malfunction that caused it to crack. Bad decisions, oh boy. No one had explained the rules of the game to her, either. It just reminded her of chess and skipping stones, combined. "Er..." she took a moment to think at Professor Weems's inquiry. History??

XXX"I wouldn't say they have much history, since they were all bought new before, uh, going through my possession. Except for the trousers. I have no idea where they came from or when they showed up, I just discovered them in my trunk a few months ago." Eonaria ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I guess you could just say that the additions to the tea set and Gobstones are the work of imagination." That sounded somewhat poetic, right? Was history supposed to be poetic? She totally hadn't used... Incendio... on fork tines... to solder those Gobstones. Ahem. The aftermath of that one had been particularly strange.

XXX"...well, thank you for your time, Professor Weems!" Eonaria smiled shyly, picking her bag back up. Weems was an interesting name. "I hope you take good care of these, er, things. Uh... have a good mor-- afte...? Afternoon!" She glanced out the window hastily. What time was it? "...see you in class! Bye!" She opened the door and slipped out, hoping desperately that the farewell had not been rude. And honestly, the conversation had not been all that bad...

.・-: ✧☾♩♪♩♬　. 。・゜✭・.・✫゜・。.　♬♩♪♩☽✧ :-・.

- Eonaria has left the office -

30th of June 2026, late afternoon
Flying Professor's Office
Interacting with Professor @Ruckus Weems

The school-year almost ended just near the eyes. Millie won't never miss the chance to go back home during this holidays. However, the girl still thinks there are matters she needs to finished of before that. So, here she is now, walking to the professor's office with slightly doubt yet determined, looking at how her fingers tangled to each other like they encouraging themselves.

She rise her hand, knocked the door twice, and slowly open the wooden door before her. At the same time, she heard the response from the man inside with his bold Scottish accent that she gotten used of it during a year in his class.

"Pardon me, Professor," she said while closing back the door behind her and walked deeper to the office. "I realized it's not really a good time while you have that much stacked to be graded," she paused with her eyes on the pile of papers on his desk. She cleared her throat, and continue, "But knowing it's almost a year you taught me—I mean, us, first year—flying with the broom, I think I also should know how to easing my own anxiety while flying."

She closed her mouth for a moment, wandering her eyes through the eye-catching rubber duck sitting on the shelf, and position her hands on her back, still clutching on each other. "At least I could tell myself that this fear while I'm up above the air is not reaching the stage of phobia, yet. So then, I can overcome it, could I? I don't know ... with getting used of it, maybe? But how? I couldn't easily train myself at home while my parents might be bulged their eyes out of shock. Neither I can't fly on plane with no clear destinations too."

interactions: @Eonaria Kabukimono
May 18, 2025

Eonaria seemed flabbergasted by Ruckus’s request for a historical record of her contributions to his collection. This was not a surprise to him: She was so young, and it was most likely the seven-year history curriculum at Hogwarts didn’t have time to cover the importance of preservation and curation. She declared the teacups and her gobstones a work of her imagination—the teacups were obvious, but he expected there was more to the story with the gobstone set. A story she seemed not able to tell at this time.

The young Gryffindor slipped out of his office in a blink of an eye. Ruckus had hoped to hear more from her; no one had yet given him so many objects, and he found the moment to be a highlight of his year, maybe even of his career so far at Hogwarts. Ruckus proceeded to set them up in his display case with care.

interactions: @Millie Ann
June 30, 2026

The last day of the year. Ruckus’s first full year of teaching! He had grown more confident and found he had quite the knack for the job. It was actually a lot like bartending; students weren’t yet confident on their brooms and even seemed to be “under the influence,” and Ruckus dealt with them in much the same way—by taking a time out, listening to their problems, and getting them back on the broom when their arms stopped flailing about.

Unfortunately, it was now mostly exam grading time. The flying professor couldn’t convince the school to make the exams fully practical. So here he was, grading little essays on the history of broomsticks and whatever else. Some students appreciated history as he did, but others … well it seemed they did not appreciate history … or grammar … or full sentences.

There were two knocks at the door. Thank god, let the procrastination in! A first-year Ravenclaw student appeared at his door—Miss Millie Ann. She recognized that he did, in fact, have a lot of grading to do, and he did his best impression of a severe teacher who wished not to be interrupted while inside he was doing cartwheels of joy—any distraction would be appreciated, but a student in need, why it was the best possible distraction!

Millie was concerned about her anxiety while flying; she even worried that it could one day turn into a phobia of some sort. She explained that the anxiety extended to plane rides as well. Ruckus had never been on a plane, come to think of it, but he could imagine being stuck in a metal tube with strangers while an unknown person controlled the aircraft was a far cry from his own long trips on his Oakshaft, where he was the pilot. And here, the young girl was equating both scenarios.

He dropped the stern professor charade and smiled. “Ah, this is a common problem. Yer not alone. Well first, and I don’t ask this because I’m biased, though I clearly am, are ye planning to take flying next year as an elective? The root of anxiety is fear of the unknown, and I believe the more ye know about brooms the less ye’ll be afraid.

Second, where does the fear live? In yer head, yer stomach? Do ye feel like ye're going to fall? Do ye feel an impulse to jump off?” There was something the French called the “call of the void,” where one’s freedom and ability to fall off things trembles through their body in the form of anxiety. There was no actual danger that the person would fall, but it’s the sense that it’s possible that is all it takes. But people’s fears were rooted in all sorts of things. And getting to the bottom of them was usually the first step to eradicating them.