Chương 16: Chapter 14 ~ Internal Scheduling Conflict

27/10/1111 EotTS, 03: 51 Moonlight was creeping through the cracks of the shutters when the noise of people in the common-room woke Gysel; but who could it be at such an hour? Those who the Headmaster referred to as friends(who else could it realistically be? Lyma had the only other key). She lay there for a moment, holding Kawvel—should they be greeted? even just a friendly 'hello' or 'good-night', or rather, 'good-morning'? yes, that would be best, they all know who slept in room '547.'

Pulling herself out of bed, and putting on her loafers, Gysel padded to the door, clad in her matching, pine-green nightshirt and bloomers. With Kawvel in hand, she opened the door. Wyohla, the twins, and Visi were seated at the table, and Ardhy was standing up from the hearth; he had somehow made the flames a cool blue, making the stone walls feel even colder. Wyohla held a bottle of red wine by the neck; it was half-full, and the wine inside sloshed about, tinting the blue flames behind it purple.

The label was from the same distillery as the one she had at the restaurant. A bottle of absinthe was being passed between Visi and the twins. They all drank from the spout: which was strange; there were glasses in the cupboard, Lyma had even put them there. Thyres leaned against the cooler-box with his arms crossed. His mustache had lost its curl and fell naturally over his lips. Wyohla put her arms on the table and rested her head on them. She looked to Gysel, and a closed-lip smile formed.

"Awww, did we wake the cutest little thing," she slurred.

"Come home with me, my bed is big enough for the two of us."

"Yes."

"Really?" Wyohla sounded more excited than shocked.

"Of course you woke me."

"Oh."

"Do you want some?" asked Lyma, holding the bottle of absinthe out for Gysel.

"No," Gysel rubbed her eyes.

"We did wake you. I'm sorry." Wyohla sat up, scooted the chair backwards and patted her thigh.

"Come here. We might be hogging the chairs, but these are really soft." Gysel shook her head—as soft as Wyohla looked, the featherbed is softer, and it does not reek of alcohol.

"No. Why is everyone here?"

"We are looking over our schedules," answered Ardhy.

"But why here?"

"Because 'we' includes you." Gysel stared at Ardhy as her face flushed; she took a half step forward, then moved her foot back, and turned back to her door, leaving the common room. Gently shutting the door behind her and locking it, she slid down the door with Kawvel clutched to her chest.

'We' always includes everyone but Gysel: the 'we' was Mother and Father going to a play and only telling their daughter about it after the itinerary was discovered; the 'we' was the girls from the private school, going around the class one-by-one, inviting everyone, but always leaving one behind, alone at the desk closest to the teachers. A tear rolled down her cheek and onto Kawvel, then another, and Gysel wiped her eyes on his back.

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"You broke her." Wyohla's sigh came muffled through the door.

"How?" Ardhy said.

"You're the soberest one." The wine bottle made a thunk on the table.

"Figure it out." The sound of heavy footsteps drifted under the door and grew louder with each step.

"Gysel," Ardhy knocked. Gysel did not answer; one could not go back out, not like this; one step outside that door and it would be the 'we' that Mother and Father thought of, or the 'we' of the girls at the school. He knocked again.

"Gysel. I'm sorry. We are just here to look at each other's schedules and thought you would want to join us." She sniffled; it was louder than intended. A chair squeaked on the floor.

"By the Gods, Art," said Visi.

"Gysel, slide your schedule under the door." Gysel stood and retrieved her schedule from her desk, sliding it under the door, but only halfway—they have probably been together since the entrance ceremony ended... all afternoon, but they still waited. The paper disappeared, pulled to the other side by Visi.

"Thank you." He walked back to the table, with the heavy steps of Ardhy following after. Gysel stayed quiet, but she remained by the door, listening to the fire crackling, waiting for one of the others to start talking. After a minute, Thyres broke the silence: "What did they do last year, Wyohla?"

"About two hundred and fifty students. Classes of fifty, with each day dedicated to one pillar." Wyohla stopped and groaned.

"Here, just... just, give me the schedules." Papers rustled, and silence followed.

"Visi, Thyres, and Lyma all have the same schedules," said Wyohla.

"Gysel, Ardhy, Lyvahn, and I all have the schedules."

"And professors?" asked Thyres.

"Did you not listen earlier?"

"Of course I listened."

"No, you didn't." There was a pause, then the thud of the wine bottle on the table.

"It is all the same professors in the first year; they have three assistants from either the second or third year. They will tell you the curriculum on the first day. Ardhy, give this back to Gysel." Gysel's schedule slid back under the door; taking it, she returned it to her desk, then went back to the door. She pressed her eye to the keyhole and looked through: Everyone had gathered by the door. Wyohla held the doorknob.

"My place?" she asked. There were indistinct murmurs as everyone glanced at each other.

"I think we should turn in for the day," Ardhy said.

"I'll walk you home, but then I'm going straight home and straight to bed." The wine bottle dinged on the corner of the counter.

"You're no fun."

"We need to prepare and get our books," Thyres said.

"We all still have a lot to learn and two days to prepare." Wyohla opened the door and began to leave, but she stopped in the doorway.

"How about just dinner at my house tomorrow?"

"As long as you don't cook," said Visi.

"And you will?" Wyohla turned and walked back into the common room. She pushed past everyone and went straight to the door of Gysel's private quarters. Knocking with the wine bottle, she spoke in a saccharine tone.

"Gysel, dinner at my place tomorrow?" Gysel pulled away from the keyhole and hid below its line of sight—dinner will likely not be what is liked or wanted, so there was no reason to go.

"No."

"Hmm. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"All right." Gysel waited a few seconds, long enough to reasonably assume that Wyohla had moved away from the door, and then she looked through the keyhole again—the blue eye of Wyohla stared back.

"Are you sure..." Gysel fell on her rear and scrambled away from the door.

"Yes!" Wyohla giggled.

"Good-night, Gysel."

"Good... Good-night." Gysel stayed there, leaning against the frame of her bed, holding Kawvel. Everyone said goodnight to her through the door; she returned them. Then they left, and the deadbolt of the door to the dorm clicked shut: it was just Gysel and Lyma. Lyma tapped on Gysel's door; it was a soft click, a fingernail.

"Is everything all right, Gysel?" She asked.

"Yes." Gysel quietly moved back to the door and looked through the keyhole again: the blue fire was out, and Lyma kept her distance from the door.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Gysel in a firmer tone.

"All right." Lyma started to go to her room, but stopped.

"If you ever need anything, we are here. Don't forget that."

"I will not," answered Gysel—why are they being so nice? why are they being so kind, so inviting? what did they want?

"Goodnight, Gysel. Sleep well. I will see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Lyma. Sleep well." Lyma's door opened and shut, but the lock did not click into place—maybe, just maybe, these people would be different.