Chương 19: Chapter 17 ~ Tahgwyn Lyuhn

01/11/1111 EotTS 17: 00 It had been about an hour since Gysel had returned from the cafeteria to her dorm, the pumpkin seeds had been hulled, and now sat on the edge of the left side bay-window's seat board, beneath the open right-hand window, but nothing had come for them yet, though, something certainly would: nothing would resist a free meal.

Now, she sat at her desk, listening attentively to the window for the slightest sound of little bird feet on the wood, while staring listlessly at a blank piece of paper, knowing exactly what needed to be written to Mother and Father, and knowing the exact response that would be received roughly a quarter-maiden after the letter was posted.

During the average year, only fourteen letters were addressed to one 'Gysel Neekhilst,' this dropped down to thirteen with the passing of Grandmother (Mother's Mother) two years prior, and as one would expect, it would be quite difficult for her to write her grand-daughter on her birthday following such a life-changing event, since then, these thirteen letters would tend to sit upon the desk, remaining unopened for multiple days, while enough courage was gathered to open them; they were always the same letter, a notification from 'The Bird Journal' that this maiden's edition had arrived for pick up at the local bookstore, but there was always a hope the letters would be something different: and as long as they stayed unopened, they were.

It was always difficult to write letters, especially when one has a tendency to be quite, prolix; as such, one draft would be written, and then deemed far to long to be sent, as the recipient would certainly only skim it; a second draft would follow, which would be shorter, but lacking an explanation and proper clarification to what was thought while writing (gravity affects words just as much as it affects leaves and feathers; making it easy to get subjective ideas from the mind of the writer to the paper, but difficult to get objective ideas from paper to the mind of the reader); then a third and final draft would be written, a draft which tended to be longer than the first two combined.

With a sigh, she wrote: Mother and Father, The coach arrived safely at the Academy on the eighteenth of last maiden, after a long ride. The city is nice: very foggy, with a variety of bookshops (please include the next letter from 'the Bird Journal' in your response so the delivery address for future copies can be updated, so further editions can be sent to the Academy). The scholarship included a private bedroom, as well as certain prerogatives that permit free food and books on the Academy grounds.

The bedroom has a shared kitchen and common room with one female roommate; her name is Lymalova, and she brought a large, seemingly intelligent friend group with her. So far, it is enjoyable. Classes start to-morrow. Gysel. She set the pen back in its stand; this was good enough, they would hopefully read enough of the letter to follow the instructions on 'the Bird Journal,' but this was doubtful.

Father (who would likely be the one to read it) would care very little about the details of the Academy, and would only be pleased that the scholarship included food and books.

There was a flapping of wings, the clicking of talons on wooden seat-board, and the familiar croaked caw of the Tahgwyn family of birds, so slowly, slowly, Gysel turned her head to see what it was—it is a Tahgwyn Lyuhn, also known as a Moon-Raven or Luhnylla's Raven, what a gorgeous bird, with its full body of lunar grey feathers, with their pearlescent blue chatoyance, that seem to hint at colors no man could see, the Journal says they can talk, well, mimic sounds, and are smart enough to recognize people, and have people friends, maybe this one could be befriended with treats and it will bring coins?

but what if it is already befriended by someone else, and leaving the window open will invite the bird to come in, and take things… it might be best to only leave out seeds for the birds when the room can be supervised, well right now, the bird and the room are being supervised. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The Tahgwyn Lyuhn did not stay long, less than a minute, before eating its fill, and leaving.

Now, with nothing keeping her from her original task, Gysel folded the paper into thirds, shut the window, and left for the dorm-mother's office to inquire about how to go about posting the letter. The Dorm-mother's office was on the tenth and top floor of the female dormitories, and was accessed by going up three floors from Gysel's own, then down a long hallway identical to the fifth floor (the only logical reason to set the office so far back was to provide access to the plumbing).

Gysel knocked on the cream-colored doors; there was a dirtying along the side with the handle, where the cream was darker in spots, where the cream paint had aged, or dirtied, to a burnt orange from people neglecting to use the door handle when closing, or slamming, the door.

"It is unlocked, you may come in. Take a seat on the couch in the room to the left. I will be only a moment." Came muffled from the other side of the door, the voice was high, nasally, and grating, very grating on the ears: the conversation must be straight to the point, to minimize the words spoken by the dorm-mother. Gysel opened the door and did as she was instructed: heading straight to the room on the left, and not paying much attention to the rest of the office.

The room was painted a light grey-green, with walnut wooden accents on the coffered ceiling. The hardwood flooring was identical to Gysel's room. A cream-colored, wool rug laid perfectly flat and centered in the middle of the room; upon it, there were two brown leather couches, the upholstering of each being held down by deep-set brass rivets, and a wooden tea-table with hooved feet, stained a color that matched the wooden accents. Gysel sat down on the couch closest to the outside wall.

The office was not really an office and more like the parlor of an apartment suite, which was exactly what it was, as Gysel could see the kitchen from where she was sitting and the pot that emitted the scent of spiced beef-stew that skulked about the room. The dorm-mother emerged from the kitchen wearing a brown apron with cream frills around the edges. She was a rotund woman, with a puffy potato-like face (who, like the old maid, clearly intends to hoard the stew to herself) with green eyes and greying brown hair.

"Hello Gysel," she said, as she sat down in the couch across from Gysel.

"I would like to post a letter," Gysel said, holding up the folded paper.

"Can I do that from the Academy grounds, or do I have to leave them?"

"You can post it from the Academy grounds at the bookstore, but when you get a response, you have to go into town."

"Is the cost of post included with Fifth-Floor-Privilege?"

"Yes."

"That is all I wished to know. Thank you, goodbye." Gysel stood, walking to the door.

"Not so fast," said the Dorm-mother.

"I know what you have done."

"Who does not?" asked Gysel.

"It was in the newspapers across the empire."

"Sassing me will not make things easier for you. I've been doing this for a while, and I haven't had any incidents. I don't want you to tarnish my record." There was nothing 'sassy' about the previous statement; it was simply factual—why are people like this?

"I do not want to tarnish your record."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"I am here to learn," said Gysel.

"I do not have time to concern myself with you, or how you want me to go about my studies."

"Excuse me?" Gysel sighed.

"I am here to learn, I do not have time to concern—""I heard that—""Then why did you say, 'Excuse me'? I am leaving now."

"You certainly are not. I am not done talking to you. I have well over a hundred other girls in the building to look after, and I do not want some arrogant arsonist putting them in danger."

"How am I putting them in danger?"

"How? You burned down a school, that's how. And I don't want you to do it again, here." The dorm-mother pointed to the floor; Gysel looked to where she directed, but there was nothing interesting there.

"If I burned down a school, why are you concerned about the dorms? The fire started in the lab. There is nothing to be worried about."

"I'm worried, I don't trust you. You are an unvetted arsonist who is here on the whim of a crazed old man." Gysel reached for the door.

"You are the dorm-mother. Do not tell me how to do my studies. I will not be doing any experiments in my room; I am not as stupid as you seem to think I am, as I am here for a reason. You are being ultracrepidarious; please remember that you are the dorm-mother, and I am the protégée. I am—""Get out!"

"If you would let me finish—""Out!"

"I would have told you that—""Out!"

"I am leaving." Gysel opened the door and left, slamming it behind her, and heading straight to the bookstore to post the letter, and then to the cafeteria to eat, but not as much as that fat sow—just like the old maid; rude, unwilling to listen, and selfish.