gurabad | 037 » on and on we carry through the fear

[francel dodges emmanellain's fishing with practiced grace — and the self-restraint of one who knows better than to rise to the bait. he avoids most of emmanellain's more pointed questions easily enough. all francel will admit to is that zephirin is his french tutor (never mind that the question of his learning french has fallen to the wayside and he has quite forgotten about his pressing need to survive leusignac’s class). he leaves out the part where zephirin is a professor at the college. that would give emmanellain entirely too much to talk about.

one way or another, though — and despite francel's best evasive maneuvers — emmanellain manages to wheedle the beginnings of a get-together out of the poor youngest haillenarte. francel promises emmanellain that he will invite laniaitte — but more confusing is that emmanellain is prodding him to bring zephirin as well...]

[ Francel's promises are a victory for Emmanellain, who proceeds to turn the beginnings of a get-together into grand plans of weekend road trips and movie nights and fair visits. He casts himself as Francel's mentor, guiding him to guaranteed fun, and Laniaitte as her brother's chaperone, what with a French tutor Francel barely knows in the picture.

Emmanellain's vision is transparent — and he's not above promising to invite Haurchefant as a back-up, or filling Francel's inbox with supposedly fail-safe relationship advice.

Zephirin, by contrast, merely sends Francel his wishes for a pleasant weekend alongside the location where their scheduled tutoring session is to take place. ]

[eventually, francel grows exasperated, and opts to not even look at emmanellain's messages for fear of triggering the read receipts. zephirin's, on the other hand, he is more than happy to reply to. politely, francel confirms his knowledge of the tutoring session, and promises to show up early.

he does, in fact, show up early. fresh out of class with professor charibert de leusignac, francel feels distinctly scorched and singed, and more than just a little emotionally exhausted. he slogs over to the library study room with all the grace of an exceptionally sleepy bear, knocking weakly on the library door like a man defeated.]

Um... Zephirin? Are you there? It's me...

[ Today's knocking is timid again, and Zephirin opens the study room's door to see Francel looking sapped of all strength. He gestures for the boy to claim one of the chairs, choosing his own accordingly, on the other side of the table.

They've both arrived early, but Francel might be in need of a break from French. ]

Are you feeling unwell?

No, I'm fine...

[obediently, francel trudges toward the chair indicated to him, even though there are closer chairs — he's simply on autopilot and not thinking much about it. he throws himself into the chair rather heavily, taking a moment just to close his eyes before he sits up and tries to give zephirin his full attention.]

Sorry. I'm just a bit tired — I just got out of class. But I'm ready, I swear...

[ Zephirin doesn't begin the session. From the doorway to his chair, Francel's movements are sluggish; his feet drag themselves across the floor, and his body drops onto the chair as though invisible strings holding it upright have been cut. It's doubtful that Francel is as ready as he insists when it seems taxing for him just to keep his eyes open.

Sitting back in his seat, glancing at the clock on the wall, Zephirin shakes his head. ]

Unless you intend to leave early, you have another ten minutes before we'll start. You mentioned cookies last week?

[this elicits a rather comically exaggerated gasp from poor young francel — though by the look on his face, his gasp was entirely serious.]

Oh! You're right! I forgot! I mean — I remembered! I mean, I brought the cookies, I just forgot until now...!

[fumbling through his bag, francel at last comes up with a very clean and well-designed food storage container, all pretty glass lines and printed with cute rabbits along the side. sure enough, there are cookies inside — one row of fruit jam cookies, center-filled, and another of chocolate chip.]

You don't have any allergies, do you? I thought these were pretty safe choices...

[ While Zephirin brings up the promised cookies for Francel's sake rather than any personal desire to have a snack on hand, the tidily arranged contents of Francel's storage container aren't unappealing. Peering into it, Zephirin solemnly stretches out his hand.

It's endearing that Francel takes this promise so seriously that the thought of breaking it causes him genuine distress. ]

They're fine. May I take one of each?

You can take as many as you want.

[at first, francel proffers the box for zephirin’s taking, but then he realizes that his gesture is quite useless, and he sets it in the middle of the table in front of them. he has enough energy to muster a weak smile, it seems.]

I made them, so they might not be very good...

[ Francel's admission meets with astonishment. Zephirin looks up from the box, hand still outstretched until he masks his surprise, selecting a chocolate chip cookie first.

Baking his cookies instead of bringing a store-bought packet with him, Francel has gone to an unexpected amount of trouble to keep his promise indeed. ]

I didn't realize that you bake them yourself.

[ Raising the cookie to his mouth, holding his other hand positioned to catch falling crumbs, Zephirin bites into it. ]

[by his cookies, at least, one would consider francel a prime candidate for an apprenticeship at the forgotten baguette. his cookies are soft against teeth but maintain a crisp shape in hand; they are mildly sweet, perfect for mindless snacking, though the chocolate chips make them sweeter.]

Well, we had the ingredients, and it's a lot of fun to squeeze the jam in. Do you like them? You can take more.

Perhaps Janlenoux has competition.

[ Zephirin is no cookie connoisseur, but the product of Francel's baking efforts is edible, pleasing in taste. Having paused to reply after his first bite to chew and swallow, he finishes the rest, and helps himself to a cookie from the other row. This one sits cupped in Zephirin's palm as he regards Francel, who gradually seems to be regaining his energy, his fear of Professor de Leusignac at least temporarily forgotten. ]

Have you brought your questions as well?

[it is possible to divine the precise moment at which francel's tiny smile freezes over, and pure horror takes over his expression once more. he seems to deflate into the table.]

I-I'm sorry... I didn't... bring anything...

[he lifts his head hopefully.]

W-We could go over some of the new material we covered in class today...? I didn't understand some of it...

Edited 2017-12-01 03:49 (UTC)

[ Apparently Professor de Leusignac's class strikes fresh fear into Francel's heart even now, outside the lecture hall and far away from the man himself. Fortunately, Zephirin has yet to start on his second cookie, and so his answer comes without delay, lest he keep Francel suspended in his trepidation. ]

When you're ready. [ He nods. ] Let's continue to schedule our sessions to take place after your class with Professor de Leusignac. It makes no difference whether you prepare questions to bring or we discuss difficulties you've encountered in class.

As long as it doens't interfere with your grading or your faculty meetings...

[francel seems to need a steeling of nerves, so he takes up a jam cookie and stuffs it whole into his face; his cheeks bulge with its weight as he crunches and chews until at last the normal appearance of his face is restored.]

Ah... well, okay. We went over some, um... very esoteric material today, and some of the verb constructions are a bit...

[the young man pulls out his neatly organized folder and takes out a worksheet that was given in class, handing it over so that zephirin can explain certain things he's marked with tiny question marks and notes in an equally tiny print.]

[ Miraculously, Francel manages to chew his way through his cookie and breathe at the same time, and Zephirin doesn't face needing to make use of his first aid training. His own jam cookie disappears in a few tidy bites before he dusts off his fingers, leaving the remaining cookies for Francel and focusing on the worksheet.

It takes some effort to read the boy's writing — in several places, the letters are almost too small to tell apart without a magnifying glass. Before long, Zephirin pauses to rub the bridge of his nose. ]

...Professor de Leusignac will most likely use this material in a future assignment.

[ As they work through Francel's questions, Emmanellain's barrage of messages resumes, undeterred by their recipient's silence. ]

[every student is bound to have a frustrating habit or two; francel's may be his meek, tidy handwriting, for he is otherwise quick on the uptake — but he simply cannot flourish with a professor like charibert de leusignac, who responds to every asked question with a snarl and a threat and an insult to one's intelligence. he nods along to zephirin's explanations, stuffing his cheeks with cookies all the while. despite the fact that he ostensibly brought the cookies for zephirin's sake, he's eaten half of them by the time they have finished going over the worksheet.

francel ignores the buzzing of his phone in his bag. at some point, he reaches backward to switch it silent entirely.]

...'ankyu. [he swallows, and clears his throat.] I mean... thank you. I understand a little better now.

[ Snacking incessantly while Zephirin explains the material would test the man's patience, but Francel is clearly paying close attention, and knows not to give in to his phone's relentless alerts. What seems to be unconscious comfort eating to cope with the stress of any reminder of Professor de Leusignac isn't the healthiest way to calm his nerves, however — Zephirin's brows twitch upward as his gaze lands on the half-emptied storage container. ]

You have the potential to do well. [ Francel isn't "just bad at things." His problem, without a doubt, is that his fear of his professor is indeed crippling. ] I'll have a word with Professor de Leusignac...

[ Zephirin glances at Francel's bag, where the boy's silenced phone must be full of texts that may or may not be urgent. ]

Go ahead and answer that.

Oh, no, I — it's really not important — y-you said you were going to speak to Professor de Leusignac?

[francel's voice rises steadily in pitch as he speaks. there is a crumb at the corner of his lips; his tongue peeks out and licks it up before he speaks again, anxious, almost begging.]

You don't have to do that! I-I mean, I'd really prefer it if you didn't...

Only to compare our teaching methods, and without mentioning your name.

[ Anything else would paint a bigger target on Francel.

Zephirin's gaze returns to the boy's face, slides to the stray crumb, follows the movement of Francel's tongue. His hand relaxes after coming close to pointing that crumb out to Francel. Instead, he places Francel's worksheet back down on the table in front of its owner. ]

Of course, I won't go against your wishes.

Ah... okay...

[truly, francel wears his heart on his sleeve. the student's expressions are vivid and unfettered, like those of a boy much younger; he seems, somehow, emotionally defenseless. his hand twitches toward another cookie, but stays itself in time.]

If it's not about me, that's fine. I was just worried...

So am I.

[ Zephirin reaches for a third cookie, fruit jam once more, transferring it to his palm. ]

Frankly, I believe his approach holds his students back.

[ It's unfortunate that no one has proof that Charibert goes so far as to arbitrarily fail students, culling the herd for their own good, in his view. Those who survive his classes pride themselves on making it through.

Francel, already traumatized, still has the rest of the semester to endure. ]

Y... You do?

[unconsciously, francel presses his hands together, as if in hopeful prayer.]

...He was the only one teaching this course this semester, and everyone said that if I could make it through his class, I'd be really, really good at French. I'd gotten straight As before then, so I thought it would be okay, but... I don't know. I thought... maybe I just wasn't good enough.

They're not mistaken. Passing the course is possible, and a student determined to succeed will take measures to guard against Professor de Leusignac's style of teaching — which you've done.

[ With a certain amount of resilience, Francel will emerge "really, really good at French" at the end of what must seem a long, dark tunnel of harsh penalties and no praise. In that sense, Charibert's methods do motivate some students to work harder — others, easily discouraged, drop the course altogether, and Charibert mercilessly purges them from the class list.

Francel's soft features are an open book that tells the same story as his half-eaten box of cookies. ]

...I wouldn't take his remarks to heart.

Really...?

[francel's soft features turn even softer, as he averts his eyes, looking somewhat shy.]

I-It's just... I could shrug it off if I didn't respect him, but Professor de Leusignac is smart and scary, so... somehow it hurts more... [oh!] Ah, but you're really smart too, Zephirin...

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