Re: Dusty Semblances Lecture
Posted: Tue Mar 29, 2022 8:25 am
The next few minutes within Fu's mind were somewhat tumultuous as she wrestled with her hidden emotions. Aside from the initial shock of fear, the sudden hyper-vigilance, the swirl of repressed anger, and the deep-seated feeling that it was unfair to treat her like that, she now had to contend with a good deal of embarrassment as she felt at least a dozen eyes on her at once. Far as she knew, they all thought he'd somehow shut her right up, but that wasn't it. What had her so quiet in the moment was the storm in her brain and the big dose of anxiety that hit her right between the eyes. As things calmed back down for everyone else in the room, they didn't for the alleycat. A series of images, memories, forced their way into her mind, only to be automatically pushed back out, replaced instantly by a sickly blackness, a wall erected in defense, a hole stuffed suddenly full, a door slammed shut.
Her face felt hot, though she wasn't sure if it was from the urge to strangle the person next to her or the looks she was getting. She kept her eyes averted for her own sake. It wouldn't help her any to meet their gazes, especially not the Professor's. For a few minutes in the painstakingly long silence, she fought the urge to storm out of the classroom. Eventually, when the automated fire systems in her brain put out the worst of the flame, leaving her head full of smoke, she began to release her tense body, focusing one by one on various muscles that had been alerted to the potential danger in front of her.
Two weeks in and you're already losin' it, her mind scolded her, Guess he was right. The scowl that settled on Fu's face after this thought fluttered through her made her look as unpleasant as she felt. It was at this time that she started looking sidelong to see who was still staring at her, and if they were, she'd meet their gaze with an intensity that didn't belong in the classroom. An angry look, that somehow transcended normal ire and went straight to the soul. It was an animalistic look that simply said, "I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands if you keep staring at me." Little did they know, it wasn't far from the truth.
When the students unfortunate enough to have met her gaze were dealt with and no longer looking her way, she turned her eyes toward the front of the room, still slouching low in her chair, she did what any sensible wanted criminal would do and pulled out her small butterfly knife, obsessively flicking it around a few times to give her anxious hands something to do. In the throes of emotions like these, there was something almost possessed about her dexterity. The blade traveled fast, dangerously, and yet at no point was she not in perfect control of it. The slight click of metal-on-metal was fairly audible in the now-quiet room, though she didn't stop when the Professor started telling another story. At least this time she was half-listening.
While her mind continued its slow process of deescalation, at some point, somebody threw something onto her desk, right when the professor yelled "WHAM!" She didn't see it directly, but as if she had some kind of extrasensory perception, the second it landed on the wood, her blade drove right through it. It was a completely effortless move, in a flash she'd flipped her knife from its closed position, to open, and with an audible 'thunk', hit the little ball directly in the center, bifurcating the word written on it which now read: reee laaax.
Next thing she knew, though, she was sitting there, knife embedded in the wooden desk, just staring at the strange orb which seemed to be reshaping itself back together around the blade of her knife. Transfixed, she watched it, and something in her was able to finally push the weight of her emotion off her shoulder. She slipped effortlessly into dissociation, like slipping on a perfectly-fitting glove. With eyes that saw through the world, she just looked at the ball, unmoving, until the second "WHAM!" snapped her out of it. At least the nasty look on her face was gone, now. What were they talking about?
Her face felt hot, though she wasn't sure if it was from the urge to strangle the person next to her or the looks she was getting. She kept her eyes averted for her own sake. It wouldn't help her any to meet their gazes, especially not the Professor's. For a few minutes in the painstakingly long silence, she fought the urge to storm out of the classroom. Eventually, when the automated fire systems in her brain put out the worst of the flame, leaving her head full of smoke, she began to release her tense body, focusing one by one on various muscles that had been alerted to the potential danger in front of her.
Two weeks in and you're already losin' it, her mind scolded her, Guess he was right. The scowl that settled on Fu's face after this thought fluttered through her made her look as unpleasant as she felt. It was at this time that she started looking sidelong to see who was still staring at her, and if they were, she'd meet their gaze with an intensity that didn't belong in the classroom. An angry look, that somehow transcended normal ire and went straight to the soul. It was an animalistic look that simply said, "I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands if you keep staring at me." Little did they know, it wasn't far from the truth.
When the students unfortunate enough to have met her gaze were dealt with and no longer looking her way, she turned her eyes toward the front of the room, still slouching low in her chair, she did what any sensible wanted criminal would do and pulled out her small butterfly knife, obsessively flicking it around a few times to give her anxious hands something to do. In the throes of emotions like these, there was something almost possessed about her dexterity. The blade traveled fast, dangerously, and yet at no point was she not in perfect control of it. The slight click of metal-on-metal was fairly audible in the now-quiet room, though she didn't stop when the Professor started telling another story. At least this time she was half-listening.
While her mind continued its slow process of deescalation, at some point, somebody threw something onto her desk, right when the professor yelled "WHAM!" She didn't see it directly, but as if she had some kind of extrasensory perception, the second it landed on the wood, her blade drove right through it. It was a completely effortless move, in a flash she'd flipped her knife from its closed position, to open, and with an audible 'thunk', hit the little ball directly in the center, bifurcating the word written on it which now read: reee laaax.
Next thing she knew, though, she was sitting there, knife embedded in the wooden desk, just staring at the strange orb which seemed to be reshaping itself back together around the blade of her knife. Transfixed, she watched it, and something in her was able to finally push the weight of her emotion off her shoulder. She slipped effortlessly into dissociation, like slipping on a perfectly-fitting glove. With eyes that saw through the world, she just looked at the ball, unmoving, until the second "WHAM!" snapped her out of it. At least the nasty look on her face was gone, now. What were they talking about?