XXVII | Offerings

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It wasn't until Monday afternoon in magick studies that Clementine saw Ian. The bitter taste of his medicine lingered on his tongue despite the fact he'd taken it an hour ago. He wriggled around in his seat, resting his magick studies book in his lap.

          "Good afternoon, good afternoon," Professor Ingrid called, waving around her hands as she glanced around her uncomfortably crowded classroom. "Yes, yes, I know that it is rather cramped in here today, but we are sharing this period together to make room for Professor Warren's lecture on All-Hallows' Eve."

          Clementine glared at Ian from the corner of his eye. There he was...sitting in the middle row with Connor, Horace, and who he now knew was Harper Collins.

          "Today, we'll be discussing copias. Who can tell me what a copia is?" Professor Ingrid called. Her eyes scoured the vacant faces of each student, and when she set her sights on Clementine, he felt his irritation swiftly morph into anxiety. "Mr Darlington?"

          He stared at her as most of the class turned their heads, gawping at him.

          "Could you tell us what a copia is?"

          Clementine half-nodded. "It's uh...a bushy, evergreen perennial," he answered. "It usually has dark green leaves and—"

          "We are in magick studies, Mr Darlington, not herbology," the professor interjected as the class snickered.

          He leaned back in his seat, trying to keep an embarrassed scowl off his face.

          "I didn't know you were plant-smart," Elliot mumbled, leaning closer to him.

          Rolling his eyes, Clementine glared ahead.

          "Miss Luma, how about you?" Professor Ingrid asked, pointing to the buzzcut girl a few seats away from Ian.

          "A copia is the unit of measurement used to calculate the extent of someone's ethos capacity, professor," the girl answered proudly.

          "Correct," Professor Ingrid called over the mumbles of the word 'nerd' and 'know-it-all'. "Of course, ethos has been around since the very dawn of time, but the ability to measure it was only discovered in the year nine-six-one, a mere two hundred and fifteen years ago. The nine-sixties were very promising years for the development of ethos-infused technologies, but more importantly, these years yielded many medical marvels. The copiatector, for example. Who can tell us what this device is?"

          A few hands rose, and when Mavis' did, Clementine frowned over at her.

          "Yes, Miss Fareborn," the professor called, pointing to Mavis.

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