Dorian Montoir
August 15, 2018 1:34 AM
After lesson one by Dorian Montoir
“I will come in a minute,” Dorian assured his friends as they prepared to leave after the first Potions class of the term. It was the last class of the day, so he wouldn’t be late for anything by hanging back, and although he was keen to talk more with his friends, there was something important he needed to say to Professor Brooding first.He had packed up deliberately slowly to make it less obvious that he was hanging back, lest the other intermediates thought he was a swot or worse still, an idiot over wanting/needing to speak to the professor this soon into the term. Neither of these was actually the case, although he had remained quiet throughout the lecture. He thought he had probably made a very limited first impression, if he had been noticeable at all. By second year, Dorian had got over the majority of his self-consciousness about speaking up in class, and had become a regular contributor. But stepping up into the intermediates had caused him to take a step back. The other students seemed such a lot older than him, and there was also the fact that they included Victor Callahan, Jehan’s brother. Victor had never given Dorian any reason to suppose he disliked him. In fact, he had given Dorian relatively little reason to think he had any kind of opinion on him at all, which Dorian found to be entirely fair and unsurprising. As someone whose own older brother hated his guts, bland anonymity and no obvious dislike was a perfectly happy and comfortable place to be, and he had no wish to cause Victor to have to revise that opinion downwards by saying something truly idiotic in class. Ordinarily, a new professor might also have been a cause for concern and self-consciousness, but Professor Brooding was clearly nice. It was this niceness and its clear manifestation that had Dorian hovering by her desk now.
“I just want to say thank you for the languages,” he said, rather rapidly and self-consciously, gesturing to some of the bottles in the room. Dorian thought he had been unnoticeable, but that was probably only the case in terms of actual verbal contributions. His face was always animated. He had noticed the bottles as soon as he walked in, and his eyes had taken them all in with clear delight and a wide smile. He had not said anything in class discussions, but that delight and enthusiasm had remained throughout, and he had clearly been paying keen attention the whole time. “I think it did take you a long time, and I like it a lot. Especially the Chinese.” He wondered whether this remark made sense to Professor Brooding, coupled as it was with a strong French accent. Had she merely asked what languages were spoken in the school, and got a list - French, Chinese, Russian, German - or had she asked which students spoke other languages, and thus had those paired with their names Dorian Montoir, French/Chinese, and so on?
“My mama is Chinese,” he clarified, just in case. “I am missing it most, more than French, when I am at school.”
OOC - Mary said in chatzy that lesson one would have been theory, and her author confirmed that class discussion would have been a part of this.
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Dorian Montoir
After lesson one
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Dorian Montoir
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Professor Brooding
August 15, 2018 2:24 AM
A Welcome Conversation by Professor Brooding
Mary had managed to survive one whole day of classes. It was a bit overwhelming starting with the advanced students, but as the day went on, she couldn't decide which group was the hardest. They all presented their own challenges and she was beyond excited to work with them all through the year. She'd collected worksheets from each of them and the stacks on her desk gave her fuzzy feelings. She'd have something to read beside Tabitha's journal now, and it would certainly be less depressing. It would also help her plan the rest of the year, which would give her even more of a distraction.When her last class finished, Mary hadn't expected anybody to stay behind. She'd been a bit preoccupied with the massive relief that came with having survived her first day but when everyone else left and one student, she thought it was Mr. Montoir, remained behind, she refocused her attention on him. Offering a friendly smile, she allowed him to start the conversation.
His accent was strong but clear and she beamed at the comment. "I'm so glad the labels were helpful! I had the great fortune of meeting a number of skilled multilingual potions makers in my travels and they were a huge help for me." She gestured at the bookshelves, where books in a variety of language offered further resources. "Please feel free to use any of these books throughout the year, too."
Mary sat back in her chair and considered Mr. Montoir for a moment. "You know, ancient Taoism was driven by some of the best potion masters of history," she said, remembering when she'd first learned of potion masters in her own family's heritage lands. "Some of the greatest contributions to the study of potions came from Chang Tao Ling's and Laozi's efforts to create an Elixir of Life."
(OOC: Information about Chinese potion masters-- read: alchemists-- from Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_alchemy)
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Professor Brooding
A Welcome Conversation
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Professor Brooding
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Dorian
August 15, 2018 11:10 AM
Very very much so! by Dorian
He was not sure that the labels were exactly 'helpful' to him. His textbooks were in English, and he was more likely to try to find ingredients by their English names. He was not even sure how to say some of the Chinese names, seeing as Chinese did not allow you to sound out or read a word that you did not already know. But the labels were comforting, and the labels were kind. He supposed, in some sense, being given happiness was helpful. If one had well-balanced emotions, one was likely to do better... He did not wish to contradict his professor though, or split hairs because the purpose of this conversation was not the exact semantics and philosophy of the concept of helpfulness (although he thought that was very interesting), the purpose was to let her know that her kindness was appreciated. And she was smiling, so evidently he had succeeded, and that just caused his own smile to intensify and he felt like they might get into a loop of perpetual reciprocal happiness because happiness was just wonderful like that."Thank you," he smiled, eyes shining at the prospect of borrowing books. He was a little afraid that he would not understand the Chinese ones very well. He did not particularly want to admit to this failing but he felt that an implicit part of any book lending arrangement was that one would then share their thoughts on the book. It was a politeness, a way of repaying the kindness of being lent something so nice. And so it was better to be upfront than to risk disappointing Professor Brooding later on. "My reading in Chinese is a little behind to my age. And more... I know more well my home words than my school words. But my history and poetry words are getting better and-" realising he was in danger of rambling, he cut himself off, "I mean, I will like to try reading your books, and hope that I can be..." he struggled to find the word 'worth' as in 'worth lending them to,' "good enough with them,” he finished, still looking excited but also serious, as befitted the lending of treasured books.
He listened carefully as Professor Brooding continued to talk. It took a moment for her words to sink in properly, unused as he was to hearing Chinese names and concepts with an American accent. But when they did, there was a monumental effect on Dorian. If he had looked happy and enthusiastic about the labels or the books, it was nothing compared to the reaction that these words produced. Dorian was, in his true self, a shining, happy and animated person. It just normally took time for those qualities to be drawn out. But it was taking less and less time, as the years went on, as he found himself settled and happy in himself. And Professor Brooding also seemed to have found some short cuts, and some powerfully magic words. Any hint of nervousness and reserve was gone, as a wave of enthusiasm bubbled up and broke like sunshine across his features.
"Yes! Yes, I do know about Dào<> and Lǎozǐ," he beamed. He wasn’t trying to correct Professor Brooding’s pronunciation, but his brain automatically slid into Chinese, giving the words their tones. “Lǎozǐ is-is" and for a moment his mouth stumbled wordlessly knowing only the Chinese words and knowing he couldn't use them, but finding that there was too much excitement in his brain to let the usual process get to work in finding his way around the words he lacked in a given language. "Lǎozǐ is very important ancestor," he managed, "He is start of the line that becomes Lǐ family and Táng dynasty. This is.. We have idea in China of affiliate dynasty, it does not translate well. And my mother is Lǐ. It… It is not a boasting claim," he added, because he wasn’t sure he was explaining it well in English, and he knew that claiming descent from someone in particular carried different connotations in Western society. He knew he was supposed to be… proud in some senses that they were descended from Lǎozǐ, but ‘pride’ felt wrong as a translation, almost as much as ‘descended’ did. It was literal, but also not literal… And there were many Lǐ. It was special, but it was far from unique... Or rather it was Lǎozǐ that was special? “It is not like saying he is my exact relative. It is more like… Like, if you imagine the original person that people come from, and how you would feel about them. They are so important, and you cannot exist without them. You do not try to say that they belong to you, but you say that they are important for you, and you show respect to them. I.. I learn a little about him,” he added, reigning himself in slightly, remembering what Professor Brooding had actually asked, “More about dào than potion. Your books are about this?” he asked, his eyes flicking back and forth between the bookshelf and the Professor, drawn by the obvious desire to try to read the titles but also tempered by the wish not be rude by becoming absorbed in something other than the person he was having a conversation with.
He settled for staring in wonder and excitement at Professor Brooding. This amazing person who had been so kind and who who knew Dào and Lǎozǐ. And there was also more than that... She looked different to other people too. He had noticed that in class, and wondered about it. She wasn’t different in the same way as he was, he was pretty sure of that, in spite of her interesting reading (and because, he assumed that if she was part Chinese, she would have known her tones). He wanted to ask her about that too, but he wasn’t sure how. A lot of the times that other people had said things to him about it, it had been done in a way that was not kind or polite. He knew that there were a lot of wrong ways to ask that, and on top of that, he had to negotiate his way around it in a language where he was less confident.
“Do you speak any other languages?” he tried. It wasn’t what he wanted to know exactly, but he thought it might be a way of getting at that information without risking saying something rude or hurtful by mistake.
OOC - decided to seek forgiveness rather than permission with the assumptions about Mary’s pronunciation, as it’s bedtime here. I feel like even if trying to make a conscious effort to pronounce them accurately, most Westerners would seriously struggle, especially with tone. Tone is freaking hard.
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Dorian
Very very much so!
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Prof. Mary Brooding
August 15, 2018 8:28 PM
Your excitement is so exciting! by Prof. Mary Brooding
Mary chuckled softly, enjoying Mr. Montoir's enthusiasm. His comments about ancestors and descendants seemed fairly straightforward but Mary could tell there was a cultural element she was missing. The fact that he was willing to share these thoughts at all made her happy, though, and she didn't interrupt."Yes, books aren't always as helpful for learning as we think they might be, but sometimes it's nice to have them just in case. I won't mind if you borrow one and then decide you hate it or aren't ready to read it yet, that's okay, too." She smiled at the excited student, happy to have found something to connect on.
She hardly recognized the names of the potions masters with their proper pronunciation and Mary smiled at Mr. Montoir's obvious multilingual influence on the language he spoke for her.
"That's wonderful!" she cooed. "That means you already have some strong potions skills in your family!"
"I only speak English and a very little bit of a few other languages," she said, still smiling. She hoped her confessional tone made it clear that she admired multilingualism, even if it wasn't something she had managed herself. "I never have stayed in one place long enough to become fluent, other than here, of course."
She wondered at Mr. Montoir for a moment. his multilingualism was fairly evident in his use of English and in the way he pronounced the Chinese names. However, his ethnicity was less obvious. Her ethnicity was maybe more obvious, and she wondered if he was asking about that.
"My father is Indian," she smiled. "And my mother is Jewish and Polish. But they met in America because their parents had brought them here; they only knew English so that's all they taught me growing up."
Mary thought of Selina's warning not too friendly or give too much personal information to students, but this seemed relevant and she pushed the fear aside. Although she did keep it in mind enough to make sure she didn't get into too much more detail than that just yet.
"Where does your family live?" she asked, hoping the question was open enough that Mr. Montoir could answer easily. Multi-cultural family backgrounds sometimes made questions of 'home' or being 'from' someplace difficult, so she settled on the question of residence instead.
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Prof. Mary Brooding
Your excitement is so exciting!
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Prof. Mary Brooding
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Dorian
August 15, 2018 9:11 PM
Your... youness is so exciting by Dorian
Professor Brooding was so... so... He was not sure what word to use, but she made him feel warm and safe. She seemed to just understand and be lovely about everything, and it felt like nothing he could say would be wrong or stupid. It was a pleasant and rare thing to be offered wonderful books, but even more so to be told it was ok if it didn't work out exactly as planned. The librarian tried to reassure him sometimes, when he came back defeated by a book, but it was still something he struggled with. Dorian was a perfectionist and a bibliophile and not getting on with a book jarred with his soul."It can always be a book for later?" he suggested.
"Oh.. I am not sure. It is not really..." he trailed off with an embarrassed shrug when she suggested his family would be good at potions. He definitely had not been trying to claim that, and he worried that Professor Brooding was going to expect more of him than he was capable of delivering. "I will do my best though." His best was usually fairly solid Os but Dorian still struggled with taking praise.
He also found himself defeated when Professor Brooding revealed that she did not really know any other languages. He was trying to work out how to ask, whether to ask, when she went on to explain for him anyway. The warm happiness returned to his eyes when Professor Brooding talked about her family. She was like him. Not exactly but... He held onto the information she had given him, and it felt like he was holding a delicate ball of coloured glass. It was beautiful and special and he felt so glad and so priviledged to be able to have it, but it was so, so fragile and he was very afraid of mishandling it and causing it to break.
"I see," he said carefully. He did not want to claim sameness in case she didn't see it that way, or he said it wrong somehow.
"We live in Quebec - French Canada," he explained. He expected that someone as well travelled as Professor Brooding knew what Quebec was but there had been occasions when people seemed surprised by the combination of a French accent and a claim of Canadian citizenship, or did not know what Quebecois meant, so it seemed better to be sure. "My father is from there.
"Where you live... Or where you lived when you were small, are there..." he paused, and the rest of the sentence came out slowly, each phrase clearly considered with great care, "Are there other people... like you? Not necessarily exactly alike but... but also different to other people around them? Or are you the only one?" And even though he hadn't said it, it was clear from the way he looked at her that he finally saw himself reflected in someone else, and was searching to see if they saw the same. And it was probably easy to infer from this search for a recognition of their sameness in being different, a need to find himself reflected, recognised and understood, which of the scenarios mentioned he had experienced.
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Dorian
Your... youness is so exciting
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Prof. Mary Brooding
August 15, 2018 9:28 PM
My meness is sort of like your youness. Just a lil bit. by Prof. Mary Brooding
Ah, Quebec made sense. Mary was inspired by the careful way Mr. Montoir seemed to think over his words before speaking and she was reminded of her brother. Parker's eyebrows had always had a little crease in the middle from thinking too hard. She didn't think Mr. Montoir was thinking too hard per se, but certainly thinking quite hard. Mary nodded as he spoke, hoping it would encourage him."My brother and I were very much the same. My mother and father didn't look much alike and they always said we were the only people in the neighborhood who looked much like them." Mary laughed at the memory and hoped her casual use of the past tense wouldn't worry Mr. Montoir too much. She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want to dive too much into her family's deaths. "Before I came to Sonora, I was friends with a boy who didn't know any English yet. We were very little and he only spoke Spanish. We used to play together all the time before I left for school here." Another happy memory. Mary's smile softened. "It was nice to know that I wasn't the only kid who was a little bit different than other kids I knew."
She pondered this thought, surprised to remember it all so clearly. "I think that's why I traveled so much when I graduated. It was so lovely to find different people all over the world, with different languages and stories and experiences. I was lonely when I was at Sonora," which was truer than she was willing to admit, "but when I went to Madagascar, there was an Irish family with flaming red hair and a heavy accent, and he felt lonely too, so we became friends."
Mary realized then that she was rambling. She'd been lucky to have traveled so much and didn't want Mr. Montoir to think she was dismissing his differences. She certainly understood how it felt to be different sometimes. Her conversation with Selina came to mind again as she realized that teaching potions was one thing, and teaching children was quite another.
"Do you have any friends like us?" she asked, sending a mental owl to collect some of the Deputy Headmistresses careful words and deposit them in her brain to help her phrase everything just a little bit better.
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Prof. Mary Brooding
My meness is sort of like your youness. Just a lil bit.
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Prof. Mary Brooding
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Dorian
August 16, 2018 8:06 AM
I think we have quite a lot of usness by Dorian
The use of the past tense did not strike Dorian as worrying. Somewhere between the fact that they were talking about the past and the fact that it wasn't his dominant language, it didn't stand out to him. What did stand out to him, however, was what she said about her school days."You were lonely at Sonora?" he asked in shock. Sonora was such a perfect place to him, so full of nice and perfect company. It was the place he had found his first true friends. Even before that though, for all he did not fit in at home, he was not sure he would have described himself as 'lonely' even there. He had Émilie and Mama. "That is very terrible. I am sorry." He thought that loneliness might be just about the saddest thing, apart from heartbreak, and he vowed to himself to make sure that this time around, Sonora was different for Professor Brooding. He was not naive enough to think he could offer to be her friend. He was a thirteen year old boy, and she was his teacher. It would be strange to put it in those terms. But he would be it anyway. He would read the books she lent him, and make sure he had interesting thoughts about them to come and share with her. He would come to talk to her about potions theory just for fun. He would make sure that she was not lonely this time.
He pondered her question carefully. He was silently thrilled to be included, to be counted as an 'us.' But it wasn't really around his friends that there was any issue, and he did not want her to think that, because then he felt like he was misrepresenting the people who meant so much to him.
"A little bit yes and a little bit no?" he suggested. "They are not different like us," he smiled as he said it, "But with Tatya, we both speak English less well, so we have this. We are a bit outside but together, like you and your friends." Or they had been. Tatya, of course, now had someone around to speak her native language with. Which was good, and he was happy for her. He sometimes worried that she was lonely because he had something with Jehan that she was not part of... Because he, Dorian, was probably Tatya's closest friend but he did not return that feeling, much as he cared for her. Still, it had been very hard, dropping off Katerina at breakfast and being reminded again of what he was missing out on. And he had felt a brief sting of jealousy, along with the worry that Tatya would stop needing or understanding him in the same way. But he trusted in their friendship, and Katerina was such a pleasant addition to the company he kept at school that he had easily put these thoughts aside. "And Jehan. With Jehan..." He searched for a moment, trying to find some way to convey it, to make sure Professor Brooding understood exactly about Jehan. For the first time since their conversation started, Dorian’s attention was not on her, or anything in the room. It was turned inwards to a private little little world, one that made Dorian smile differently to any of the several ways he had already smiled at Professor Brooding. And there was the way he had said Jehan’s name, like it was the most precious pair of syllables a person could utter. “We are different on the outside but that isn't important because we are exactly the same inside.
"It was more difficult before Sonora,” he added, the window the private little world that had been open closing abruptly, “At home... At home we are the only ones, and people think it matters a lot."
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Dorian
I think we have quite a lot of usness
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Prof. Mary Brooding
August 16, 2018 11:10 PM
Usness has a lot of loveliness! by Prof. Mary Brooding
Mary smiled sadly at Mr. Montoir's question. She had indeed been lonely at Sonora, but wasn't sure that was an appropriate conversation to get into with someone who was just starting their teen years and sure to discover loneliness like they'd never known before. At least...she thought that was likely."I was," she replied carefully. "I thought too much of things I couldn't control and forgot to focus on the things I could. It's not possible to control family," she almost chuckled. "But it's possible to control whether we are nice or not. I forgot to be nice sometimes."
She let Mr. Montoir talk, then, because he seemed to have a lot of things to say but either no words or no desire to say them. His face pulled into a thoughtful expression and then a blissful one and Mary recognized the look. It was one she'd worn herself. Mary smiled, wondering who'd caught him in such a happy crush. Calling such a feeling 'love' when those involved were so young wasn't something she was inclined to do, not because they couldn't be in love, but because it was far too much pressure to put on budding feelings. Being in love wasn't always something that lasted forever, and forever was a very long time to adolescents. And adults, for that matter.
"I am so glad you have found somebody who is like you on the inside," Mary said sincerely. "Although I am sorry about your family and the people you know there. Sometimes, people think that because we are all so different, we are only different. It seems like it would be hard to forget that we all have a face, a body, a heart, and some feelings, but many people forget that anyway."
She peered at Mr. Montoir for what was probably only a short time, but felt much longer. She saw a lot of herself in the boy. They both had brown eyes that people insisted on comparing to chocolate, even when they were really more the color of the California redwoods, and black hair that seemed impossible to so many of the people they would each meet.
"I don't know how good you are with secrets," Mary murmured, leaning forward to fix Mr. Montoir with a conspiratorial smirk. "But something it took me a long time to learn is that the only difference that really matters is whether a person loves others or does not."
She leaned away and considered this. "It matters that you are different and that you speak lots of languages because that is special and wonderful. It does not matter the way people who don't love others think it does. If you are willing to love anybody, no matter what they talk like, look like, or anything else, then you are a person who matters."
It seemed like a harsh way to phrase what she was getting at, but it seemed the most true way to say it. Certainly, people who are mean and awful are still valuable for their humanity, but that wasn't really what she was trying to say.
"People who treat you like you're small are usually just afraid of being small themselves." Mary cocked her head, hoping she was clear. "Does that make sense?"
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Prof. Mary Brooding
Usness has a lot of loveliness!
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Dorian
August 17, 2018 8:41 AM
I think love also has a lot of usness by Dorian
Professor Brooding's comments about her time at school were a little strange and concerning. People trying to control those in their family... People being not nice... That sounded a lot like someone Dorian knew. Someone who seemed like the opposite of Professor Brooding. It was impossible to imagine she had ever been anything but lovely, and certainly never anything as horrible as Matthieu. Which probably meant she meant something else...He was a little bit anxious when she told him she was going to tell him a secret. He was not one to gossip but he was not good at telling lies, and he was not sure he could do a good job of pretending not to know something if he really did. Luckily, it did not really seem to be that kind of secret. It was a good kind, the kind that was more... someone telling you a special thing, a feeling that they wouldn't give to everyone but not something deep and dark to keep hidden. Just something to be protected from nasty people wouldn't appreciate it.
"Yes,” he nodded when she asked if he understood. Everything you say..." It was like she had been inside his life, or inside his head. This was what he imagined it was like meeting your soulmate. Not that he thought Professor Brooding was his soulmate. She couldn't be because she was a grown up. But it had to be like this. Feeling that instant, intense connection, like someone you had known for just a few minutes had known you for your whole life. It had been like that with Jehan too. "I believe all these things too," he said quietly, "Love is the most important thing. And the most powerful. When people try to make hurting remarks, it doesn't hurt so much when you know people love you." He sort of wanted to tell her about Matthieu. Maybe not everything but... The trouble with the important realisations that he had had over the summer were that he hadn't been able to fully share them with anyone. He had told his friends how his relatives had been full of praise for him, how he had been compared so favourably to his brother. But he had never told them how bad Matthieu had made him feel growing up, and how he had found a way not to feel that any more. “I stop listening to people like that,” he told her. “And it feels much better. But it’s even more nice finding someone who tells me that that is right. I don't believe you were ever not nice," he told her.
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Dorian
I think love also has a lot of usness
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Prof. Mary Brooding
August 17, 2018 10:48 PM
It is a great thing to be more full of love than of yourself by Prof. Mary Brooding
Mary watched as a variety of emotions played across Mr. Montoir's face. Some part of him was caught up in the words he couldn't get out the way he wanted, but part of it seemed deeper than that. He seemed grateful for her attention, which worried her. Was he not receiving the care he needed from family or friends? She was glad that they could relate but hated to think that the closest a 13 year old boy had come to finding someone who understood him was in a grown woman. The thought struck her then that he would have been born about the time Parker and her parents had died, a lovely, albeit painful, reminder that beautiful things come out of the world just as often as terrible things do."It sounds like you've experienced a lot of hurtful people," Mary said, peering at him carefully. She had long since learned to look at interesting people like people, and without the face of studying them.
Yet again, Selina crossed her mind. She was sure she'd have a better idea of her own philosophy of teaching after today, but the risk of messing up so terribly on day one was not one that she liked to think of. Her own sentiments came to mind. She'd told Selina that, at the end of the day, the students were the reason they were all there.
Right now, standing in front of her with ghosts in his eyes, was a student. Teaching be damned if she couldn't be a person sometimes, too.
"Do you want to talk about someone that's been bothering you?"
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Prof. Mary Brooding
It is a great thing to be more full of love than of yourself
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Prof. Mary Brooding
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Dorian
August 18, 2018 12:54 AM
That sums up the issue well by Dorian
Dorian weighed up Professor Brooding’s offer carefully. His instinctive reaction was that he was supposed to put on a bright smile and tell her that it was all fine, because that was what he had been doing for years with adults. Matthieu felt like something he was not supposed to talk about. He didn’t at home. He was scared of the repercussions from Matthieu for telling tales. He was also afraid of disappointment on the part of his parents… Matthieu didn’t hurt him just for fun, he hurt him because he thought Dorian wasn’t doing a good enough job, wasn’t being a good enough example of a Montoir. Dorian knew that his parents loved him, his Mama especially, but he had never wanted to draw attention to his failings. It was the same reason he didn’t tell his friends. Matthieu had always made him feel weak and pathetic, and he was afraid of others agreeing. The events of the summer, and the steady reassurance of his friends’ affection, had loosened that hold a great deal. It had made it possible for him to believe that Matthieu was the one with the problem and to tell him so. But his parents also didn’t want to know that their sons were fighting. Even if there was nothing wrong with Dorian as a person, for liking what he liked, he and Matthieu were not supposed to come to blows over it. I hope you’re not fighting boys. It was the constant refrain when any sense of the tension bubbled up to the point of visibility. And he couldn’t even remember a specific example of being told it, but he knew that as a boy, he was not supposed to cry. No one had said it directly, and of course no parent ever would say such a terrible thing - I don’t care that you are being hurt, I don’t care that you are in distress - but over the years, the message had been reinforced in any number of small and subtle ways, that talking about this problem was not welcome. He could talk to his Mama about how he was feeling most of the time, like when he had been nervous about his first day of school, or if he was upset about anything else, or if she sensed he’d had a bad day she would seek to comfort him - but there was the implicit sense that when it came to Matthieu, they just didn’t want to hear it.But now Professor Brooding was asking him directly, wanting to talk to him about it, and moments ago he had been wanting to do exactly that. Both of those were new experiences. It was a new feeling, to actually want to tell someone about Matthieu. He normally wanted to keep it all hidden.
But you definitely weren’t supposed to talk about issues in the family outside. One did not air one’s dirty laundry in public. That was just a rule. Dorian did not always care about rules. Other people had rules that were stupid and self-contradictory. But that had always been Society. Society had rules he did not like, and he ignored them in favour of doing what he thought was right. Like when he had gone to talk to Professor Wright and told him that he had been wrong to upset Tatya, even though Professor Wright was a teacher… But it had always been society’s rules that he had disagreed with, or felt made him miserable. He had never come into conflict before with the boundaries set by his family. He was not sure what to do about that. He believed in following what he thought was right, but what he thought was right had always been the same as his parents… What was he supposed to think when given a chance to make up his mind for himself? It was not a question that he could answer within the time frame he had available right now.
He was also a little afraid of what would happen if he started to talk. He could try telling Professor Brooding just a little bit of the story, starting with things that felt safe. He had told his friends that Matthieu was a jerk, that they disagreed about everything. That was fine... Brothers did not get on sometimes. It wasn’t abnormal. But she seemed to know everything about him and to understand whole realities from tiny pieces, and that was both wonderful but also a little bit scary, because whilst he was definitely ready to say more than he ever had done before, he was not quite sure he was ready for everything.
“I think my friends might be waiting,” he answered. He did not want to go through the door that had been opened for him. Not yet. Not right now, tempting as it was. But he was also very afraid of closing it because no one had ever told him before that they wanted him to tell them about Matthieu, or made him feel like it would be a safe or a good thing to do. “We talked about a lot of things that… that I haven’t really talked before. And… Maybe I can do some thinking and talk to you again another day?” he asked. "I appreciate that you ask," he added, because that had been kind and had been new and special, and he wanted to make sure she knew he had valued the question, even he didn't really know how to answer it right now.
13
Dorian
That sums up the issue well
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Dorian
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Professor Mary Brooding
August 18, 2018 5:48 PM
So long as it doesn't mutliply the issue, too! by Professor Mary Brooding
Mary thought that Mr. Montoir must be one of the most thoughtful adolescents she'd ever met, if not the very most thoughtful. He had a careful countenance but not one that lended well to self-advocacy and Mary worried that he seemed surprised to have the offer of talking about his troubles. She hoped it was because they were minute, and not because he'd never been asked before.She gave him time to think and when he decided he didn't have anything to say just now, she smiled. "That's quite alright, Mr. Montoir," she said warmly, hoping her tone and eyes sparkled enough to make him know she meant it. She'd had people think it odd that she used last names like that, but she'd always appreciated it from her own professors so she maintained the practice into her adulthood.
"You know where my office is and I hope you know that any of the professors are happy to speak with you if you want to chat," she added this not because she thought he didn't want to speak to her specifically, but because she thought it might bear reminding. "It's been such a pleasure meeting you. Feel free to grab a book if you'd still like to."
Then, she turned her body very carefully away from the bookcase. She didn't want him to feel like she was watching if he did select a book and didn't want there to be any pressure to discuss his choice. She also didn't want to seem like she was trying to force him to get a book at all. And so with that, she set about collecting her papers and generally making herself busy, keeping a friendly smile on her face and keeping her face turned enough towards him that the conversation could either continue or not and there was no pressure either way.
22
Professor Mary Brooding
So long as it doesn't mutliply the issue, too!
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Professor Mary Brooding
0
5
Dorian
August 18, 2018 9:43 PM
I fear love might multiply my issues by Dorian
Dorian was taken aback by the use of his family name, and was about to tell Professor Brooding to call him Dorian when he remembered that she was a teacher, and he did not have the authority to do so. Teachers here varied between whether they called the students by their personal name or their family name. He preferred the former. In terms of teachers who did it, he associated it most with Professor Skies when someone had done Something Serious. Outside of that, there were other Mr. Montoirs, ones who he did not see eye to eye with, but there was only one Dorian, so he preferred being him. He knew that was a dangerously individualistic thought, and not really in line with all the concepts of serving one’s family, which were deeply important in both Chinese and Western culture, but much as he loved his parents and wanted to make them happy, the idea of ‘upholding the Montoir name’ was far more strongly associated with Matthieu, and all the things he deemed important. And with all the subsequent times he had belittled or otherwise hurt Dorian for not thinking the same way.“Thank you. Yes,” he nodded. “I am ok though,” he added, because he was not sure whether or not she was worrying about him and he did not want her to, “Sometimes I was sad, and it is nice to meet someone who can understand the things that made me sad. But it is better now,” he smiled. Ok, Matthieu was not gone, exactly, but he no longer mattered. That was the important part.
“It’s been such a pleasure meeting you too,” he replied, deliberately parroting her words to make sure he got the grammar but also the level of sincerity correct.
“Yes, please,” he smiled, making his way over to the bookshelf. He was drawn to the Chinese books first, surprised to find more than one. He could understand collecting books in languages one did not speak if the books were especially beautiful but… Well, actually, so many books were beautiful (and especially Chinese books) that he could easily see how it would be hard to stop at one. He half pulled out a couple of volumes that looked particularly interesting in order to shortlist them, and then fully pulled out a Japanese book that had been muddled in with the Chinese. He had done this automatically before realising that it might be somewhat rude to rearrange Professor Brooding’s bookshelves without her permission. Though if she wasn’t able to read them, she might not have them in any particular order and might not notice. Or she may have arranged them by some personal order, such as when she had bought them… He thought it was a kindness to unmuddle a person’s books but that only applied if the person agreed that they were muddled.
“How do you arrange the ones you cannot read?” he asked, managing to keep his tone light and curious. As he asked, his eyes ranged over the English books. Skimming the authors’ names, he noticed that they, too, were all over the place (used as he was to this as a system, he did not look to the titles and notice that they were alphabetical).
13
Dorian
I fear love might multiply my issues
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Dorian
0
5
Prof. Mary Brooding
August 19, 2018 2:26 PM
Do you really think that? Or just fear it? by Prof. Mary Brooding
Mary looked up, pleased that Mr. Montoir had gone to the shelf of books. He'd gone immediately to the section of Chinese language books (although she was quite sure some of them were mixed up with the wrong languages or dialects and things), and she was not too surprised when he called to her again. Him asking about the sorting of books made her think of Tabitha, which of course made her feel all sorts of things she didn't want to feel, and so she reframed the thoughts as quickly as she could."Another professor helped me sort these, actually, I'm not sure how she did it. You're welcome to rearrange them if you'd like," Mary said as she moved around her desk and went to stand beside Mr. Montoir. He was nearly as tall as she was, which was a bit intimidating since he'd seemed smaller than many of those in his same class. She was used to being small, though, and didn't mind too much. "When I sort them myself, I usually sort them by what I was told they're about."
Mary pointed to one book with a red spine. "This one was about the history of potion masters in China, so I sorted it by H. This one," a book with a green spine and tattered gold print, "was about ingredients native to China, so I sorted it by I. It's not a very good system, mind you, but it works so far!"
She considered for a moment. "Honestly," she said quietly, "I'd love some help sorting them. Any ideas?"
22
Prof. Mary Brooding
Do you really think that? Or just fear it?
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Prof. Mary Brooding
0
5