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Bella is seriously considering refusing to tell anyone else what her major is. Honestly. The way people flinch -
Well, no, that's not fair. She'd flinch too if she were unprotected and a subtle artist walked by. Just because most don't, in fact, casually or unintentionally read thoughts, doesn't mean that none of them do. Her tutor back home thought that her aversion to having her mind read was why her arts were set up so defensively and everything else was secondary for her.
She doesn't like the flinching, but it is fair. Maybe she'll go to the lab and scribe off a few copies of a mini fact sheet so she can hand them out when she meets people. No, that would be obnoxious.
She'll wait for it to wear off. Eventually she'll make some friends who'll know how she works. Or who are other subtle artists; she's probably more likely to make friends in classes than in the dorm, anyway.
She's not sure how she feels about the mixed-sex dorms. The rooms are singles, at least - that's why she's in Thatcher Hall, automatic single rooms for no extra charge at the price of having to maybe live next door to somebody who's not all human. There's a short list of species who qualify to be out of Harlowe and in predominantly-human Thatcher. None of them scare Bella. The orientation guide called Thatcher a "salad bowl". The junior who was wandering by at the time called it a pit.
The building looks nice. Bella's room looks nice. She unpacks her stuff and then goes back out to explore a little and encounters a stark naked man.
"Dude!" she exclaims. "Put some clothes on! This is a mixed sex hall!"
subtly_artistic
"Nice to meet you too," he says. "I'm a nymph. You're an asshole."
subtly_artistic
Bella considers this information.
Then she abruptly turns right and strides briskly down the hallway.
He's either telling the truth or lying, and neither result leaves her wanting close proximity.
She's in sockfeet. She forgot to put her boots back on when making up her mind to leave her room. She catches a toe on a loop of carpet fiber, pitches diagonally into somebody's doorknob, and comes to a graceless heap on the floor, with what would untended become a massive bruise. Godsdammit, those boots were expensive and she can't even remember to wear them. "Ow, ow, ow..."
Then she abruptly turns right and strides briskly down the hallway.
He's either telling the truth or lying, and neither result leaves her wanting close proximity.
She's in sockfeet. She forgot to put her boots back on when making up her mind to leave her room. She catches a toe on a loop of carpet fiber, pitches diagonally into somebody's doorknob, and comes to a graceless heap on the floor, with what would untended become a massive bruise. Godsdammit, those boots were expensive and she can't even remember to wear them. "Ow, ow, ow..."
"Fuck's sake," snorts the alleged nymph. "You want that healed?"
subtly_artistic
"I know where the healing center is," she mutters, pulling herself to her feet. But it's a hike. And he's between her and her room, where her boots are.
"If you wanna walk there, I'm not stopping you," he says. "But if you're okay with divine healing, my way's quicker."
subtly_artistic
"You are kind of stopping me. You're between me and my boots of dexterity that I obviously need to get anywhere without getting myself killed, and you're either a dude who hangs around naked in semi-public for no obvious reason, or you're the world's only male nymph and you can therefore discern creepy things about me just by standing close enough and I do not think subtle arts shields will block that."
"Okay," he says, and he walks past the door of her room to stand between it and the next room down the hall, giving her a clear path. "Just so you know, I was going to read you off to make the point that I actually am a fucking nymph, but I'm not feeling anything specific enough that you'd even be able to tell I wasn't just making it up. So congratulations on your boring fantasy life."
subtly_artistic
Bella gets up and goes to her room for her boots. "I'm so proud," she seethes, jamming her foot into one and doing up the laces. "You know, I'm not the kind of subtle artist who inadvertently reads people, those are actually very rare, but the ones who do are generally expected to work on controlling it and not casually invading everyone's privacy. I knew there were nymphs sometimes in this building. I did not know it about the hall." She gets the other boot on.
"I'm not a subtle artist," he says. "I'm a fucking nymph. We're not expected to do shit except get on top of a dick a few times a week, but I like bucking expectations, so I'm a martial combat major. Seriously, I could heal you, that looked like it hurt."
The aggressive tone fades out of his voice over the course of these few sentences.
The aggressive tone fades out of his voice over the course of these few sentences.
subtly_artistic
"I know you're not a subtle artist, a subtle artist would be asking about my unfriendly brain by now whether they autoread or not. My point was about learning things about people's minds without permission. Not about the subtle arts as a specific way to do it." She shifts uncomfortably. "How close do you have to get to heal me?"
"Are you uncomfortable about me getting close because I'm naked or because I can read your sexuality? Not that I can do much about either. I'm still feeling you from here, I'd still be feeling you from the other end of the hall, I could feel you from inside my room with the door closed if you were having sex in yours but I'd bet my title deed you're not gonna be getting any this month, especially not after I said that. And I have to touch you to work a healing."
subtly_artistic
"If you're really a nymph, which I am gradually coming to believe, then I don't care if you're naked. And if - kheez, the other end of the hall, seriously? Am I the first person to even object or do you just not give a shit?"
"I'm not a subtle artist," he says. "I go to school, I live in dorms. I live in dorms, people are going to be fucking nearby. And I can't just shut off my connection to sex any more than you can shut off your connection to breathing air and drinking water."
He takes half a step closer, holding out his hand. "I can heal and argue at the same time," he adds.
He takes half a step closer, holding out his hand. "I can heal and argue at the same time," he adds.
subtly_artistic
"I would look into not needing to breathe if I inhaled other people's private business whenever I did it!" exclaims Bella, but she flings her hands into the air and drops one into his offered extremity.
A bright light flares; a golden warmth wells from her bones. All pain stops.
He drops her hand.
"See, fixed," he says. "Do you actually think I can stop looking?"
He drops her hand.
"See, fixed," he says. "Do you actually think I can stop looking?"
"Look it up how? Mom and I don't talk much."
subtly_artistic
Bella runs a hand through her hair. "In the library? Ask a lore professor, maybe? I don't think I could do it, but depending on how it works maybe some subtle artist could set up a sensory valve?"
"I don't sense it, I am it," he says. "Anyway, whatever, I'm off to get yelled at for walking around naked some more."
subtly_artistic
"I'm off to get asked what my major is and watch people justifiably flinch," sighs Bella, stepping out of her room, closing the door behind her, and heading down the hallway.
Thanks to Thatcher Hall's architect, only one end of this hallway leads to the stairs. They are off in the same direction.
"Great," he says. "We can be really uncomfortable buddies."
"Great," he says. "We can be really uncomfortable buddies."
"I'm not going to feel anything more from you than I've already got unless your desires change or you start getting horny around me," he sighs.
subtly_artistic
"I'll be on the lookout for those possibilities, then, I guess."
"I'm sorry," he says. He sounds it. Exasperated, yes, but also sorry.