It's September fourteenth 1997, and a ten-year-old Sadde has not had breakfast. Her mother is resigned to it, but that doesn't mean she likes it. Sadde herself, on the other hand, cannot sit still. "I'm so gonna get magic!" she says, bouncing up and down, to which Laura replies with, "I'm sure."
Her excitement is dying down by dinner time. She's hungry. But she doesn't complain. She just drinks a lot of water.
In the middle of the night, she sneaks into the kitchen. She eats two crackers, suspiciously easy to reach in their cupboard. He doesn't mention it to Laura the next morning, and Laura herself doesn't bring it up either.
He continues drinking lots of water. He naps, ignoring (or trying to ignore) the growling of his stomach. He was happy when he figured out he wouldn't even be eleven at the time of his eclipse. It didn't occur to him until now that maybe being older might have been better for his endurance or something. So his stomach keeps growling, and he refuses to eat anything all day, and Laura refuses to do anything about her child's suffering because it's better this way.
Starvation is not the best for his mood, either. He starts considering that maybe, possibly, he may not be one of the .1% of humanity that gets magic. Maybe he'll be just normal for the rest of his life. Maybe he should just lie in bed and curl up into a ball and ignore the incessant crying of his stomach demanding to be fed. He gets up, gets water, goes back to bed, curls back up again, in a funk. What's this even for? What's even the point? He's 99.9% positive he won't get magic. It's not fair for him to go through this—this shit, just because he maybe perhaps might possibly in a remote parallel universe have magic but not this one because there is nothing that justifies this.
He turns around so he can watch the clock. He wills it to tick faster, wishes the eclipse to come earlier, maybe if he really focuses enough he can get some psion power (or is it mage? how would you even classify that?) to move time faster, make this end. He's just ten!
He naps again, fitfully, and his stomach wakes him up. "Shut up!" he tells it. It doesn't listen. Still growling. "Ugh!" His mother comes to his room, and he's still curled up into a ball, eyes shut, trying to sleep again, because when he sleeps he's not so hungry. She pets him, running her hands through his hair, trying to be soothing without really saying anything. She's been through it. She knows what it's like, to feel horrible for two days, she knows at the end he will feel betrayed, curse the universe for not giving him a gift, for causing this suffering for no reason. No worse suffering, he believes at the moment, and he's so young, not even eleven. But this, too, shall pass. Not tonight, he will suffer because of it for much longer, he is much different than she was when she went through this, but it will pass.
And it's the evening, and the eclipse starts, and Sadde is suddenly full of vigor and energy again, he jumps from his bed and runs outside, and he looks up and then he doesn't because that's bad for his eyes (or was it the other eclipse? he's not sure), and he waits, waits, waits, and hopes—
—and feels. "I have it," he breathes. "I have it! Mom! Moooom! Mom I have it I have it!" The hunger forgotten, he runs into the house—no, she's watching him from the door, okay, he flings himself at her and hugs her, "I have it! I'm a mage! Not a psion but that's okay, I'm a mage!" (And a part of him says, I can be me, I'll work on it and I'll be me, not just half of me, all of me!)
And she laughs and kisses the top of his head and they're in the car, driving off to control school. Sadde's lying on the back seat, listing off all the things he will be doing with his magic, he will change a lot, and he'll fly, and he'll heal people, and they're both going to live forever, together, and everything will be fine, and there's a granola bar under his mom's seat. He grabs it, his stomach grumbles, and he opens it and eats it, because he has forgotten he isn't supposed to, because he's busy ratting off all the things he's going to do and his mind is elsewhere. He runs out of things to list for a while and stops to think about them, and he chews and swallows, and oh my god he was so hungry, except wait, he wasn't supposed to eat! Oops. But that's alright, he thinks, it was just like three quarters of a granola bar, he's fine.
It's not alright.
He feels—something. Laura stops answering. The car starts veering to the right, and he sits up and looks at—
blood. So much blood. Too much blood. There aren't any injuries, nothing visible, but there's blood everywhere, soaking through her clothes and her hair, sprouting from her eyes and nose and ears and lips, emerging from her bare skin as if her pores were fountains of it, and she's slumped over, she's not moving, she stops breathing as he watches, her head turned to look directly at him through blood-covered eyes. He's not sure when he started screaming, but he did in fact start screaming at some point, and calling her, and the car's off the road and it skids into a shallow ditch but he's not paying attention because he can't breathe, can't see, can't think over the horror of what he's looking at, and he can't look at it anymore but he can't stop looking. He has stopped screaming. He hasn't stopped looking. He doesn't know he has a body until it rudely reminds him by telling him it needs food, it doesn't care that the world has just ended and that nothing matters anymore, it doesn't give a fuck that nothing will ever be alright again, this stupid body has the audacity to remind him it exists, it has caused this, it couldn't have just stopped. It couldn't have just killed him instead. It could kill him now. He could kill him now. He couldn't kill him now. She wouldn't—wouldn't—He can't complete the thought for a while longer, he's no longer staring at her but he's not seeing anything either. It's dark, he's alone, and it's not cold, it should be cold but it's not, and he's hungry.
She would want him to live. Of course she would. There's not even a question there. But the thing is, unlike in movies, this won't sustain him. It won't be enough to drive him. It doesn't matter that she would want him to live, because she's not alive, she's gone, and it's his fault. He has to want to live, it has to be himself.
He climbs out of the car, numbly, realizing that some of the blood is on him, on his clothes, and he finishes eating the granola bar, and he leaves.
He doesn't follow the road.
He sets a tree on fire that night. It's an accident.
Back in the old days, people would do this. Go to the wilderness, where no one else lived, live off berries and whatever else. Other people would leave boxes of food, once a week, but no one else knows he's here. No one'll leave him food. He has to live. He wants to live. He killed her, he knows this, but that's no excuse. What's even the point, if she dies and he dies and then, and then what? Pointless. Not that there has to be a point. But he'll make a point.
He's rambling. Inside his head. He stops rambling and focuses on finding stuff to eat. Surely there's stuff to eat.
There's very little stuff to eat.
He makes a shrub with berries on it explode the following morning. That's alright, he's pretty sure they were poisonous. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.
She realizes, at some point, that two days without eating wasn't that big a deal. That she was being a big baby about it, that it's nothing compared to a week without food. She wakes up one day to the sound of some animal nearby, and her magic actually cooperates, and the animal's leaking blood
(just like mom did)
it doesn't matter, it's dead. She has not learned to make a fire. Not with magic, not with her hands. She tries anyway, and is mostly successful, and she manages to eat half-cooked half-raw something. She doesn't remember what animal it was, only that it was the most delicious thing she'd ever eaten.
He has scraps of clothing fashioned from the skins of animals he ate. Well, not really clothing, more like loincloth. There's not a whole lot of use for that when no one else's around, and he made sure to stay away from anyone who might have shown up. He doesn't know, but he's pretty sure he hasn't accidentally killed anyone at the edge of his range (what's his range even? has anyone ever measured an untrained mage's range?).
He waits a while longer, just to be sure. But he's pretty sure. It's been two winters and it's the end of the second summer. He waits a while longer, just to be sure. But he's pretty sure. He should get back to society, if he even can.
He finds the spot where he buried his clothes. They—don't really fit him anymore, he sees. Even if he hasn't grown as much as he could have. Oh, he realises, it's because he's boy-shaped, his proportions are probably all wrong.
She changes. It's the one thing she can reliably do, is change. Okay, she actually does still kinda mostly fit in her old clothes, not her underwear but the t-shirt and the jeans. No socks, no shoes. It's dirty, but she doesn't care. She's had so much worse.
She finds the road. She follows it.
Somebody walking in from the highway filthy and barefoot and suntanned gets odd looks.
Cinnabon, McDonald's, newsstand, gas station. Hmm. Newsstand.
"Hello. What date is it?"
"...September thirtieth..." says the sub cashiering the newsstand, glancing at the day's paper.
"Two years and change, I see. That I just spent in the wilderness. Because I'm a mage," she explains. "That's the long story short. I'm kinda all alone and not sure what to do or where to go. Help?"
"You just - do you even have your certs - you could kill everybody here!" exclaims the cashier, scrambling back. "Oh my stars somebody call nine one one!"
"Yes! Do that. I don't have my certs, but I did just spend two years in the wilderness. I haven't done any accidental anythings in months. Don't ask me how many, the wilderness is not the best place to keep a calendar." She likes saying 'the wilderness.' She likes talking. Gods, she missed this! Saying things and having other things in the world react to the things she's saying!
Somebody calls nine one one. The cashier wants Sadde to go sit outside and not eat anything until the police car arrives.
She has some experience not eating anything. She happily sits and waits outside, completely unbothered by the fact that everyone else is freaking out.
A cop car rolls up and a cop and an eclipsed (complete with fancy Government Eclipsed Uniform) come out and approach Sadde.
She looks up at them, stands up, does not dust herself off because that is a very easy to lose habit when you go to the wilderness at age ten, and smiles. "Hello!"
"Hello," says the Government Eclipsed Dom In Uniform. "I hear you did two years in the wilderness, kiddo. Tell me why you weren't in control training with the other kids."
"Special circumstances," she replies promptly.
"Where're your parents?"
"One's dead, no idea about the other one," she answers, somewhat less promptly.
"What's your name?"
"Sadde. That's S-a-d-d-e."
"Sadde what?"
"Woods."
After a couple minutes, "Don't have a Sadde Woods in the system. Got a Sadde Baldwin."
She flinches and looks down at that.
"Is that you, Sadde?"
"I'm pretty sure there's literally no one else in this country with that first name."
"Hop in the car, Sadde," says the eclipsed.
Really, what choice does she have?
The eclipsed looks like he could be fifty and his badge says Psion, if she looks at it.
She does. It doesn't seem to provoke any reactions from her, so whether she even knows what that means in practice isn't obvious.
"Get in the car," the eclipsed repeats.
She gets in the car.
"Far as I can tell you're safe," remarks the psion.
"I know."
"It's important that it's not just you who knows that. You don't want to scare anybody."
She sighs again. "I know," she repeats. "Freaking other people out is not really the kind of reaction I want to cause."
"Mm-hm. We're going to get you home to your dad."
"No, you're not."
"You're a child and he's your legal guardian," says the psion sharply. "Don't be a brat."
"I'm not being a brat, he's a jerk, there's a reason I didn't live with him before."
"He's still your legal guardian."
"Don't care. Find me a new one."
"You're a child. You don't get to decide your father's not to your liking and have him replaced."
"He's the one who decided I'm not to his liking."
"Then he'll tell us that."
"And then?"
"Then we'll see. But you're too young to decide who your guardian is yourself."
"Oh, yes. Too young to live in the wilderness all on my own, no, but too young to decide living with someone will make me miserable, yes."
"You wouldn't have been allowed to do that either if anyone had known you were there. You'd have been locked down or sent to training."
"Not the point."
The eclipsed doesn't reply. The cop drives.
She sighs, and falls silent herself. Tobias will just reject her again and they'll put her with a better family. Maybe a pack of rabid skunks.
Here is the police station. The eclipsed gives her a bag of chips and an apple and a donut. The cop calls Tobias.
Tobias answers, listens in silence, then says he's on his way.
The cop thanks him and goes back to other things. The psion keeps sitting with Sadde. He may also be doing other things, you never know with psions, but he doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
Sadde has sort of mastered the ability to not do anything, what with spending long stretches of time not doing anything.
And eventually Tobias arrives, and he's so very clearly a dom it's practically written on his forehead. His eyes scan the scene, and pause on Sadde—
—and she's paralyzed. She meets his eyes for only half a second, then lowers hers.
"Well, there you are," he says, and smiles.
The psion wants to see Tobias's ID - can't be too careful, you know - and advise him on reintroducing Sadde gradually to normal quantities and kinds of food, and after that they're free to go! Happy reunion!
Yes. So happy. Yay. Much joy. Tobias is courteous, but uses more imperatives than usual. Not enough that it really makes people too uncomfortable, but definitely on the higher end of normal. And he smiles, and talks to Sadde like he's missed her, beaming at her and putting a hand on her shoulder and being overall very affectionate.
Then they get in the car, and he's silent like a tomb for fifteen minutes, after which he asks: "What happened to your mother?"
She doesn't answer.
"Tell me what happened to your mother," he repeats, and she finds herself telling it all, everything from the moment she started fasting to today, about what happened in the car and her two years alone, how she survived, what she had to do. He listens to all of this without uttering a word. She's sobbing quietly by the time she's done, still not looking at him. He doesn't say anything until they reach his place.
She finds she has two half-siblings, Johnathan and Sarah. She doesn't speak to them—whenever it looks like she might try, Tobias looks at her, and she remains silent. Her stepmother—Bethany—is polite, but that's the extent of it. Bethany only speaks to Tobias when he speaks to her. She doesn't leave the house, and wears a collar all the time. Sometimes, on weekends, even a leash.
(And Sadde thinks that there was a time when her mother was wearing this collar and she shudders before she can stop herself.)
The evening of the day they arrive, Tobias shows Sadde her room. It's small, probably a guest room or some such, but better than anywhere she's slept in for the past two years. She asks him something, something innocuous like where the bathroom is or what she'll wear, and the next thing she knows she's on the floor, her left cheek burning from the slap. "You will only speak when given leave to do so," he says, calmly. "Now. Do you have any questions?" She looks at him, shaking, and he furrows his brows slightly. "Answer me, child." She shakes her head. He nods, and leaves her in her room, and locks her there.
And what follows are the three worst years of Sadde's life. Tobias patiently and systematically tries to beat the dom out of them. They are not allowed to physically look male in the house, they are not allowed to use imperatives, they are not to meet anyone else's eyes, they are to only speak when they're spoken to. They are female. They are submissive. They learn quite a bit about how to magically heal bruises, at least on themself.
They do not comply.
Sadde slowly connects to their half-siblings. They're not allowed to talk to Sadde, at first, but they do it anyway. Beth speaks when she's spoken to, and that's it.
At some point, Tobias just gives up, and continues mistreating Sadde more out of habit than out of any hope of changing them. And at some point, Sadde manages to, deferentially enough, ask for the umpteenth time to go to magic school, and he accepts. If they're going to be a freak of nature, they might as well be one far away from him.
Better late than never, but late it is, and Sadde's sixteen.
The one that Sadde winds up at is called the Selene School. Most kids from 2001's January eclipse are already out of training, and a lot of them wound up here; the place is crammed with thirteen year olds; but there are plenty of people Sadde's age!
Sadde has to take placement tests for academics, and talk to the residence director. There is not a shapeshifter dorm but there is a co-ed dorm where they can put them in a single. The residence director is very understanding about the shapeshifter thing.
Really. Are they. Well, he'll take what he can get and wonder about ulterior motives later.
He can go on a tour with the six most recent arrivals from the 2001 January batch. Dining hall! Dorms! Classrooms! Fancy gymnasium! Psionic tech lab! Bulletin board of work study opportunities! Library! Lovely greenery and landscaping! Student health center, littered with pamphlets about using condoms and about what's fun domming versus unsafe abuse and about the age of consent (it's 14 for doms in this state, 15 for subs)! Various administrative offices! Student organizations! Auditorium and music practice rooms!
...The alumni are so generous, you see. It is thanks to these generous alumni that we have all these nice things. Hint.
(14 for doms, 15 for subs...? What about him...? Well, he's 16, doesn't matter anyway.)
Such nice facilities. Such nice people. He starts slowly remembering that not everyone is a horrible person.
Sadde lives on a hall inhabited by three girls' names and three boys' names and him, everybody in singles. They do have to share the bathroom.
Hmm. What are the names?
Isabella, Janet, Myeisha, Victor, Roger, and Jackson.
...
Knock knock.
There is a tapping noise, and the door opens, and a dom leaning on a rattan cane with woodburned spirals all up and down it regards Sadde. "Hi."
And Sadde has to do a triple take because he's pretty sure his heart has just stopped a few times. "Hello," he says, practically batting his eyelashes and lowering his eyes, even though he's taller than she is.
"...What brings you here?"
He shrugs, then raises his eyes back up to properly look at her face. "Just arrived. Supposed I should probably meet the people around here."
"Ah. Well, I'm Isabella. ...You don't look like a January 2001. Took a while to get back into magic after training?"
"...kinda. I'm September '97, actually. My birthday was one year and one month after that, and one year and two months before the next one."
"I'm January 2000." Pause. "Between your haircut and..." She doesn't actually say 'the way you batted your eyes at me'. "- I can't tell your role. Switch or just don't like fussing with your hair or what?"
"Switch," he explains. "And also don't like fussing with my hair."
"And what's your name?"
...he laughs, lowering his eyes again. "I actually forgot to say, didn't I. It's Sadde. I'm the only person in the country called that."
"Nice to meet you."
"So you've been here a year?"
"Two. I got out of virtuality in a year and a half."
"Ooh, a prodigy!" he says, grinning. "Psion or mage?"
"Psion. You?"
"Mage. Can shapeshift."
And she demonstrates!
"Ooh, nice! I can talk to my twin brother and lucid dream and I'm, mmm, halfway to a constructive eidetic memory and fifteen percent to a retroactive one."
"What's a retroactive memory?" he manages to ask.
"It'd mean I'd have perfect memory of things that happened before I managed the eidetic trick, as opposed to merely laying them down indelibly after that."
And he is, in fact, not jealous at all, because he'd really much rather wipe his memories with bleach.
"Yeah! I might not actually do the retroactive next thing after the constructive, though, because I mostly want it for the speed multiplier in learning other stuff."
"Speed multiplier? Now I'm starting to get kinda jealous."
"Yeah, psions have a couple hacks like that. Lucid dreaming can be one too - you can't practice magic in a dream but you can think about it, or get other thinking done and have more daytime for magic. Surprisingly few take advantage of the tricks in any kind of sensible order. What are you working on?"
"Nothing, really. I mean, I got gendershifting down, and I can heal myself, at least when it comes to pretty minor stuff," like cracked ribs, "but I haven't had much time to really develop much."
"You should always be working on something. More shapeshifty stuff or more healing, either one's respectable."
"Yeah, probably. So, uh, what do we do around here?"
"It's basically like normal school but with really light academic requirements so you have spare time to do magic research. And fancy facilities for whatever you do take an interest in, thanks to our generous alumni who predictably go on to make a lot of money because this is a school for eclipsed."
He giggles. "Yes, the 'make a lot of money' part was subtly hinted at. If you squint at it you notice it's there."
"Gotta read between the lines a little."
"I'm thinking I'm gonna go healer. I'd really like to learn how to fly, but it's not that profitable, really."
"You can always pick it up later."
"Yeah, I suppose I can."
"Or lean on the shapeshifting/healing border, turn into a bird."
He giggles. "Now what bird should I be? A bird-of-paradise, maybe..."
"More bang for your buck if you turn into a swift. They're called that for a reason."
"Mmm yes but they're not as flashy. There are conflicting objectives, here!"
"Well, if all you want is to be a flashy bird go for peacock or quetzal, but I thought you wanted to fly."
"No, objectives, plural. I want to fly and be flashy."
"Then you might have to learn to be multiple birds. I mean, peacocks can technically fly, but they seem to avoid it."
"I wonder if I can ever figure out general shapeshifting as opposed to having to specify targets," he muses.
"Sure you can. People do. I mean, you'll be pushing thirty by the time you get there, but you can."
"Rephrasing. I wonder if I can do that in a reasonable amount of time."
"That depends entirely on how talented you happen to be. But coming out of training able to switch sexes is a little fancier than most manage, so..."
Grin. "So you think I'm fancy?"
"I think your little trick is fancy, anyway."
"It's something I've wanted to be able to do since—since always. Long before my eclipse."
"Really? Well, lucky you you're a mage, then. I always wanted to be a psion."
"To be honest in an ideal world I'd be a psion plus do the gendershift, but the latter is more important to me so I'm glad overall."
"What psion stuff did you want to do?"
"Illusions! And computer interfacing stuff. And an eidetic memory would be cool, too."
"I'm probably going to get around to illusions just because I'm probably going to get around to everything. I'm doing lots of internal optimization and then I'm going precog."
"Ohh, yes! Precog's cool, too. And getting around to everything, wow, that's ambitious." It's clear from his tone that he very much approves of and admires this.
"Well, precogs can make a damn good living working somewhere between zero to four times a year, I'll have time!"
"I'll probably want to de-age a lot of people for a lot of money before I figure out a way to scale that and get immortality to everyone."
"How're you gonna scale it?"
"That's the part I have to figure out," he giggles.
"Good luck. I wanna live forever. That's like half of why I'm here instead of getting homeschooled. Networking with future de-aging types."
"Well, isn't it lucky you just found one!"
"It is indeed."
"How does precog work, anyway? Do you get random visions or?"
"Dunno yet. Internal optimization first. In practice what seems to happen is the precog sits with the news on and the news promises to report the most destructive fastbreaking eclipsed kids first and the precog warns as they see what comes up and then the new first story is something else."
"That sounds cool from a theoretical point of view but kinda boring from a practical one."
"I assume I'll have other uses for the skill between eclipses."
"Probably! Can precog be used to bootstrap stuff?"
"Not that I know of. It's a little too short-range. I mean, maybe I could train it up so I can explain magic to myself from years in the future but that seems probably less efficient than just learning the stuff."
"How short-range? You could make up your mind to do a series of precogs until you figured something out. Like, say, how to scale immortality up."
"Nobody's gotten backchaining to work. Tips the balance on avertability the wrong way. There might be a way around it but I don't want to concentrate that hard on one thing this early."
"Yeah, that's fair, I guess."
"Mm-hm." Pause. "Unrelatedly, I should probably warn you that Jackson - sub in room three - is kind of a creep? You might want to convince him you're a sub, save yourself the trouble."
He looks at room three, then at her again. "Why, what does he do?"
"Tries to provoke people into bossing him around and then is creepy about it. Going to the RA hasn't helped because he's not dangerous and doesn't do it enough to interfere with anybody's classes or sleep or anything. But he'll do things like kneel next to people at lunch - mostly me and Roger, sometimes Victor."
"Can't you... boss him not to bother you or something? If he wants to be bossed around so much? What do you mean, is creepy about it?"
"I mean if I tell him 'get up' or 'go away' he will get up or go away... temporarily... and make a face and say 'yes mistress' and I have no desire to be in a relationship with him or play-act it because he can't take no for an answer."
"Eugh," he says eloquently.
"Yeah. I have no idea of his opinion on switches but he doesn't do it to subs."
"Mmhm." Pause, flutter eyelashes, it's actually pretty incredible just how small he can make himself look in spite of his actual height. "So I take it kneeling in front of you and gazing up with adoring eyes is not the correct way to flirt with you?"
"...Well, I didn't complain to the RA the first time Jackson did it."
"Ah, so it's the lack of understanding the phrase 'not interested' that was the problem. Yes, that's reasonable."
"Mm-hm. And I did not know him very well at the time either."
"That apparently would not have been terribly helpful in his case, anyway."
"Well, no. But as a matter of general principle."
"I'll keep that in mind," he laughs.
"Hmm."
"So, I'm curious about the cane."
"Need it to walk. Better aesthetics than a wheelchair."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Mm-hm. But yeah, I have always had really shit balance, it's that awkward kind of neurological where mage healers and psion healers alike go 'fucked if I can touch that', and then I basically didn't walk for two years - no way I could stand up on two days' fast, when they let me out to avoid atrophy I went on various exercise machines you can sit on instead - and then I popped out and was like 'I am not going to get anywhere without some kind of object, but at least I can look really domly if I learn to make it work with a cane'. So, cane."
(He's not even sure he's succeeding at flirting, it's not like he's really done this before, what with living in hell prior to coming to school.)
"Good."
"So, any other general tips about people and slash or practices around here?"
"Don't overload on classes - the actual requirements are so light they assume anybody who shows up for ceramics or medieval European history or whatever must really be into it and there's a lot of out of class work. I assume you got the spiel about quiet hours and so on..."
"Yeah, that I did."
"Oh, and if you have visitors you have to register them at the security office and tell the RA, and if there's too many of them to sleep on your floor you have to also tell the residence director."
"That will not be an issue," he reassures her.
"Mkay. Annnd... dining hall doesn't open before seven or after ten, or between three and five, but the hours are at least the same on weekends... you have to do your own laundry... It's mostly pretty nice here, commonsense stuff, you know?"
"I confess I don't."
"Well, if you run into anything specific that confuses you, ask me."
"I will," he says, resisting saying 'yes mistress' (especially since it'd be half a joke anyway).
"Did you take your placement tests yet?"
"Not yet, I basically just arrived."
"Some people take 'em remotely," she explains. "They're the adaptive kind that calibrate to how well you're doing, so if the test is working you're supposed to find it really hard the entire time, that's normal no matter your ability level."
"It's generally safe to assume I have had very little contact with magic or this school" or society "before physically arriving here. They're psionic tests?"
"No, just computerized. They give you some medium-hard questions and whenever you get something right it picks a harder question to put next."
"Ah, cool. What kind of question? Should I study for that or just—well I guess you've already said that it's no big deal twice."
"You can study for it if you want to but it's a placement test, the idea is it'll tell you how good an education you've already gotten in math and reading comprehension and stuff - you can take extra ones if you have some foreign language background and want to test out of intro classes or whatever."
"...I have sub-intro language background. I think if they tried to test me for that I might actually make the computer dumber."
"...What, did you take a Pig Latin course masquerading as an Actual Latin course or what?"
"No, I'm just really really bad at languages."
"Then you probably shouldn't waste your time taking any tests to place in the classes for them, I suppose."
"...they allow me to just not take language classes?"
"The only specified things you have to take are math up through Stats, two years of English, any two social studies courses, Scientific Literacy and one other science, and any one art or music. And you have to take some more credits than that, but they can be whatever."
"Well that's actually pretty nice," he says, as if he hadn't really believed her when she'd told him that.
"It is! And the classes are really small and the teachers are almost all at least decent."
"Almost all at least decent is really good!"
"I know, right? My brother's jealous."
"Wait, your brother's not here?"
"...He didn't get magic. Twins aren't any more likely to both get it than anybody else."
"Oh. That's—kinda obvious in hindsight, I don't know why I thought otherwise."
"He visits me a lot though. He'll be here next weekend."
Two Isabellas, that's—
Wait, he doesn't have magic, there's no reason why he should share—pretty much anything with her? He certainly doesn't have the cane, so she's probably strictly hotter than he is.
"Sure. He's pretty friendly."
"That at least is more likely to run in families."
"I wouldn't actually describe myself as friendly."
"Oh, then it's probably my fault."
"You knocked on my door and everything."
"I know, whatever could have come over me."
"I dunno. Did you knock on any others first?"
"Nope!"
"Then I suppose it was the melliflousness of my name or something."
"Something mine unfortunately lacks."
"It's not so bad. And sounds very gender-neutral, which I imagine is a plus."
"Definitely a plus. I might have changed it otherwise."
"What do you think you'd have changed it to if you were picking something for yourself?"
"Sam, probably. Or Alex."
"Alex is my brother's name," she chuckles.
"What coincidence," he giggles. "One advantage of my name is the complete lack of name conflict."
"Useful. There's another Isabella in my econ class."
...is that creepy? Okay, maybe he's being creepy. Eugh. Stop being creepy. He will take econ for strictly unrelated reasons and if he ends up in her class that's a bonus.
(He really shouldn't be having such hots for the first dom he meets. Will he also be like that with the first sub he meets? Will he be like that with everyone? He has surely met other people for the first time, though, even if it's been a while. It might just be Isabella.)
"But anyway, if you weren't friendly at all you could've just refused to answer my questions and told me to get lost when I knocked so you're at least a bit friendly."
"Sure. But not enough that if I had to list my characteristics it'd make the top ten."
"What would?"
"What, you want to listen to me brag?"
"That sounds appealing."
"You have peculiar taste. I'm smart and ambitious and disciplined and... ten is rather a lot of things. Settle for three for now."
He laughs. "I'm a peculiar person. And guess I'll have to figure out the other seven at some later date."
The door from the stairwell opens and a sub with dreadlocks down to the small of her back and a sway in her walk and a collar 'round her neck, nameplate not legible, exits the stairs. "Hi..." she says, looking uncertainly at Isabella and Sadde.
"Hi, Myeisha, this is Sadde, who just moved into room six."
"Oh. Hello, it's nice to meet you," says Myeisha.
Could've been the cane. Let's call it serendipity.
...wait, is she—are they—um. What a terrible hypothesis to be considering right now.
......maybe she collects?
"Physics again?"
"Always!" says Myeisha in a mock-sob, and the door closes.
He should just ask.
"Is she yours?"
"No, her dom's the photography TA."
"Oh." Mini-heart-attack averted. Okay. Except, wait, "And do you have anyone, then?" he asks casually. Not actually trying to pretend he's not interested, he's pretty sure that ship has sailed and he's comfortable with this fact.
"No."
"Good."
"Is it now."
"Maybe?"
"Maybe."
"Mmhm."
She snorts.
He grins. "Well, yes is probably a more honest answer."
"Since you approve so much perhaps I should go on being single forever."
He lowers his eyes. "My approval of this situation hinges completely on the fact that it facilitates certain types of social exchanges that, should they be successful on a variety of metrics, would cause the situation to eventually cease to be."
"Look who's going to ace his English placement test."
He laughs. "I thought it wasn't possible to ace a placement test?"
"You can get placed in higher or lower levels."
"Naturally. Well, I like reading a lot, and like complicated words and sentences."
"Good for you."
"Well, in any case, thank you for being so helpful to a confused, flustered soul."
"You're welcome."
"See you around!"
"See you." She seems to take this as the end of the conversation and shuts her door and tap-taps to elsewhere in her room.
...what were the other names on the hallway again? Myeisha is doing homework, he shouldn't bother her. Maybe he should go after the creepy guy to mess with him.
It's not obvious if anybody else is home. Quiet hall.
Knock knock!
Victor next door opens up to see what's going on though. "Hello?"
Sadde looks at him and smiles. "Hello! I'm new."
"Oh. Welcome to Selene. I'm Victor, like it says on the door."
"So I see! I'm Sadde. Nice to meet you!"
"Sa-what?"
"Sadde, S-a-d-d-e. Don't ask me," he laughs.
"Weirdo parents?"
"Mmhm, more like a weird mom, my father" not 'my dad' "didn't have much of a hand in that. And predictably, I'm a weird kid."
"...Like how?" asks Victor suspiciously.
"Oh, so many ways. For one—"
"—this."
"That's not that weird," says Victor. "This is an eclipsed school. Janet can do that too."
"Yeah, it's not a matter of can, it's mostly a matter of 'will consistently do this all the time and probably not stop after leaving school,'" he explains, switching back.
"What do you mean all the time?"
"Well, not literally all the time, more like, one day I'm one, the other I'm another, not that regularly or predictably. Oh, also, switch. That's another way I'm weird."
"That's only a little weird. Don't worry people like that," snorts Victor.
He grins. "Okay. What kinds of weird did you have in mind that would be worrisome?"
"I don't know, playing thrash metal at three in the morning or practicing mage shit on other people without permission."
"Well I guess that does fit under the 'weird' label but it's also best described by the 'is a butthole' label. Rest assured, I won't practice mage shit on anyone without permission nor violate quiet hours."
"Good."
"Mage or psion?"
"Psion. Psychic combat. You're shapeshifting, I guess?"
"That's what I ended up with at the end of boot camp" not wilderness "but de-aging and healing sound most appealing now that I got the gender thing down."
"Gotcha."
"Well, I'll stop bothering you. We'll probably see each other around."
"See you," echoes Victor, and he closes his door.
Let's go with Janet, a fellow genderswapper.
Knock knock!
Janet's home and seems to have been playing Dance Dance Revolution on her computer; she's got one of the soft home dance pads and her hair's piled up on her head. "Yeah?"
"Hello! I'm Sadde, I'm new, I'm introducing myself to people."
There's a collar sitting on her chair. Maybe she takes it off to exercise. That or it's hers, but that's a weird place to keep it.
"Victor tells me you're a shapeshifting mage, too?"
"He said what?" exclaims Janet, suddenly furious.
He raises his hands, placating. "I take it he's wrong?"
"He's - he's - I'm not a shapeshifter I'm a telekinetic," she says, blushing bright red.
"Oh. He said you switched gender, too."
"Well, he shouldn't have said that."
"My apologies. I won't mention it again. I genderswitch fairly often, though, so, you'll probably see me as a girl sometimes."
"Fine, that's your business, whatever."
He raises his eyebrows. That's an... interesting way to phrase it. Well. He has come to the conclusion that she's probably not a switch, because Victor would probably maybe perhaps have mentioned that. "Are you by any chance a switch as well?" he asks, because he's curious and that's the best way he thought of to satisfy his curiosity.
"No."
...
Sadde is more tactful than this. "Alright. I'll stop bothering you," he echoes himself. "We'll see each other around!"
"Bye," says Janet huffily, still blushing, and she shuts the door.
Well, this only leaves Roger!
Knock knock.
Not home.
Righty-o. So he'll probably get back to his room because he's not feeling very social anymore for some reason.
Here is his room. It is outfitted with standard dormitory items and a student handbook and a class registration guide and a test schedule for his placements.
Student handbook. Let's go with that.
There are policies on things ranging from grievance escalation to the acceptable and unacceptable uses of magic; there is a bit about Required Seminars on topics like sexual health and tornado warning drills; there is an insert about the annual job fair; there is a procedure for changing rooms, notifying the dining hall about special dietary requirements, and requisitioning extra furniture.
He's curious about the acceptable and unacceptable uses of magic. Anything non-obvious there?
You have to notify a staffperson if you're going to have any form of unprecedented psionic contact with another student or if you're going to alter someone else's body including for "healing or recreational" purposes.
Notify them, really? Why is that? Well, probably because they can end up ducking up pretty bad but...
It doesn't actually give a justification, just a list of examples including "examining a mindscape" and "nightmare treatments" and "new-target mindspeech". Psions who learn the general case of a thing can get general clearance for it though.
...he could look those up in the Library, he guesses, but that'd rob him of the opportunity to be in her company again, so. Yeah.
Annual job fair?
Lots of people want to hire eclipsed! They descend upon the school and set up booths every April, extolling the benefits of working for various government factions or forms of private enterprise or nonprofit.
Class registration guide!
There are classes! He can take a wide variety of things ranging from mosaic-making to intro economics, Chinese translation to Old English poetry, algebra to mycology.
Okay! He got that part. How does he register, though? Just fill out a form, after his placement tests...?
Yup, there's a form in the back to tear out that he can fill out after his placements.
And finally, his schedule?
He can go into the academic administration office at any time and be set up with the tests.
Oh, okay. So there's a thing he can do. He'll go do this thing.
The academic office is a cute little building with computers in the basement and the secretary shows him to one, starts up the test and puts his student number into it, and queues up the standard tests and asks which other ones Sadde would like to take.
Umm, he doesn't super have preferences, there. He likes maths, he probably wants to learn physics and bio, his music will definitely involve singing but he's pretty sure that's not part of the placement tests. Oh, and econ. What else did he need? Oh, he needed two social sciences, right...
Those are all standard placements or no entry requirements. No languages or computer science or anything? Then standards it is. She leaves him be with the test. The test describes its time limit and then starts in with math.
Another fun fact: turns out Sadde is actually really good at math, even if he hasn't had the most complete of educations.
The math test gets hard and obscure pretty quick.
Well, good thing he's been warned, he'd kinda panic a bit if he hadn't. For now, he starts getting the hard and obscure questions wrong more often than right.
It eases up a bit when he gets things wrong!
Well, then he'll probably achieve a nice balance of right-and-wrong questions that will accurately predict his level. Which. Is the point and totally expected.
Yup. After math is reading comprehension/vocabulary/analogies.
He is also really good at this thing!
And background scientific knowledge...
He is less good at this thing.
Basic US and world history?
Basic, yes.
And that's that!
Woo! That's that. He is now probably Placed. Or will be. When will he get results?
His results print out for him! He can take classes with the following codes in the Prerequisite column.
Is there a way for him to figure out who he's taking classes with?
Nope!
What's his schedule?
That's up to him. The class registration guide says when the classes meet.
Answer: he doesn't because that's creepy, they're already hall neighbors, half the time he'll spend here will be networking with other eclipsed, it doesn't really matter much if they have actual classes together.
When do the classes meet, anyway?
There's a variety, although unfortunately he didn't test out of Scientific Literacy and all of those classes are at eight in the morning whichever section he takes.
That's alright, eight in the morning isn't really that bad at all. Is it possible to change sections later should he desire to do that?
He can drop it and take it in a different term.
Hmm. Yeah alright whatever sure. He invents a schedule that pleases him. Who should he give it to?
The registrar!
So he goes and does that, too.
And he registers Sadde for all the classes and prints off the resulting schedule. This coming semiquarter starts in a week and a half and some of his classes will last a quarter and some two quarters.
What-all is there to do? He confesses he didn't pay a whole lot of attention during the tour, he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he still is, but he figures he might as well enjoy himself in the meantime.
He could join a student organization of some kind. He could go into town; there is a regular bus. Town has amenities like a Cactus Garden and some restaurants and a bowling alley. He could try out for some form of sport or team, such as basketball or chamber choir.
Hmm, he doesn't actually love sports, he likes looking good, but being a mage is enough for that. He's definitely not going to town today, it's late, and he might try out for choir, that sounds fun. How would one go about doing that?
One would turn up on Tuesday morning next week and sing one song of one's choice plus the national anthem. Ideally one will go in knowing one's cold and warmed-up vocal range.
Now is probably dinner time, though!
It also contains Isabella, who is trying very hard to ignore someone kneeling next to her and leaning into her personal space and lightly touching the end of her cane.
He walks toward her and looks her in the eye as he greets her with a "Hello, Isabella."
"Hi, Sadde. How are you?"
"I am well. Yourself?"
She glances at the fellow who is presumably Jackson. Apparently he's not so deluded as to think she's going to feed him; he's got a plate of macaroni and a meat patty with no bun down there. "Same old," she replies. "Avoid the fish casserole, we're too far inland for fish to be good and they've been trying to feed us various fish items for a week."
"Thank you for the advice, I'll remember that. And you are...?" he asks Jackson.
Bella eats her burger and fries, sighing.
"I'll get some food," he tells Isabella.
"Mmhm."
So he gets some food, and comes back. "Move," he tells Jackson as he sits on his other side, so that he won't step on the sub's food. The fact that there are plenty of other spots where he could sit that wouldn't lead to that is immaterial.
Jackson blinks, but scoots his plate and gets out of Sadde's way.
"I took my placement tests," he tells Isabella as way of conversation.
"Yeah, where'd you land?"
He reaches for his printout in his pocket, and kicks Jackson in a way that can totally be interpreted as accidental... or not, depending on what he wants to believe. He hands it to Isabella.
Isabella looks at Sadde's foot, but takes the paper and reads it and says, "Not too bad, you'll be able to cover a lot of things with these scores."
He nods, looks down at Jackson, and says, "Leave."
"Decided not to take my advice," observes Isabella dryly once Jackson's out of earshot.
"I'll see him often enough that there's no way I can keep a ruse in either direction. And I don't particularly mind too much him being creepy at me, so that's some of his attention I'll be drawing off other people. And this was a way I found to get him away from you, at least tonight, so, even if it turns out he acts weirdly around switches and this doesn't work in the future, that's a way I've made things a little bit better."
"Fair enough. If you can tolerate him."
"I have a very high tolerance for... pretty much anything, really."
"Do you."
He lowers his eyes and smiles. "Yep."
"I see."
"Anyway. Now that my mission has been accomplished, I can scoot if you like."
"You may sit here. What classes are you going to take?"
"Math, physics, bio, econ, basic US and world history, scientific literacy, English, and for art something with singing."
"Not all in one quarter? That's kind of too many things, I told you they load you up with work."
"No, I'm doing history and scientific literacy this quarter to get rid of them ASAP, plus math because it's fun and econ because I don't know anything about it."
"I like econ. It has a, hm, I mean it can be done badly but when it's done right I understand its view of human nature very comfortably."
"View of human nature?"
"People want things, they respond to incentives, if they're doing something that doesn't make sense from your understanding of their perspective it's probably because you're not aware of the wants and incentives involved."
"That... sounds pretty intuitive."
"Sure. Econ formalizes it."
"Looks like I'll enjoy it, then!"
She smiles.
"How about you?"
"What am I taking now, or next time a round of classes starts?"
"Both?"
"Now I'm in Psionic Overview 2, microeconomics, statistics, ceramics, and modern European history. This coming semiquarter ceramics ends and I pick up intro philosophy but everything else I'm in is on the other offset."
"Oh so there are actual magical classes. And statistics is probably the class I'm looking forward to the most, whenever it starts for me."
"Psionic overview is more of a history survey. Like, these are various psions and things they could do, this is how psionic tech works, that sort of thing."
"Is there a mage equivalent?" he wonders.
"Sure. I took the first class in the series for mages, too, you can take either or both."
"Cool, I'll definitely take that next quarter!"
Nod. "So you like singing?"
"Yeah! I'm pretty good at it, too."
"Cool. Uh, FYI there's a difference between club choir and class choir and you only get credit for the second one."
"Oh. Guess no singing this quarter for me, then. Except recreationally."
"The club choirs are recreational too."
"Yeah but I expect they have responsibilities, too."
"Yeah, but if you're looking for music groups that don't expect you to show up to rehearsals I have bad news for you."
"I didn't, I'd meant that if I'm going to join a music group that will have rehearsals and stuff I'd prefer it if it was an actual class that counts actual credits. I might join the club anyway, but I dunno yet."
"Fair enough."
"Are you in any clubs?"
"Nah. I spend all my spare time working on magic and reading."
"Ooh. What do you like to read?"
"Classic novels, occasionally sci-fi and fantasy, popularized-level academic stuff."
"Cool," he says. He may be gazing a bit. That. May be a thing that's going on, there, with his head propped up on his elbow. "Reading anything good at the moment?"
"Anna Karenina."
He continues gazing as his eyebrows shoot up. "Tolstoy."
"Yeah. In translation, I don't know a speck of Russian."
"That's really awesome. The Tolstoy bit, not the Russian bit. I don't know many people who would read that."
"It's a novel, I'm not exactly teaching myself structural engineering."
"Yeah, but it's a good novel."
"Oh, have you read it?"
"Yeah, couple of years ago."
"I haven't finished it yet. I'm about halfway through."
Contented sigh.
"You're in a good mood."
"Yeah. Nice school, interesting classes, magical exploration, attractive people..." He very much does not look at her at that last part. Nor at anyone else, sure, but look how not-at-her he's looking at the moment.
"Not homesick?"
"No."
Then she looks at Sadde speculatively.
He doesn't quite look at her. Just enough to notice the speculation, causing him to smile and keep his eyes lowered.
She sucks her teeth thoughtfully, pauses partway through reaching for her cane, then says, "Go get me a brownie."
He doesn't say 'yes mistress' because, well, she's not actually his mistress (yet). What he does say instead is "Yes, ma'am," and gets up to fetch her a brownie.
She is smiling a catlike smile when he comes back, and accepts her brownie, and says, "Thank you."
...
Would she think she knows him enough by now to let him...?
........
Duck it. He doesn't take his seat next to her. Instead, he kneels, occupying the spot Jackson had been.
"Hmm," she says, and she evinces no comment on that.
Well. That can mean so many things. Is she anywhere as obviously uncomfortable as she was when Jackson did it?
No. Just thoughtful.
My. This is his first day here. Rather Forward, isn't he? He can't bring himself to blush, however much he might've liked that. He should probably work on using magic to cause blush on command, for situations where he should be blushing. Maybe.
Isabella eats her brownie.
...a part of him wants to know whether Jackson has seen this and what his reaction was. Is he easily visible?
Jackson is sitting two tables away, kneeling at somebody else, not paying particular attention to Sadde or Isabella.
"Any other interesting books you've been reading? I normally like doing two or three at a time when I can." Which is to say, almost never, in the past.
"I'm only in the middle of Anna Karenina. Last one was Guns, Germs and Steel and next on the stack is a biography but I forget which one's on top of the pile."
"What's that last one about?"
"Guns, Germs, and Steel? Geography and similar factors affecting human cultures and which of those wind up winning when they fight, basically."
"Oh, I might add that to my to-read. Actually I should probably pay the Library a visit and compile an actual non-haphazard list."
"Yeah, it's in the library again now, I don't own one."
"Then that's definitely one of my nexts. I also wanted to look at a psychology book, but I don't know what exactly I'm looking for."
"Well, why do you want to look at a psychology book?"
"'Cause it's fun. I want something that goes 'and this is how people tick' but not like some kooky self-help or something that tries to wrap everything in one neat little package that obviously makes no sense. More like, this is a thing, and here's a lot of references and peer-reviewed papers?"
"Huh. I haven't taken any psych or run across any books I'd unambiguously recommend, there. You could always just pick up an intro textbook and see where that gets you."
"Yeah, that sounds like a good bet anyway."
She smiles down at him.
Oh lord must she. The only reason he doesn't melt is because that is not in fact a thing human bodies do when overwhelmed with—thing. He does very slightly and unconsciously lean closer to her.
She smirks. And returns her attention to the brownie he fetched her.
...now he wants a brownie, too. "May I go get some dessert?"
Which is not quite 'why are you asking me' but nor is it taking for granted that asking this question was necessary.
It may not have been necessary, but still. He bites his lip at her answer. He gets up and goes grab a brownie. Or maybe something else if there is something more appetizing than a brownie available.
There's brownies and an ice cream freezer and butterscotch chip cookies.
He returns.
She has finished her brownie and is now just sitting with her eyes closed.
So he kneels and eats in silence.
She giggles, occasionally. Maybe she's talking to her brother.
"Are you talking to your brother?" he asks, curiously.
Her eyes snap open. "Repeat that?"
"Are you talking to your brother?" he repeats in exactly the same tone.
"Yep."
"That's really cool, that you can."
"I missed him in training."
"That's really cute."
"Do you have any siblings?"
"Uh, two half-siblings, yeah."
...She doesn't pry. Instead she volunteers, "My parents are divorced but I don't think either of them are planning on giving me any of those."
"Mmhm," he says, not volunteering anything back. "Still, it must be pretty cool, having a twin, someone that close to you all your life."
"It's great."
He grins. "Did you come here straight from boot camp? I think you said something to that effect but I'm not sure I trust my memory."
"I had a couple weeks at home with Renée - my mom - and Alex and a weekend with my my dad Charlie, gaining fifteen pounds on real food and learning to walk with the cane, and then here, yeah."
"Oh, getting back to real food was great, best part," he laughs.
"Yeah, like, they technically feed you in training, but not so you'd notice, first thing I ate half a pizza and a milkshake!"
Yeah, they do, don't they. "The very first thing I did was a bag of chips. And an apple, and a donut."
"After the pizza and the milkshake I grazed on fruit pretty much constantly for like a day."
"I ate a whole lot of pasta for dinner and that was it, really."
"It took me a while to get over it, I kept remembering that I liked things and needing to eat them right then. Renée thought it was a riot. She made me learn to make my own nachos though."
"Yeah, I actually kinda got used to not eating too much, after a bit. You call your mom by her name?"
"Not to her face. I just have the habit when my parents aren't around of just saying Renée and Charlie."
"That's interesting. Why?"
"I've done it basically as long as I can remember, so I don't recall actually making a decision about it, but I suspect my logic was 'wait, Mommy and Daddy have names? What's all this 'Mommy' and 'Daddy' nonsense about then?' but figured that they may have had some reason for introducing themselves that way so continued to respect their preferences in their presence."
"...baby you sounds really cute."
Snort.
"Baby me was a tad excitable and prone to recklessness."
"Aww."
"Also very dramatic." Pause. "That maybe continues to be the case."
"In what way are you dramatic?"
"Oh, you know, happiness is unending joy, sadness is catastrophe, there's some looking into the horizon with longing..." He does the thing, in a very 'sub protagonist of romantic movie' way.
Giggle.
"Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, there actually isn't any longing looks." Pause. "This somehow proves my point, I think."
"You think exaggerating about looking longingly at the horizon is more dramatic than actually doing it?"
"Well, I did actually do it in the course of demonstrating what I meant. And I did it in a very meta-dramatic way, too, in that I didn't actually need to do it because that's not a thing I do, except when I'm making points about my being dramatic."
"I see."
"What's your brother like?"
"I told you he's friendly, what else are you looking for?"
Shrug. "Ten adjectives?" he giggles.
"I couldn't come up with ten entire adjectives about me, what makes you think I can do it for him?"
"People tend to have an easier time describing other people than themselves?" he tries.
She shrugs. "Alex is... loyal and artistic and funny. And that will have to do you for the time being."
He smiles. "Alright."
"Do you have ten adjectives about you?"
"Hmmm... Let me think. Dramatic, forward, weird, friendly, talkative slash blabbermouth, curious as all get-out, that's six, what else... Is switch different enough to count? Or genderfluid?"
"Oh, well, if one's meant to go for the easy demographic details with this game you should have said."
"Okay, not those," he laughs. "Hmm, ambitious, dissatisfied, smart, and resourceful. There, that's ten."
"Dissatisfied with?"
"The state of things, in general," he says, making a vague gesture. "Like how not everyone is immortal and not enough mages are working on that. Or all the stuff we haven't figured out in magic that could make everything so much better. Or the status of switches everywhere, or how subs are treated in many places, or the association between gender and role by some societies and religions. That kinda thing."
"Not a bad list."
"Not the full list, either, this is what I could come up with in the course of saying it."
"I'll be sure to assume only good things about the unmentioned bits."
(Yes. Yes please don't ever stop.)
"They are all in the same reference class," he says, suppressing a shiver.
"Good. I approve."
He grins like, well, not like an idiot, more like a sub who just got approval from his mistress, which she's not, would you stop doing that.
After a prolonged pause she pats him on the head.
He leans closer to her, still grinning like a the thing that was just described.
She laughs. "You're adorable."
"Thank you. I didn't think of that when I came up with my ten adjectives."
"So now you have eleven."
Grin grin grin like a sub.
She taps her fingers on the curvy end of her cane and then says, "I have a question that is both personal and premature, but I'd rather ask it now than in two weeks."
"Mmhm?"
"I'm aware that it is a false and damaging stereotype that switches don't care for monogamy. But some people don't care for monogamy. What are your dispositions there?"
"Um," he starts eloquently. "I don't really, um, have enough practical experience to tell. Nonmonogamy seems, overall, desirable? But not strictly required, there are other things that can be more desirable than that." Like you continuing to look at me that way.
"I ask because I have never had a sub before but strongly suspect based on extensive self-examination that I do not share. And I'm not sure exactly how long it would take this characteristic to kick in, is why I'm asking now."
He completely fails to suppress the shiver, and casts his eyes down. "That thing you said right there, the way you said it? In practice, way more desirable than theoretical ideals of nonmonogamy. I think."
"You think."
"I—I m—mean, umm, I always have to, to leave some room for the possibility that I'm, wrong. Even if I'm very very sure I'm not." Shiver.
"Hmmm."
Do the thing again, look at him like that again, pet him again, or something. "Definitely like that a lot, though."
"See, you're quite adorable. But I'm not sure if your brain's doing the thinking when you say how sure you are about the tradeoff under discussion. Are you?"
Pause. "Can I have a minute to think?"
"Of course."
"Yes. Yes I'm sure," he eventually decides.
And she plants her cane on the ground and gets up. "Look after my dishes for me."
"Yes, ma'am," he says, his voice quivering a bit, and gets up to start doing just that.
And taps away.
Christ, he'll need a long shower after this.
It's not the most private possible arrangement but there is a curtain.
Fuck privacy, he can be silent.
Then nobody will be any the wiser.
And the following day, she's at the taqueria at 5:53PM.
"Hello there."
"Hello, ma'am," she says, and curtseys a little.
Isabella reaches up to ruffle her hair. "Do you like Mexican food? If you don't there's other options, this place is just easy to find and has good sopapillas."
She grins. "I do like Mexican."
"Excellent." Isabella leads the way into the taqueria, plucks two menus from a stack at the entrance, and plops into a chair at a table for two. It has a candle. The floor is hardwood of dubious stickiness and probably shouldn't be knelt on; she gestures at the other chair for Sadde.
(Now that she wouldn't have knelt if Isabella had wanted her to, but.)
"I'm buying," Isabella adds, opening her menu.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"You're welcome. Do you want a recommendation?"
"Yeah. I haven't actually eaten too much Mexican, what I have I liked, but not often enough to have many opinions."
"Try the chile relleno. Little spicy, not too much, comes with rice and beans."
"Okay. What will you have?"
"Steak fajita. And we're splitting an order of sopapillas." Isabella waves over a waitress and relays both their orders to her.
"Sopapillas?"
"Fried dough in cinnamon sugar."
"Ooh, sounds tasty."
"It is!"
"I've never actually been to a Mexican restaurant. My stepmother used to sometimes make Mexican but only very rarely."
"I grew up in Arizona. There was a lot of it around. I have very fond memories of the first time I had an enchilada and an order of guacamole and a xango after I came out of virtuality."
She giggles.
"They don't have xangos here but the sopapillas make up for it."
"So many words whose meaning I don't know, I'm feeling a bit lost."
"A xango is a tortilla full of cream cheese, wrapped up and deep fried and drizzled in - the one I had was chocolate and honey, I don't know if it's always chocolate and honey. Guacamole's mashed-up avocados with onions and lemon juice and stuff, enchiladas are like loosely wrapped burritos that are drowned in sauce and baked that way."
"Yeah those all sound ridiculously delicious."
"Mexican food: it's good."
"It sounds it."
"Soon you will determine that it also tastes it."
She giggles again. "So I grabbed that book today at the library."
"Yeah, have you started it yet?"
"Yeah. It's looking pretty interesting, and has some of that thing I was talking about, with psychology. Why some stuff is the way it is."
"Ha, if that counts as psychology I might have to dig through notes on what books I've read and come up with more things."
"It's not really just psychology! I just really like figuring out how stuff works. And I like people, so figuring out how they work is cool. This is, like, figuring out how societies work, in a way. Part of them anyway."
"You might want to read books billed as sociology. Or anthropology."
"I meant, figuring out how societies work is cool and figuring out how people work is cool. I'd want all of it."
"Yeah... my impression is that psychology is trying to be science and doesn't manage the rigor of other forms of science, though. Some of the most famous psychology studies were done once and/or with terrible methodology."
"Maybe econ will have what I mean, from what you said."
"Maybe. Although plenty of it is just math about supply and demand, don't expect it all to be cool insights into the human condition."
"Awww. Guess I'll have to continue trusting my well-inspected intuitions on those."
"Oh? And what are your insights into the human condition?"
"They may be well-inspected but they're still intuitions," she giggles. "About what to do and how to do it to get what I want, and about what people want and what they feel and how to deal with them. That sort of thing."
"Go on."
"Um, for instance figuring out how to get Jackson to pay enough attention to me so that I could get rid of him, or not asking Janet about why she was blushing, or figuring out the right amount of bothersome I'm being, or managing to have you ask me out."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"When was Janet blushing...?"
"Ummm, I'm not sure she'd want me to tell? It was something Victor said about her that apparently he wasn't meant to have said."
"...They're exes, if that puts it in context."
"Well, it does lend credence to my main hypothesis."
"I won't pry."
"Sorry."
Food appears!
...Sadde waits for Isabella to start eating first.
Isabella steals the end of Sadde's chile relleno, gives her a bit of her steak in return, and tucks in.
...
"Wow this is really good!"
"Glad you like it."
"My stepmother did not know how to cook Mexican, if it's typically this good."
"This is unusually good for Mexican food in the Midwest. It'd be closer to typical in the Southwest."
"I see. Thank you for taking me here," she grins, and omnoms.
Nom nom nom.
Adoring gaze, too. Side order of that.
The adoring gaze is appreciated.
That... face... nghugh!
Sadde's reaction to that face is also appreciated. What an interesting feedback loop they're in.
Yes. Vvveeeeery interesting. Sadde might need to remind herself to eat sometimes.
"Your food's getting cold. Eat up."
She does.
Mmmm fajita.
Mmmm whatever-it-is she's eating she's forgotten it by now because her brain is busy with !!!!!!!!!!!!
And after their main courses are done, the waitress clears the table and brings them sopapillas with honey to dip them in.
And once again Sadde waits for Isabella do eat first.
And holds it out towards Sadde's mouth.
She does have to repeatedly remind herself that she is not in fact melting, that is only a figure of speech, as she leans forward to be fed.
And Isabella pops the end of the sopapilla into Sadde's mouth to be bitten off.
She bites it, and makes a hmmming noise that is completely only related to how good the food is, adoring gaze notwithstanding.
Then Isabella takes one for herself.
Isabella is great. She is so great. That is so a thing she is. Sadde will be here, thinking how great Isabella is to herself, letting her face show her thoughts.
Well, that's very gratifying. If you keep looking at Isabella like that, Sadde, then she will have to feed you another sopapilla. Look, there she goes.
Mmmm sopapillas are so tasty, especially when hand-fed by a gorgeous amazing dom.
And while the waitress is dealing with that she leans across the table and buries her hand in Sadde's just-long-enough-to-grab hair and kisses her.
melts.
And kisses back, oh how she kisses back.
The kiss persists for a good several seconds, and then Isabella sits back and stops hauling on Sadde's hair and accepts her receipt and leaves a tip and gets up, cane and all.
Oh. Oh my. Oh dear. That was. Quite something. She gets up after Isabella, somewhat flustered, but not blushing at all. Stupid grin, instead.
Here's the bus stop. They will wait at it for the bus. Isabella looks Sadde up and down; she hasn't seen as much of Girl Version before.
She can look exactly as much as she wants to.
"Do you use both genders equally often?"
"Yeah, but it's not really predictable when I'll be one or the other."
"How long do you generally stick with either at a stretch?"
"Ballpark average two and a half days, never spent more than a whole week."
"How convenient you're cute both ways."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The bus has kneeling pads on the floor. Isabella takes a seat next to one.
And Sadde, naturally, kneels.
And Isabella pulls her head onto her lap and scritches her head.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
"Do you have anything scheduled for this evening?"
"Nope."
"To be perfectly honest, I need to get some class reading done," says Isabella, "but I see no reason you shouldn't sit by me just like so while I do it, with your own book." Pet pet.
Slight shivering. "That would make me very happy, ma'am."
"Good." Isabella leans down to press a kiss to her forehead and then resumes petting her.
Sadde's brain can resume going eeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Tap tap tap back to their dorm.
With the way Sadde's following her contently, she might as well be leashed to her.
It continues to be nice when Isabella sends Sadde to fetch her book and come back to sit on a pillow on the floor next to Isabella's chair for reading-and-scritches.
Reading-and-scritches!
Isabella's reading will take her an hour and a half and span three different books.
She will most definitely not get tired of the scritches, though.
The scritches vary between hair-stroking and slightly sharper uses of nails - just a little, not too hard - and other forms of hair-fiddling. Occasionally Isabella's hand will skim over Sadde's cheek or her neck.
Sadde might accidentally let a couple of involuntary pleased noises escape when surprised by slight sharpness.
And that gets a 'hmm' and slightly sharper sharpness.
Both of which get slightly pleaseder noises.
With apparently negligible distraction from her reading, sharpness gradually, sloooowly escalates in calibrated response to the noises.
This is great. Isabella is great.
Sharps and petting and reading.
And eventually Isabella is done with her assigned reading and pushes the book away and now she has two hands for sharps.
There is a limit to how much sharpness Sadde enjoys, however.
And then she cups Sadde's face in her hands and kisses her again.
...maybe Sadde was holding back a little in the restaurant. There are definite noises and quite a bit of extra enthusiasm, even if Sadde isn't all that experienced.
Well, Isabella's not either, but she knows what she wants. And it is kisses. She's not as noisy about it as Sadde is but Sadde gets rewarded for making noises with more of whatever seems to have caused them.
It's the kisses. It's definitely the kisses. Kissing the gorgeous dom she met yesterday and why is she so attracted to her why does she even care there is a gorgeous dom kissing her she would not have thought life could get this good a month ago.
And eventually Isabella sits up straight again. "Well," she says. "I've had a lovely evening, have you?"
"Yes, ma'am, delightful, ma'am," she breathes.
"Would you like to do this again?"
"Yes, that would make me really happy, ma'am."
"In that case," says Isabella, "I am going to have to assign you homework."
A shiver runs down Sadde's spine. "Yes?"
"By date three - and you may give your input to the schedule with this in mind - I would like a list of your applicable limits, interests, preferences, and ideal timetable. And I don't have an eidetic memory yet so I require it written down."
She swallows and nods. "Ideal timetable?" she asks.
"You can probably discern from context that mine begins in earnest at some time after date three. I wish to know how fast you want to go."
"Well, I have the beta version of that list in my head already."
"I would be fascinated to hear it but I do want the written version."
She nods. "Of course, ma'am." Pause. "Should I call you something else?"
"I prefer ma'am to 'mistress' by a long shot. Did you have a third option in mind?"
She smiles. "No, ma'am."
"Then 'ma'am' it is." Kiss. "If there's anything in particular you would like or not like to be called yourself that belongs on the list."
"No, ma'am. Whatever you desire."
"I'm sure I'll come up with something."
"I believe you will, ma'am."
"Anything else you want to tell me tonight or do you want to save it all for your written version?"
Shudder. "I believe the one that will probably stick even without the written version is that my timetable is 'yes.'"
"I see."
"As for the rest, the general gist of it is 'try everything at least once,' with a few things that do seem to appeal more than others a priori. I'm not exactly masochistic but close enough?"
"What does that mean?"
"...I like feeling like you could really hurt me if you wanted to. I like being in your power."
"I'm going to need more detail than that in the written version," advises Isabella, tapping her fingers on her cane.
"Yes, ma'am. That's only one of the parts. Or do you want me to elaborate on that one?"
"Next."
"Off the top of my head: Rope play. Edging. Paddles. Vibrators, of various types. Beads. Rings, for when I'm boy-shaped. Blindfolds. Gags. Leashes. Handcuffs. I'm forgetting some things, probably. As for limits, I don't... know yet. Probably not too much pain?"
Scritch. "You have rather varied tastes."
That was almost a purr. "Yes, ma'am."
"D'you have any of your own stuff or are we going to maybe need to go shopping?"
"I don't have anything, ma'am."
"That's all right." Pet pet.
Those sure are some happy noises!
"You're so cute." Kiss. "So when would you most like to do this again?"
Slight squirming. "Thank you, ma'am. Whenever you want; my timeline is still 'yes' and I can come up with a fully specified list by tomorrow evening."
"The cactus museum has free student admission and is more interesting than it sounds. Have you been yet?"
"I haven't."
"All right. Come here tomorrow evening at seven and we'll go into town and look at sharp plants."
"Yes, ma'am."
Kiss. Lots of kiss. Sadde's just so very kissable.
Suuuuuch kiss. Isabella is very kissable, too, and Sadde is very very obviously, visibly, audibly happy with what's happening there.
"Run along now."
"Yes, ma'am," Sadde says, and gets up, and she isn't wobbling on her feet thank you very much it's just your impression ma'am.
No wobbling? Isabella might have to work harder if there's no wobbling.
...there totally is wobbling. The narrator was lying.
Good.
The blissful smile soon disappears and then is replaced by several emotions, one after the other, some repeating, while Sadde processes the day and her emotions and everything else. It's just so easy. Meeting Isabella feels like serendipity, and she promised to herself she wouldn't let that man affect the way she interacted with other people, and it looks like she's succeeding at that which. She didn't expect. Of course she doesn't object to it but she does feel somewhat wary—an obvious problem would've been more reassuring than no problem at all, because problems might exist hiding somewhere.
So she thinks.
And eventually she gets up and showers.
And then she sits by her desk, and grabs a notebook, taps it twice with her pen, and decides she'll work on the list tomorrow. It's probably time to go to bed.
Their date isn't until the evening but Isabella will be in the cafeteria at three reasonable times of day and may be caught there.
Sadde expected (hoped) that to be the case, and is happy to be correct as she walks into the cafeteria the following morning.
There's Isabella with a plate of scrambled eggs and a bowl of granola, studiously ignoring Jackson!
...hmmm. Idea.
"Good morning, ma'am," she greets Isabella.
Jackson looks between them, puzzled.
Then she looks at Jackson. "Good morning, Jackson."
"...Good morning," he says. He doesn't move; Isabella's sitting otherwise by herself and there's room on the other side of her chair.
"You're on my spot," she says, for all the world the dommiest of doms, even if that conflicts with her actual words. She wishes she had a cane to lean on, Isabella's is very imposing, it'd give her a certain air. She'll have to make do with eyes, body language, and tone of voice. "I will get food. I expect you to be gone by the time I return."
When Sadde returns with food he has moved to Isabella's other side.
"I believe the word I used was 'gone,'" she says, looking down at Jackson. "Leave."
"Y-you're not even a," he says uncertainly, looking between Sadde and Isabella.
"A what," she asks, putting her tray with the food on the table and folding her arms.
Isabella rolls her eyes.
"Hmm. Funny. You didn't seem to think so two days ago. And I don't believe it's your place to question me. I do not like repeating myself. Leave."
"Christ," mutters Isabella under her breath.
Sadde smiles and slowly walks toward Jackson, resting her hand on his head, in what's almost a loving caress, entwining her fingers in his hair... then she grabs it and pulls his head back. "Are you quite sure you don't want to reconsider your words?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.
Isabella takes advantage of this distraction to pick up her plate and move to another table.
Shit.
"Do not question how much of a dom I am. Am I making myself understood?"
Whimper.
It takes quite a bit of self-control not to pry her eyes away from him to look for Isabella, but she manages it.
...Nope, still no words over here. He looks like he's having a lovely time, though.
She doesn't wait for an answer, and looks around for Isabella, not letting the panic show.
Isabella has moved to a table over in the corner and is finishing up her eggs.
Sadde scoots over to her and drops to her knees. "I'm sorry. I mishandled that."
"There's no way to interact directly with him without giving him what he wants," Isabella says.
"Yes, I see that. I did manage to get him to leave... with the side effect of upsetting you. I'm sorry," she repeats, because the 'I don't like repeating myself' thing does not apply when she's not a dom.
"And he'll be back if we have lunch at the same time, and dinner, and tomorrow, and the more he's incentivized to loiter around me in particular - even if it's because you're trying to run interference - the more likely he is to wind up next to me instead of Victor or Roger or somebody from another hall altogether."
"Augh," she says eloquently.
"Yep. Going to the school about it would be the right solution except he's not threatening enough for them to care."
"Is that their official position?"
"I went to the RA, I think I told you, and she said that if he always leaves when I tell him to and doesn't bother me during quiet hours, or touch me, or interfere with my classwork, she doesn't have grounds to tell him to back off."
Sigh. "Of course." Pause. "May I go retrieve my food?"
"You may."
So she retrieves her food, then kneels by Isabella again, and munches in silence. Plotting.
Isabella finishes her food and pets Sadde, distractedly, eyes closed.
Plot plot plot.
And, "I have class, see you tonight."
Tap tap tap away.
—knocks on Jackson's door.
Jackson opens his door. He's surprised to see her.
"Hello, Jackson."
"...Hi."
"I would like to talk."
"Um, what about...?"
"You."
He swallows. "What about me?"
"Let's say I'm curious about a few things."
"Mmhm?"
"I'm not entirely certain standing here at your door is the best place for us to talk. I would invite you to my room, or we could use yours."
"W-whatever you like."
"Very well. Your room." And she strides in.
He shuts the door and goes back to where he seems to have been sitting, with a laptop on the floor leaning back against his bed.
Sadde grabs his chair and turns it so it's facing Jackson and sits on it. She regards him thoughtfully.
He waits. Twitchily.
"What do you want, Jackson?"
"I - what do you mean?"
"With me. What do you want?"
"With you? I don't understand."
"Or Isabella. Or Victor. Or Roger. You seem to quite enjoy being around certain people, but I don't understand what you want with them."
"I just - want to - how'd you get her to grab you so fast, anyway?"
Sadde feels a flash of pride. Me, me, she picked me! But she doesn't let it show. "We're talking about you, here. I might answer your questions later."
Frown. "I just like being on my knees for somebody. Lots of people do."
"Yeah, I understand that. But most people usually prefer it when the dom also wants them kneeling there."
"Well - nobody does, so."
"How do you know that?"
"Because they tell me to leave all the time but nobody ever tells me to come back or stay or let them collar me or meet them somewhere or anything."
"Hmm. You know what Isabella told me about why she didn't? Want you?"
Headshake.
"She said you didn't even talk to her, she didn't really get to know you very well. That's the answer to your question. We talked, we bonded, she liked me, I liked her. The way you're acting, you're kinda forcing a relationship on people while skipping all the essential steps of one like talking, finding tastes in common, figuring each other out, getting that spark."
Jackson does not seem to find this particularly helpful advice.
Sigh. "Look, Jackson... Talk to people. People are interesting, you are interesting and there's more to you than kneeling near someone, and that's the thing you need to tap into to actually get to kneel near someone. Why don't you try that?"
"What makes you think I haven't?" he mutters.
Shrug. "The fact that Isabella said so, at least when it came to her. I can be wrong, of course. So, when you try, what happens?"
"People don't like me."
"That's a little broad," she sighs. "Do it with me. Pretend you're meeting me for the first time, and you're giving the whole 'getting to know people' another go."
"...I'm not a good actor."
"You don't need to act! We haven't actually talked much, have we? So. Hello, I'm Sadde, that's S-a-d-d-e, yes, I know, my name's weird."
"Um. Hi, I'm Jackson."
"Hi, Jackson! Been here long?"
"...July 2000, got out two years later September and came here for the October-November semiquarter."
"Cool! I'm '97, actually, I was ten back then, my birthday's almost right between two totals."
"Um, and then you took some time before coming here?"
"Yeah, there was complicated stuff," she says, waving her hand vaguely. "Mage or psion?"
"Psion."
"Nice! I'm a mage, I think that's obvious, got the shapeshifting thing in boot camp."
"All I got was lucid dreaming and... what kind of complicated stuff?"
"My father didn't really want me to come here, I managed to convince him eventually. Lucid dreaming and what?"
"And I can't decide what to focus on."
"As in, magical specialty? Well, I think a good first start is sleep?"
"But then I wouldn't lucid dream any more."
"Right but if you don't need sleep you can just do it when you want, right? That way you have more time. I guess a generally useful one's precog, too, very in demand. And eidetic memory. I think I'd start with one of those."
"I got my memory a little better but I didn't wind up liking it very much and stopped."
"Really? Why?"
"Because my life sucks and who'd want to remember it?"
"Oh. Yeah I can understand that. Well you can leave eidetic memory for when your life doesn't suck. Precog sounds like your best bet then, I think? Profitable and interesting, and might help your life not suck."
"Because it's so fun watching everything be on fire every eclipse?"
"No, the fun part is preventing the fires and feeling a sense of accomplishment as you watch potential horrible futures being replaced by happier ones and you feel you've made a difference!"
"...I don't think that sounds like fun."
"Well, then the fun part can be spending all the money you get from that," she shrugs. "Or VR development, that's also profitable and interesting, I think? And interfacing with technology, in general."
"I guess I could just power a virtuality. I think you can get so you can do it in your sleep," he sighs.
She tilts her head. "What do you find exciting, Jackson? Isn't there something you enjoy doing?"
"...I just want to belong to somebody," he says in a very small and lonely voice.
"I know that, Jackson. But that's not—well, actually, that's just like magic. It's something you work for? Anyway. Why did you come to school?"
"It seemed like what you do," shrugs Jackson.
"I mean, you could get it locked down and not come? If magic doesn't interest you a lot. But, again, other stuff in your life. Do you like books? Movies? TV shows? Video games? Walking in the park? Mexican food?"
Shrug. "I watch TV sometimes. I like food as much as anybody who sat through a full course of virtuality."
"Well. There's no general-purpose advice but... show interest in other people? In their personalities, that is. Ask them questions about stuff that looks exciting to them, the stuff that makes their eyes shine. Talk about trivia. Find stuff you like and offer that, discuss relevant details and memories of your life when they come up? That's the help I can give." Sigh. "With the understanding that I'm not going to be your dom, I could try being your friend, if you want."
"Why don't you want to be my dom, nobody ever gives me a straight answer about that."
"Well, in my case it's because I really like Isabella and she seems to like me and I want to be her sub and she has said she won't share, I expect that probably extends to my domming other people as well. And the reason I like Isabella and vice-versa is, well, other stuff, you know? Shared interests and such."
"Like what?" asks Jackson, as though he suspects that the 'shared interests' thing is bullshit.
"Books, for instance. I'm reading a book she recommended. I like that she's really ambitious and wants to be able to do everything, she likes that I'm really ambitious and want to make everyone immortal."
Jackson sighs.
"So. Friends?"
"Your dom," he says, "doesn't like me."
"She's not my dom yet," she points out, "and restricting who I interact with sounds... not very much like her. It does mean it'd be overall better not to be around me when I'm with her a lot, though?"
"She might not want you to be friends with me."
"Well, that's one of the things she will definitely not have control over, should I become her sub. I like people, staying away from them is my choice and mine alone."
Dubious look. "What do you actually want to do?"
"Several things. Be more specific?"
"With the being friends thing."
"It looks like you need one. I like having friends. My ulterior motives are making your life suck less."
"That... doesn't answer my question."
"Then I misunderstand it. Are you asking what it entails in practice?"
"Yeah."
"Talking. Hanging out. Helping each other with homework. Commiserating about unfortunate aspects of our lives. Giving each other book advice, hint hint nudge nudge."
"...what are you hinting about? That I should read more books?"
"Well, I'm biased, because I think books are really lots of fun."
Shrug.
Grin. "Anyway, I should go stuff, do tell me what you decide re friend thing."
"I mean I don't mind it just - it doesn't solve the problem."
"I'm hoping it'll help. If your problem is that when you talk to people they don't like you, practicing it with someone who has a higher tolerance for whatever it is that other people dislike might be good. Maybe I'll rub off on you and you'll be seducing sexy doms in no time!"
That gets Jackson to crack a smile. "Just not the one you want for yourself, huh."
She laughs. "Well she is monogamous."
Sigh. Pause. "...She cane you yet?" Jackson wonders.
"I'm not entirely sure that's a question she would like me to yea or nay either way," she says, pursing her lips in amusement.
Snort.
"Anyway. I do have some stuff I need to get to."
Nod.
"See you around, then!" And she gets up from the chair.
"Bye."
So she leaves Jackson's room, closing his door behind herself—
She turns her head at the noise.
And raises an eyebrow.
"Hello, ma'am."
"Hello, Sadde. My psionics class was canceled because the teacher wants to use the tech lab and had to schedule a different slot. Why are you where you are?"
"The long story short is that I wanted to figure out why Jackson is... the way he is, and see if there's a way I could help him not be that."
"And what were your results?"
"I am now friends with him. I think I have managed to get him to not bother you like that again, possibly not bother the other doms again either."
"Wouldn't that be nice. Although of people you could be making friends with I have certain negative feelings about your choice of the guy who has been literally harassing me for months."
"I... understand that, ma'am. But he has... issues? That he needs to work through. In a way. So I think that this may make everyone happier in both the short and long term, if he stops harassing everyone and is happy with his life."
"I've been holding out for somebody whose kink is project subs but I guess this could help too."
"Hopefully I can help him find someone like that."
"Good luck."
"Thank you, ma'am," she says, a tad subdued.
"You're welcome." And Isabella sighs again and goes into her room without inviting Sadde to come sit with her head in her lap.
That's alright, she supposes. She has homework to do. She brushes her teeth, then goes to the Library and starts typing it out. Thinking, typing, erasing, fixing. And in the end, she has this:
Limits
- Restricting interaction with other people in any way not related to relationships, i.e. deciding who I can or cannot interact with other than previously established constraints of the relationship mode.
- Requiring me to be submissive all of the time, even when you're not around. Requiring me to be submissive some of the time is okay, and I can be submissive all of the time I'm with you.
Preferences
I'm only very slightly masochistic, but being touched by you and being in your power are both very appealing, and feeling anything while in such a situation will be generally turned into a positive. The knowledge that you could hurt me if you wanted to is intensely arousing, and your expressing preferences over my behavior is as well.
Interests
As a general rule, I will give anything we haven't tried out before a shot, and the following should be taken as general uninformed suggestions and ideas of what probably interests me.
- Rope play, to whatever degree you find appealing, within the constraints of masochism.
- Edging, in all forms, especially when I'm helpless to prevent it due to, for example, bondage.
- All forms of bondage and restriction of movement, including but not limited to ropes, cuffs, blindfolds, and gags.
- Verbal control of behavior (modulo what has been outlined above). Ordering me around, preventing me from or requiring me to do or act in certain ways as would please you.
- Spanking and other forms of corporal punishment, such as with paddles, for slights real or imagined.
- Moral punishment, once again for slights real or imagined.
- Various toys, including vibrators, dildos, strap-ons, beads, etc.
- Rings when I'm boy-shaped, plugs whenever, especially wearing them while in an otherwise social situation.
- Roleplaying, the sky's the limit.
- Toying with me, especially in situations where I can't do anything about it, such as in social situations/in public or when you've ordered me not to do anything about it.
- When our relationship reaches the collar level, wearing a leash would be very appealing.
Ideal timetable
I am curious and eager to try anything and everything as soon as possible.
She prints that list and returns to the hall. She considers knocking on Isabella's door, but decides against it, and just leaves the list in her room and goes to the cafeteria to have lunch, because she's spent quite a while on that list.
No Isabella in the cafeteria. Yes Jackson! He's kneeling at Victor, who is alternating between ignoring him and kicking him away.
Sigh.
"Hey Jackson, wanna come have lunch with me?"
Victor looks floored.
Aaaaaand as soon as they get to a table and Sadde sits Jackson is on the floor again.
"Jackson, I'm not your dom, I've told you this. This makes me uncomfortable because we are not in fact in a relationship and I would prefer not to play-act one, and it sends the incorrect signals to other people."
"I was on the floor when we were talking before," he objects.
"I'm aware, but then there were no other people, and I wouldn't ask you to behave otherwise in your own room. As it stands, in public, it is the social custom for subs to kneel either by their doms or in order to flirt. Neither of those is the case."
"Nobody is going to think it's your fault," he mutters.
"I know, but I would still prefer it if you didn't act as if I was your dom. Like I said, signalling, other doms are more likely to want to be your dom if you don't nonconsensually kneel by every other dom in the room. Come on, up you get."
Well, if she's going to tell him to. Into a chair goes Jackson.
And now: food!
Jackson's already half done with his. Nom.
"So what classes are you taking?" she asks conversationally.
"Um," he says around a mouthful of stew, "geometry, bio, English II, and clarinet."
"Cool! Did you enjoy playing the clarinet before joining or did you just pick it up as your art credits?"
"I played it in middle school."
"Oh so you played before, that's nice. Been learning any new pieces?"
"Not really. My teacher has me doing a lot of little etudes."
"Mmhm. I'm gonna take choir, still haven't decided whether I want to participate in the extracuricular club or not."
"They do concerts. I almost went to one but when it happened I was tired."
Tired.
.........
This is possibly worse than Sadde had thought. She might need to talk to someone about it.
"Concerts would be nice, but I have all sorts of issues with rehearsing. Well, mainly one issue, laziness. But I dunno, singing is fun, and showing off is fun, I might get over my laziness and do it anyway."
"I'm supposed to do a recital for clarinet end of the quarter," frowns Jackson. "But I only have to do one song." He finishes his food and rests his face on his hand.
"...are you okay?"
Shrug.
She doesn't have the credentials or knowledge to deal with this. She only trusts her intuition so far, so she'll studiously ignore its telling her to just ask him and continue eating.
...well maybe one thing: "If you want to talk about something I can listen."
"I don't really have anything to talk about, wasn't that your whole problem with me?"
"I suppose," she sighs.
He looks at the clock on the wall. "English," he remarks, and he gets up and plods away.
...someone to talk to about it. Is there like a counsellor or something like that somewhere? She's not sure the RA is the best person to talk to this about.
Student Health exists and may contain mental health professionals.
That. Right. Yes. She should go to that place talk to those people.
There doesn't seem to be a receptionist or anything. There is a sign saying you should call if you want to make an appointment; there's a phone number. If you have a medical emergency you should go into the on-duty nurse's office with the red sign, over there.
...it's technically not an emergency, she grumbles to herself. And she doesn't actually have a phone, so she has to return to her room with the phone number memorized to call it.
"Selene student health office," comes the nurse's voice.
"Hi. So, this seemed like the best place to call, I have a very strong suspicion that a friend of mine—student here—has pretty bad depression."
"What have you observed?"
"A general lack of interest in doing much, and also a general lack of noun interests. He says his life sucks, doesn't seem to have any goals or motivation, has zero social life—I basically inserted myself into it because I have a terrible case of wanting to fix everything. The final clue was when he said he missed a choir concert because he was 'tired.'"
"Can you tell me who it is?"
"Jackson, uh," and she says the name of their hall and his room number, not having paid much attention to his last name. "I don't have the qualifications to know if asking him about it is the best idea or what."
"Do you think he might be a danger to himself?"
"My intuition says 'no,' but I don't know how far I should trust it."
"It's not nothing. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"Tell, no. I'd like to know more about what will be done."
"I'll need to talk it over with one of the therapists, but probably someone will drop by and talk to him, or the next time he's in with a cold someone will bring it up."
"Alright," she sighs. "I guess that's the best we can get. Would it be possible to keep me informed of whatever happens?"
"I'm afraid patient information is confidential, but I encourage you to talk directly to your friend."
"That's fair," she sighs again. "Well, in any case, thank you very much."
"It's what we're here for. Is there anything else?"
"No, that's all."
"Thank you for calling," says the nurse, and she hangs up.
Yeah alright. She's not at all sure that this will have a good outcome but she judges this was the best decision.