Matias’s Tuesday afternoon odd encounter(Arachne)

Date: 2025-06-17 12:16

(Matias’s Tuesday afternoon odd encounter(Arachne):Arachne)

[Tue Jun 17 2025]

A Weathered Academic‘s Private Office/span
The faculty office presents itself as a modest rectangular space with dark
wood paneling that has aged to a deep mahogany hue over the decades. A heavy
wooden desk dominates the room, its surface worn smooth from years of use,
positioned to face the door with a high-backed leather chair behind it. Two
visitor chairs with cracked leather seats sit before the desk, their wooden
frames matching the overall aesthetic. Tall bookshelves line the walls,
packed with academic texts whose spines show varying degrees of wear,
interspersed with curious artifacts and specimens in glass jars that catch
the light from the single window overlooking the quad. The window itself is
framed by heavy velvet curtains in deep burgundy, partially drawn to filter
the daylight. A brass desk lamp with a green glass shade provides additional
illumination, casting shadows across stacks of papers and an old inkwell that
still holds position on the desk despite the presence of modern pens. The
floorboards creak softly underfoot, particularly near the threshold and
beneath the window where the wood has warped slightly with age. The air
carries the distinct scent of old paper and leather, mixed with something
faintly medicinal that seems to emanate from the specimen jars./span
It is about 65F(18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At High and Atlantic/span

Matias is on the floor bleeding but alive as Arachne settles into a chair, his head lulls back to thunk onto the ground of the room his eyes closed. “Not that I do not… Enjoy our time together, Spider… But dare I ask, was that a fleshformed or a Faeling on the stage?” he wonders in a pained brazilian accented english.

“Yes, a Hunter may have been better than myself.” Matias supposes from his spot resting on the floor, the blood still seeping out of him. No regeneration powers on this Professor. Reluctantly and with his good arm he begins to push himself up and trudges over to the desk to begin getting gauze and a bandage out to pack his wound. “Still we managed to survive. My sympathies on your staking.” he relays while gritting his teeth and packing his wound, a class notice in 35 minutes flashing on a digital clock on his desk.

Matias looks up from his own wound tending to watch Arachne go because small pleasures should always be taken, his tone absent “Tomorrow.”