Mirabel’s Really Old Magic

July 25, 2025

Date: 2025-07-24 16:03

(Mirabel’s Really Old Magic)

[Thu Jul 24 2025]

A Musty Basement Lecture Theater/span>/spanThe Plymouth Lecture Theater occupies a windowless space in the basement, its
tiered seating descending toward a worn wooden podium that bears decades of
scratches and water rings. Banks of fluorescent lights hum overhead, though
several tubes remain dark, creating pockets of shadow between the rows of
fold-down seats upholstered in faded burgundy fabric. The walls, painted
institutional beige, show signs of moisture damage near the ceiling corners
where brown stains spread like old maps. A large chalkboard dominates the
front wall, its surface permanently ghosted with the traces of countless
equations and diagrams that no amount of cleaning can fully erase. The
concrete floor slopes gently toward a drain grate near the podium, and the
air carries the persistent smell of chalk dust mixed with something earthier,
more organic. Temperature variations occur without apparent cause – the front
rows often feel noticeably colder than the back, regardless of the season.
Along the rear wall, built-in cabinets with warped doors contain outdated
audiovisual equipment, their locks long since broken, while exposed pipes
running along the ceiling occasionally release metallic sighs that interrupt
lectures at unpredictable intervals./span>/spanIt is about 65F(18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Franklin/span>/span“Imagine if people had the decency to be on time,” Mirabel remarks and heaves a dramatic sigh. “Oh, there’s one. She’s barely late, so maybe we’ll have mercy on her,” she adds and squints nearsightedly at Annabelle. “What’s your name, young lady?”

Annabelle hurries in right into the midsection of ths chairs, having a sort of feigned stealthy prance that’s caught cold to freeze before she sits. “Annabelle Lee- sorry, did I miss roll call?”

“Oh! Goodness, *you’re* Annabelle Lee. Well, welcome to today’s lecture,” Mirabel ventures and smiles cheerfully at Annabelle. “We don’t do roll call in college, sweetie. I’m Mirabel Kane. We’ll give it a few minutes and see how many more are behind the times.”

“Mhm, everyone knows my name before I meet them.” Annabelle comments cheerfully with the faintest edge of existentialism. “I’m like a D-list celebrity, I think. It’s nice to meet you Professor Kane.”

Annabelle brushes the top of the seat just to assure herself of its cleanliness, holding it down with her other, this plops herself right on in, pulling out a little loose-leaf from her binder.

Kai waves at Annabelle.

“Well, there’s been a bit of gossip about you,” Mirabel supposes and takes her glasses off to polish them. “*Miss* Kane will do, dear. I never could get used to ‘professor.’ It makes me self-conscious.”

“Now, do make sure that you’re not tardy when you practice your spells!” Mirabel warns the students and puts her glasses back on again. “Demons aren’t as patient and forgiving as I am. In any case, we’ll get started in a moment. Please put your phones on silent.”

“Oh. I hope it’s nice gossip, Miss Kane.” Annabelle remarks sadly, just the faint tinge of something ironic within her expression. “I might, I dunno, cry if it’s mean.”

Annabelle’s phone makes a factory setting jingle as she turns it off and tucks it away into her hoodie.

“Oh, it wasn’t very mean. Don’t you worry,” Mirabel assures Annabelle and takes a moment to survey the seats. “There you are, Mister Skinner. Jacket off! It’s the peak of summer, young man.”

Kai slides his hands into his pockets and slouches down as he looks around the classroom and eventually sets his gaze back on Mirabel, his head tilted just a bit as he watches her and waits for the class to begin.

Lucien comes running into the hall a little out of breath, only to blink at Mirabel’s isntruction. “Um, sure” he mutters, shrugging off his leather jacket as he finds himself a seat.

“That’s better. I don’t want any of you fainting from the heat. So! How old do you think magic is?” Mirabel asks the class in general, looking around expectantly. “We can’t say for sure, of course. It certainly predates literature, and magic doesn’t leave a whole lot behind for archaeologists to find. There have been cave paintings suggesting that people used magic before they used bows and arrows,” she continues with tenured ease. “In fact, magic may be older than sophisticated language. Not every spell requires an abracadabra. What do you think? Hands, please.”

Lucien reconnects -_-

Lucien ponders for a moment, before slowly raising his now bare arm and hand.

Annabelle raises her hand, which fits not with the remarkably distant, blank look upon her face.

“Yes, Miss Lee? We’ll start with you,” Mirabel decides and points at Annabelle. “Then we’ll let Miss Skinner go second.”

“Er, *Mister* Skinner!” Mirabel remarks and grins apologetically at Lucien.

“If it’s on cave paintings, then it sounds like it’s around three thousand years before Jeezus.” Annabelle’s gives that Christ fellow something of a mock naming in the effort, then sets her hand back down for a job well done. “Is it older than dinosaurs?”

Lucien lowers his hand and murmurs “Um, this may be a bit far fetched. But if we agree with the idea that human perception shapes the world… aren’t we talking about a time where magic and orinary physics haven’t entirely diverged yet? If magic is breaking the rules of the world, you can only really consider it magic once you /know/ those rules…”

“Well, that’s a little abstract,” Mirabel ventures and nudges her glasses higher up with a thumb. “I don’t believe that human perception shapes the world in a literal, physical sense. A rock is a rock whether or not you’ve got your wits about you and can see that’s what it is,” she continues calmly. “And if you can make it burst into flame by the very nature of your being, that’d certainly be magical.”

Sunday hesitantly raises their hand up, but only a little.

While waiting for Annabelle to give her input, Mirabel continues, “Magic certainly can *shape* the world around us, but it’s obviously difficult to say for sure how well the very first practitioners understood this.”

clears her throat, having declared her response too meekly. “If it’s on cave paintings, then it sounds like it’s around three thousand years before Jeezus.” Annabelle’s gives that Christ fellow something of a mock naming in the effort, then sets her hand back down for a job well done. “Is it older than dinosaurs?”

“Goodness gracious,” Mirabel mutters and rubs her forehead. After a deep breath, she gives Annabelle a motherly smile and answers, “There’s no evidence to suggest that the dinosaurs or their ancestors knew magic, sweetie. If new discoveries emerge that challenge this, I’ll be sure to do a class about that!”

Sunday raises their hand up just a little bit higher in the air.

Jenny watches the lecture quietly, writing down in her notebook while she munches on a tart.

“Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes–before writing, before grimoires and formulas and arcane codices, magic was instinct. It was desperation. Magic was done under duress, hunger, grief. Modern witches spend half an hour on their eyeliner before a ritual. Their ancestors were probably naked, sobbing, and sacrificing a mouse,” Mirabel continues, gesturing vividly while she speaks. “In fact, magic may predate sophisticated language. The theory is supported by the prevalence of arcane practices that don’t require speech. You couldn’t really imagine poetry or diplomacy before complex language–but you *can* imagine someone marking a boundary with bones and blood, hoping the spirits on the other side would understand,” she says soberly. “They probably did use sounds. Grunts, cries, that sort of thing. Maybe they had some primitive words. Body language, too. What do you think a caveman’s spell might look like?”

Nemi has been writing notes as she hums softly, noting everything down as she simply nods along.

Sunday slowly begins to lower their hand back down.

“Oh! Sorry, did I miss your hand?” Mirabel asks, peering distractedly at Sunday. “Go ahead if you wanted to give your input!”

Kai gets up and heads over to Nemi, he lowers himself beside her and leans in to murmur to her, his gaze then returns to Mirabel as he listens to her lecture and the others that speak during it.

Tamar arrives late and quietly slips into one of the seats at the back of the hall.

Scribbling quickly, Annabelle raises her hand with a question near the end of Mirabel’s words.

Nemi sighs softly, looking down to her phone and then looks over.

Nemi grumbles softly and looks down to her phone to type something out quickly.

“We’ll hear you after, um… Sunday, wasn’t it?” Mirabel tells Annabelle and gestures in Sunday’s direction. “It’s so nice that some of you have the courage to speak instead of whispering like little children!”

Annabelle kindly sets down her hand. For now!

Kai lifts his hand too after Annabelle sets hers down, he gives a grateful nod to Nemi and smiles at her a little.

Sunday blinks as Mirabel looks at them, hand still partly in the air, and they nod ever so slightly. ” Yeah uh… Sunday. Uh…” Their eyes avert, and they look slightly uncomfortable. “Uh… forty… thousand years ago?” They raise their voice, but they don’t sound like they’re trying to speak that clearly. “Was when like… fossil records of the first woodhenge were carbon dated…”

Lucien leans back in his seat as he listens, while almost absent mindedly sketching something in his notepad.

“How interesting! Yes, that’s a good bid. It’s a strong indication that people had started to see the world beyond the rocks and trees at least that far back,” Mirabel/span>/span‘s pencil slaps down to her paper, hands clasping each other like she’s making a business deal. “Do you think it’s more intuitive for spirits to hear our words, or do they respond better to the reaaallly esoteric symbols of blood and sacrifice better?” Annabelle wonders.

It’s probably the first time Hester has been late for class. She shows up barely able to move her legs, trembling from shoulder to shoulder, smattered in red. “.. sorry I’m late, Miss Kane,” croaks the fat one, deflating in the nearest seat at the front.

“I think they sense our intentions before they worry about the way in which we–goodness, these wolves,” Mirabel tells Annabelle and lets out a puff of breath. “That’s alright, Miss Flanagan. You weren’t chased here by wolves, were you?”

Sunday glances towards the entrance, frowning.

“Goodness gracious,” Mirabel remarks after actually looking at Hester.

Sunday takes one final slurp, then places their empty plastic cup underneath their chair.

“And, if they respond to blood so well.” Annabelle wonders, “Would they respond to my meaning if I injected into the blood one and a half milligrams of Lidocaine, say, for a ritual of anesthesia?”

“That, er… I think that falls more within the realm of science than magic, young lady,” Mirabel informs Annabelle, frowning distractedly. “While we could, in principle, attempt to commune with the spirits by altering our state of consciousness, I don’t think injecting drugs is *inherently* magical.”

“S-something like that,” Hester weakly mumbles to Mirabel, pulling out her usual notebook with oil-stained fingers. She can’t even hold her pen right. From here, she searches the board, the room, and just pinches between her eyes to listen so she might catch up with the lecture.

“Okie-dokie.” Annabelle unclasps her hands and scoots to write back into her notes below her.

“Do you need to see a doctor, Miss Flanagan?” Mirabel asks and steps closer to the students’ seats, wearing a worried squint. “We’ll hear what Mister Ashford wanted to say, but I don’t want you to sit there and bleed out.”

Sunday looks towards Annabelle with a slightly apprehensive expression on their face.

Kai glances over to Hester and back to Mirabel, he stands up and says, “I was responding to how cavemen did their rituals and I think it probably involved a lot of singing, a lot of dancing and maybe a lot of sex. I’m thinking a kind of dance, singing party orgy around a bonfire, potentially with one of their sacrifices – an unlucky friend or foe – being cooked up on that bonfire. Thank you,” he bows slightly and plops back down in his seat.

Nemi walks over to Hester, sitting next to her and passing her a surprisingly cold can of coca cola. “I’d give you water but I doubt you want a half drunk bottle-” She comments with a smile.

Jenny nods in agreement with Annabelle “Drugs are very spiritual though. Theres records of drugs being used for rituals for like the Aztecs and Egyptians…” she says out of turn, not raising her hand

Nemi after moving around a bit seating wise, Nemi turns her attention back to Mirabel fully with a smile, nodding along and taking notes in a new notebook of hers.

“N-no, it’s okay, ma’am. I’d rather get washed away in the flood than see a doctor,” Hester resists out of pure instinct, trying to keep her heavy panting less than audible. She fails. “Don’t let me disrupt the class, please.” She sweeps a limp arm in gesture, before Nemi turns this into a Coca-Cola moment. For a second, she frowns up at her fellow student like she really shouldn’t have, but the appreciation’s there all the same. Even if she just.. nurses the can. Doesn’t drink from it.

Nemi slowly feels like shes missing some critical info about Hester as she slowly dies inside after a few moments….

“Well, alright. I’ll have a look at you after class,” Mirabel supposes and adjusts her glasses. “Mister Ashford, you had your hand up before.”

“Yes, I’m sure there was a lot of singing and dancing and–goodness. Well, perhaps, yes,” Mirabel ventures and clears her throat a little. She gives Kai a short nod and continues, “Yes, alright, they may have done all of that. We’re lucky someone did eventually invent writing so we don’t have to resort to those kinds of things in class, aren’t we?”

Sunday rubs the back of their neck, staring intently at the ceiling for a few seconds.

Kai rolls his eyes a bit and glances around himself, squinting.

“For the purposes of education, we tend to group magic up into three rough classifications: ritualism, mancing and sorcery. Some of you might not be familiar with all of this yet, but that’s alright,” Mirabel goes on, bruteforcing the subject back onto its rails. “Which one do you think came first? And why? If you don’t know anything about it, make sure you listen!”

Lucien gives a faint, wry smirk, his gaze briefly flickering to Hester with a hint of concern before he focuses on Mirabel again, his pencil still drawing away on his pad.

Nemi raises a hand to address Mirabel as she chuckles softly. “Well action is always more expressive then words. But then words were down in legible writing eventually and as such contracts formed… I assume became magically binding…. Magic is about intent- and you have to express that intent somehow!”

“That’s quite right, Miss Ivorstead. The written word had a profound impact on arcane practice,” Mirabel says and nods briskly to Nemi. “It really kickstarted the development and refinement of magic.”

Kai turns around in his seat to point at some random student behind him, “Hey fuck you!” he says, loud but not quite yelling, “It’s not small!” he turns back around and folds his arms over his chest, his cheeks burning in embarrassment and frustration.

Sunday raises their hand half-way in the air, side-eyeing Kai a little, maybe grimacing slightly.

“E-ehm,” Hester breathes out buckets of stress, strung with words. “Ritualism, I-I feel like. ‘Cause that sorta.. opens doors to the other two,” she volunteers, swiping a hand down her sweaty face. Glasses reflect Nemi when she speaks, then Lucien and Kai, at which she gives nothing more than a stifled snort. Back to the front she looks.

“Mister Ashford, sit still and mind your language,” Mirabel says and plants her hands on her hips. “If you can’t, I may just give your classmates a handy demonstration in what pre-language people behaved like.”

Nemi coughs and nods to actually adress the question. “I imagine mancing though- As though ritualism seems to be more dependent and grew with the explosion of writing…. My bets on mancing due to the naturalistic nature of it… and possible direct connection to ones actions. But thats an assumption because… Well I’m in this class, still have to learn the answer.” She states with a smile. And then looks over to Kai with an eyebrow raised.

“Mom was always defensive about me learning rituals, but she’d just pat my head when I said I wanted to throw fire at people.” Annabelle mentions idly down to her nose. “Sounds like rituals are easier, and the easy things come before the complicated ones.”

“They started it, but… fine, sorry Miss Kane,” Kai says as he slouches down within his chair, his eyes narrowed in anger as he stares as Mirabel and listens to the others in the class.

“Ritualism is orderly, patterned, bound to time and space. Sorcery is forceful: wielding magic as a weapon. Hitting your enemy over the head with a handful of gravity. But mancing is… instinct. It’s communing with nature, or projecting sounds, or willing blood to start flowing again if it had stopped. As Miss Ivorstead suggests, that may well be the oldest kind. Not because it’s the most powerful, but because it requires nothing but raw talent,” Mirabel says and gives Nemi a fleeting smile. “And what do desperate, terrified people do best? They discover their talents. Or they die, of course. Lots of people died because it turned out that the spirits weren’t *really* heeding their call, even when a sabertooth tiger made the poor fellow wish they would,” she posits. “See, anyone can learn rituals. You can be good or bad at it, but you don’t have to be born with it. It does tend to require that you’re taught, however, and that would have been much more difficult before we could even speak! And sorcery is very complicated and pernicious, so that was likely beyond the cavemen, too. Mancing is more like an *ancestral memory.*”

Sunday lowers their hand, nodding slowly, brow furrowing.

“It’s sudden, and primal!” Mirabel goes on, and vanishes spontaneously. A moment later, she eases back into existence a few steps to the left of where she stood.

“Sick,” Kai nods a couple of times, his face a bit less flushed after Mirabel’s display of mancing, a little grin back on his face.

Hester listens with both eyes squeezed behind her leopard-print spectacles, like she didn’t know what to make of Mirabel’s explanation. She takes notes all the same, even if her handwriting is a bit more loopy. The blinking in and out of existence widens beady eyes slowly. “.. didn’t even need to use a blink dagger,” the nerd murmurs in awe.

“Thank you for your stamp of approval,” Mirabel remarks and gives Kai a jovial grin. “Now, I think Sunday wanted to say something again before, so let’s hear what it was, and then we’ll have a fun little sacrifice.”

Annabelle sadly misses the display, having switched exclusively to an audio lecture as she inscribes the lesson into her notes. “Mmmmh, dagger.” She mutters.

Nemi nods softly in agreement to Hester as they comment on that. “She is quite a skilled teacher…. sort of glad its her teaching us this.” She comments and nods softly.

Tamar has been quiet but listening throughout the lecture from where she sits at the back, just soaking everything in. However, when Mirabel disappears for a moment, the girl straightens up and leans forward, blinking briefly and staring at that display of magic.

Sunday’s brow raises slightly after Mirabel reappears, and they once again nod, slowly.

“Did you have your hand up?” Mirabel asks someone and opens her handbag to rummage around. “Sometimes I lose track. If so, go ahead.”

“Did you have your hand up?” Mirabel asks Sunday and opens her handbag to rummage around. “Sometimes I lose track. If so, go ahead.”

Lucien lifts his eyebrows, impressived at the little display, while his pencil still works on the paper before him.

“Who’s good at blowing?” Mirabel asks plainly and gives the rows of students an expectant look.

Annabelle looks up and makes an ‘X’ over her body, shaking her head. “I suck at blowing.”

Hester checks around for what others might’ve thought of the demonstration, noticing Tamar in the back. She tilts her head quizzically but sneaks the woman a friendly wave of grease-smudged fingers. Then Mirabel asks that one question and she throws caution to the wind, “Mister Ashford is, ma’am.”

Jenny raises an eyebrow looking up from her notebook and over to Mirabel and then over to Kai

Nemi nods in agreement with Hester. “He blows totally…” She says with a grin.

Sunday looks around at the rest of the room, then back at Mirabel. “Uh… nah.” They shake their head, slowly sinking back into their chair.

Lucien preemptively rolls his eyes at the comments bound to be triggered by that question.

“Good. You can always take turns if he needs assistance,” Mirabel decides and pulls something out of her handbag. Not yet inflated, she lobs it at Kai. “As you mentioned before, sacrifice played a prominent role in ancient magic, and in their general spiritual world.”

Hester considers Nemi with newfound respect and nods in solidarity.

Kai glances between Hester and Nemi and rolls his eyes at the both of them, he slocuhes down even more in his seat, glaring up at the ceiling, he reaches out to try to catch the lobbed object reflexively.

Sunday’s eyes slowly track the balloon’s arc as it’s thrown.

Tamar notices Hester’s wave and offer the girl a polite dip of her head by way of greeting before she settles back in her seat.

“Once the young man has breathed some life into that, we’ll offer it to the dark and primal gods of the distant past,” Mirabel says and grins enthusiastically at the students. “But we’re going back to a time before sophisticated language. You need to appeal to the gods in other ways!”

Sunday doesn’t say anything, but they wordlessly stare at Kai, hand dipping into their bag of jerky.

Kai blows up the ballooon and ties it off, he then lifts it into the air and rather than smack it, he points his finger at it and guides it in roughly the direction of Mirabel with a steady outpouring of wind from his fingertip.

Lucien watches the display curiously, idly sucking on the end of his pencil, his brow knit in thought.

“Ohmygod, please don’t tell us we’re gonna have to -actually- dance the hula around a bonfire,” Hester muffles under beneath a cupped hand, shrinking in her seat at the front. As that balloon drifts to the fore of the hall, she shields half her face with her notebook, as if expecting some sudden prank with Kai at the helm.

Kai totally blew up and floated the inflatable sheep, not some balloon.

“Well, we’re not allowed to start bonfires in the lecture halls anymore, but–yes, Miss Fields, you’ve got a knife,” Mirabel decides and chases after the inflated sheep to place it on the floor near the podium. “Come down here, those of you who dare to participate in this sacrifice.”

Nemi chuckles noticeably as she sighs and smiles softly, leaning back in her chair as she takes a few notes while being content to watch.

Kai heaves himself up and out of his seat and makes his way down to the spot where the sheep is, he peers down at it curiously and glances to Mirabel with a little grin.

Annabelle’s muscles coil to stand, but she doesn’t end up going anywhere. She slumps her rear-end right back into her seat, sighing as she holds her jaw with the heel of her hand.

Sunday takes another look around the room, then slowly extracts themselves from their seat, pacing their way towards the new resting spot of the inflatable sheep.

Hester cranes her head at the sheep, able to see it just fine from her seat but.. Mirabel did say come down. The nerd pushes herself out of her chair and over to where the ‘sacrifice’ sits. “Awh, it’s like the real thing,” she muses, wiggling a finger at the sharpie runes.

“What’s wrong, Miss Lee? Come on down,” Mirabel insists and crooks a finger at Annabelle. “Miss Fields, get your knife out and we’ll let you have the first go. We’ll take turns showing how we would each participate in this grizzly sacrifice.”

Lucien slowly gets to his feet, but glances sideways at lean as she slumps back. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Sunday having quietly left their seat, continues their approach towards the inflatable sheep.

“Is it actual magic?” Annabelle asks hopefully. “I can’t do actual magic. My mom won’t let me.”

Jenny looks over to Mirabel and shoves the rest of the tart in her mouth as she moves over pulling out an old and well-used hunting knife from her boot.

“Well, no, it’s more like theater,” Mirabel admits and smiles blithely at Annabelle. “It’s like pointing a toy gun at someone and going ‘pew pew.’ But it might give you some insight into what it may have been like for the first practitioners of primal magic.”

“Oh, okay!” Easily rectified, Annabelle’s mood. She jumps out of her chair, leaving her notes on the desk and shimmies her way through the tiers of chairs and down to the troop with the rapid fall of her feet.

“Miss Pinn does that all the time,” Hester uneasily chuckles at Mirabel’s comparison to toy guns. The chuckling fades almost as soon as it began, lips a tight line.

Tamar glances to each of the students when they get up and make their way down to the front and the inflated sacrificial sheep. She herself stays firmly settled in her own, a faintly concerned crease forming on her brow.

“If Miss Fields isn’t ready to go first, maybe we can let somebody else take point,” Mirabel supposes and strokes the bulbous sheep on the head. “But remember that we’re cavepeople. We can barely speak yet. In fact, I think we know only one word each, and that word happens to be the one of the traditional sins that we most inhabit. Do you all know what those are? There’s quite a lot of magic in them.”

Jenny looks over to Mirabel and shoves the rest of the tart in her mouth as she moves over pulling out an old and well-used hunting knife from her boot. (Repost forgot to do announce)

It looks like someone can’t keep their eyes open to save their life. August leaves his seat groggily after having stared on with a deadpan, gen-z stare at the podium for all tis time. While others are on their impromptu ritualism, he takes his bag and slides off his whole desk into it before standing and trudging out the door.

“There you are,” Mirabel adds and nods to Jenny. “What’s your biggest sin, dear? Feel free to scream it aloud. You have to pick the one that’s the most *you.*”

Hester pales as Mirabel asks Jenny -that- sort of a question, but there’s doubtlessly a curiosity in her as she watches her batchmate.

Jenny takes a deep breath raising her knife into the air “GLUTTONY?” she yells. Unsure as she holds a mason jar of coffee in her other hand

Lucien lifts an eyebrow, his interest in the mock ceremony seeming to spark a little.

Annabelle rips her head dutifully over to Jenny, hands folded in front of her with a faint bob of un-medicated energy. “GLUTTONY!” She warcries with more confidence.

Mirabel lets out a wordless whoop of encouragement and nudges the oblivious sheep towards Jenny.

Sunday looks over at Annabelle, nodding along after the primal call, snapping their fingers. Their attention then turns to the sheep.

Hester hangs her head and hugs her muffin top defensively, croaking, “Gluttony..” As if that stung even her.

“We’ll go in turns. You don’t all have to be gluttons,” Mirabel whispers.

Jenny grab the sheep balloon by where its throat would be “GLUTTONY!” and sinks the knife down a loud POP emitting throughout the room as she sinks the knife into Mirabel’s podium. She blinks and then tries to pull it out. Its abit stuck in there.

Nemi chuckles softly, smiling a bit at the display as she leans back.

“Good! Now the next one. Miss Lee!” Mirabel decodes and urges Annabelle towards the sheep, which has started to deflate a bit. “Out with it, dear! What’s your sin?”

“GREEDY LUST!” Kai yells up to the heavens even though it isn’t his turn, a little grin on his lips.

Annabelle’s pronouncements ends somewhat short as her place in team gluttony is self-realized to be more bandwagon and supportive than personal. Her eyes hood underneath the curls, and she stares at the sheep with passed down mannerism of biting her lip. “PRIDE!” She cries, without the same huzzah but at least a little assured.

Lucien eventually makes his way down to the group, lips pursed as he watches the people ahead of him in the gourp.

“That’s the spirit! Now, Mister Skinner!” Mirabel yells, nodding enthusiastically. At this point, it probably turns into a bit of a Julius Caesar situation and students are free to just gang up on the sheep. “Next! Yes, that’s the spirit!”

Tamar shifts in her seat, pulling one foot up onto it and draping an arm loosing around her knee. Her other hand comes up to grind the heel of her palm against her temple as if trying to ease out a headache. At the POP of the first sacrificial blow, the girl twitches and frowns.

Hester just gives Mirabel a flare-nostriled stare as if to say ‘but wut if its tru‘. The.. evidence is overwhelming. “I’m… still gluttony..” says she, but soon she turns to Lucien to see what he might contribute to their platter of soul scandals.

Lucien takes the knife, hesitating a little, gazing back at Mirabel for a moment. Then he apparently decides to get into the spirit of the thing, lunging forward to stap the sheep while it’s not fully deflated yet. “LUST” he growls out, with no leavening of humor or playfulness to it, fully getting into the role of a feelings-filled caveman for a moment.

Jenny takes a moment trying to take the knife out but then more people come up and she gives a victory cheer as the sheep slowly deflates “GLUTTONY!” she yells again out to the rest of the class

“Well, let the universe know. Bellow it! Show us that you can turn it into magic!” Mirabel insists and puts an arm about Hester’s shoulders. “Good! Magic is about intent. Intent and confidence! Knowing who you really are!”

Hester wails like a dying whale, “AaaaAAAH– I’m a GLUTTON and I hate it!” Since she doesn’t have Jenny’s knife, she just gives the sheep’s head a wee *bonk* with her fist — to see it flattened further.

Annabelle watches as the sheep deflates, hands gripped. The medical practice says she can still save it, she just needs the body.

“That’s what that sin sheep gets. Gluttonous, lustful, greedy bastard that it is, nore to mention the pride,” Kai points at the ‘dead’ little bastard and glances to Hester and snorts in amusement.

Annabelle says, with her hands grabbing at the deflated creature, “I can save him. Gimmie.“

Kai tries to bring his sneaker down on the deflated sheep before Annabelle can get at it, “No. He’s dead and he’ll stay dead,” he grins at Annabelle teasingly.

“That’s dumb. People don’t stay dead in this town.” Annabelle argues, but she doesn’t dare step on the body. “If I put him back together he’ll be a better mascot, and everyone can watch him fly around and feel something better than ugly.”

“Are we trying to ehm, reanimate the sheep or give its soul though..?” Hester puzzles at this point, scratching the many, many layers of bandages wound about her hairless scalp. She turns to the remainder of the class, in case they might have anything to say.

The conveniently atmospheric howl echoes through the lecture theater, and Mirabel lets out a winded breath. “A sacrifice is a sacrifice,” she agrees solemnly. “Now, every sin has magic in it. It opens us up to certain influences, and there are entities who can connect with our sins. That’s why it’s important to know which one is strongest in us.”

“Blaaah,” Kai replies to Annabelle and pulls his sneaker away from it, “Fine…” he wears a shit-eating grin as he looks from Annabelle to Mirabel and then to Lucien.

“Well, no,” Mirabel tells Hester and shakes her head a little. “We’ve offered its life to the gods in the hopes that they repay us with power.”

Annabelle snatches the sheep and cradles its lifeless, deflated body in her arms defensively.

Sunday looks around between everyone assembled, then looks down at the sheep. They stare at it for a moment, then look over to Mirabel, they then slowly pace back to their seat.

Tamar glances back at the doorway, as if pondering whether or not to call it a day now that the sheep is sacrificed. What Mirabel says next though catches her attention and she looks back at the group on the podium, chin coming to rest on her bent knee.

Lucien takes a step back, breathing just a little deeply, his gaze averted a little as if surprised at what the silly bit of playacting took out of him.

“Okay. So ehm, in the real world.. you probably shouldn’t bring sacrifices back to life, right?” Hester hazards to Mirabel with a gnawing on her bottom lip, teetering from Croc to Croc. “Or else the gods will smite you?”

“That’s right, Miss Flanagan. It’s very dangerous to risk the wrath of the gods, or whatever higher power you offered the sacrifice to,” Mirabel says and nods to Hester. “A demon lord, a true Fae–it doesn’t strictly have to be a god in the traditional sense.”

Kai wanders back up to the tiered seating and leans down to murmur something to Nemi.

Annabelle hurries back up to her seat, standing above her station as she spreads out the sheep and looks at the damage with a clinical, piercing eye.

“While we’re still clinging to the subject of sins, I’d like you all to spend some time familiarizing yourselves with the traditional ones,” Mirabel mentions, and her tone suggests that the end of the lecture is near at hand. “You can read about them in the library, or ask the senior students. It’s very important to know that your sins open you up to the influences of beings called Cardinals, and if you’re to defend yourselves from their wickedness, you have to know what it is that makes you vulnerable.”

Annabelle leans over the back of her tier to look up to Tamar, shaking the dummy. “You want to help me put Humpty Dumpty back together again?”

Jenny raises an eyebrow over to Mirabel “What are the Cardinals…?” as she takes a sip of her coffee. And then over to the knife

“Ah, right, right,” Hester mouths, meandering away from the podium to rejoin the others in their seats. “Cardinal. Cardinal Sins,” she whispers to herself like the words were familiar, slumping back into her chair with a creak of its joints.

Sunday slouches in their seat, resting their head head on their left hand. Their expression is one of resignation and slight disappointment.

Tamar drags her attention from Mirabel to Annabelle when she is addressed, giving her a confused look. “What is Humpty Dumpty?” she asks warily.

“The physical embodiment of sin,” Mirabel solemnly explains. “Think of them as great… wizards, let’s say, who empower themselves by the sins that they represent, and can manipulate those who give in to those.”

Nemi nods softly, slowly recounting them. “Just in case someone somehow does’nt know…. Its Pride, Greed, Wrath, Envy, Lust, Gluttony, And Sloth.” She recounts with a soft smile.

“That’s right,” Mirabel says and gives Nemi a short nod of approval.

“He’s a big ol’ egg that fell off a wall and then the King’s knights couldn’t put him back together again.” Annabelle explains to the question’s natural conclusion, shaking the sheep. “It’s a story. It means you can’t fix some things, sometimes even the king can’t. But, well, they also still try, right?”

“So.. did they come before or after the sin?” Hester lets float a wondering into the lecture room.

Tamar tilts her head to the side, listening to Annabelle explain this. She seems very confused right up until the point that someone points out it is a story and which she ahs softly. In the end though, she shakes her head, “I do not wish to try and repair the sheep, thank you.”

Tamar tilts her head to the side, listening to Annabelle explain this. She seems very confused right up until the point that the other girl points out it is a story and which she ahs softly. In the end though, she shakes her head, “I do not wish to try and repair the sheep, thank you.”

Jenny takes the knife “Oh, I thought I got it stuck, thanks.” she says tucking it back into her boot as she heads back to her seat

“After. The sins are a cultural structure, but that fact does not keep it from being a powerful concept,” Mirabel tells Hester after bringing back Jenny’s knife. “Powerful enough to cause these entities to manifest and infiltrate the world. If you ever see one, your best chance of survival is to be able to predict how it might target you.”

Annabelle looks at the sheep, stabbed and unloved. It doesn’t really look back, it’s dead, or dying, not even on its last legs. “..Yeah, you didn’t stab the sheep, right? I guess you don’t have an obligation to help him.”

“In any case, let’s say that was it for today,” Mirabel decides and zips her handbag shut. “If anyone has any questions, you’re free to stay behind and ask me, but the lecture is over.”

Hester grows a tad distressed as Mirabel further explains such, twiddling thumbs restlessly. “Ehm.. I’ll try to remember that and not crap my pants if I see one, ma’am,” she resolves without much confidence.

Annabelle takes her notes and stuffs it into a folder full of other loose papers, blank on the right, the first tab of text on the left. She slings the bag back across her chest, and, with the limp plastic tucked over her folded arms like a towel, makes her way out of the classroom.

“And remember that a Cardinal thinks big,” Mirabel says and gives Hester’s shoulder a squeeze. “A Cardinal of Gluttony won’t show up and demand cake. It’ll want to enslave all the students and form a harem of you!”

With the lecture complete Tamar unfolds herself and stands, easing out of her seat. “Thank you, Miss Kane. That was interesting to listen to,” she murmurs politely.

Lucien has fallen quiet for the latter part of the lecture, remaining doddling on his notepad as the class comes to an end.

“You’re welcome, Miss Calwyn,” Mirabel says and gives Tamar a mild nod.

Tamar returns Mirabel’s nod with one of her own, glancing over the remaining students briefly and then slipping out as quietly as she came in.

Jenny starts to put her stuff into her bag “Thanks for the lecture, really liked the handson part.” she says with a chuckle before giving a wave

Kai blows out a long breath at Nemi and shakes his head, “Do any of you have Obie’s contact info?” he asks, now that the lecture is over.

Sunday gets to their feet, taking one final look at the sheep before they slowly file towards the exit.

“And well done, Mister Skinner. That took some courage, didn’t it?” Mirabel remarks and gives Lucien a fleeting grin. “You’re welcome, Miss Fields.”

Lucien blinks as he glances up, the faintest flush on his cheeks. “Courage? I… suppose so, yes.”

Hester’s rounded features contort, repulsed. “Blechhh.. O-okay, ehm, I really, really need to get my crap together,” she mumbles, nauseated at the prospect. The can of Cola is still on her desk, being a non-diet temptation. “Thanks for the lecture, Miss Kane. Did uhh, Professor Alejandro nudge you about something lately?”

Hester slips a look Nemi’s way, and then a less pleasant one to Kai, just to say all snootily: “I don’t even know who that is. You should ask the lady who just left.”

“I’m not entirely sure, dear. I speak with him regularly, so you may need to be more specific,” Mirabel quietly informs Hester. “You can stay behind and tell me what you mean if you don’t want to say so in front of the others.”

Kai rolls his eyes at Hester and heads to the door, offering a wave to Lucien and Mirabel on his way out.

Nemi stays in her seat now, not standing up for some reason as she sighs and gets comfy.

Nemi has a cat in her lap thats asleep.

“Where did you find that, anyway?” Mirabel asks Nemi, peering curiously at the cat. “Make sure you put a litterbox in the dormitory building. If it doesn’t leave a mess, I’ll look the other way.”

Hester texts away for a bit, some disbelief at whatever she’s got there. At Mirabel’s words, there’s a self-conscious glance for Nemi and Lucien, but she leans closer to venture, “U-uhh.. the dueling demonstration, ma’am? For the possible.. club. In case Lola never does put together the school coven.”

Lucien glances around, seeming to suddenly notice he’s outstaying his moment. Without giving the appearance of eavesdropping, he stows his things away, remembering to pick up his jacket as he makes his way down the sde stairs.

“Ah. I think he may have forgotten to mention it, or else he did it while I was having a bottle of wine at home,” Mirabel supposes and smiles wryly at Hester. “I’ll ask him about it later.”

Nemi nods softly. “And now they hate not being at my side and promptly make me stay my sleeping in my lap when they can…”

Nemi says “I still havent named her.“

Nemi says “I’ve debated a lot on Mini Me but thats not really something I can easily call a cat to get their attention“

“Well, isn’t that nice,” Mirabel remarks and chortles lightheartedly at Nemi. “Why don’t you name her Yersinia?”

Nemi says “Yersinia? “

“Yes. It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?” Mirabel says, nodding calmly.

Hester bobs nods at Mirabel, the antennae on her headset wagging along like cockroach feelers. “If it was an ugly cat, I’d tell you to name it ‘Kai’ but it just looks like ehm, a blob of sugar,” she remarks to Nemi in amusement. “Ah, before I forget – you’re all coming to the August 2 post-election party, r-right?” she asks the room, Lucien included.

Nemi considers for a moment, nodding softly as she lifts the cat up, holding them close, desperately the cat wiggles before getting comfy as their simply held. “That’s…. A great name actually.”

Lucien gives a quiet shrug as he makes his way out of the lexture theatre.

“And you can call her Sin for short when you’re too lazy to say the whole thing,” Mirabel supposes, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Anyway, do any of you need anything before I get going?”

“N-nothing off the top of my head, ma’am,” Hester squints one eye, trying not to look too embarrassed when her sort-of invitation to the student council event falls flat with classmates. “Ehm.. since I’ve finally managed to catch Nemi, I was thinking of asking for her help with the workshop, assuming she’s.. not busy being suffocated by a ball of fur.”

“Good. I think it would be fantastic if you two can tinker around down there in the workshop,” Mirabel says and smiles cheerfully at the remaining students. “I’m off to dinner. Good night, darlings.”