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Author Topic: Attitude Over Aptitude  (Read 12 times)

Attitude Over Aptitude
« on: June 26, 2020, 12:17:17 PM »
(OOC:  Thanks for being so patient, Baroness!  I’ve set this in the summer of 826, so in their second year, but that can easily be changed.  Hope everything else works okay. <3)

It was cruel to run academic aptitude tests when the sun blazed across their desks, when the classrooms were warm enough to make even the most studious cadets woozy.  Lessons in the heat often ended in dull, long-lasting headaches for Farran and at times it was a struggle for him to gather his books, to study, to apply himself with the voracity expected of a Falkenrath.  These days he preferred to sit beneath one of the trees that bordered the barracks, with his notes spread all around him and the low breeze ruffling his raven hair, even if it left the library - his usual haunt - bereft of one one of its more commonly-spotted ghosts.

When their papers were returned to them, slid ominously onto their desks, Farran combed through his with anxious, steely eyes.  It was not enough to glance at the final mark - etched and circled in signal red ink - or the comment scrawled on the cover sheet.  Instead, he meticulously picked through every one of his answers, gauging every tick or cross scratched onto the parchment by his marker.  It felt like a measure of his worth and he was relieved - thrilled - to find that not only was he not lacking, he was excelling.

As their class came to an end and the instructor dismissed them, voice raised to be heard over the eager scrape of chairs and igniting conversations, Farran close to linger behind.  It was for the most inconsequential and overscrupulous reason; he was sure he had been robbed of half a mark, in a question where his final answer had been incorrect, but his working out had been at least half right.  It made no difference to his final grade, yet his attention to detail compelled him to ask all the same.

With his pens and books still scattered on his desk, and his prominent nose buried in his exam paper, he missed the instructor soberly asking Tamsin to remain behind.  As the other cadets fed out of the room, leaving only the hushed, serious tones of the instructor, the atmosphere - and meaning of the exchange - became clear.  Farran’s head snapped up, only for his widening grey eyes greeted by a pointed look from the instructor.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’ll, ah… I’ll come back another time sure,” he mumbled, and began hurriedly gathering his books, the already forgotten exam paper resting on top of them.  With his pens clutched in his hand, and offering a small nod in Tamsin’s direction, Farran exited the classroom.  Out in the corridor, after a prolonged moment’s hesitation, he resolved to linger, if only to check that she was all right.  Being asked to stay behind on result’s day was not a good sign and he felt a certain trepidation bloom on behalf of his friend.
Logged


 

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