Vinter was early for class. Early enough to find it empty and the afternoon sun streaming in through the gigantic, vaulted windows of clear glass. From the size of the room, it could almost be seen as a complete pentative, with all of the light baring it's centerpiece, the alter of learning raised up by five steps of marble.

The young galdor did not see the point in the glass, much so than a way to show the light in and keep the rain out. But it wasn't raining now, and the trees so green and lush outside were gently swayed by the breeze. He could almost sear to have seen a few songbirds, but that would be too perfect a picture. This was a school, Brunnhold, not the countryside with all its primitive beauty.

He passed by the base of the teacher's pedestal and walked towards the seats directly in front of the alter of this great lecture hall. It would soon be filled with students as eager for math as they are for this class, Quantitative.

Here, among the tiered upholstery of elaborate etchings and reliefs of acanthus leaves, aloe leaves, and scrolls he found himself seated upon the highest vantage. He liked to see everyone's backs turned towards him. He liked to keep his distance from the teacher at a controlled length. And, he liked to have the light's warmth gently caressing him from the windows behind him.

Passives were busy polishing those windows now, purging it of thumb smudges and facial marks, dealt by students looking for some shallow fun.

The room was just as empty to Vinter.

Professor Makiores was never late; in fact, he was usually early. When he was just on time, it was a strange thing. Still, today, he was just that. Not early. Arriving just as a few students began to get curious, the older galdor made his way to the center of the room without flourish. Clearing his throat, he folded his hands behind him and began class without any unnecessary chit-chat or introduction,

"If you all have your notes from last week's class," his tone implied that everyone should already have had their notebooks out, that everyone should remember the exact word that he left off on ten days before, "then you will remember we were discussing some of the finer points of molecular manipulation using Metamorphosis as our main spell. Now, several of you bright young students thought it prudent to show up at my office hours complaining that you didn't sign up for a Physical magic class, and I quite well understand that."

He rumbled a cough, dark eyes falling on a handful of students in the class coldly.

"Hopefully all of you were paying attention last week," Makiores smirked, turning to a low table covered by a cloth. Removing it to fold it neatly as he continued to speak, a very delicate reproduction of the Church of the Moon in what might have been actual stone sat on the center of the table, "We'll be practicing some application today."

"Tell me what you see." He asked simply, asking for non-magical observation as was his usual preparation before experiments.

The class buzzed, and it was obvious this was a most unusual example. It seemed almost completely out of place for most of the Professor's usual fare. He seemed to enjoy the surprise, a smug expression falling over his features as he anticipated a volunteer.

Vinter raised his hand, his face unable to comprehend the significance of the stone. When asked of his opinion, "a block stone," were the only words that left his mouth before he quietly took his seat again.

He was among those students that complained. This was supposed to be a class of the Quantitative discipline, not one on the alterations of physical matter. And as he remembered it, it was a man named Arkimidis or other, that was supposed to teach it. All this was but a week ago of course. There was not much he could do about it except avoid the class, but of course the professor's conduct intrigued him. He had never had the galdor as a teacher before, and now was a chance for him to whet his curiosity.

Professor Makiores blinked at the response, though it was unclear if he expected more or if that was the answer he wanted. Slim fingers reached up to rub his dark eyes from underneath his glasses and he was quiet for a few moments,

"Anyone else?"

A few students cautiously raised their hands. He nodded his head at them in turn,

"It's a model."

"Or a carving."

However, the older galdor turned back to Vinter instead of letting the answers continue, arching an eyebrow that may have once been red but was now very much fading into grey with age. He seemed expectant, tone of voice bordering on the distantly mysterious, "Is that all? Does the type of stone matter?"

Vinter did not know whether he was being asked his opinion or not. Having the professor's eyes on him, however assuered him that he was being called to reply. Of course, this was not something Vinter did not want to do. He was a student here, in a class he did not expect to take. What much he did know about it though was not enough to satisfy any question the instructor present would ask of them. At least, that was his thought of it, so he was apprehensive in offering anything else but, "I am under the impression, sir, that the kind of stone does not matter, if the discipline in question intends to manipulate it. Of course, you might also say that it does matter, being that certain kinds of stone or material respond differently to different kinds of applications of monite; but this I am unwilling to presume simply because I know not enough about the stone, the reasoning behind its carving, it composition, nor the reason why you have had it neatly packaged in fabric before unveiling it."

The professor laughed, but it sounded more like the startled cough of a man caught napping in his chair. He smiled so age lines gathered in a bundle at the corners of his eyes,

"You could say the covering was simply a diversion; it had nothing to do with the point, of course. However," Makiores continued, "You're right on both accounts—the type of stone does ... and doesn't matter. Class, this is precisely why you're here—the process of Quantitative that allows us the insight for better casting across all disciplines. Of course, by now you've all come to understand that this discipline has uses of it's own or else you still wouldn't be here, but it's time you all considered how some disciplines are meant to work together."

The older galdor swept a hand over the intricate model, "If you wanted to use Metamorphosis to change the molecules of this carving from stone into gold, we all know there are plenty of sub-modifications to the Metamorphosis spell in existence ... probably enough to fill entire grimoires with the variations. However, most of those would most likely be listed by the type of stone."

Turning back to the class and running a bony-knuckled hand through his reddish-grey, slightly unkempt hair, the professor turned back to the class, "Consider for a moment some Quantitative analysis that would perhaps assist in or possibly even negate the need for such a tedious process as picking the right variation. Think small."

His hands folded behind his back and he glanced about the small gathering of students expectantly.

"All matter, in composition, is made out of something smaller," Vinter almost giggled at the prospect of what the teacher was asking them. He was finally glad to have discovered that this class was after all a Quantitative class, although one that did digress a bit on it first weeks in first impressions.

"You want us to use Quantitative Magic to determine perfectly the basic composition of the stone and thus modify the metamorphosis spell according to the molecular signature of the material. In doing so, we are no longer actually changing the stone from stone to gold, but replacing its impure molecules from basic metal elements into pure aurum elements, thereby ignoring the need for a tedious chart that might not be as accurate on the elemental level," Vinter could not contain himself, feeling the question too basic. The teacher was interesting though. He hoped he would not disappoint him afterwards.

"Close." The professor quipped suddenly as if snapped from a daydream, "All matter is made out of mona at it's most basic of levels, but that's a very first form discovery now isn't it?"

The class rumbled in brief amusement and agreement, knowing very well the composition of their world by now.

"You're still thinking about separate spells." Hummed the older galdor, distractedly looking away from all of the students to study the model of the Church, "Which would do you about as much good as meandering through the pages of some dusty old reference book."

Makiores chuckled, obviously to himself, "All of you who have chosen Quantitative as your focus will be using the discipline in tandem with your chosen field, but the same holds true with other magical disciplines. So, I would like to give you all several moments of consideration to—"

The class began to mumble, a few voices of panic rising from a couple of the rows. Was this a test? A surprise quiz? Was there some homework they had missed?

"No," grumbled the professor, tugging at his long face underneath his glasses for a thoughtful moment, "This is not a test, per se. Regardless, I'll be giving you all a few moments to consider how best to weave two spells together. How would you implore the mona Quantitatively and then continue your casting into a Metamorphosis spell? The first few of you to raise your hands will have an opportunity in front of the class."

With a mischievous grin, the older galdor clasped his hands behind his back again and glanced at the clock on the wall, "Go on."

He blinked his eyes and hesitated to meet the challenge. Doing so would only mean an image of ambition. Ambition often warranted the attention of those who wanted it more and proved to be a nuisance when a challenge to duel got in the way of erudition. This Vinter did not want at all, so he waited for someone else to drink from that cup and chose to observe the students of the class instead. The prospect of applying Quantitative principles was deeply appealing, but losing his invisibility was not.

After waiting several moments, the red eyed boy offered a pale hand with a sigh. No one else seemed to be forthcoming with being a volunteer, he guessed that he would have to show them what was expected. It was the classic scenario in the classroom that whoever went first, whether they succeeded or not, would help other students find the nerve to participate. Such was behavior, student or otherwise. Not that he really cared if anyone else was brave enough. That was their prerogative.

Vincent's was to become strong, even if it meant repeating old lessons learned. He offered up a quiet voice that still boomed in the empty space of the room.

"If I may."

Professor Makiores waited patiently in the silence before Vincent spoke up, reaching with a bony-knuckled hand to adjust his glasses at the tall albino's voice,

"Yes, Mister Bianchetti?" His tone almost sounded disappointed, as if he was expecting more volunteers and wanted to shame the class by calling on this particular example, "What do you have to contribute to our discussion today?"

Vinter laid back into his chair and smoothed his fingers over his chin and then his entire mouth as if to think, only to hide the smile that slowly stretched his lips as he thought, "Wonderful. I do believe we have a promising class for this day."

He waited for the professor and the student to show their mettle, keenly observant with his eyes slightly frowning to see them better from the height of his tiered desk and seat. He hoped there would be others to take the stand too, but if it was too much to them, then alas. He would seemingly be one of them.

((Waitin' on a Vincent. ))

(( I am such a terrible person. Sorry about the wait. ))

Vincent nodded before continuing.

"If I remember correctly, Drake's Principle works well as a general rule of thumb to work by with the combination of Quantitative and Static branches of magic."

The older boy paused, gathering his focus and his field. He was sure that Makiores wouldn't have any lasting objections.

Turning his red eyed gaze upon the stone model, he intoned to find out exactly what kind of stone he was dealing with, and then taking that derivative to shape the Metamorphosis that he then used. If that model was made of anything but that, he intended to transmute it into granite.

Whether or not Makiores had an opinion about the usefulness of Drake's Principle in this particular instance was left a mystery; the grey-haired older galdor simply kept his expression interested from behind his glasses, watching the model instead of Vincent. It was obvious he was listening to his monite, however, the fingers clasped behind his back tapping to the syllables as they were spoken.

The Quantitative spell revealed with almost a hint of reluctance that the stone had already been altered magically during the model's creation, that it was some form of modified marble, specifically changed for the porcelain-like translucency it displayed. The albino's request to once again alter the stone was met with no resistance, as if the mona was quite aware of the classroom setting (as it should be).

There was a hush of attention in the room as the model's composition began to darken and change form, but it was obvious that the spell required more than one caster to complete.

The professor looked up from the model to the class, his statement a request without the grace of a question, "It appears our volunteer could do with some assistance."

Vinter reluctantly raised his hand, knowing too well that if no one stepped forward the lesson would not be brought to a swift conclusion, "Professor, may I?"

Vinter stood from his seat to his feet, eased off the highest tier, and calmly stepped down the steps with no urgency in his movements, nor unwillingness. He was glad to help, and his smile was there to reinforce the gesture, introducing himself first as he stepped beside the foreigner and bowed, "Good afternoon, pardon me for interrupting, but I must introduce myself before I offer my assistance. My name is Vinter Cord, may I help you?"

(( SFSP ))

Vincent was careful not to break his concentration, and so only kept to knee-jerk reaction sentences. He expected this amount of difficulty for such a complicated spell.

"You may as you will," he uttered tersely, not once breaking his gaze to the transmogrifying statue. If the younger student jumped in and assisted him, they would both be able to complete the spell and get on with the lesson.

Makiores waved a hand at Vinter's request, allowing the two boys some room to finish their casting. The mingling of their fields in the spell was a rare and unusual feeling, the intentions of each student somehow becoming clear between Vincent and Vinter in a way that was indescribable by words. It was like conversation, only across thought.

The mona reacted with a tangible sensation of calculating preciseness, the joint effort of their words apparently a pleasing request. The stone began to change, and Vinter was given the same insight as the albino had received from his Quantitative spell—the knowledge of the previous alteration making everything become clear as the model's composition became granite one molecule at a time.

Everything felt dusty as their spell finished, as if they had been carving the stone themselves by hand. As the air stilled and the whole class began to examine the work of their spells, it was somehow clear to the boys that things were considerably more successful because Vincent had bothered to examine the composition beforehand. It was as if the mona had found that—

"So," interrupted the Professor with a cough and a critical glance at the model, dark eyes examining the results without bothering to hide his judgement, "What have you got to say for your decision? Was this a success for you?"

If he had an opinion, he was willing to keep it from his tone, interested in hearing the conclusions of the students before finishing the lesson.

Quote:

Makiores waved a hand at Vinter's request...

Priceless.

"Sir, to be completely honest, I have no idea," Vinter said that with the full confidence of his voice and demeanor, facing the professor directly and his eyes locked with his. He had no reason to feign learning here, as that always stood in the way of learning itself, "I know that the stone has been changed as you instructed and I know that we have done according to your suggestions, but I also know that there is something missing in this. It is has something to do with the stone itself before we changed it, and I do not know at all what it is."