Thread: The Dirty Part of Physics [ClockworkCadence ║ Ryees]

Watching the girl walk away, Sherlin's mind turned about. First it turned left, then left again, before making a non-Euclidean shift into the blackboard behind him and rubber-banding back to his head in a way that made his teeth ache. What are you, Miss Hudson? He put his hands together again in front of his face, thumbs under his chin, and leaned his elbows onto the desk, still watching Miss Hudson, who was now settling into her desk. Are you a tiger? Are you an eel? Are you cattle? Sherlin's eyes flicked to his left, her right, to a student Mathers, Ryan Frat boy, athlete, douchebag useless drawing his wand, n length of glossy black wood set into an ornate silver hilt. The motion of his stunner was fluid, but amateur, sluggish to Sherlin's eyes but likely enough to get him by in classes back at schoolIlvermorny, if the gold heart of Pukwudgie on his shirt collar was any indication. Head to her paper, Sherlin waited for her to be knocked out of her chair. Instead, she almost casually raised a hand, a fully-cast shield from Protego manifesting in her hand. Sherlin's brows legitimately raised at that, an impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Instinctual fluid practiced well-practiced Africa? Dumbledore? Before the spell had ever contacted her shield, Sherlin's own wand was in his hand. It was unclear exactly when or how that had happened. A red-brown wood of smooth grain and just over 13 inches long, it began rounded but flared into a gentle three-faceted helix until it hit the throat of the shaft where the simple rounded handle began. Red sparks hit her shield, and as the airy concussion rippled through the air, he voiced his own spell. Vestimenta revelio. Focused, concise, expert, as if spoken by a robot exactly scripted wand movement, as if it were held by a machine deadly accuracy, as if aimed by a marksman. The white-clear bolt tore from his wand with purpose, spreading as it traveled to take the shape of Ryan's bodyspecifically, the clothing on it. The boy barely had time to register that the spell had been cast before it hit him... with no visible effect. Not immediately, anyway. As if wet with paint, the color in his clothing started to drip away, the fabrics solid and strong as ever, but becoming ever more clear and transparent as they dripped off. With a panicked shout, he jerked his coat off the back of his chair and quickly wrapped it around his waist just as the color started to leak out of the waistline of his finely-tailored jeans. You said classroom combat was encouraged! he shouted in an indignantly British accent, pointing his want at Sherlin accusingly. Why am I being punished for it!? This is not a punishment, Sherlin replied simply, spreading his hands amicably. You attacked a student. I attacked you. She defended properly. You... He let a sardonic smirk pull his mouth as his eyes flicked down to the puddle of color dripping down the steps. ..did not . Defeat blossomed in Mathers's cheeks, and he plopped into his chair. He seemed to have accepted that his clothes were ruined, so it was with another surprised cry that he noticed something crawling up his leg after a minute or so, he was able to remove his coat. Let this be a lesson to you all, he called out, his voice surprisingly strong and authoritative, demanding attention. You are in an environment of learning, not of beer pong. You are not using spells to prank your classmates, nor are you using them to dethrone your classmates. If you cast a spell on a classmate while they are answering a question, considering the answer to a question, or reading material specifically handed to them by me, you will not be punished for it however, you will immediately have declared yourself he raised his fingers in quotation marks 'fair game.' The first student to tag you with a successful spell, if you cause such an interruption, will earn themselves one Sherlin pointno, I will not tell you what they do, or how to earn them otherwise. His grin was self-satisfied. If I am the first to tag you with a successful spell, you will lose one Sherlin point. We are not here to troll each other. Learning is one thing this is not a battleground. You should be firing spells off to test your classmates, in a constructive way. His wand tapped the board the text changed. Each of their names was written, underlined, and an owl, drawn in chalk, flew from the edge of the board and perched at the bottom, similar in function to a living portrait it seemed. It watched them, its head twisting, apparently waiting for something. Sherlin waved his wand to one side, and his chairs slunk back against the blackboard. Deskster yawned, shuffling his legs to move him against the wall as well. Another flick of Sherlin's wand, and two white circles appeared on the ground, equidistant from the outside walls and about three feet in diameter. Spaced twenty feet from each other, their intention was clear. Step up, now, volunteers first. And if there are none, you'll be picked by me. Let's see what you all have. Sherlin walked to the desk and hopped up on it, hands folded in his lap and wand braced between his laced fingers.