RE: The Opulent Quarrel - Round One: Mademoiselle Primfel's
06-07-2017, 07:49 AM
Felixia fumed.
She was curled up on her bed in the Constructs dormitory, having been granted a free period. Or so she assumed. It had been difficult to extract the thinly-printed schedule from the pocket of her uniform without poking it full of holes. Why on Arcana anyone had decided a feloid gambling machine should be signed up for Advanced Diplomacy, Backhanded Compliments, and Beginner’s Tennis was beyond her, and those were simply the classes she could still read. Felixia flexed her diamond claws. This was not going according to plan.
Her bed- appropriately cat-sized, with an accompanying (and useless) water dish- was already suffering from the attentions of Felixia’s kneading. She was feeling the hungry itch that came with going too long without making a bet, clouds of unrealized fortunomancy gathering intangibly about her shoulders. Her attempts to lure the other students in the hallways had been unsuccessful- they had ignored her in favor of rushing to their next class. One had even kicked her, scuffing her white flexisteel plates. She growled at the memory, clawing another puncture into her bed. It was bad enough that she was going to miss her appointment in the Carmine Lounge, but now she couldn’t even make penny bets with children? Disgraceful.
The arcanomachine bounded to her feet, full of restless energy. The dorm was empty aside from her. With a surge of catlike spite she leapt atop another, comparatively massive bed, sinking to her ankles in plush blankets. With a swipe of a paw she knocked the pillow to the ground, followed by a glass of water and an expensive alarm clock. She felt a tingle of satisfaction as the little machine shattered into a hundred clockwork pieces. Served it right for being there.
“Destroying another student’s property? Twenty demerits!”
Felixia whirled, pinning her ears flat against her head. A hulking mass of living green crystal stood framed against the door, crammed somewhat awkwardly into a plus-sized uniform. A prefect’s sash was positioned across its boulder-like chest. The craggy mass that she supposed had to be its face was wrinkled forebodingly, glaring sightlessly at her with obvious dislike.
“And I see you’ve ruined your own bedding. Well. I am very disappointed in you, first-year.”
Felixia snarled, her plates bristling threateningly. How dare this oversized paperweight speak to her as she was some kind of drone? “I am currently occupied,” she hissed. “I have no need of your services, maidservant.”
“Insubordination,” the crystal prefect grated, its voice an oddly chiming boom. With startling speed it reached over and plucked Felixia from the bed by the scruff of her neck. She hissed again, swiping at the behemoth’s arm, but she was trapped in the thing’s craggy fingers. The little arcanomachine twisted furiously, trying to find purchase.
“I have no choice but to recommend you for detention,” the prefect said, ignoring Felixia’s struggling. “Perhaps you will have the opportunity there to learn some manners.”
It stalked off, holding Felixia in its stony grip as she spat and snarled.
_
Felixia had not been programmed with the knowledge of what detention was, but the fragmented souls that made up her core were familiar with the concept. She had in her mind the image of desks, carved with decades’ worth of initials, rude words, and vulgar anatomy. A lone teacher glancing in irritation at the clock. Long hours of boredom. Feigned attempts at homework. Every so often, an assault with a ruler.
She did not have in mind a pocket dimension, hidden in a disused classroom inside a broken cabinet.
The crystalline prefect opened the creaking doors with one hand, revealing a red-rimmed halo pasted on the cabinet’s backboard like a glowing, two-dimensional mirror. It held Felixia in front of it and scrutinized the feloid with what she could only assume was a daunting expression, letting its disapproval sink in.
“Madame Castigatio will ensure that you are brought up to this school’s standard of behavior. I sincerely hope that I will not have to have this conversation with you again. You will be expected back within one hour of your arrival. Do not attempt to escape.”
Unceremoniously, it flicked its wrist and sent the cat flying.
Felixia yowled as warping energies plucked at her chassis. She felt as though she were being squeezed by a giant fist, determined to press the life out of her as it propelled itself through an ocean of black oil. Her joints creaked from the strain, her soul engine quivering. She had no need to breathe, but she found herself gasping, scrabbling for purchase on nothingness.
And then she was through.
“-Without saying that if you do not succeed in achieving acceptable behavior, you will be kept here indefinitely.”
She crash-landed on a wooden floor. The world shook like upturned gelatin.
“Now. All you newcomers, I can only assume-” a not-very-polite titter echoed around the room- “that you are unfamiliar with Detention. Of course, if you weren’t in need of it, you wouldn’t be here at all.”
Felixia meowed in pain, righting herself on the wooden planks. She allowed herself the indignity of shaking like an animal before trying to peer through the sea of legs in front of her.
A group of girls- though some pressed the limits of that descriptor- stood in a rather breezy room, somewhat like an overly large garden shed in nature, though its windows only showed the oily blackness of the void. The tallest of the crowd scraped the vaulted ceiling with her train-like head (a machine? Like her?); the smallest was simply a rat in a pinafore. All of them had their backs to her, facing a lurking monster at the front of the room. A tangle of shadowy limbs was all Felixia could make out before her eyes felt as though they were about to boil out of her skull. Madame Castigatio, presumably.
“You may think of this as a remedial course in ladyship and fine manners,” the monster sniffed. It drew itself up, somehow far too large to fit in the room yet also primly posed behind a desk. “Only when you have proven yourself more of a gentlewoman than every other girl in this room may you be released back to your classes.” It seated itself in a plush leather chair and steepled its skeletal fingers. “You may find it necessary to discourage others from taking the top position. That is acceptable. However, you may only do so with impeccable manners.”
In the front of the group, one of the girls swept the legs out from her neighbor with an elegant toss of her tail. The victim hit the ground with a sickening crack.
Madame Castigatio smiled, facelessly. “That’s the spirit, my dear.”
Felixia began to panic as the girls quickly began to divide themselves into defensive groups. A sea of calves parted, leaving her alone by the rear wall. Ladyship? She wasn’t even humanoid, let alone ladylike. Frantically the arcanomachine searched the room, desperate for a familiar face-
There.
Felixia leapt, claws outstretched, over the shoulders of two lizardlike girls onto the back of Georgia’s blouse. The catgirl jumped and swore as Felixia clambered onto her head, tail lashing madly.
“You need to help me,” Felixia pleaded, gazing upside-down into Georgia’s very irritated face. “I can’t fight anyone here. I’m a gambling machine. I can barely fight an actual cat. You get me out of here, I’ll grant whatever wishes you want, good odds, no catch. What’s your name? Georgina?” She scrambled to avoid a swat. “I’m begging you, Georgina.”
“Get off me!”
Felixia only tightened her grip. She was doing considerable damage to the catgirl’s uniform. “We felines have to stick together, right? Right? Our chances together- they’re good. They’re real good. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m not programmed for it.”
Georgia finally managed to free herself of the arcanomachine with a well-aimed punch, sending Felixia crashing to the ground. The cat rebounded, preparing herself for another pounce.
“Okay, first of all, stop trying to claw me to death,” Georgia snapped. “Second, shut up. Just- shut up for five seconds.”
Felixia sat, wrapping her tail around her body. She tried to look plaintive, but she was a mechanical cat, and the best she could manage was smug.
Georgia shook herself off and took a deep breath, getting a read on the room while the cat settled. Already a few girls had been taken down. It seemed as though Detention had some veterans.
She looked down at Felixia. “Wishes?”
“Wishes.”
She was curled up on her bed in the Constructs dormitory, having been granted a free period. Or so she assumed. It had been difficult to extract the thinly-printed schedule from the pocket of her uniform without poking it full of holes. Why on Arcana anyone had decided a feloid gambling machine should be signed up for Advanced Diplomacy, Backhanded Compliments, and Beginner’s Tennis was beyond her, and those were simply the classes she could still read. Felixia flexed her diamond claws. This was not going according to plan.
Her bed- appropriately cat-sized, with an accompanying (and useless) water dish- was already suffering from the attentions of Felixia’s kneading. She was feeling the hungry itch that came with going too long without making a bet, clouds of unrealized fortunomancy gathering intangibly about her shoulders. Her attempts to lure the other students in the hallways had been unsuccessful- they had ignored her in favor of rushing to their next class. One had even kicked her, scuffing her white flexisteel plates. She growled at the memory, clawing another puncture into her bed. It was bad enough that she was going to miss her appointment in the Carmine Lounge, but now she couldn’t even make penny bets with children? Disgraceful.
The arcanomachine bounded to her feet, full of restless energy. The dorm was empty aside from her. With a surge of catlike spite she leapt atop another, comparatively massive bed, sinking to her ankles in plush blankets. With a swipe of a paw she knocked the pillow to the ground, followed by a glass of water and an expensive alarm clock. She felt a tingle of satisfaction as the little machine shattered into a hundred clockwork pieces. Served it right for being there.
“Destroying another student’s property? Twenty demerits!”
Felixia whirled, pinning her ears flat against her head. A hulking mass of living green crystal stood framed against the door, crammed somewhat awkwardly into a plus-sized uniform. A prefect’s sash was positioned across its boulder-like chest. The craggy mass that she supposed had to be its face was wrinkled forebodingly, glaring sightlessly at her with obvious dislike.
“And I see you’ve ruined your own bedding. Well. I am very disappointed in you, first-year.”
Felixia snarled, her plates bristling threateningly. How dare this oversized paperweight speak to her as she was some kind of drone? “I am currently occupied,” she hissed. “I have no need of your services, maidservant.”
“Insubordination,” the crystal prefect grated, its voice an oddly chiming boom. With startling speed it reached over and plucked Felixia from the bed by the scruff of her neck. She hissed again, swiping at the behemoth’s arm, but she was trapped in the thing’s craggy fingers. The little arcanomachine twisted furiously, trying to find purchase.
“I have no choice but to recommend you for detention,” the prefect said, ignoring Felixia’s struggling. “Perhaps you will have the opportunity there to learn some manners.”
It stalked off, holding Felixia in its stony grip as she spat and snarled.
_
Felixia had not been programmed with the knowledge of what detention was, but the fragmented souls that made up her core were familiar with the concept. She had in her mind the image of desks, carved with decades’ worth of initials, rude words, and vulgar anatomy. A lone teacher glancing in irritation at the clock. Long hours of boredom. Feigned attempts at homework. Every so often, an assault with a ruler.
She did not have in mind a pocket dimension, hidden in a disused classroom inside a broken cabinet.
The crystalline prefect opened the creaking doors with one hand, revealing a red-rimmed halo pasted on the cabinet’s backboard like a glowing, two-dimensional mirror. It held Felixia in front of it and scrutinized the feloid with what she could only assume was a daunting expression, letting its disapproval sink in.
“Madame Castigatio will ensure that you are brought up to this school’s standard of behavior. I sincerely hope that I will not have to have this conversation with you again. You will be expected back within one hour of your arrival. Do not attempt to escape.”
Unceremoniously, it flicked its wrist and sent the cat flying.
Felixia yowled as warping energies plucked at her chassis. She felt as though she were being squeezed by a giant fist, determined to press the life out of her as it propelled itself through an ocean of black oil. Her joints creaked from the strain, her soul engine quivering. She had no need to breathe, but she found herself gasping, scrabbling for purchase on nothingness.
And then she was through.
“-Without saying that if you do not succeed in achieving acceptable behavior, you will be kept here indefinitely.”
She crash-landed on a wooden floor. The world shook like upturned gelatin.
“Now. All you newcomers, I can only assume-” a not-very-polite titter echoed around the room- “that you are unfamiliar with Detention. Of course, if you weren’t in need of it, you wouldn’t be here at all.”
Felixia meowed in pain, righting herself on the wooden planks. She allowed herself the indignity of shaking like an animal before trying to peer through the sea of legs in front of her.
A group of girls- though some pressed the limits of that descriptor- stood in a rather breezy room, somewhat like an overly large garden shed in nature, though its windows only showed the oily blackness of the void. The tallest of the crowd scraped the vaulted ceiling with her train-like head (a machine? Like her?); the smallest was simply a rat in a pinafore. All of them had their backs to her, facing a lurking monster at the front of the room. A tangle of shadowy limbs was all Felixia could make out before her eyes felt as though they were about to boil out of her skull. Madame Castigatio, presumably.
“You may think of this as a remedial course in ladyship and fine manners,” the monster sniffed. It drew itself up, somehow far too large to fit in the room yet also primly posed behind a desk. “Only when you have proven yourself more of a gentlewoman than every other girl in this room may you be released back to your classes.” It seated itself in a plush leather chair and steepled its skeletal fingers. “You may find it necessary to discourage others from taking the top position. That is acceptable. However, you may only do so with impeccable manners.”
In the front of the group, one of the girls swept the legs out from her neighbor with an elegant toss of her tail. The victim hit the ground with a sickening crack.
Madame Castigatio smiled, facelessly. “That’s the spirit, my dear.”
Felixia began to panic as the girls quickly began to divide themselves into defensive groups. A sea of calves parted, leaving her alone by the rear wall. Ladyship? She wasn’t even humanoid, let alone ladylike. Frantically the arcanomachine searched the room, desperate for a familiar face-
There.
Felixia leapt, claws outstretched, over the shoulders of two lizardlike girls onto the back of Georgia’s blouse. The catgirl jumped and swore as Felixia clambered onto her head, tail lashing madly.
“You need to help me,” Felixia pleaded, gazing upside-down into Georgia’s very irritated face. “I can’t fight anyone here. I’m a gambling machine. I can barely fight an actual cat. You get me out of here, I’ll grant whatever wishes you want, good odds, no catch. What’s your name? Georgina?” She scrambled to avoid a swat. “I’m begging you, Georgina.”
“Get off me!”
Felixia only tightened her grip. She was doing considerable damage to the catgirl’s uniform. “We felines have to stick together, right? Right? Our chances together- they’re good. They’re real good. I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m not programmed for it.”
Georgia finally managed to free herself of the arcanomachine with a well-aimed punch, sending Felixia crashing to the ground. The cat rebounded, preparing herself for another pounce.
“Okay, first of all, stop trying to claw me to death,” Georgia snapped. “Second, shut up. Just- shut up for five seconds.”
Felixia sat, wrapping her tail around her body. She tried to look plaintive, but she was a mechanical cat, and the best she could manage was smug.
Georgia shook herself off and took a deep breath, getting a read on the room while the cat settled. Already a few girls had been taken down. It seemed as though Detention had some veterans.
She looked down at Felixia. “Wishes?”
“Wishes.”