It was late. Very late. The Stormwind tower bells had stopped ringing so they didn’t wake people up, sort of late. Still, in the second floor rooms on the courtyard of Stormwind University, two lamps were lit. A student, out after curfew and expecting only the light of the full moon to navigate, ducked past the window unnoticed, initial illicit thoughts brushed aside to see the professor sitting, alone, at his desk.
Elsewhere in the apartment, Aely sat on the floor, surrounded by various pamphlets, brochures, colorful handwritten notices, and advertisements, all of them covered with flowers. She sighed.
Arrens voice floated out from the other room. “Is it really so vexing, love?”
“No. I ken wha’ we want. Jus’… they all look th’ bloody SAME. How th’ Light do folk actually PICK anythin’?”
His chair scraped lightly against the floor.
“Dinna ye innerupt whate’er yir readin’ jus’ t’… ”
“I finished that one, and if I don’t stand up for a few minutes, I will fall asleep and wake up having drooled on one of my student’s papers. Show me this confusing pile?”
Aely gestured at the sprawl of colorful paper on the floor around her, each promising fresher flowers than the last – some even promising out of season flowers, shipped in from the other side of the globe or procured through some form of herbalist’s magic. Arrens knelt down, rifling through them for a moment. An impish grin slowly crept across his face.
“You know, there’s an old student’s theory that when their professors get behind on grading, they use a very efficient gravitational method to determine who gets A’s.”
Aely looked at him quizzically. “Yeh?”
“Mhm. You see, some students – particularly those who fail – have conjured up the idea that when faced with insurmountable piles of papers, a professor simply takes them to the stairway and tosses them down. Any paper that reaches the bottom gets an A, and the papers closest to the top are graded as failing.”
“Tha’s bollocks. Ye work long hours, ‘specially ay th’ end term.”
“Its utterly false, yes. But perhaps we might use that particular brand of logic in our favor in this case?” He gestured at the haphazard mess of flower advertisements.
“I’ll na tell th’ cleaning staff if ye dinna.”
“Not a word.”
Aely hastily bundled everything up into a loose pile. “Stairs outside?”
And so, at nearly two in the morning, the headmaster and his fiancee stood on the courtyard stairs of the University barely containing their giggles. With a flourish, Aely launched the entire pile of papers, letting them fall in a colorful snowstorm of pink and lavender and pale yellow. After several seconds, they settled randomly on various stairs, a few papers escaping the confines of the steps and landing in nearby bushes. Aely shuffled down the stairs, gathering up the fallen papers, to see what could be found at the bottom.
Only one advertisement had actually made it all the way to the bottom – a very simple brochure for a florist and supplier from Southshore, whose advertisement featured purple and white Stratholme lilies.
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