|Current mood:|| indescribable|
Zurvan awoke with a start.
Unlike many of the denizens of Suewarts, Zurvan was not prone to nightmares. Even when he didn't feel well, he didn't get them. In fact, he could never remember dreaming.
Where had the night gone?
He held his hand to his temple. Sleep hadn't helped. That horrible throbbing pain still shot through his head like gunfire. Why was this happening?
The blond professor forced himself out of bed. His legs nearly gave out on him then. He leaned against the wall, catching himself. Then he managed a slow shuffle to his closet, where he chose out his clothes. Dressing was a true struggle, ending in a collision with the floor, but he eventually prevailed.
The next step: Leaving the room.
Zurvan forced his legs into a clumsy walk, still relying on the wall to support his weight. He jerked open the door and found two notes on his door.
One was a note from Tristan, and it regarded the dragons. So it looked like he'd be able to get one. Good, he thought. I was wondering about that. I'll look up the information later.
The second was much less interesting. It was written by himself the previous night.
He removed both of them from the door and tossed them onto his table. He'd sort them out later. He then shut the door.
Zurvan felt a little stronger now. He shied away from the wall and found that he could walk without it. Not gracefully, but it was better than nothing.
"Professor? Are you all right?"
He turned to look at the one who had called him. Just some Flammasari, he noted. She looked up at him with concern in her eyes.
"Maybe you should lie down. Here, I'll help--"
"Ten points from Flammasari for being a worthless little cocktease," Zurvan snarled, then walked away.
The words sunk in. The girl screamed.
Was the professor acting...
...out of character?