It was 6 p.m. on a rainy Tuesday evening. It had been raining for the past three days and there was no end in sight. Large drops of rain pelted the windows of the large, leaded windows facing the east. Exposed beams of dark wood arched across the room, doxies were nesting in these rafters. The buzz of their wings could be heard intermittently as they threatened to agitate with the entry of each child. Normally considered to be pests, Solomon seemed at ease with the concentration of disruptive nuisances and of course the Doxy's. Yes, the classroom itself was rather crowded. It was uncanny honestly, these children seemed to want to be caught. A few of them even asked for the favor of detention, perhaps as a joke or as a symptom of their warped perception. Apparently detention has become a defiant badge of honor for some. A sad cry for attention for others.
It was fine of course, this would be the last detention they seek.
Each student would see a crimson quill and a simple sheet of paper on the surface of their desk. An ink well, sealed with a drop of wax placed neatly in the right corner of each desk. A writing assignment? Perhaps. Solomon was in the front of the classroom, he was wearing his usual leather armor sans his often jovial expression. His dark eyes shadowed by his bushy peppery brow, his white hair combed back and his thick, white, neatly trimmed beard hid in part his glowering expression.
Something was wrong, not that it mattered. Students were often too wrapped up in their own drama, how the world effects them to see beyond their narrow circle of influence. To them everything was the greatest betrayal, the most insurmountable barrier, the greatest victory. Today was no different.
Solomon would wait for the students to take their seats. There were enough of them. Once he was satisfied, once he felt that most of them had arrived he would draw his wand and flicked his wrist as he said the magic word: "Colloportus."
The door would slam closed. The spell, one that these underachievers had yet to learn was best known as the "locking charm" which essentially did as advertised -- locked the dammed door.
He would not address them, there was no need. His job was not to serve as a host, but a disciplinarian. He would make an arcing movement to the left before dropping his wand downward in a practiced, proficient motion. "Silencio."
It was time to be quiet.
"Students..." Solomon announced addressing the crowd. "Please be seated," he sounded eerily calm. "Take the crimson quill in your hand, the sanguine ink and the parchment provided to write in verse your greatest fear. No less than two-hundred words. Every other sentence must rhyme. Then you can try to leave." The assignment seemed easy. Write about something that you had likely thought a lot about. Only two-hundred words, a meager request even if it had to be done in rhyme.
"Words have power," Solomon warned.
"Fear even moreso," he added with a somber tone.
He would let them get to work, to write whatever it is that they had to say. The room, of course silent less the buzz of the doxies overhead. "Do you know why Doxy venom is so dangerous?" Few did, it was likely that they were not among them. Some of the Doxies would become increasingly agitated, darting close to the students before moving away. Was it a threat? A warning? An indication of what would come after they handed in their paper? Handed in an inadequate poem? Solomon would not offer them an answer.
You wanted Detention, you got it. Just rememeber you asked for it. What I want from you:
1.) An entry post in character. What are you thinking? What are you doing? Where are you sitting? How are you reacting to this situation? Why are you in detention? Remember to not god mod another character but you can get their permission to claim they caught you doing something but you NEED permission.
2.) 200 words verse written with the quill, ink and parchment provided. This would be every other sentence ending in a rhyme written by your character (this is an in character writing assignment). Example: Solomon was an angry troll. I do not think he has a soul. I thought he was a nice guy. Now I think he is trying to make me cry.
3.) Hand it in. You wont successfully leave the thread at the end of the post.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.