Post by Cyrille LeFoux on Jan 12, 2016 17:50:24 GMT
Skipping class was heavily frowned upon.
That was why, when Cyrille skipped class, he tended to hide somewhere he wouldn't be looked for. Any concerned teacher - or one of the few friends he'd bothered to make at Seacombe - would check his room first. Then perhaps they'd check the common room, maybe even the library if they didn't know he was still under a ban and thought he was hiding between the book-stacks and taking a nap. (To be fair, he had done that before. Then his loud snoring got him kicked out.)
Now, he'd come up with a plan. He would hide in plain sight. It was perfect! Flawless! Nobody would look for him in the courtyard during class; sandwiched between buildings, most of the cool winter air was blocked. If it snowed, well, he had a plan for that, too. He knew how to survive in a forest in almost any weather; that was why the naturally dark Frenchman was lounging on a tree branch. It was high enough up that he wouldn't be immediately obvious, as he was dressed in dark clothes that blended in with the bare trees in the courtyard. And it was, he knew from painful experience, not so far up that he would need a physician if he fell out of the tree.
Whistling to himself - forgetting his brilliant plan in lieu of his own confidence, the downfall of many a 'villain' - Cyrille admired the view. He could see most of the buildings in the school, and - huh, was that the village in the distance? He couldn't quite make it out. Squinting, he sat up, curiosity getting the better of his laziness, and he dislodged snow with his movement, shaking clumps of the stuff from the end of the branch.
tags: @ruth , Open
