6:00 am on the dot. Boletus is a creature of habit, and age only further cements those habits. He no longer needs an alarm clock, but he still sets his to 6:05am, just in case something would cause him to oversleep. You never know, after all. 39 years of life have taught him that nothing is absolute in this world- not even the compulsions that drive him follow a strict, self-imposed routine like his. There is always a chance to slip up. 6:30 am: he is in the shower. 6:45 am: he makes and eats breakfast. 7:00 am: he is dressed. 7:10 am: he is out the door. 7:30 am: he is in class, getting ready for the first lecture of the day at 8:00 am. The lull between arriving to his classroom and class actually starting is the only peace he allows himself to have. Otherwise, his day is purposefully packed with lessons, tutoring, grading, *anything*. Anything to fill up each possible minute. It's the only way his mind can feel at ease. However, his perfect little routine is disturbed when he is approached by a certain someone.

“Professor Edulis, a word?” asks a somewhat regal-looking older human male in a commanding, baritone voice. His steps are so quiet, even someone like Boletus was taken by surprise when he initially steps through the wide-open door to his lecture hall. Norvel Donahue, the current Headmaster of the University of Suzail. He’s a stern man of few words. And those few words of his are directed towards a tiefling who was in the middle of lesson planning.

“Yes, sir?” he asks, tone devoid of emotion. His tail, which hangs below him, is the only part of himself that would ever give him away. It flicks erratically back and forth out of view. He’s nervous.

“You’re aware of the Fine Arts department we’ve opened up, correct?” he asks. It’s a rhetorical question, meant to lead up to his actual point.

“Why yes, of course,” he responds plainly. In his mind, he is just waiting for the man to get to the point. He always spoke slowly, especially to him, as if he needed to slow his words so someone like Boletus could understand them. Boletus is used to it. Tiefling are few and far between in a human-dominated city like Cormyr. Obviously, he knows about the new Arts department. How could he not? Even since its inception, the University of Suzail has been a place solely dedicated to research of all kinds. Boletus was already a bit of an odd one, teaching a variety of history courses when most others offered were in the sciences. But Cormyr has a rich history, one closely tied with the ancient civilization of Netheril and the even more ancient creatures known as dragons. There is endless research actively being done related to these topics, so Boletus quickly found a place amongst his fellow academics. The opening of a Arts department caused quite a bit of a stir. The snobbish scholars looked down on things like the Arts, but it’s that gatekeeping attitude that has led to decreased admissions rates over the years. Times have changed. Society has finally realized there is value in education in the Arts. Boletus wholeheartedly agrees, of course, being on the younger side as far as professors at this university go. Sadly, his opinion is a rare one. Perhaps that is why he has been approached with this particular request from the headmaster.

“There is a new professor that will be joining us. A rather pleasant young woman. Her name is Rosemary Drake, and I would like you to show her around. I asked her to meet us in the courtyard at 2 pm.” Notice that he didn’t ask if he were available? That was on purpose. This is a command, not a request. When he finished talking, he taps the cane he is leaning on a bit as if it were a gavel.

“It would be my pleasure.” But he didn’t plan for this, and surprises only annoy him the older he gets. This request is a giant wrench in his routine, because at 2:00 pm he is supposed to be working on one of his soon-to-be-finished articles. He had planned to be done by the end of the tenday, But now? With this little tour? That sets his deadline back by an entire day. His tail swings angrily underneath his seat, smacking into the legs of his chair. Boletus has no choice but to accept the headmaster’s command, no matter how frustrated it makes him. It's not all bad, though. A new professor just means that’s a new person to meet. Perhaps she’ll be a breath of fresh air. He could use something like that in his life.

It’s been…A Morning. But, the most important stuff she needed to do was already done. She’d spent most of the day hanging up her “New Job!” cards and putting away the…five…bottles of Prosecco that she knew she wasn’t going to drink. But, it’s the thought that counts. She pulls up to the front of the academy at 1:36, giving her enough time to finish whatever lunch she could grab on the way in. Time did seem to run away from her so easily. She was thankful she lived in an age where modern technology and magic can coexist. Many-a prestidigitation and mage hand had saved her already today. She couldn’t blow this. She couldn’t.

Hands behind his back and tail gently swaying behind him, he stands by the large fountain in the courtyard at 1:55 pm. And then, it’s 2:05 pm. Late. At least the headmaster isn’t here. He was supposed to be, of course, but he had some sort of vague emergency that Boletus didn’t care to take much note of. It was better that he help the new professor tour alone without him breathing down his neck. But she’s late. Not really doing herself any favors when it comes to making first impressions. He tries not to judge. Not everyone can be like him after all, punctual to a fault. At least the sounds of the fountain are nice to listen to while he stands there, stone still, looking like some sort of sentry rather than a professor.

“SHIT.” She puts TikTok down and scrambles to get out of the car. Another doomscroll ruining her future. She has got to stop doing this. She hurries, but when she approaches her guide, tries to appear as if she hasn’t been hurrying. “Hi! You must be Boletus, right? I’m Rosemary. Drake.” She extends a hand “Sorry- I…it’s been…a morning…”

How am I supposed to vouch for you when you’re late? Rosemary is lucky someone like Boletus is here to show her around, and not one of the crotchety older professors. “It’s Mr. Edulis,” he greets coldly, taking her hand in his for a handshake that is just as cold despite the natural warmth of his skin. “Ms. Drake? Welcome to the University of Suzail.” He starts to lead her across the courtyard to the main building. “Established in 1459 DR, this university has been the top research institution in all of Cormyr, attracting students from all over the interior region, and even some of Northern Faerun…” He drones on and on about the university’s history, how it survived the infamous Siege of Suzail, and a bunch of other boring facts that he has rehearsed time and time again over the past ten years of teaching here. “The arts department is a rather new addition,” he states, leading her to an area of the school that looks much newer than the other more historical parts of the building. “And you’re one of the first new hires. Lucky you, because professors hired here tend to have their job for life. It’s a very stable career, all things considered.” When they make it to her office, there is already a purple and gold plaque on the door that reads “Rosemary Drake.” “This is your office,” he says, opening the door with the key the headmaster gave him. “Any questions so far?”

The coldness isn’t what she expected. It stings. Chills her from the outside in. Tugs her lips down a fraction. But- this wasn’t an elementary school. This was a university. A prestigious one, at that. Full of history and hoity toity professors that think their degree length equates to the length of their dick. Maybe she should also tone down the sunshine. Conceal her forever widened smile and keep her lips pursed tightly. So, that’s exactly what she does. Keeps her lips sealed and lets the sunshine dull as her expression reduces to her resting face, taking in the scenes around her as they move about the halls. And then she’s there. Her office. Nothing in her life has ever been remotely hers. Besides Blondie. Her apartment. Her craft supplies. Anything that gathered dust in that old room of hers. She was glad she at least got something to herself. For once. “Uh…no. No questions. Thank you. Just…enjoying the tour.” Her voice has dulled to a practiced professionalism, just enough sunshine to be polite. But not enough to dull a good impression.

He sighs a bit. It’s like every step they took sapped more and more of the light right out of her. And he knows he had a part in that. Is this really the kind of place for someone like her? “If there’s anything you need ordered for your office, you can fill out a requisition form,” he states, handing her a little gold key that has a purple dragon emblem displayed on the head. “Come now. I’ll show you to where you’ll be teaching. It’s just down the hall.” His shoes clack against the marble flooring as they walk in silence, eventually coming across a large room that is clearly meant for doing art in. The walls are lined with shelves that are filled with all sorts of paints, brushes, and a multitude of other mediums and supplies. I ought to not scare her away. Come on, Bo. Just because you’d rather be anywhere else, doesn’t mean you need to make it her problem. “What do you think?” he asks. “It’s nice, isn’t it? I’ve, um… I’ve always been interested in art. Between you and me, I’m actually quite excited our university finally decided to invest in this sort of education. What, uh… what made you want to teach in this field, if you don’t mind me asking?” His tail starts to wag a little harder, despite how motionless he stands.

She can’t contain her excitement when she finally sees her classroom. New paint and brushes and canvases and pencils! She tries to discreetly clap her hands, physically unable to contain her excitement. “I- I love it! It’s so beautiful and clean and everything’s *new*” she beams “I love art. I’m a crafty person. And I want to share my joy with others. I believe you can tell a lot about someone through their art and how they create”

He can’t help but smile warmly at her enthusiasm. Despite the general consensus that the arts aren’t worth investing into by the faculty, the headmaster allotted quite a bit of the school’s budget into this program. “That’s a lovely reason,” he replies fondly. “They spared no expense, you know. The entire wing was renovated just for this new program. I know a lot of the professors researchers here have their opinions about all of this, but know that I do not share their sentiments.” Part of that was not just because of the lowered admissions rates, but because the Queen of Cormyr herself is quite the supporter of the arts. With her only daughter reaching college age, it’s no secret that the headmaster is trying to encourage her to chose this university instead of private tutoring. Old professors stuck in their ways can’t halt society’s progress, after all. But that won’t stop them being petty and resentful about it, about how grant money they felt they deserved is going into this instead. “If any of them give you any issues, feel free to let me know. I’ve had almost eighteen years of dealing with these types,” he offers dryly. “When you’re done looking around, I’ll show you a few more key places.”

She takes a wander around, looking at everything she can. Running her fingers across shelves, picking up and admiring her new products. “I’ll remember that. Thank you” she smiles “I’m ready to move on when you are!”

“Right this way then.” He leads her to library, the headmaster’s office, and then his own office. “If you need me, this is my office. I’m here every day until 6pm.” He scowls at the door. The plaque on it looks like Rosie’s, purple and gold, Cormyr’s official colors. But the name reads “Boletus Zales.” I need to follow up on that request to get this changed. It’s an eyesore. “Anyways, that’s that. Moving on. It’s time to visit one of my favorite places.” He leads Rosemary to a large, lush garden full of a variety of flowers located towards the back of the university. Trellises full of blooming wisteria, rose bushes, bundles of lantana… all immaculately maintained. “The prior Queen was an avid gardener, so this was all planted a few years ago in her honor.” His tail swishes a bit pensively. “I actually never asked, but… you aren’t local here, are you? How long have you lived in Cormyr?” He doesn’t want to explain the monarchy’s history to someone who is local, since it’s such a large part of Cormyrian culture.

“I moved when I was relatively young. My dad’s work building rollercoasters…didn’t work out. Waterdeep got too expensive to live in. So we downsized our house and moved out of the city. This was better for us” she explains, eyes catching on the roses “Flowers are so pretty. I love every shape and size and colour. My favourites are blue hydrangeas though. Theres something so calming about them. So…chill and unchanged” Rosemary laments. She looks at peace in the garden, surrounded by petals of all hues. She takes a deep breath in, inhaling all the beautiful scents of the florals

"Oh," he says with a blush. He always hated his tendency to... what did Otidea call it... "mansplaining?" "Then you're familiar with the going on's of the Cormyrian Monarchy. You know, a few centuries ago, they had a much bigger influence..." You're doing it again. Stop it. "Never mind that," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm not surprised you enjoy the garden. I figure an art teach would enjoy some natural beauty. Something besides old cobblestone and brick." Do NOT go on a rant about 14th century Cormyrian architecture. "There are areas of the garden that are more of a communal. Would you want to plant some? I do some gardening myself in my spare time. If we planted some now, they would bloom by the spring semester. If you're partial to the blue kind, we just need to ensure the soil levels are at the rights pH. That's what determines the color, by the way. More acidic soil mean you get blue flowers because..." Oh my god. I'm doing it again. "L-let's continue on with the tour, shall we? Uh, are you hungry? Our cafeteria is very nice." Boletus had lunch at noon like we always does. It's only been a little over two hours since he ate. And here he is... offering a stranger to eat Lunch No. 2 with him. Because if he's going to be thrown off his routine, he might as well eat something for his troubles. You must be very lonely to invite a new professor to dine with you right off the bat. Gods.

“If that’s the next stop on your tour, professor” she giggles “I’m always down for a bite to eat” She smooths down her windswept hair, tucking odd strands of hair behind her pointed ears, filled with all sorts of jewellery.

Despite his lifelong attempts to push down any and all tiefling tendencies of his, he still cannot help his eyes automatically moving to track the motion of Rosemary’s hand and the glint of all the sparkling jewelry adorning her ear. Her little laugh followed by being called “professor” by someone who is also a “professor” also baffles him. Is she mocking him? Don’t dismiss her so soon. She isn’t like them. But how would he know? Optimism was never his default. At least she agreed to eat with him. He finds he can get a much better read on someone over sharing a meal. Because that’s what this is. He is sizing her up, figuring her out, and seeing if she’s safe. All hidden under the guise of a tour. It’s not long till the pair come across a very large cafeteria with an admittedly overwhelming amount of stations. “Professors here have their meals deducted from their paycheck after a certain amount. Otherwise, you are compensated for all meals until you reach that amount.” It’s not a surprise that Bo often reaches that amount within the month, whereas for most, it takes them several months. “What sort of things do you like to eat? I know it’s not very busy, but there are a lot of stations. I’ll be happy to direct you.”

“Anything…soft. And beige…” she confesses, rubbing the back of her neck “I have so many food aversions” her chuckle is meek. Shy. …embarrassed.

That is certainly an answer he has never heard when he asks someone what they like to eat. “So… um…” Boletus loves food. The only things he might avoid just because of his biology are raw fruits and vegetables, and even then they’re at least edible to him. So the idea of having such a limited palate is baffling to him. “Eggs? Mushrooms? Mashed… potatoes?” I sound like an idiot.

She giggles “I’ll find something, don’t worry. I’ve been at this for 28 years. I know what I’m looking for” she reassures, giving him another one of her friendly smiles

“I see. Well, feel free to roam on your own a bit. I’ll meet you at that table over by the window.” As an aforementioned creature of habit and slave to his routine, Bo always sits in the same spot when he eats here: a small table meant for two that overlooks the garden. For lunch number 2, he decides to grab himself one of his comfort foods for his trouble: deviled eggs with a weird amount of hot sauce on them. Judge him all you want, readers. He’s not having a good time. He’s curious as to what Rosemary will be eating after her vague description of her food preferences. His tail echoes the emotion, swishing back and forth very rigidly as he sits and waits.

She returns with a bowl of ramen. Easy to eat, soft, and relatively beige. Just what she likes. “I’m back” she announces, sitting oppposite Boletus

And now his curiosity is sated. "Ramen..." he says, as if this were an answer to a question he should have known. "I see. I suppose that is beige-ish..." He pops one of the eggs in his mouth, the hot sauce making him feel just a little more awake. "You can see the garden a lot better from here. Nice, isn't it? This is where I usually sit on my lunch breaks." He stares out of the window while he speaks, his voice with just a hint of fondness to it now. "It's easy to get swept up in this whole culture of academia. It's rigorous, competitive, full of big egos..." Bo is fully aware he may be one of those "big egos." "It seems like none of it matters when I look out of this window. That's why I like this spot so much. Uh, sorry. That was a bit of a ramble on my part." Here Bo is trying to size Rosie up, but instead he's being weirdly sentimental. He must be really lonely.

“Don’t worry. I yap when I’m passionate about something too” she smiles, taking a mouthful of ramen. “It’s a beautiful spot. Perfect view of the flowers. Must be nice to get all that sun on the summer”

@Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

"A kindred spirit, then," he replies fondly. "Then I'm looking forward to seeing what gets you to wax poetic like I do." Hopefully they're things more exciting than historical architecture and gardening techniques. Things he has yet to know about. His passion for learning has never left him, despite the pressures of academia hardening his soul over the years. "And you're not wrong.The summers are lovely. When the students are home for break, it's very peaceful around here. I live in the housing meant for staff, so that means I take a lot of walks alone through the garden. I am forever thankful that summers in Cormyr are never too hot. They' are still hot, but not unbearable." His blood runs hot enough as it is. Hot summer sun only makes it worse.

“I love the summer. The heat of the sun, the beach trips, the colourful, light clothing. All the flowers are in bloom, you can eat ice cream as a way to cool down” she smiles “Summer has to be my favourite season”

So, summer is one of those things. Hmm. Frankly, it's wonderful to speak to someone who is neither a crotchety old professor nor an uninspired student. He want's to get her to talk more, because he thinks he talks enough as it is. And even with his propensity to yap, his sister is really the only one in his life that will at at least pretend to listen. "Boring" is one of the many things his ex-husband would call him. It's not a very harsh insult on its own, not compared to the heinous things he might say to him during their more nasty fights, but for some reason... "boring" was one of those words that got to him the most. "You certainly make it sound lovelier than I might find it," he replies fondly. "I'm sensitive to hot weather, unfortunately. But an excuse to eat more ice cream is one of the positives, I would say." His tail swishes a bit, thinking about one particular thing that she mentioned. "You know... I've never been to the beach." How have... I never been to the beach? Oh.

“What?! Oh- Boletus- *never*?!” She looks offended “That needs to change. I think you’d like it!”

It’s honestly a wake up call. Almost 40 years old, and he’s hardly left Cormyr. The nearest “beach” isn’t even that far, the Sea of Fallen Stars connected to Dragonmere. And as far as the Sword Coast is, it’s still only a plane ride away. What has he been doing his whole life? “I… you think?” His tail wags in interest. “I’ve swam in the Dragonmere before… but that’s not much of a beach, I suppose.”

“Maybe! I don’t know. I like the beach. It’s so lovely and peaceful” she enthuses, taking another mouthful of ramen “The sound of the sea, the sunshine, making sandcastles, reading under a parasol. It’s such a lovely time”

"You certainly paint a lovely picture," he sighs. "Well, summer is in a few months, which means summer break is somewhat just around the corner." Summer break was something Boletus has always dreaded. Too much free time. Too much time to wallow in his own misery. Not even his own sister could drag him out of it half of the time. So what would he do? Shut himself in his room for days on end, reading, researching, writing. It's how he's published quite a large monographic series about the history of Cormyr. "What, gonna work on your stupid little book instead of come to bed? Fine. I have toys. I don't need you." "Perhaps I'll plan a trip." It disturbs him how open he is to the idea simply because a young woman suggested it. Or maybe there's another reason.