ORIGIN

The stage was set in short order, and soon his prospective students began to filter in. Vargas moved to those of his own that came—hopefully to command their respect for Astraea, as hedeserved. When a bifocals-bearing little fox came in and lowered himself into a bow of his own accord, the stag preened. His snout crinkled with a warm, genuine smile, head held high above his shoulders. Yes, even in his miserably fuzzy, imperfect form...

Ah, consider him a little vain, would you?

Rubies then ambled downward, toward a similarly fluffy, canine beast. The pup's unparalleled enthusiasm had him smearing the wet of his nose all over the supplies (much to Menkheperre's apparent disgust, with the way his snout turned up and wrinkled) and Astraea couldn't help but to offer a breathy chuckle. "Excited to learn, hmm?" He let the thought hang a moment, get through the overexcited terror's head. "Pay close attention, little one. Have a seat."

Dread came in next, presence loud both physically and magically. The stag couldn't help the disbelieving laugh stuttering quietly through his chest, though he muffled the sound with a set jaw. There was a flush of magic fanning across his form, useless in the end—on no planet was Astraea going to be intimidated by such a crude animal. He'd dealt with more than his fair share of temperamental fire-breathing dragons. (Let's not think about the faint, lingering mourning in his heart as he mentally drew that comparison.) And so, imagining a chicken-scratch note on a pile of gold that said MY STUFF, DO NOT STEAL on it, the stag lifted his head, intoning with just the slightest twinge of laughter, "Hush, then, so that you might hear the lesson."

Magic crawled beneath his skin once again, and again Astraea turned his head to regard Giggle. Were it not for the instinctive ability to recognize the glittering red stone on her forehead, he might have not recognized her beneath the adornments and paint. But, ah... she was ever so diligent about sensing for Its influence. A smirk crossed his features as he tipped his head. "Ah, give it time. It is good to see you." Alive and whole still, and hosting a practiced hold on the magic he called his own.

And speaking of those he was pleased to see: "Tye care-ehtelë, imeára nur?" he uttered toward Attikias as the elf set out his own materials. Astraea's gaze searched him over, as was his usual habit. His regard was nothing but warm—

He stilled, a cold shock settling in his gut, his stone. The heaving, creeping crawl of Chaos flooding his senses the same as the Black Spire had when he walked in here. Ruby gaze fell immediately upon the Hand striding in—ignoring the shorter green biped tailing after her. Rising to his hooves, he dipped his head in greeting, but did not speak directly; if this Hand hadn't bothered to give him an opening for conversation, then she must be here for study. A test, perhaps, to see how well he could teach the creature who'd come in after her (and how innocent that one looked... merely being offered a bauble by one of the Leviathan's ilk.)

Despite the newfound worry thrumming in his chest, Astraea turned to regard those who'd gathered. His attention swept over each of them once again, and he found himself both amused and intrigued by their curiosity with what (to him, at least) seemed to be the littlest of things. They cared about learning to read, even if it might be useless to them. They wished to share thoughts and feelings outside of speaking. Even the born-and-raised Valkhounds of the Forge (and the Black City, looking at the Deep Dark) had come to care about this.

How the times had changed... and yet, the Virgo Master was no sentimental softie for these things. If it kept them content, ignorant, and obedient—kept another rebellion at bay as Vargas planned—then, he'd teach them.



So, Astraea lifted his right foreleg and stamped his hoof against the ground three times. "Quiet, now. Are you all ready?" His pause was weighty, expecting a susurrus of agreement before he continued; and he flicked his head in Menkheperre's direction. While the dragon scrambled to his feet and toward the placards he'd carried along, Astraea began, "We will start with simple letters first, so that you may understand what they look like and connect it with the sounds you all are already familiar with. This is no written language that's unfamiliar to your spoken tongue." That'd be just too much work for these to comprehend; may as well teach them that which they already knew, hmm?

Maybe they could invent a few written languages of their own. Cute.

Derisive thoughts aside: "each letter I'll show you is accompanied by a sound you already know just from speaking. Some have multiple sounds, and later you'll be able to group these together and sound out words that you see." Magic should make this easy, at least. Far easier than teaching dear young Dawa—

He shook his head minutely. "Menkhepherre, show them A—, yes, there."

Inscribed upon a slate, held up by the Hound's arms, were two letters. The left was an angular A, and the right was its lowercase counterpart; both were written in brightly-colored, smooth-lined chalk. A crudely-sketched apple was displayed below them. "Here is A, for apple—and you may see that there are two variations. The left is uppercase; meaning it is the start of a sentence, or the start of an important word for a person or a place, called a proper noun." The stag smirked, "Such as Astraea." Hah. "The right is lowercase, and the one you will see most often. They do not sound any different."

The stag went on to describe the various phonetic sounds such a letter could make, giving word examples for each—long and short vowels, consonants, letter groups that formed common sounds. He paused often, patient enough to answer any raised hands and shouted aloud questions.

This repeated for the rest of the alphabet.

Then, he hummed, clicking his hoof twice on the ground. Menkheperre darted to the bag, and began to hand out chalks and dark slates to each of the Gembound and Valkhounds present—Vargas and Aethril included. Most received proportionally-sized pieces of writing material. "Now, I'd ask you to reinforce your knowledge of these letters. This Hound will hang up each of these on the wall, and you may study them. Try to write them down to the best of your ability. I'll come around to help you and ask you to recite the alphabet."

Now... there was the problem of most of these creatures not having hands or the dexterity to actually succeed in such a task.

This should be funny.