A Presentation and Proposal For Tarnish.exe By Draconicon
“You’d think that owning a magical school would mean more experimentation, more lab work, but nooooo. It’s all about the paperwork.”
Draconicon shook his head as he filled out the lesson plan for one of the fourth-year students at his academy. Making sure that they were properly lined up for their graduation goals, ensuring that the professors were informed of who was going to be their problem this year, and making sure that funding was set aside for security in a few cases (still didn’t know how that prankster had managed to set fire to the second dorm hall, but it wasn’t happening again) took time. It also took attention to make sure that he wasn’t putting the wrong notes in a student’s profile, something that he had already embarrassed himself by doing once and didn’t want to do again.
The black dragon finished off another lesson plan and tucked it into a folder before leaning back in his chair. The high-backed oak chair loomed over even his head, the tips mirroring his horns, and he sighed as he adjusted his head until his own horns fit in between the gaps. He let his arms fall over the sides of the chair, staring up at the ceiling.
“…Not break time yet, but screw it…”
He lifted one hand, golden coat sleeve falling down and exposing the red suit beneath. Twiddling his fingers at the ceiling, he opened a small portal to one of the various eye-spells that he had over the academy. It twisted about, spiraling as it zoomed in and out on different parts of the grounds. It was between lessons at the moment, so most of the students were out and about, either socializing, going to the gates to get some food from food trucks just outside, or making their way back to the dorms to get a nap before their next lessons.
No professors could be seen, but he wasn’t surprised; they were probably still in their lecture halls and offices, either gathering materials for their lessons or putting them away. He kept them busy; the dragon made sure that they earned their paychecks.
He was just about to zoom out to look at the city as a whole when a flicker of blue-black caught his attention. Draconicon sat up a bit higher in the chair, flicking his fingers forward so that the portal was in front of him rather than on the ceiling.
“Surely not…”
And yet, it was. As the eye zoomed in on the source of the flicker, it revealed a synth moving at reasonable speed through the crowd. Black-visored with a blue-white shell, the synth had been in a few of his classes before Draconicon had figured out that the synth wasn’t actually a student. He’d been semi-banned from the academy – allowed through the gate, but not into any of the buildings – but other than that, the dragon had taken no particular steps against him, nor punished him.
Still, seeing him back was a little strange…particularly with the person accompanying him.
He lifted his horns off the top of his chair, tapping his chin as he watched the bouncy unifaun hustling along to keep up with the synth. She was shorter than the synthetic being by some way, her little hooves almost blurring to keep up with the synth’s longer stride, and she was certainly far more colorful. That golden horn on her head and her familiar smile identified her immediately even when her face was harder to see.
“Heh…well, you got Zinnia for an advocate. That’s a mark in your favor,” Draconicon muttered, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his lap. “And it looks like you’re coming straight for my office. Let’s see where this goes.”
He followed them with the spy spell until they were both at the front door. As soon as Zinnia raised her hand to knock, he called out ‘Come in’, banishing the spell with a twist of his fingers.
The door opened a second later, the unifaun’s horn leading the rest of her head into the room. She arched an eyebrow at him.
“How did you know someone was there?”
“A flower told me.”
“Ooooooh, really?”
“Heh, no, but they could have.”
“Show me, show me!”
“Maybe later. Don’t you have someone else with you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Oh, right!” Zinnia cleared her throat, pushing the door open. “May I present, the funny, the silly, the smart, the super-cool, the super-synth, Tarnish!”
“Quite the list of titles,” Draconicon muttered as the synth walked in, visor lighting up with the faintest of blue blushes. “And a few that I think he’d argue, from the look of those illuminating reactions.”
“It’s for his own good.” Zinnia stuck out her tongue, giggling. “Besides, he really is that awesome.”
I remember him being smart, certainly, Draconicon thought as he looked the synth up and down. Awesome, however, will remain to be seen. And whether he is aware enough of what he’s done to make good on it.
Tarnish shut the door behind him before turning to face the desk. As far as Draconicon could tell, the synth wasn’t channeling any magic just yet; some students would have, if only to feel more comfortable facing the head of the Academia Draconis. The synth, on the other hand, stood up straight, his hands in the belly-pockets of his hoodie, and had that sort of blank-face that he’d seen a few other synths have when they were processing something.
Figuring out what to say. Fair enough.
He waited, giving Tarnish some time. Zinnia opened her mouth –
“Just give him a second,” Draconicon said, smiling. “But while he’s thinking, come here?”
“Fiiiiiine.”
Just as bouncy as ever, the unifaun skipped around his desk and stood beside his chair. He reached out with a wing, giving her a gentle hug, and she leaned in, returning it with her arms around his shoulders. As he patted her arm in return, he looked back at his guest. Tarnish ‘coughed,’ more of a stock sound than anything else, and finally spoke.
“First, I want to say that I’m sorry for sneaking into class.”
“Sorry for sneaking in, or sorry for getting caught?” Draconicon asked.
“Frankly? Both. Sorry for insulting you by being bad enough at it to get caught, at least, heh.”
“Confidence. A good start.”
“Right?!” Zinnia grinned. “He needs more of that.”
“I have plenty of confidence, thanks,” Tarnish said, LED eyes darting up on the visor before coming back down again. “Anyway, I wanted to bring a few things as apology gifts. After all, words are just words. No matter how sincere they are, it feels wrong to try and make good with something so cheap.”
Zinnia winced as Draconicon held up a hand.
“Oops,” she whispered.
“I’m going to stop you right there,” the dragon said. “Words might be common, but they are never cheap. Particularly when someone means them, and even more so when someone is speaking from a genuine place. My academy may be magical, but words, no matter how mundane they might seem, matter.”
“Yeah, um…Drac’s got a big thing about how important words are. I shoulda told you that, sorry,” Zinnia said.
“…Is there a way to apologize for starting an apology badly?” Tarnish asked.
“Always. If you’re genuine about it.”
“Then let me start with a word gift, then. Uh…Damn. That’s…harder than I thought,” the synth muttered, rubbing some of the wires running from his shoulders to the back of his head.
The dragon waited. He wasn’t trying to put too much pressure on the other man, but he didn’t want it to be easy, either. After all, it wasn’t exactly a good start to an apology to come in and basically insult someone else’s interests. Instead of speaking, he just watched, letting Tarnish think and process, giving him the time to decide what he wanted to say.
“This feels kinda mean,” Zinnia whispered.
“Maybe a little,” he whispered back. “But it feels more mean to interrupt and tell him what to do. Let him figure it out; he’ll feel better about it.”
“He’s a good guy, you know. I mean, really, really good.”
“I believe you. But he has to show me, dear.”
“But –”
“Have a little faith, dear.”
The synth’s screen lit up, then turned back to his normal ‘face.’ Tarnish sighed, shaking his head.
“Okay, that was a whole lot of pointless,” the synth muttered. “Okay, so…genuinely. I’m sorry for saying that. I wanted to sound like I was giving you something real, something to make up for what I did before, but I ended up being a dick about it. I’m sorry for being insulting about that. Because you’re right. Words aren’t cheap. Numbers are.”
“…Is that a binary self-deprecation joke?” Draconicon asked, raising an eyebrow.
“…Maybe.”
“Tarnish!”
Before Draconicon could say anything, the unifaun grabbed an eraser from his desk and threw it, plinking Tarnish right in the middle of his faceplate. He blinked, the LED eyes dipping down and staring at either side of the smudge left behind on the glass.
“Did you just…smudge…my…face?”
“No self-deprecation! We talked about that.”
“Since when are you my therapist?”
“Since you asked me to be your friend! It’s a two-for-one deal!”
“Since when?!”
“Since now! I also bring lawyers, too! I know otters and –”
“Funny as this is,” Draconicon interrupted, fighting back a small chuckle of his own. “I believe that we were in the middle of Tarnish apologizing. Now, before we start throwing anything else. Aside from the self-deprecation, Tarnish, that was well-said. And it’s accepted and forgiven.”
“Heh, well, thanks for that, Drac,” the synth said, shaking his head. “Can I get some windex or something before this smudge makes me go cross-eyed?”
Once that was settled, things moved at an easier pace. Tarnish sat down on the other side of the desk, Zinnia sat on the desk, kicking her legs, and Draconicon remained in his seat where he’d started.
“So, you mentioned something about gifts?” Draconicon said. “You realize that they’re not needed, right?”
“I realize. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do them.”
“I told him that it’s okay, as long as he doesn’t go overboard.” Zinnia glared at the synth. “And as long as he takes care of himself, too.”
“I’m metal; as long as I have a battery, I’m fine.”
“Noooo! You’re a friend, which means you need more.”
“I’ll do what I want.”
“Frankly, that’s something that I could use a little more of around the academy,” Draconicon interrupted, shaking his head. “There’s been quite the influx of people that want to be told what they’re good at, what they should study, what they should pick. Someone that actually knows what they want would be a breath of fresh air.”
“…Huh. So, if I were a student here –”
“If,” Draconicon agreed.
“Yeah, if, I know. But if I were, I could do whatever I wanted?”
“Within legal limits.”
“Throw myself in the tub?”
“You’re not a toaster, so as long as someone else isn’t it and your waterproofing is up to date, go for it.”
Tarnish laughed as Zinnia spluttered. Draconicon shook his head.
“That said. You mentioned gifts?”
“Heh, told you that a dragon would like tribute,” Tarnish said. “Gimme a second; I had to hire someone to bring them here, so let me check if they’re –”
Knock. Knock.
“…Must be them,” Tarnish said, getting to his feet. “Gimme a minute.”
Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at Zinnia. The unifaun’s grin was promising, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine what would need other people to bring gifts along. Surely, whatever Tarnish might have gotten to apologize was something he could have brought on his own?
Apparently not. The doors opened and a golem, of all things, stepped through. The clay creature stopped in the middle of the office and started pulling heating trays, small and large parcels, and more out of its earthen interior. Watching with a dumbfounded expression, the dragon said nothing as the whole of it was laid out in front of him.
Only when the golem walked away and Tarnish started dishing out plates did he find his tongue.
“Is this an apology gift or a cookout?” he muttered.
“Kind of both. But pretty sure this is more of a cook-in, Mr. Words-Are-Important.”
“I see you found your sass function.”
“Never lost it.”
“Mmm-hmm! It’s plugged into his left shoulder,” Zinnia said.
The synth paused, then looked to his left shoulder and poked one of the wires.
“…Huh. Would you look at that?”
“So, about the gifts –”
“Right, right.” Tarnish stopped in front of one of the covered heating trays. “Part of this is genuinely trying to give a good apology. The other part is trying to show you that I would do well here in school, if you’d have me. Zinnia said that this was the stuff you’re interested in, so, I went and learned as much as I could so I could hopefully impress you.”
“…Well, show me what you learned with cooking first, and we’ll go from there.”
The synth nodded, dishing him up. The first heating tray was filled with steak, something that immediately had him wincing; steaks were good, but holding them at-heat for too long was all but guaranteed to make them worse. The sear could go soggy, the meat could go tough, or the whole thing could end up dry.
And yet, when he had his first bite, he could tell that Tarnish had put the work in. The meat was firm and had a hardened crust without getting too well done, a faint hint of heat-bitters, and the perfect amount of salt, while the inside was still tender, juicy, and broke down quickly. He must have started it before putting it into the heating tray, and then used the slow heat in there to bring it up during the journey.
The other dishes were likewise well done, from the lamb curry – an ambitious undertaking for someone that might not know what they were doing – to the udon soup to the Turkish meatballs. Each piece had been flavored well, and the textures were completely on-point. A few little things he might nitpick (a faint graininess to the curry that meant that the seasonings were not balanced or integrated perfectly, and a little bit of overworking in the meatballs) but overall, he had to give it credit. For a species that didn’t ‘eat’ the same way as organic beings, the synth had done a spectacular job.
It didn’t stop there, either. Tarnish had brought enough gifts to make the dragon wonder if Christmas had come early, and some of them genuinely were starting to feel like bribes, from a computer station that was pre-loaded with more writing programs and spell-testing options via VR to an encyclopedia set that would take up four shelves along the long wall of the office. It could not have been cheap.
A sidelong glance at Zinnia confirmed that she was a little concerned, too, but Draconicon didn’t say anything. Neither of them did. If Tarnish wanted to offer this much, he was an adult; the dragon wasn’t going to stop him.
When the last of the gifts were revealed (a joking one, a face-plate the same color as his scales with a ‘paying attention’ face that would also function as a sleep-mask), Tarnish stood up straight and tilted his head back.
“I hope that these gifts make good on everything. And show that I could belong here.”
“Well, I already accepted your apology, Tarnish, but, uh…Two things.” Draconicon put the mask down on the table. “First, this is so much more than anything you’ve done could possibly justify needing this much of an apology. After the first bit, it started feeling more like a bribe – which I don’t think you were meaning to do – but just for the future. Overdoing the gifts can feel a little like you’re trying to buy something with them, so think about that when you’re giving them to people.”
“…Painful, but understandable,” Tarnish admitted. “And the second thing?”
“While I fully understand that you’re wanting to prove that you belong in the academy, there’s one thing I want to point out. Something kinda integral that seems to have gotten ignored in all this.”
“…I don’t think I forgot anything. Zinnia?”
“I dunno; I mean, I told you what Drac likes, and what might impress him,” Zinnia said. “I don’t –”
“Let’s back up. What did you want to do?” Draconicon asked.
“I wanted to attend classes here,” Tarnish said.
“What do those classes teach?”
“Magic.”
“What kind of learning is missing from all these gifts?”
“…Oh, GODDAMMIT!”
“What – oooooooooooh,” Zinnia said, turning red. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a student! I thought you were just trying to apologize!”
“Yes, so…while I appreciate the apology,” Draconicon said, fighting a giggle. “I kinda need to see that you can apply this to learning magic as well as cookery. That said, you learned how to do that well without a sense of taste, so…”
“Ugh…I feel dumb.”
“If you get into my classes again, it won’t be the last time. Trust me. I make myself feel dumb on a daily basis.” Draconicon smiled, patting the synth’s arm. “But seriously. You’re forgiven, and I look forward to your next application.”
Certainly would liven things up a bit…
The End
Summary: Draconicon is going through a normal-enough day when he notices a certain someone that tried to sneak into a lesson is prowling around the campus. When he realizes that the certain someone is coming to his office, he’s rather intrigued, waiting to see where this is going.
Draconicon is going through a normal-enough day when he notices a certain someone that tried to sneak into a lesson is prowling around the campus. When he realizes that the certain someone is coming to his office, he’s rather intrigued, waiting to see where this is going.
