#anywhere

It's the Friday before the last week before Winter Break! The bell has rung, and school is letting out! Art is talking to Thistle as they walk down the hallway.

"The teacher asked me to deliver these papers to the office - I was late to class so I couldn't say no, or she would award me some sort of demerit? You don't have to come with, though."

Pausing just before the corridor that leads past the teacher's lounge, shop class, gym... and art rooms.

A few nervous flickers in her spirals, but... "Nah, I'll go with. We look out for each other, right?"

He gives her a nod. "It's just a hallway after all." A hallway. With a room. With an autumn person. They start down the hallway.

As they move past the art room, conversation is heard from within. Thistle knows this voice well.

"Why do you keep taking this class if you're just going to waste everyone's time?"

"I didn't mean to, Mr. Blaine." A sullen sounding boy's voice.

Trina frowns, shoulders tensing.

"If you cannot paint what you can see, then you are wasting paint. It's the simplest composition, a bowl with oranges. What was difficult in the assignment? Do you not know what a circle is?" His voice is withering, not in tone, but in a chill that they can feel.

"I was just thinking of, like, those melted clocks? Like, on a stick and-"

He is cut off. "Dali was a master. YOU should be embarrassed to have even attempted a comparison!"

"What next? Dare you dare to aspire to be the next Breton? Magritte? Kahlo? Go! You have one week to redo your composition."

Art whispers to Trina, 'C'mon, let's go..."

She flinches and nods.

A freshman kid with frosted tips steps out into the hallway, a roll of canvas crushed under his arm. The chill clings to him as a miasma.

He glares at the two, even as he blinks to clear the traces of moisture from his eyes. "What're YOU staring at?" Flynn demands brusquely.

"Blaine's a nimrod. He thinks Thomas Kincaide is the pinnacle of art."

"What would YOU know? You ain't even in his class." The kid shoves past, elbowing Art unnecessarily on his way. Art shrinks back from him, holding a hand over his face as if to avoid breathing in something noxious.

"I..."

"...I dunno.." she rubs her hands against her shirt, frowning.

Art is staring a little blankly at the pages in his hands. "I need to deliver these." He starts walking, with or without Trina following.

She trots after him. "Sorry."

A bit of chill seems to be clinging to Art, though Trina feels better each step they get away from the room.

She touches his arm. "Art?"

He looks over at her, a bit blankly, but then shakes his head, and his eyes clear... and there's a touch of fear there. "We have to get out of here. Did you feel that?"

Art looks tempted to drop the papers he is delivering onto the floor and just make a break for it.

"He's cold. I thought I told you that? C'mon, let's drop the papers and head out."

"Don't want you getting in trouble - what if Blaine gets detention duty?"

They're outside the office now, and Art crouches to shove them under the door and then grabs Trina's hand, making a beeline for the nearest exit.

"Art..." She jogs to keep up!

A doorway - and they're in the courtyard out near the football/lacross field.

Art lets go of Trina, and buries his face in his hands for a moment, thin shoulder shaking, though he seems relieved, even out in the cold.

A icy-blue never zips over to Trina and starts scolding them both in high-pitched chimes!

"Arty... you okay? You still look cold. Maybe.. should we go to the big house? I know, I know, you don't like Blaine..." To the never.

He gives Trina a small nod. "For a second - it was just a second, but... I didn't know who I was. It was like a brain fart, but... everything."

"Scary shit. Yeah, big house. C'mon."

He follows her, not arguing. He clings more tightly than usual to her as Gertrude rattles reliably down the road.

"The other teachers aren't as bad."

"I'm sorry. Did you have other plans tonight? Thanks for bringing me over here."

It's still midday as they arrive, and most of the staff is out on errands.

"And you'll feel better by the fire, I'm sure of it." She drags him by the hand. The fire isn't easily accessed, but someone... Marigold?... someone should be able to help.

Soft conversation from the Baron's office, his door is cracked open.

Hesitation, then a knock on the door!

The voice stops, and then he calls, "Come in."

Art follows her, and they find the Baron at his desk, on a phone call. Is that really a landline phone? Who still HAS those?

Her spirals are a dull yellow. "Baron, your.. lordshi-.. excell-... your... " She stops, frowns. "Arty was hurt."

"I have to go." He hangs up the call abruptly, perhaps even rudely, and moves from behind his desk. "Art, you are injured? Where?"

Art just shakes his head a bit numbly. "I'm sorry, Baron. I'm not hurt. I just..."

Aiden reaches over and takes the boy's chin in his hand, lifting slightly so he can look into Art's face. Aiden's expression is grave. "Balefire for you. Follow me."

"Trina, come along." He says, in case the Nocker was hanging back.

She was, actually.

"We ran into Mr. Blaine..." She explains.

"The art teacher? The one that feels cold?"

"I see. Thistle, please take note of the way." Baron Aiden points out a few things. "Left here. Right after the Grecian vase. Right again, and then Left after this painting."

It's not the way she had remembered when she went to the balefire before, it's changed. However the walk today actually seems a bit shorter before the doorway to the balefire room is before them.

"You must try to avoid that man. If he cannot be avoided, we will take action to try to have him removed from the school, or to have you placed in another school." The Baron says.

"I'm not taking art classes anymore..."

Art is led firmly by the arm and seated by the balefire. "Art, you must be more careful. As a Sidhe, your hold on glamour is more tenuous than the kith that chose the Changeling way. You may lose yourself without proper precautions. You are lucky that Thistle was with you."

Aiden looks over Thistle, and pulls a second chair over as well, for her.

The nocker is looking down, twisting her hem in her hands.

"Why did you return to the autumn teacher's territory?"

"We had to pass it to get to the office."

"He was... he was berating a student." Muddy-green spirals, murky colors.

The never that tagged along was half-hiding in Thistle's hair, and now it pops out, and shakes a tiny fist at the baron. A twitter of bell sounds as they berate the Sidhe lord!

Aiden BLINKS.

She reaches for the Never, cupping it gently in her knobby hand. "Shh..."

He looks... amused. "Tell your small guardian that I am not scolding you. I am concerned, yes. I will speak with the Baroness on this. For now, I must return to the call that was interrupted. Thistle, remain with Art until he has steadied, please. We will speak with you both later this afternoon."