Jordan had spotted Catherine. He'd then decided it would be a brilliant idea to walk very slowly, yet purposely, until he was at a precise angle. Throwing an eye skywards, he cackled softly. His plan was a success. Digging into his pockets, he brought out his pocket spyglass, which naturally, he always carried with him for a variety of needs. He brought the glass up to his eye, lined up his gaze, adopted a goofy grin and adjusted the focus, muttering to himself.

"Why wind users never think to wear pants is beyond m-"

A giant shadow loomed over him, throwing Jordan into high alert. He pocketed the spyglass and saw it an instant too late. His pervy pursuits had been purposely paused by that perfectly pastiched punk of a pesterer, KANO HARGOR!

"DAMN YOU KAAAAAAAAAANNNNNOOOOOOOOO-" The rest of Jordan's melodramatic scream was a mix of gargling and bubbles. He was washed this way and that, the violent currents yanking him around and pulling at his clothes. When the water levels finally returned to normal, that is to say, there wasn't any water sloshing through the square, Jordan found himself washed up and hung on one of the fountain's many spires, hanging a good ten feet in the air. 

He was also, unfortunately, hanging rather awkwardly. That is to say, he was hanging by his shorts. Jordan wasn't fond of belts, and this was one instance where he deeply regretted the decision. His shorts, before he could stop them, slipped off, ripped, or otherwise gave way. It was all Jordan could do to muster the strength to lift the waterlogged soil to catch him wetly, painfully, but in one piece.

It was in this sorry, muddied, soaked state, that Jordan formally met several of his new students. The man was wearing boxer shorts that said juicy on the posterior region, and were otherwise decorated with hearts.

"Professor Manilow, at your disservice. My apologies kids, for scarring you prematurely. That was supposed to come later, but our good headmaster is always a hasty one to get to the scarring, if you catch my meaning."

And speak of the devil, Kano arrived just like that. All sarcasm and dry business talk. Two hours, and Jordan would be delivering his speech. Thankfully, his slab had to have escaped the massive torrential rainstorm, safe and high in the teachers' offices. It wouldn't have mattered, because Jordan did excellent work, but you can never be too careful with water damage.

The Headmaster took his leave, and Jordan sat up, wiping the grime from his limbs unsuccessfully. [i]This is why I take sandbaths,[/i] Jordan thought crankily. [i]Water is too messy. A nice clean scrub with some uniform grains, and no hassle whatsoever. Gets odours out, gets grime off (assuming you're using clean sand obviously), and it feels heavenly. I could start a spa! Then I'd make a killing! I give the BEST sandbaths![/i] Jordan scowled, remembering the oath he'd taken. [i]Maybe in another life I suppose.[/i]

Jordan stood up, and shook himself vigorously. Still covered in mud. Jordan growled angrily and mustered up all of his latent energy. In one virulent jerk, he shot every last earth particle into the ground at his feet. It took far too much effort. Trying to lift a pile of dry towels, versus trying to lift a pile of soaked towels, is a very profound difference. No different with Earth elementalism. It was why Jordan adored working with sand. It felt light as can be, as though he were moving his own limbs. Still, in that burst of effort, Jordan was clean, if still very sodden. He met the rest of the students' eyes and then sagged down onto the fountain. Then, he took a breath, cleared his head, and fell back into the fountain headfirst. 

Jordan hated Kano. The bastard always got the last laugh. 

[i]Darkness.[/i]

[@Zelosse][@Stern Algorithm][@KRAZY J][@Old Amsterdam][@Aiyanna][@Regitnui][@Raptra][@liferusher][@Pseudo Stygian] (Basically everyone, in case I missed somebody.)

[hr]

Jideh's mind melted. A girl had removed her shirt in front of him, and his gray matter was mush. Utterly useless, Jideh stared. He forgot himself, and he forgot why he'd even felt ashamed to have done... What had he done? There were other people, he heard the voices. There had been a reason why this girl he was staring at had gotten wet in the first place right? Right?

She reminded him of Calla Lilies. Strange how that specific plant came to mind, when all that Jideh could remember of it was that it was poisonous when fresh. It was as though his brain were trying to tell him something...

Before Jideh could piece any of this together, a monolithic blast of ice cold water slammed into him from above.

Needless to say, this cleared Jideh's head quite effectively. Among... other things. He ended up on the ground, looking at of all things, a teacher hanging from the fountain's spire! The teacher seemed to be slipping though, and Jideh extended his reach, but before he could find any fertile earth, he realized... There wasn't any. The teacher slipped and fell, and appeared to be wearing ridiculous underwear, but Jideh's mind was elsewhere. He felt all of the water, choking, and drowning the earth. It felt as though an entire village had been burned down, its crops razed. [i]Such is the destructive power of water,[/i] Jideh thought grimly.

Jideh flinched as a few dozen specks of mud splashed onto his already sodden pants. He looked up and saw the teacher, [i]Professor Manly-Load? Was that his name?[/i] Professor Manly Load looked tired, fatigued, absolutely put out. Jideh recognized that look anywhere. It was the same look he got when he fed the plants too long, and Jideh almost saw what was going to happen before it did. He rushed forward, trudging through the muck, and reached down into the fountain, a panic descending on him as he reached out and tried to grip one of the professor's arms. "Help!" He croaked, not thinking as he simply tried to pull with all his might. But the Professor, Manly-Load, was well-built with thick bunched muscles, and he was a heavy fellow. Jideh, never having been the physical type and also having a chronic habit of burning more calories than he ate on occasion, was having trouble. He desperately needed the help he was calling for.