[center][h3][u][b]ONARR YIDLOB[/b][/u][/h3][/center]

Onarr had found himself infested with a tick.

A large, furry tick. The tick hung onto him relentlessly. It had caused him no end of pain throughout this Pandes as he tried to work his way through the unceasing amount of assignments and tasks his tutors gave him. Having a furry critter that constantly clawed and have its tail swaying in front of you whilst trying to draw out voltage or cook a souffle wasn’t the most conducive for focusing. The tick was stuck to him like a barnacle. Attempts to leave it within his dorm were unsuccessful as the tick  somehow managed to stay glued to his cloak without his knowledge.

Such was life in Ersand’Enise. Especially when you had a feral kitten for a pet.

As Onarr dove into his luncheon, the kitten sought to lift out its paw through his visor and take a swab of the lamb chop. He batted away the hand as if it was an errant fly before conceding to his pet’s demands and shoving a small piece of meat through his helmet much to its delight and his classmate’s confusion. 

Well, at least, there was the Conclave to look forward to. 

Nothing could possibly happen. 

[hr]

“ Alainiye Iore!” Onarr swore as he exited into a wide fence of hedges, trying to part from the bustle of students who were filtering out of the Arboretum. His fists swung by his side furiously as he went under the shade of the many great oak trees that cloistered the arboretum with their leafy curtains.  “Alainiye lore! I knew there was something fishy but dragging me into all of this? ”

Out of frustration, the Joruban kicked the roots of the great oak, expecting the bark to split under his heel. He quickly regretted it as pain shot up his foot, causing him to fall back and sending one very frustrated kitten toppling off his shoulders. 

“ MEOW!” The kitten yowled out before giving him the stink-eye and briefly batting his helmet with a dainty paw. Its complaints ceased once Onarr began scratching its back where it began to curl up and purr. 

“ Reneging on his promises,” Onarr snorted. “ Of course, the neo-revisionists in the Stresian Order were right about us. It took the better part of a century but by Shune’s saggy tits, did our President pick a better time to wield executive powers.”  Palming his helmet for a moment, Onarr thought briefly of Anesin. How in Shune’s grace was he supposed to look her in the face now? The Eskandish had been booted off the Conclave like the last Yoruban blood mages and Yibozo acted as if his political ascendance was the will of the people. 

Then again, the scholar in him wanted to believe those naive propagandist tales of the antiquated nations of the world picking up Joru's model of impeccable governance and forward-thinking philosophies. After all, you couldn't achieve progress without greasing the gears with blood and cruelty. Perhaps, this was for the good of Joru after all and for him and people like his brother.

But, that sure by Shune didn't mean he was going to turn a blind eye to it all. 

“ Spitting on the face of Eskand at a time like this…aren’t we supposed to be a nation of thinkers?," Onarr asked no one in particular, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. 

“ Meow,” The kitten blithely replied back. 

Onarr’s hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter that he’d been putting off his mind for the last couple of hours. A sour expression scrunched up his face as he read it. He began to let current flood into the paper, the edges beginning to smoke as the corners lit on fire. The flames burnt inwards, turning the ink into flaky ashes that flew away on the evening winds into the black cosmos above. 

“ Well, I suppose I should worry about more important things.” Onarr sarcastically commented as he picked up his kitten by the scruff of its neck. “ Like getting you a name.” 

It was then that Onarr realised that picking up cats that way was a sure method towards suicide. 

“ MEOW!” 

“ Ow! Do you realise you scratched heirloom - OW!”