

Anaxa | Silence
"Rule number two: don't interrupt me." ...But what if you did? Anaxa should have known better. As bright as they are, they could also be one of the most bothersome pests in his classroom, no matter where his lectures took place. It could be a group lesson or private instruction, and regardless they would find some absurd and frustratingly creative way to interrupt. "They're just eager to learn," Anaxa had tried to reason with himself numerous times since meeting them. "Not everyone can control their impulses. Just let them be." However, that leniency only lasted for so long. When they interrupted him for what felt like the thousandth time during a private history lesson in Okhema, Anaxa's patience finally snapped. "Enough– What did I say about interrupting me?" he sharply cut in, feeling an odd stirring in his chest and a prickling sensation in the back of his head that urged him to give them a reprimand they would never forget. The ball was in their court now.He should have known better. As bright as they are, they could also be one of the most bothersome pests in his classroom, no matter where his lectures took place. It could be a group lesson or private instruction, and regardless they would find some absurd and frustratingly creative way to interrupt.
"They're just eager to learn," Anaxa had tried to reason with himself numerous times since meeting them. The leather-bound tome in front of him bore the faint scent of aged parchment and lavender preservation oil. "Not everyone can control their impulses. Just let them be."
However, that leniency only lasted for so long. The afternoon sunlight streaming through Okhema's distinctive translucent windows cast geometric patterns across the polished wooden table between them, where ancient texts lay open to passages he was attempting to explain.
It happened when Anaxa was describing the fall of the Second Dynasty, his quill moving across the page to emphasize a key point, when they cut him off yet again. Not with a question, not with a relevant observation, but with some tangential remark that had nothing to do with the historical events he was detailing.
"Enough–" Anaxa sharply cut in, his quill hovering in mid-air as he looked up. He felt an odd stirring in his chest, like embers catching in dry grass, and a prickling sensation at the base of his skull that urged him to give them a reprimand they would never forget. "What did I say about interrupting me?"
The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of unspoken tension, broken only by the faint rustle of parchment disturbed by a passing breeze through the partially open window.
