Eighth Transition [Action] Time may change me but I can't trace time

[brainkegger]

[Professor Gregson is, for the start of her classes today, anyway, mostly herself. She's a little frazzled, clearly, but that's just because T was out partying in the forest last night and, well, hopefully her students understand that that just isn't her, so...

So they'll understand if T decides to party in the middle of class, too.]



[First years: Needle to match.

Second years: Leaf into broccoli.

Third years: Mouse into hamster.

Fourth years: Snake into a walking stick.

Fifth years: Canary into a lemon drop.

Sixth years: Toad into a toe (human).

Seventh years: Raven into a writing desk.

Professors, ghosts, etc.: Feel free to visit her office, just...don't be surprised if she isn't quite herself!

Comments

[brainkegger]

It's a little big. Think small this time.

[She changes it back to a leaf.]

[learnedsomething]

[Aw, it got turned back before he could show off the long, cylindrical thing with a head to Kenny. Never mind. He tries again and manages to get it in proportion this time, though it would fit in the palm of an adult's hand.]

I think that's a bit too small, isn't it?

[brainkegger]

It's better though. You're doing really good, Broflovski.

[learnedsomething]

Yeah, but it's not...you know.

[Perfect. He sweats over it until he has a perfectly proportioned, brilliant green and absolutely flawless example of broccoli.]

Can I try something else now?

[brainkegger]

[She laughs.]

How about you turn it into a bird?

[learnedsomething]

I'll try. Can you show me how, first?

[brainkegger]

[She nods, summoning a goblet from one of the shelves. She places it onto the desk and, with a quick snapping motion:]

Avifors!

[And the goblet turns into a pigeon. Woohoo!]

[learnedsomething]

[He studies her carefully, then tries it on a goblet of his own. All it does is sprout feathers.]

Oh, God. What did I do wrong? Was it my pronunciation, my movement or just general suckiness?

[brainkegger]

It helps if you picture the sort of bird you want. Something small is usually best.

[learnedsomething]

...Right.

[Not having the slightest ideas about birds, Kyle really isn't spoilt for choice. He conjures up the image of a Robin from various Christmas cards and tries again. This time the output is rounder, with a bright red chest.]

[brainkegger]

Better! Keep it up.

[Tara pats him on the arm and moves on to the rest of the class.]