A letter of resignation.
Date: August 15th
To: The Office of the Dean
Cc: Bursar's Office
To whom it may concern,
As of this point, I have issued my two-week notice of resignation. As I am sure you all are aware, preparations to journey to the planet Argus are in place. As a draenei, one who lives in reverence of the Light, I feel it is my duty to accompany the heros of our world to fight the Legion. Understandably, I am not making plans on returning anytime soon, if ever. As such, I recommend the position of Head of General Studies to our own Judenny Inkbinder; in addition, she has also graciously offered to substitute for my classes, which will begin here in around a week. A full record of my curriculum will be stored within what personal effects were left behind in my office. However, I urge you all to seek another for this position. As skilled as Inkbinder is, I doubt they have the necessary skill and experience to properly teach the course. Please do not take my leaving personally: these years have been among the best of my life, but my family, my people, and my ancestral home need my hammer. Please take care and look after everyone in my absence. I will miss each and every one of you.
-Lestuu
((This is only temporary. As such, no main switching will be needed. But, I do plan on adding onto this in character sooner rather than later. ICly, Judenny now has Lest's old position.))
))
Dean Crowelley sat at her desk, simultaneously sighing and brushing a hand fully through her hair. She leaned back a bit in her enormous plush leather deskchair, unceremoniously thrusting her quill pen back into its inkwell for what was probably the twentieth time in the span of just as many minutes.
She closed her eyes and huffed, as though the weight of the world were indeed upon her shoulders - in fact, in some ways it might soon be! - rubbing her eyes and the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger, as if that might somehow dilute the pain before it finally ebbed away completely.
No such luck.
The Dean opened her eyes and leaned forward in her chair once again, left hand poised at the ready to snatch up the quill and, with a quick and elegant flourish, honor her dear friend and valued colleague Lestuu's written request. Her fingers barely brushed along the sleek crow-feather when she'd heard the gentle crackling and airy popping of the flames burning within the ornate hearth of her office. The lilting, naturally sultry voice of her beloved mate, Ysobaella, was heard, accompanied by the jubilant cooing of their daughter, Ellisondra, as they sat together in a large comfy chair by the fireplace.
The distraction was enough by Amara's standards. She stayed her hand once more and smiled over at them, her eyes aglow with the reflection of the scene before her, mingled with the innate powers she commanded as Nahlen'do; Mistress of the Fang, Wielder of Sunfire and Moonflare, Entrusted of the Scythe of Elune. Such marvelous powers, such honorable entitlements, bestowed upon one so otherwise diminutive in stature compared to many others. It was a commanding presence, however, and one which managed to emerge from time to time, despite Amaranthaea's iron-clad Gilnean force of will.
Now was one such time.
Amara peered over at Ysobaella, watching as she carefully sat with their "cub" in her lap and amused the little one with elegant tricks of flame manipulation within the fireplace. "Oi," Amara called out, softly but with purpose. "How's things lookin' with the Fashion Design department, Surfas?" With a few curls of her fingers and a sharp twist of her wrist, Ysobaella formed a row of various animals within the hearth - a phoenix, an elekk, a wolf, a sabercat, a bear and so on - much to Ellie's apparent delight! Izzy turned slightly in the chair and grinned at Amara.
"Why? More lingerie modeling after Ellie's bedtime, again? I told you, Beloved, I'm still working on the next slew of design patterns. Besides, you got a little... 'wolfy' last time and tore the old ones to shreds. ...Not that I minded, of course. You'll just have to wait for me to restock, mmm?" A soft tinge of pink showed in Amara's cheeks, and though the idea was a sensuously novel one - considering the inevitable aftermath of these "modeling sessions" of late - she shook her head and gestured at the parchment upon her desk, shrugging a little.
"Nay, Love. I just- I just can't do it."
Ellisondra peered up at Ysobaella for several moments, clearly disappointed that the 'fire show' inside the hearth had ended so abruptly, then looked over at Amara seated at her desk. The child's eyes filled with an immense consternation that no one year old baby should ever possess. She seemed empathetic to her mother's plight, letting out a sharp, brief wail of frustration, then quieted down and babbled a little, yawning and turning to rest her head in Izzy's bosom. "Can't do what, Amara? You still haven't signed off on Lestuu's resignation..." Amara shook her head to the negative, tossing her hands up in a contained bout of frustration.
"Nay, Love. I can't. I won't, in fact."
Dean Crowelley grabbed a large tome atop her desk and flipped through it so quickly, one might doubt she was even reading the contents of any given page. She stopped suddenly and pressed the opened book down harder than she'd probably intended to. "I'll find an adjunct if I have to, I don't care. A temp. With all of our colleagues leavin' one by one for that Light-forsaken planet, we can't keep shufflin' round an' pilin' more responsibilities upon those who are staying!" Ysobaella blinked, a bit non-plussed, then hefted Ellie into her arms and made her way toward Amara's desk. "What did you have in mind? And moreover, what does this have to do with the Fashion Design department's renewal?"
"What can I do to help, Beloved?"
Amara smiled warmly, silent for several moments as she reached for Ellie's chubby little hand. Her daughter's presence always seemed to have a calming effect on her, and it seemed, vice versa. "Inkbinder's a more than capable substitute, and no doubt, she's already tackled half the Library's materias on the subject of Anatomy by now. But aye, I'll agree with Lestuu. She likely doesn't have the skill an' resources necessary to take over his curriculum for the long haul. Besides, she's far more time-tested an' incredibly capable in her role as my Executive Assistant." Ysobaella nodded, silently, attempting to follow the thread of logic.
"Since the Fashion Design department hasn't yet come back into full swing, Surfas, I'd like for you to continue work on it, while serving as my Executive Assistant's... well, 'Assistant'. Judy is a tireless and dedicated worker for the University. She never complains, never shows any sign of slowing down or stopping. But I cannot in good conscience take advantage." Ysobaella nodded once more. A small, devious smirk crossed her lips suddenly, while Amara was searching her desk drawers for... something.
"That's how we first met, Beloved."
Amara found the object of her search - a large rubber stamp - and smiled widely. Her smile melted into a lascivious grin at hearing Izzy's response, accompanied by a slow nod. "Indeed it was. Professor Meadows was serving as my temporary Assistant at the time, as I recall. But she had her own academic burdens to carry, her own aspirations to fulfill. I started to conduct interviews for a full-time Executive Assistant." Amara's grin widened, the fiery sparkle in her eyes flared with a growing intensity. "Then you walked into my office, late, that very day."
Ysobaella nodded, biting her bottom lip at the memory.
"I can still hear it in my mind, Surfas. The hurried 'click-clack' of your shoes against the hallway floors. You knocked, and I called out to bid you enter. As instantly taken as I was with you, I tried so hard to chide you for your tardiness." Amara's gaze locked with Izzy's. A shared silence occurred then, followed by a sharp and dutiful nod from the Dean. She pressed the rubber stamp into the inkpad, then evenly marked the parchment in front of her. "I remember," Ysobaella replied, finally. "I also remember how turned on I was by your strict academic demeanor." She chuckled softly. "I didn't realize how common a fantasy that is, until I joined the University faculty!"
Amara nodded, slowly, then closed the binder and stood.
"About as common a fantasy as a superior exploring lustful intimacies with their assistant, secretary... Or, what have you." Ysobaella felt flush and a bit heated - a rather uncommon thing for one so accustomed to and enamored with fire and flame - then re-adjusted baby Ellisondra in her arms. She cleared her throat urgently and smiled into the embers burnishing within Amara's eyes. "Home, then?" Amaranthaea nodded and turned to one of her filing cabinets in the corner of her office. "Aye, Surfas, home now. The hour's later than I'd expected. Beg pardon for keepin' you an' Ellie so long. Go on ahead, I'll join you both anon."
Dean Crowelley stood and took a long look at the binder.
Ysobaella smiled and nuzzled noses with Ellie then packed the child up and stopped at the doorway. "Do I still need to be interviewed? It'll have to be business casual, though. I've got literally nothing to wear. That's okay, I can make it work! You'll see when you get home..." She shot her mate a saucy wink and grin, then exited the office. Amara chuckled at the remark and watched as Izzy and Ellie departed for home. She stroked a hand gently over the binder cover then opened it to examine the document within one more time.
"Please do not take my leaving personally: these years have been among the best of my life, but my family, my people, and my ancestral home need my hammer. Please take care and look after everyone in my absence. I will miss each and every one of you."
"They've been the best years of my life too, old friend. Even if I didn't always tell you that as often as I should have. And you were there, practically since the very beginning, to make them so. I cannot and do not blame you for your choice, knowin' full well what this means to many Draenei, but most of all you. Honorable an' dutiful to the last, that's our Lestuu." Amara felt her eyes mist a little, the sting of sadness tugging at her throat.
She forced a wistful smile to her lips and shook her head, as though literally shaking the sadness from her mind. Her eyes traveled down to the deep crimson stamp upon the document: DEFERRED. She closed the binder and slid it into the open drawer before her, labeled DO NOT FILE.
"He'll be back," Amara mused, then left for home.