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Riaan had hastily surrendered his writing-quill and his right breast techno-ring to the Crafting Professor; how ridiculously small they had seemed in the colossal Choleric's palm!

"Oh, yes, Sir! It makes perfect sense to me." The academic smiled cheerfully, bolstered by the sound of Kortus' laugh and granted further confidence by the kind touch of that mighty hand on his head. "It would follow that Stage Zeros haven't been awake long enough to have had ample time to adjust to the demands of a vast number of items. Why, even with careful study, one cannot be certain that he or she will prove adept with a thing until they have first handled it, and practiced with it." He watched Kortus intently, aquamarine eyes wide with wonder. "It seems only logical that the more powerful – and thusly more dangerous – techno-equips should be prohibited to the younger Empyreans, who simply have not yet developed enough experience to handle them with any degree of safety, both for themselves, and for others around them. After all, one would not give a sharp object to a . . . "

Riaan stopped, blinking, and found that he could not parse the thought that he had begun. He had been about to say 'a newborn,' but Empyrean children were not born, they were Bonded and Woken. Age did not exist before then, and, as such, the word simply did not exist in his awareness. Not in the context that he had meant for it, at any rate . . . and in trying to discern the cause of this error that had caused him such pause, Riaan's overactive academic mind suddenly went blank.

He froze, panicking. It was impossible for him to pale, white as he was already, and so his watery blue-green eyes instead grew wide with frightened bewilderment. He couldn't think! What was he ever to do?

"An invalid." Riaan heard himself finish smoothly. He blinked a second time, and feverishly ran his thought back through his mind. It made perfect sense, and the pause had been infinitesimal. Had he really been so staggered by a simple sentence? And . . . what had caused him to stumble in the first place?

He shook his head as if to clear it, but although his mind was thankfully back to normal, his pulse was racing, and his stomach felt as if he had just been standing too near the edge of a very high balcony. For the first time in his young life he'd been completely and utterly dumb-struck, and he hadn't liked the sensation at all.

". . . so, too, has it made sense that dangerous objects must never be made use of in enclosed spaces . . . out of consideration for the well-being of all present, with regard to life and to limb . . ." The gusto had drained from his soft voice, and he looked as if he would really have liked to return to his seat, but he stood his ground and nodded staunchly up at Kortus. "Yes, lord Professor; I do understand why such stringent regulation must be adhered to. It is for the good of us all."

Regulus craned his neck to see over Riaan's shoulder, attempting to get a better view of the Professor's actions, curious as to how the procedure was done. Kortus' motions were careful, certainly, but so practiced and so sure that it seemed almost as if his four strong hands simply danced in doing their task. He noted with silent interest the items that Kallisto handed over for binding, wondering at their purpose and their function, and how she had come to attain each.

Having finished with the bonding for all the items and rings presented to him, Kortus returned them all, in order: Quill to Riaan, and to Kallisto, Infrared Goggles, Castor Gun and Castor Shells, Jadeite, Cecil, Hoverboots. "There, that should be everything. Remember to keep them attached to the appropriate location on your persons to avoid any complications." And I think that's about everything for me...

Tryna was hovering over his shoulder, beaming a grin at the gathered students,a nd waiting to take her turn.

Yambati watched Kallisto's eyes light up and smiled. Her smiling always made him feel lighter.

And cooking - perhaps now he'd understand where her passion came from, just a little bit more?

"Awriiiight! My turn!" Tryna half-hollared, pumping one arm up in the air victoriously. She spun her chair around backwards and sat, leaning on the backrest with folded arms. Kortus sat in his place and laughed. "Okay, you guys! Cooking time! And hey there, Kallisto! I'd love to have you sit through. Just let the other folk have a crack at answering the questions, eh?"

Antigone, having been fetched by Cashimer, made her way into the Teacher's lounge, looking rather excited. One of the few classes she still had to make up was taking place at the moment. Cooking. She hadn't been terribly excited about this class until she had been informed by the young Phlegm that Tryna was the professora for the class. As if she would miss anything the spunky Sanguine would teach. Taking a seat, she smiled over at the Empyreans that were also occupied the room, sending Yalitza a smile. She'd only met her once before, but she rather liked the young artist. Cashimer and Blayk settled on either side of Antigone, also wanting to attend the class.

Yambati was a bit taken aback by how... explosive Tryna was, but he did glanced over at Kallisto with a small, secretive smile. He could understand how the girl had first fallen in love with cooking and alchemy, definitely.

He flipped to a new page in his notebook, noting down 'cooking' and 'explosions' next to each other idly.

Okay. Lior was sure he was in love. He grinned from ear to ear as he saw how bouncy and eager Tryna was and wriggled a little, moving closer so he could listen better and still take his notes properly (Ubel would scold him otherwise). "What are you going to teach us about exactly, today, Professora?" he asked merrily, moving to sit near, but not too close, to Kallisto and Yambati, not knowing them well enough to sit at a 'friend' sort of distance.