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Description
AHAHA
IS THIS LATE
I HOPE IT GETS ACCEPTED

The PTS201 assignment this time was to make a book of medicinal plants.
And I wrote a thing.
It's not too good but it's something okay.
SO HERE WE GO.

Word count: 1080 words.

Mentions of Mirage (c) AWaterFox
Mentions of Helmy (c) viralremix
Dion (c) devinaaTART

Late.

Time flew by so quickly, he hardly realized another trimester has ended in Otherworlde; hardly realized it was time to submit assignments, and have them graded.

But he realized one thing.

He was late. Hopefully not too late, but he knew he was. The moment Mirage handed him a curious bottle filled with gray liquid--no doubt a potion--he had a sense that there was something he forgot to do. Something important.

It had become a distasteful habit of the elf lately. Ever since the year started, he occupied himself with so much that he barely had time to sleep. Not like he could, anyway. Fighting in the tournament, catching up with three classes, while trying to maintain the very few friendships he had was too much for him to handle.

It was obvious Dion was tired: there were dark circles around his eyes, his hair a disheveled mess. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten a proper meal. His desk was cluttered with various objects, as his mind was with thoughts.

He needed a break.

But more importantly, he needed to finish his assignments.

He stared at his table, two thick books lay open in front of him. One was handmade, in better condition than the other. It had a dark blue cover, dark turquoise velvet for decoration, with gold-painted lining and spine. Colours that he often wore, and identified himself with. He smiled. The cover was something to be proud of. He spent a week finishing it, after weeks on other designs, and this was the best of the bunch.

The other was... old. It had weak binding, nearly falling apart at his first touch. There should have been a newer version of the book, but the other students in the potions class had probably taken it. At least there was information in there that he was able to use, so it wasn't completely useless. Unlike his own.

The clock's ticking was the only thing he heard, louder and louder as if mocking him. He glanced at it for a moment, stretching before he continued his work.

Dion was halfway through with his potions assignment. Already, he filled five pages with different plants as the professor instructed.

He considered it a good thing, as he only started it the other night. It would take him a few more hours, at most, before he was able to hand it to the professor.

He could already see him frowning as he submits the book, no doubt unhappy at his delay. He knew that Helmy wouldn't let him use his tournament participation as an excuse for this, and he'd probably grade him more harshly for being late. Why did he even bother to submit anything, if he knew he'd fail the class anyway? To fail it with dignity?

No, he had to pass the class. He hadn't done the first assignment, and barely did the second. He had to submit this one to pass the year.

He sighed as he took a green tea leaf, sticking it onto the empty page. Progress.

Late.

The sound of the bell ringing in the distance was unmistakable. His class has started, before he was able to submit his book he worked all night on. At least if the class ended, he didn't have to face the humility of showing up in front of his classmate? That wasn't a very comforting thought.

No doubt Mirage had given the professor his book, filled with more information Dion could muster within two nights. His work is nothing short of impressive, Dion thought to himself as he ran towards the Potionsmaking classroom as fast as his feet can take him.

And what had he to offer? Ten different medicinal herbs, each with a shorter amount of information than the last. He may have not been as specific as Mirage had, but at least he filled it with sufficient information. He hoped he did, at least.

He cursed himself for spending too much time making the book itself, rather than fill it with the useful information he was asked to. Who knew making a book cover would take him a week to finish? Granted, that was because he couldn't decide on one cover--who could, if there were infinite designs to make or choose from?--but that's besides the point.

He could see the doors to his classroom now, voices heard from within. It was faint, barely legible, but it was definitely the green-skinned professor speaking. Praising Mirage of his fine work, perhaps?

He slowed down as he neared it, taking silent steps while trying to catch his breath. He hunched over, one hand on the wall to support him, the other holding on to his book. He hated running. Despite his training--if it was even considered training--for the tournament, he was still out of shape, and panting. He never had the best stamina, and it was unlikely he ever will.

It should be ten minutes since class started, less if he was lucky. He shouldn't be in that much trouble... right? He wouldn't know; he either showed up early or didn't at all. And he didn't know his professor too well to know how he would react.

Should he go to his office and place the book there instead, with a note of apology? No, that would make a bad impression. Perhaps worse than coming into class late?

That wasn't the only bad impression he would give, though.

He stared at his reflection on the metal palm he used to support himself, frowning at his appearance. His hair was still an untidy mess, the lack of sleep noticeable. His outer garment was wrinkled in most places, shirt untucked, and covered with crumbs from his breakfast toast. One glance, and he was sure anyone could tell he rushed his way here.

He placed the book on the floor, trying to tame his hair as much as he possibly can, and brush the crumbs and wrinkles off his clothes. If I'm going in late, he thought as he checked his reflection once more, at least I'll look... presentable. Hopefully.

He took a deep breath and entered the class quietly, uttering a soft apology before he took his seat, placing the book on the corner of the table.

He smiled as the class resumed as usual, but not because he went in. If there was anything he could smile about today, it was that he might have time to sleep today.

Description
AHAHA
IS THIS LATE
I HOPE IT GETS ACCEPTED

The PTS201 assignment this time was to make a book of medicinal plants.
And I wrote a thing.
It's not too good but it's something okay.
SO HERE WE GO.

Word count: 1080 words.

Mentions of Mirage (c) AWaterFox
Mentions of Helmy (c) viralremix
Dion (c) devinaaTART

Late.

Time flew by so quickly, he hardly realized another trimester has ended in Otherworlde; hardly realized it was time to submit assignments, and have them graded.

But he realized one thing.

He was late. Hopefully not too late, but he knew he was. The moment Mirage handed him a curious bottle filled with gray liquid--no doubt a potion--he had a sense that there was something he forgot to do. Something important.

It had become a distasteful habit of the elf lately. Ever since the year started, he occupied himself with so much that he barely had time to sleep. Not like he could, anyway. Fighting in the tournament, catching up with three classes, while trying to maintain the very few friendships he had was too much for him to handle.

It was obvious Dion was tired: there were dark circles around his eyes, his hair a disheveled mess. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten a proper meal. His desk was cluttered with various objects, as his mind was with thoughts.

He needed a break.

But more importantly, he needed to finish his assignments.

He stared at his table, two thick books lay open in front of him. One was handmade, in better condition than the other. It had a dark blue cover, dark turquoise velvet for decoration, with gold-painted lining and spine. Colours that he often wore, and identified himself with. He smiled. The cover was something to be proud of. He spent a week finishing it, after weeks on other designs, and this was the best of the bunch.

The other was... old. It had weak binding, nearly falling apart at his first touch. There should have been a newer version of the book, but the other students in the potions class had probably taken it. At least there was information in there that he was able to use, so it wasn't completely useless. Unlike his own.

The clock's ticking was the only thing he heard, louder and louder as if mocking him. He glanced at it for a moment, stretching before he continued his work.

Dion was halfway through with his potions assignment. Already, he filled five pages with different plants as the professor instructed.

He considered it a good thing, as he only started it the other night. It would take him a few more hours, at most, before he was able to hand it to the professor.

He could already see him frowning as he submits the book, no doubt unhappy at his delay. He knew that Helmy wouldn't let him use his tournament participation as an excuse for this, and he'd probably grade him more harshly for being late. Why did he even bother to submit anything, if he knew he'd fail the class anyway? To fail it with dignity?

No, he had to pass the class. He hadn't done the first assignment, and barely did the second. He had to submit this one to pass the year.

He sighed as he took a green tea leaf, sticking it onto the empty page. Progress.

Late.

The sound of the bell ringing in the distance was unmistakable. His class has started, before he was able to submit his book he worked all night on. At least if the class ended, he didn't have to face the humility of showing up in front of his classmate? That wasn't a very comforting thought.

No doubt Mirage had given the professor his book, filled with more information Dion could muster within two nights. His work is nothing short of impressive, Dion thought to himself as he ran towards the Potionsmaking classroom as fast as his feet can take him.

And what had he to offer? Ten different medicinal herbs, each with a shorter amount of information than the last. He may have not been as specific as Mirage had, but at least he filled it with sufficient information. He hoped he did, at least.

He cursed himself for spending too much time making the book itself, rather than fill it with the useful information he was asked to. Who knew making a book cover would take him a week to finish? Granted, that was because he couldn't decide on one cover--who could, if there were infinite designs to make or choose from?--but that's besides the point.

He could see the doors to his classroom now, voices heard from within. It was faint, barely legible, but it was definitely the green-skinned professor speaking. Praising Mirage of his fine work, perhaps?

He slowed down as he neared it, taking silent steps while trying to catch his breath. He hunched over, one hand on the wall to support him, the other holding on to his book. He hated running. Despite his training--if it was even considered training--for the tournament, he was still out of shape, and panting. He never had the best stamina, and it was unlikely he ever will.

It should be ten minutes since class started, less if he was lucky. He shouldn't be in that much trouble... right? He wouldn't know; he either showed up early or didn't at all. And he didn't know his professor too well to know how he would react.

Should he go to his office and place the book there instead, with a note of apology? No, that would make a bad impression. Perhaps worse than coming into class late?

That wasn't the only bad impression he would give, though.

He stared at his reflection on the metal palm he used to support himself, frowning at his appearance. His hair was still an untidy mess, the lack of sleep noticeable. His outer garment was wrinkled in most places, shirt untucked, and covered with crumbs from his breakfast toast. One glance, and he was sure anyone could tell he rushed his way here.

He placed the book on the floor, trying to tame his hair as much as he possibly can, and brush the crumbs and wrinkles off his clothes. If I'm going in late, he thought as he checked his reflection once more, at least I'll look... presentable. Hopefully.

He took a deep breath and entered the class quietly, uttering a soft apology before he took his seat, placing the book on the corner of the table.

He smiled as the class resumed as usual, but not because he went in. If there was anything he could smile about today, it was that he might have time to sleep today.