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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 — 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨
☽ ֯ ◗ ✩ ◖ ֯ ☾
"𝐀ll right, gather together. Chain spells are about the fluid movement of energy from witch to witch."
Zoe barely listened to Dorian teaching the class as she stared through the window. The upper-class witches sat on the floor in a circle, holding the hands of those next to them. But the girl was too enraged to be focused.
Dorian walked outside of the circle as he instructed them on a group assignment when he realized someone was missing. "Where is Penelope Park?"
"Um," Lizzie smirked before making a snarky comment, "lady cramps, Mr. Williams."
Dorian looked around extremely uncomfortable and cleared his throat. "Sorry I asked. A disharmonious group makes for an uneven flow."
A string of giggles slipped past the girls' lips as the teacher glanced at them in confusion, not understanding how out of context his words could be taken for a pun.
Before Dorian could go further in his lecture, a piece of parchment materialized above their heads and fell into his hands as silence settled over the students.
Josie saw the cursive script on the page and realized it was a summons to her father's office. She asked teasingly, "Uh-oh. Who's in trouble with the headmaster?"
Hope scoffed and rolled her eyes sarcastically, unamused by the twins' antics thus far. "Probably the people who started a brawl with the local high school."
Dorian opened the note and started to read it aloud, "Lizzie Saltzman. Josie Saltzman. Zoe Mikaelson. And baby makes four. Off you go."
The Saltzman twins turned to look at the two tribrids in shock of why they were being called to the headmaster, but both Hope and Zoe had already schooled their features into neutrality.
☽ ֯ ◗ ✩ ◖ ֯ ☾
"𝐓his makes no sense, Dad. Why are we being punished?" Lizzie complained as the four girls followed Alaric around the library as the man collected relevant books off the shelves while they demanded answers for what he'd just told them.
"Because you started a brawl at a charity football game that risked exposing what we really do here," Alaric replied as the younger Mikaelson watched how students were quick to vanish from the room once they'd heard them.
"Well, you weren't mad last night."
"I was mad last night. My undying love for my daughters just happened to trump my rage." Alaric walked down the steps to one of the study tables and set the books down before turning to face his daughters and students. "I volunteered everyone in the game, so stop complaining. You're lucky that it's just community service and not actual jail time."
