1x1 with galaxy,

[run.]

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡
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1x1 with galaxy,
loosely inspired by the secret history c:

[galaxy,]

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i. elias theodore sinclair ii. tw
enty one iii. september thirtie
th birthday iv. classics major,
philosophy minor v. the expe
rienced apprentice vi. dark b
rown hair & hazel eyes vii. 6'2
viii. heterosexual ix. cismale

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𝘐 𝘍𝘌𝘓𝘛 𝘔𝘠 𝘌𝘟𝘐𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘊𝘌 𝘞𝘈𝘚 𝘛𝘈𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘌𝘋

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careful and observant, elias li
kes to think of himself as mys
terious when most people pro
bably just conceive him as ec
centric and arrogant. surroun
ded by books and incredibly i
ntelligent, elias is often seen
around the library or just now
here at all. a stellar essay he
wrote in second year on the t
rue ethics of the justice syste
m captured the attention of
The Professor. his ego above
the clouds, elias was tutored
personally. yet recently his e
xtravagant ideas on ethics an
d morality have calmed down.
and he wonders...

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𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗕𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗔𝗬

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[run.]

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emmeline dupont . emma . 20 . female . heterosexual
fine arts . concen. in classics . fc: danielle campbell
Headstrong, brave, reckless. There are a lot of words
that may be used to describe Emmeline, but driven is
the most overwhelming characteristic. Emma knows w-
hat she wants, and will do anything in her power to get
it. And what does she want? To earn The Professor's hig-
hest favors, and no is quite simply not in her vocab.
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xxx
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Not exactly the textbook case of a rich girl rebelling against her parents, Emmeline took up studying the fine arts at a renowned university to get back at her parents. Her parents were no-nonsense practical, and what could you possibly do with a degree in the arts? Alas, her stubborn ego and pride would never let her give up, nor strive for anything besides the best. Being so hot-headed has been her downfall more times than she can count. It is not just excitement nor anger that she feels so passionately; Emmeline is emotionally driven and wears her heart on her sleeve. It is not a wonder that she felt and connected so deeply with the fine arts after her first year. When an enigmatic professor caught her eye, one that only took on a handful of the most elite classics students at any given time, she knew she needed to be one of them. It was clear that he already had a favorite, but she knows she can usurp the teacher's pet in time.

[galaxy,]

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑
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sinclairElias's patience was running thin.
sinclairIt had all started that one autumn afternoon when the Professor called Elias into his office to tell him he was opening up the apprenticeship. Even though the room was not meant as a classroom the Professor used it so, regardless of the limited space, which, at that moment, had made Elias feel as if he was suffocating. It seemed as if his efforts had not yielded the expected results. Elias would have never admitted out loud how hard the Professor's words stung, and thankfully he managed to keep his shortened breath and shaky hands under control. Had it not been enough? Breaching the rules, damaging both public and private property, even outright breaking the law... how had it not been enough?
sinclairBack at his own flat Elias allowed the panic to bubble out on to the surface. For what seemed like hours he stood under water so icy it seemed to be fragmenting through his skin. Not too long ago he had completed the latest of the Professor's tasks: remain awake for seventy two hours and then consume some sort of strange substance. The subsequent hallucinations had left Elias bedbound for a week— not like the Professor cared. The colour had only recently crept back on to Elias's cheeks yet his eyes still seemed faded as they looked back through the mirror. He asked all of these things, and now it was suddenly not enough? Elias was not 'yielding results' or whatever it was that he said? Although a little, tiny part of Elias, a voice he was trying to keep down, peeped above the rest. Maybe, just maybe, this was a chance to take a step back and allow someone else to take over.
sinclairEach task more tough to complete than the previous one, Elias had began to doubt the validity and the efficacy of the Professor's methods. With no understanding of what he had even gotten himself into Elias signed up to this apprenticeship, honoured to be chosen among hundreds because of his perfect essay. A more intricate study of ethics to discover the true meaning of what it meant to do 'good'. So elite, so particular. Yet now... he was not so sure.

sinclairBut the second strike came as a stronger blow as Elias scanned the faces in the room, observing the candidates for the new spot in the apprenticeship. The one sitting closest to him, some sophomore he recognised by the name of Carlton (or Charleton? Carl? Elias was not good with names), seemed ready to run away. His knees had buckled when walking into the room and Elias didn't even know how he could have made it that far. This guy, running from the police? Fat chance. It seemed almost like a purposeful insult. You are at the level of this kid here, Mr. Sinclair he could hear the Professor's voice clear in his mind. Show me you are capable of more. Next to Carlton was a girl with a dark complexion and choppy black hair who Elias knew for being excessively intelligent. They had shared a class together and Elias had liked her perspective on certain topics they had debated, but the possibility she may be the one to steal his place put the man on high alert. The third candidate was at the furthest end of the room— also a girl, with brown hair and determined eyes. While her face seemed familiar Elias couldn't place her.
sinclairWelcome, students, the Professor's voice snapped Elias's attention away. His eyes glazed over his apprentice though Elias couldn't even see a flicker of recognition in his gaze. You have all demonstrated an intricate and complicated perspective on ethics that I want to help you explore and develop. While the first section was individual tasks now I will require you to work as a pair. Miss Martins, please work with Mr Koop. Miss Dupont, you will work alongisde Mr. Sinclair. The tasks are on the envelopes on your desks.
sinclairElias was aware he had to 'prove' his strength as the apprentice and therefore had to participate but, group work? He historically had never been good with working with other people as most people were usually wrong— about everything, really. Most people also often were not very pleased when Elias corrected their mistakes. It seemed as if people did not appreciate criticism. At this point he just wanted to get the whole task situation over with and let everything just go back to normal. He did not have the patience to meet this random girl, whoever she was, much less help her usurp his position. He leaned forward in his chair and looked at this Miss Dupont, waiting for her to come up to him.
sinclair

[run.]

⚜ 𝑒𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓉

↳↳a piece of art in the works
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✧x Emmeline's bones sung with a deep ache, not all unpleasant. Afterall, the ache mingled with an thread of accomplishment. She had done it, and she had done it with reverence.

Her second task consisted of what she had considered petty theft, but others may not have considered so. It was a small work of art displayed at a local gallery, a painting of a woman staring blankly out of the canvas clutching a small bouquet of white flowers: The Flower Girl. She did not quite understand why the professor desired such a painting; she would have valued the painting to be worth closer to half a grand. Sure, the brushstrokes were those from a talented hand, but the meaning was lost on her despite her education. It seemed more of a portrait than a piece of significance. She doubted the gallery owner would miss such a work and held no remorse for her actions. In fact, they gave her a sense of gratification. She would do it again. She would do so much more.

The next part of her task was a strange one, she was to collect the same type of flowers pictured in The Flower Girl. This was almost more difficult than the act of stealing the painting. Why did he need these flowers? She needed to learn to stop asking these types of questions. It didn't really matter. If the professor needed the flowers, then she was to deliver the flowers in order to earn his favor. It was as simple as that. Emmeline spent days researching the flowers: what they were, where they were grown, how she could find them. It happened to turn out that the flowers were that of a local varietal, so she trudged around a muddy riverbed snipping and snapping flower stems until she had enough for a small bouquet and delivered it to the professor's desk in a dainty vase.

When all was said and done from her second task, the professor's attention had swung to her, even if only momentarily. She had surprised him. The memory flashed in her mind: the subtle glint in his eye, the gentle thrum of pride in her chest. It had been her first time in his office. A replica of the painting Ophelia, originally painted by John Everett Millais, was hung on the wall among others. What a tragedy. Ophelia was a sorrowful piece, a woman drowned in a stream while gathering flowers. Following along with the Shakespearean play of the same namesake, the woman was driven mad by the murder of her father. It was especially eerie, considering that Emmeline had spent hours digging up flowers near a riverbed. At least she wasn't mad? She remained transfixed on the painting, on the woman, as the professor called for her dismissal.

There was no word from the professor for days after her delivery. Emmeline had no idea when she would be called on again. If only the professor would communicate a little more. It was not until a week and a half that she had come back to her apartment to find an off-white envelope slid beneath the door, Emmeline in a lengthened cursive. The letter was short: there was to be another meeting this afternoon, in a study off the library that she knew to belong to the professor and his distinguished apprenticeship program. Despite participating, and exceling in the apprenticeship she had not been invited there prior. As far as she knew, there had been no formal program meetings and the apprenticeship had been run so far in one-on-one meetings, much like she had been in weeks ago as she delivered the painting and flowers. Perhaps the professor was sufficiently impressed by her performance that he had a larger, more meaningful task and that was what the meeting was for. Perhaps he wants to consult her. Perhaps she could be pulled into an even higher position. Anticipation sent a small shiver down her spine as she wondered what might await from her in that study.

Emmeline's step faltered as she stepped into the study. It was not the room itself that caught her by surprise; it had a warm academic glow. Desks were strewn about the room in a way that made sense, although did not necessarily have a logical pattern. There were a few lounges pushed up against the walls, which were lined several paintings. What shocked her was that several students were already occupying seats around the room. Many of the faces ignited a spark of recognition, but she was not able to place any but one: Agnes Martins. Emmeline had shared one of her introductory classics classes with her and they had spoke of their excitement to be in the program. They were both juniors. Unease trickled through her body. Was Agnes the professor's favorite? She was incredibly intelligent. They may have once been acquaintances with the potential for friendship, but now, Agnes was nothing but competition. All of the students in the room were now her competition.

Emmeline continued to scan the room. She was the only person from the fine arts, she knew. Was everybody else in the classics? Or maybe some were minoring, like her? It took a second before she realized that the desks off-white envelopes with their name on it, similar to the one she found in her apartment that brought her to the study. She found her desk near the wall, where a large painting hung. This was the first group meeting with the current round of apprentices, at least that she was aware. It was possible that she was a late addition, she had no way of knowing.

When the professor began to speak, Emmeline had not yet realized that he had arrived. A group project? That would explain the call to a meeting. She was to work with Mr. Sinclair. Now, who was that? Other students began moving towards their new partners. Agnes was partnered with an apprentice that looked terrified to be present. She hoped her partner would not be so afraid. Fear could only hinder them. What was there to be afraid of anyways? The professor was working to make them better; they were all working to understand and share ethical perspectives. It is all in the greater best interest. Her gaze settled on a man across the room, leaning forward in his seat. This must be the Mr. Sinclair. She made a mental note that he made no move to approach her.

Partners had begun murmuring their introductions and reading their assigned tasks. Emmeline made her way over to Mr. Sinclair, but did not sit. "Hello. My name is Emmeline." She spoke sweetly. She knew they needed to start off on the right foot if they were going to accomplish this task together. She needed him so that they could be the best team in the room. Was he her competition? The thought fluttered through her mind. It was difficult to understand the motives of the professor. It could he that he would pair her up with his favorite to see what they could accomplish together or he could pair her up with his least favorite to see how she performs. There were a million scenarios that tangled in her head and left her with zero answers. Only time would be able to tell.

Emmeline picked up the envelope from Mr. Sinclair's desk and took a seat next to him. "Shall we?" She chirped, although did not wait for an answer as she flicked the envelope open and withdrew its contents. She read in silence before reading the prompt to her new partner. "I dm'd you about this tbd task. hehe"

[galaxy,]

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑
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sinclairElias observed the girl as she approached him with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism. His expression remained impassive although his mind was racing: what was the Professor's purpose by making him work with this girl? If the initial threat had been one of replacement, why would it be useful to see them work together? More and more Elias had felt himself questioning the Professor's decisions and this was no different. Above all, he had understood from the time working with him that there was always a reason. Nothing was left to chance. Him working with this girl had been a carefully crafted decision and Elias wanted to know why.
sinclairEmmeline Dupont. The image the name evoked in Elias's mind was one of power and control. French, perhaps? Elias, he said as his only response. He continued to watch her every movement as Emmeline reached for the envelope on his desk and took a seat next to his. It was clear from the way she had walked up to him, the lack of hesitation in any of her actions, that this girl was confident and took initiative. There was no doubt that she was a better partner than Mr Koop at the other side of the room— definitely seemed like the kind of person to get her hands dirty, which could be an advantage if they had to compete against the other pair. What worried Elias was the possibility that this could be a competition amongst the two of them. While he liked his chances (at the end of the day, he was more experienced and knew what was expected of him) something about her demeanour was unsettling.
sinclairEmmeline took two pieces of paper from the envelope. While she read one of them Elias plucked the second paper from her hand and unfolded it.
sinclairElias's heart skipped a beat. Of course it was in Latin.
sinclairElias loved Latin. He wasn't very sure where that taste had first emerged. His mother would say that once Elias had finished reading all the books in the house as a child, he had nothing else to read but her law books and cases, which had the language sprinkled throughout. Maybe it had been his obsession with the history, the arts, the literature, the philosophy. Regardless of the reason, it was why he went into Classics. He didn't even have to wonder about the Professor's obsession with Latin. The man was a straight up fanatic.
sinclairThree stanzas with four verses each. It was more complicated than what he had expected, was what he thought as his eyes scanned the text.


In contextu evocativo texturae artificiosae,
Invenitur opus notabile, missio artificis.
In chiroscuro clandestino saltationis,
Entitates botanicae, fulgentes, aurato ornatu.

Peritia magistri, intricate expressa,
Quodlibet petalum disquisitio, bene tractatum subiectum.
Nuances aethereae, ubi pigmenta panduntur,
In linteum ligatum sermone, narratio narratur.

Intellige ergo, hanc laetitiam academicam,
Decripta opulentia chromatica, in thesaurario suo.
In saltatione clandestina, ubi colores cohaerent,
Identifica essentiam, ubi aurum et ars inter se invicem inhaerent.

sinclairGroup work, he reminded himself with a slight shot of annoyance. It's in Latin. It seems like some kind of riddle. As Elias raised his head from the paper to look at the girl, in the background he noticed the Carl guy looking in their direction with a little too much interest. Elias felt some satisfaction when his glare forced the other student to turn away, ears burning, but he still shuffled closer to Emmeline and lowered his voice to ensure no one would listen. I'm not entirely sure about all of it, but... He frowned while mumbling some of the words under his breath. Aurum, aurato... that's gold. Entitates botanicaes, fulgentes, aurato ornatu. Something plant-related. He had reached for a pen from the pocket of his jacket (he always had a pen in his jacket— you'd never know when you could need one) and underlined the words he could translate as he spoke. In that context this is definitely petals, he added while circling petalum. And the last line... identify the essence? Where gold and art... meet, I believe. Or interact.
sinclairElias put the pen on the paper and leaned back on his chair with a half smile of satisfaction. If the Professor wanted to challenge him he would have to put a little more of an effort. His gaze searched for him around the room but he was nowhere to be seen. On the other hand, Miss Martin seemed ready to shoot Carl at any point. Yes, he would be fine.

[run.]

⚜ 𝑒𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃𝓉

↳↳a piece of art in the works
___________________________________________
✧x Elias. Short and to the point, Emmeline had great difficulty reading Elias. He was certainly not dripping with enthusiasm. Did he not want to work with her? Maybe not alongside anybody, for that matter? Was it disinterest in the program? She was curious. Emmeline watched with intrigue as he glared at another student deeply enough that there might as well have been holes where the student's eyes should have been. Perhaps Elias too felt the sense of competition, or otherwise held the poor red-haired kid in his lowest regards. Okay, so he didn't despise her like he did that kid and it didn't seem to be lack of interest in the apprenticeship, otherwise he wouldn't be in the room. Just the way he was maybe?

Studying the red-haired kid again, at least he didn't seem like a threat. That made him more of an ally to her, she supposed, compared to others in the room, compared to Elias, who shifted a little bit closer to her. No, Elias was her partner. He was her ally. They needed to be successful, no matter his demeanor, together. What a confusing situation. She decided with a finality that she would decide later whether Elias was an ally or her competitor.

"Pages ancient, a story unfolds,
Sunlit secrets, in ink it molds.
Within the script, where wisdom showers,
Hints of sunshine amid inked bowers."

Even more confusing than the friend-or-foe dilemma, the slip of paper revealed a riddle, but it was such an ambiguous riddle that it could be referencing any array of writings. Emmeline's lips formed a thin line. The Ecclesiastes maybe? She hoped the slip of paper that Elias held might hold more meaning, or at least anything less enigmatic. Her eyes darted back to him. "The professor could not have chosen a more open-ended clue if he tried," she offered with a short laugh, almost bidding for a friendly interaction. Then, she paused to listen for his clue.

Latin. Emmeline didn't speak a lick of Latin, asides from when it appeared in the title of an artwork and when she struggled to translate it in her Classics classes. Foreign language was one of the few areas she felt behind in, especially if everyone else in the room studied the Classics as their primary education. Her cheeks flamed with heat. She needed to be valuable. She should know better.

Of course Elias could read Latin. That might be why they were partnered together; they were the only two that complete the task. She considered this for a moment. Why would she be useful then? She was the only one studying the fine arts. Was it art related? Gold. Plants. Art. Petals? She regarded the key words as Elias translated. He was impressive, she had to admit. Latin translation on the spot was not for the faint of heart; he was nothing if not highly intelligent. She refused to be fazed. Chewing on the words a moment longer, she thought of her last task: the art theft, The Flower Girl. The local gallery had an exhibition for floral paintings, now minus one. She thought to the more classical pieces on display: there were a few Renoirs, a Monet. Renoir - wasn't one of his more ochre? There could have been more - it wasn't exactly what she was after when she had been there previously. "The local gallery has a display. I was there only a few days ago. They have a floral exhibition this week. That may be a good place to start? We can walk from here."

[galaxy,]

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑
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sinclairElias had been in the programme long enough to know that nothing, nothing the professor sent their way should be taken at face value, or would be easy. The sense of satisfaction quickly expired when his mind got to work.
sinclairAurum. For some reason, the first thing to pop in his mind was the legend on Midas, the king who had been cursed (or blessed?) with a golden touch. A particularly tragic version of the myth had Apollo additionally curse King Midas with donkey ears because of some musical quarrel (Elias could not remember the details), and ended with Midas drinking bull's blood, which was used in Ancient Greece as paint. However, even for Elias's overthinking brain who liked to complicate things far more than necessary, he knew this was a reach. Particularly as there was no clear connection with plants, and that connection seemed to be quite more significant in the clue than the one between gold and art (would bull's blood even count as art? He wasn't too sure).
sinclairPlants... plants... plants... golden plants? There was another myth related to a garden and some golden apples that someone had to steal from a... dragon? Some kind of hero, maybe Jason or Hercules... The details were, again, hazy on Elias's mind, but he was fairly sure that was Greek mythology rather than Roman. The Professor would never make a mistake like that— the clue being in Latin was a clue in itself.
sinclairHe had been too deep in his own thoughts to even listen when Emmeline had read the clue she had pulled from the paper, but then his breath shortened. You had said something about sunshine! He said, almost excitedly. Almost. Elias read her clue once more. They're connected, he guessed. Sunshine, ink... scriptures... I bet the sunshine refers to whatever this gold art plant thing is.
sinclairFor a moment, the feeling of getting one step closer to solving a clue became far more overwhelming than the sense of distrust and annoyance that had initially settled in his heart. It made Elias feel... there was no way to describe it, even. His jaw hardened as the words the Professor said to him reverberated in his mind. He would see him, Elias thought. He would solve, once again, like always, all his stupid little clues and demonstrate he was the student he had personally picked out the previous year for a reason. No one else would be capable to make his match. Not Miss Martins, or Carl, or even this Emmeline girl.
sinclairEmmeline. There had to be a purpose for the groupwork. What was it?
sinclairAnd then she spoke.
sinclairSimple solutions. Why had he not thought about going to an art gallery? Of course, that would have to be the first place to look if you were looking to anything related to art. Start small from what you know, and then you build from there. Yes, okay. Elias nodded, slowly, again stealing a glance towards the other pair. He stood up, instantly attracting their gaze. Lead the way, he said, and then added in a low voice with complicit eyes and a half smile: Maybe take a longer route.