Work Text:
Fuck exams.
Learning? Learning is incredible. Adaine’s brain itches to learn. It makes her want to flap her hands and kick her feet (She doesn’t - not anymore - but that doesn’t change the fact she wants to).
Exams, though, are just regurgitating word for word answers that you don’t so much have to learn as simply memorise. And what if you’re not on top of your game that day? That’s not going to be an accurate summary of all your work, is it? One day. One test means everything.
So Adaine hates exams. Even small exams, not like Hudol’s entrance exam, that are normal and fine and where nothing goes wrong make her so anxious that she feels she might throw up (sometimes she does). All of it is already the worst.
Or that’s what she’s been thinking as she grips her pen so hard that her knuckles are white. It’s what she’s been thinking as she prays no one’ll notice how much she’s sweating. It’s what she’s been thinking until a wave of dizziness rushes over her.
She blinks as the words on the page begin to swim and tears spring into her eyes because no no no, not now. Please not now.
Squinting helps her to discern the words just a little so that’s what she does. The room spins. No, she has to do this. She has to do well. Come on. She’s fine, she’s not getting a vision, it’s just a little nerves, right? And even if it is a vision, it’s her body, she can hold it off.
Right?
But oh… she’s dizzy… she’s……
Adaine drops the pen and presses her fists against her eyes but it does nothing to stop the sounds of papers rustling and classmates shifting in their seats from slinking away into the fog that’s becoming the world around her.
She tries to hold onto it all, tries to focus, to cling to consciousness and the solidness of the ground but it’s… it’s slippery and she’s… she’s so… so…… dizzy……
And there’s the jerk in her chest and she gasps and everything’s white.
The vision is nothing special: the regular ‘there’s gonna be a fire at some point in some town hall that you have no clue to the location of’. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do with it.
“Adaine? Adaine Abernant?”
She blinks blearily. The room is so bright and blurry. Where is she?
She becomes aware that her chin is resting on her chest. Fuck her head feels so heavy, so bursting full of cotton wool.
Fingers drum on the desk in front of her. They’re not hers. With the greatest effort, Adaine raises her head. The world comes into focus - both sight and sound wise - within a few seconds. It takes a few more for the fog to clear from her brain.
“Do you need to leave?” The professor is saying. It feels hard to process the words, not from the thickness that a prophetic vision brings, but from the way her mind is starting to race. Isn’t a vision enough? Does her brain really hate her this much?
Her breath is catching in her throat and she’s hyperventilating before she really knows what’s happening. For the second time, distinct sounds fade into one murky sludge and she pulls her arms up over her head as if that will help her to sink into the ground.
The professor is talking again but Adaine doesn’t - can’t - care to listen and she’s pushing her seat back frantically and walking - running - from the room.
She doesn’t stop once she’s out in the hall, keeps running and running and running and running and it doesn’t help her to breathe but she’s terrified to stop. She needs to run.
Someone’s talking again. Shouting? She doesn’t know.
And then she slams into something soft. And warm. And furry. And strong arms wrap around her.
“Hey… you’re ok…” Jawbone’s voice rumbles. Adaine feels it in his chest and she grasps his fur tight in her fists as the adrenaline begins to fade away...
She begins to sob softly against him.
“You’re alright, I’m here now kiddo,” he murmurs.
The words reverberate gently through her. They so tenderly tug on her shoulders to sag alongside the ebbing panic and the warm, tired tears pour. There are strands of hair that are pressed between her face and Jawbone’s chest that stick to her cheeks with the dampness.
“You’re safe.”
Nodding into his now-wet fur, she gives a final hiccup.
He shifts slightly. “Let’s head into my office, hm?”
“Mhm.”
She hears Jawbone exhale through his nose affectionately and it prompts a long, steady breath to be tugged into her own lungs. Sighing cathartically, she nuzzles against him.
She’s safe.