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Jaan's heard about Malleus.
It's hard not to, when he happens to be one of the strongest mages alive, leaving shadows in his wake with his tall stature and taller horns.
It's common to hear both whispers and unfiltered chatter about him, his supposedly unnatural slitted pupils and fearsome power, gaze sharper than his fangs.
Jaan doesn't believe half of that. Maybe because he too is someone used to unpleasant glances and whispered prejudice. For all they talk about him, the moment he asks what Malleus has ever actually done, other than the simple crime of looking different, no one can offer her a response.
Jaan taps her pen against his notebook, idly tuning out Professor Trein's monologue. It's not that he hates history - she adores it, in fact. She's already read ahead on the whole curriculum, leaving Professor Trein's lessons free for her to zone out and instead doodle and plan for the history club. Professor Trein, the overseer of the club, is familiar enough with his idiosyncrasies to not call him out on her obvious inattention.
It's a difficult balance, trying to keep things fresh for the long time members but also going over beloved topics of interest for the newer ones. History behind the Seven are topics as old and beloved as time, and they hold open sessions each week for members to hold presentations on their personal favourite moments of history.
Jaan's happens to be the Mesozoic era. She's always been a sucker for evolutionary history.
They're in a dry spell right now. It's mock exam season for the older years so they're out, and the younger years are still too shy to make the leap and present by themselves.
Jaan needs to think of something that isn't just another presentation on dinosaurs. He thinks it's getting dry for everyone involved.
Something they can see, preferably. An activity they can do. Origami was fun, but they did that last time. Embroidery was also an option, but he feared letting a bunch of rowdy 1st years around needles. Quizzes were way too common, and as enticing Jaan could make the prizes, it still didn't make it any less dull. There's only so many different questions you can ask about something long dead.
Honestly, Jaan was tempted to break out the jigsaws again.
He sighed, resisting the urge to slump in his chair. She doesn't even know why she applied to be chair of the society. Well, she does, it was to have something to make his parents proud of, but she would have been far happier letting someone else control the flow.
He forlornly looks outside, rain pattering against the sill. It was as dark and dreary as anything out there.
He could see one of the gargoyles from this angle, water shooting out of its mouth in a perfect arc.
An idea jolted at him.
Gargoyles!
The history of architecture was one oft neglected; it would be wonderful to take a tour around their buildings and gain a new appreciation of their time periods and inspirations.
By the Seven though, it sounded so much of a pain to research, especially in time for next week's meeting in a few days.
As much as Jaan adores history, she does struggle with research. She'd much rather have a teacher than read a paper. As antisocial as he might appear, he truly does like chatting to people, especially those passionate about something they love.
It's always been something he's struggled with. To Jaan, passion about a beloved topic, something you could chat about for hours, is one of the most wonderful things in the world. To so many people he's met though, too often is that met with disdain and displeasing looks, exasperation and awkwardness.
It's why he joined the history club, hoping it would be full of people who understand, to learn about all the things he'd never thought about once but is so beloved to someone else.
The passion of a Ignihyde student talking about the history of gaming and the workings of the biggest companies and the evolution of hardware from the Game Boy to the console to the Switch; the passion of a Pomefiore student ranting about the history of fashion and the difference between rococo and regency with PowerPoint slides of their worst grievances from poorly researched books to even worse researched dramas with barely disguised contempt.
It's wonderful. Jaan wishes she could be half that captivating when she talks about what she loves.
Anyway, history of architecture. Of the NRC building specifically, if they want to take a tour around the building. He knows one person who's a fan of architecture, but they mostly focus on Scalding Sands architecture, not so much Land of Dawning.
He hums, thinking. Professor Trein has moved onto the plenary. Class will be over soon. He needs to think of something fast - seven forbid he zones out in maths class.
He doesn't want to let the idea go for some reason. He knows it would be fun, but simply thinking about getting started on the research gnaws at him. He's not a hard worker by any means.
Class ends, and Jaan barely moves in her seat, tucking away his pencil case and notebook with a fuzziness in his head.
Professor Trein makes their way along the front row - the row where Jaan sits - bidding farewell and answering last minute questions about homework.
When they reach him, they tilt their head at him in polite greeting.
"Miss MacAlasdair. You were looking frazzled during today's class, and I know it's not because of the material."
"Sorry, Professor," Jaan says for the sake of it more than anything, the apology a mere formality, the right thing to say, "Just thinking about the club. I don't suppose you know anyone particularly excited about gargoyles and architecture?"
Professor Trein nods. "I do, actually."
"Really! Do tell! Please," Jaan hastily tacks on the end. Professor Trein lets her get away with too many transgressions of politeness, he might as well remember the bare minimum.
"One Malleus Draconia. You might know him; you're both in the same year."
Jaan shakes his head. "No actually. I've heard of him, but we've never met."
The professor hums contemplatively. "Well, I do recommend him. He's the one and only member of the gargoyle club after all."
"We have a gargoyle club!? Sorry - we have a gargoyle club?"
Professor Trein's lips twitch upwards. "Good job on the correction, MacAlasdair. And yes, we do. Now, run along, lest you end up late to your next class."
Once glance around the room would reveal Jaan is the last one present. As usual.
"Of course - I'll head out now. See you later, Professor Trein!"
Jaan doesn't wait for his response, rushing out of the room posthaste.
He almost runs into a stupidly tall someone.
He leans back to get a better view, the person already walking off, books held to their chest.
They have the green band of Diasomnia around their arm, pointed ears that poke out of their expanse of hair, and elegantly twisted horns.
"Malleus!"
Malleus - and half the corridor, but Jaan isn't paying attention to that - stops at the call of their name, turning back just slightly.
"Yes?"
Might as well just spit it out.
"Want to help out with the history club in a history of gargoyles sesh?"
Malleus' eyes, purportedly wicked, brighten in childlike joy.
"I would be honoured to, child of man," they say, voice deep and warm, but not at all bottomless. More like the depression of a bed softer than you expected, caught off guard by its dip.
"Wonderful! I'll let you know the details, and we'll start organising something. That alright?"
"More than."
Jaan finds himself grinning, and Malleus returns it with something like an intrigued sparkle in their eyes.
"MacAlasdair, you are in my doorway."
Jaan eeps, Professor Trein standing behind them with a tone bordering the edge of patience - how many times have they needed to remind him of her lesson -
His maths lesson!
Jaan doesn't run, he doesn't need to sign his own death sentence with Professor Trein right behind him, but he speed walks.
"Nice to meet you!" He calls back to Malleus, waving a hand in goodbye, not waiting for his response either.
And he shoots off.