Remedial Studies

Caesennia frowned, flinched when her mistress snatched the card from her hands, she'd not been expecting such a quick movement. And then the woman was circling the room, pacing, cleaning haphazardly. She was certain there must be some kind of rhythm to what she cleaned when, but for the moment, Casey couldn't figure it out.

I... I was a cleaning maid, b-before, uhm. Before her magic, and before she was a cleaning maid, she'd worked the kitchens — but the numbers she learned there were never written down; expected to be memorized. She cleared her throat, and hurried after Ilaria as she suddenly quit cleaning, to leave the room behind. Anxious, because she couldn't pick up what the other woman was feeling — her magic was still quite new to her.

Tutor teaches how to... be nobility. What kind of utensils to use, how to walk, dress... uhm, what style to wear, what not to wear. The library; she never came in here, before, and her eyes widened at the size of the room. At the amount of books.

She lingered in the doorway, as if waiting for permission. She never brought up letters or numbers. I'm sorry. She was sorry; she'd failed at something, that Ilaria expected her to know. It didn't occur to her to find it amusing, that the woman wouldn't know (or care) what her past position had utilized or not.

@Ilaria Obsidian