Cirice Forge sat in the staff lounge, surrounded by the more prominent members of her faculty. It had finally quieted; more than one person had been attempting to speak at a time for quite a few minutes, and the air still felt as though it were ringing with their attempts to be heard over one another. There were looks of anger and frustration being passed around. Bewilderment, disbelief, even. Professor Lark, bless her heart, looked as though she were on the brink of tears. The expert mysticist had taken the news especially difficult, as she had remembered when the girl had been here, the way she had cried when she had been told. How she had screamed as she was dragged from the Great Hall.
None of them seemed to recall that Cirice herself had been a student with the now-woman in question.
Professor Barnabas smoothed his black mustache as he thought. Cirice knew that look of his, he was deep in thought. No doubt working on a solution. Ever striding to get her out of trouble, Elliot Barnabas was. Her heart gave a little flutter as she glanced at the clock near the windows; they were going to be late for dinner with her mother.
“I know this comes as a shock,” Cirice said finally, “but we all need to come together now. What is to be done about this? What shall we do about Joanne?”
Inktober 2025, Prompt #1: MUSTACHE 🧡🖤👻🎃
Whitney Writes... 
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