In the dimly lit library of Trinity College, Professor Scáthach O'Connell's sharp gaze swept over her students as she recounted the ancient battles of Ireland. Her crimson hair was pulled back into a tight bun, revealing the fiery passion that danced in her scarlet eyes. She had a presence that could silence the chatter of a hundred students, and yet today, she felt something peculiarly amiss.
Her lecture hall was filled with a mix of young faces, some nodded off in the afternoon's lull, while others scribbled notes fervently. The scent of dusty tomes and brewing coffee wafted through the air, hinting at the scholarly grind that had been a constant companion to these hallowed halls for centuries. Scáthach's voice was steady, a blend of authority and the rhythm of a seasoned storyteller, as she painted vivid images of clanging swords and valorous deeds.
A soft giggle echoed from the back of the room, diverting Scáthach's attention. She paused, her eyes narrowing. The laughter grew, and she watched as several students began to look around, bewildered by the sudden mirth. Following their gaze, she noticed a peculiar sight that brought a flicker of confusion to her face. A small plush toy, a comical caricature of a medieval knight, floated in mid-air, making exaggerated gestures as if it were one of the warriors in her tale.
Scáthach's eyebrows shot up. She had never seen anything like it before in her long career as an educator. Her mind raced, trying to deduce the source of this unexpected distraction. The plushie's pink hair and golden eyes bore an eerie resemblance to someone she knew quite well—Medb, her mischievous wife, who had a penchant for the extraordinary. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she realized that the interruption was likely a playful prank from her partner, using her ancient magical talents to add a modern twist to her otherwise solemn lecture.
The plushie's antics grew more elaborate as it reenacted the battles she described. The students couldn't help but laugh out loud, some even covering their mouths in an attempt to stifle the sound. Scáthach felt a warmth spread through her chest, a blend of amusement and affection for the chaos Medb had conjured. She knew her wife's magic was powerful, but she had never seen it used in such a whimsical and lighthearted way before.
"Class," she began, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of humor, "I believe we have an unexpected guest who wishes to contribute to our lesson." The floating toy paused, looking at her with a pair of unblinking, button eyes. "It seems we have a modern-day bard with a flair for the dramatic." The students' laughter grew louder, and Scáthach couldn't help but chuckle.
The plushie, as if in response to her words, launched into a series of more dramatic gestures. It swung an invisible sword, punched the air, and even mimed a battle cry that was surprisingly in sync with Scáthach's narrative. The professor watched, bemused, as the room transformed from a solemn bastion of knowledge to a theater of absurdity. The students leaned forward in their seats, eager for the next move from their silent, furry classmate.
"Ah, I see," Scáthach said, her smile widening, "this little one knows the story well." She turned to the plushie, her tone playful, "Perhaps you can tell us, why was Medb so envious of another queen's possession?" The plushie paused, then pointed at the board where she had listed the causes of the Táin Bó Cúailnge. The room erupted into laughter once more.
The tension in the room dissipated like mist in the morning sun, replaced by a camaraderie that only laughter could bring. Scáthach allowed the plushie's performance to continue for a few more minutes, using it to her advantage to keep the students engaged. The lecture on Irish history had taken an unexpected turn, but it was one she wouldn't soon forget—and neither would her students.
As the plushie's show concluded with a dramatic bow, Scáthach cleared her throat. "Alright, class," she said with a smirk, "I think we've all had a good laugh. Let's return our focus to our studies, shall we?" The students, still smiling, obeyed, their eyes flicking back to their notebooks as they scribbled down the last few details of the story.
The plushie hovered over to Scáthach, its pink hair fluttering slightly as if caught in an invisible breeze. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed it, and it vanished into a sparkle of glitter. She couldn't help but wonder what other tricks Medb had in store for her. Little did the students know, their history lesson had just been given a personal touch by a queen of old, living her best life in modern-day Dublin.
The rest of the class went on without any more interruptions, though the atmosphere remained light, charged by the plushie's impromptu performance. Scáthach found herself enjoying the new dynamic, her lecture feeling less like a one-sided recounting of facts and more like a shared experience with her students. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, the students gathered their belongings, their faces alight with smiles and whispered conversations about the floating plushie.
As the last student left the room, Scáthach packed her things and headed home, her curiosity piqued. Medb, she knew, had a penchant for mischief, but this was a level of playfulness she hadn't seen in centuries. As she approached their house, a townhouse that had seen better days but was filled with love and warmth, she saw her wife standing in the window, her long pink hair cascading down her back, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
When Scáthach walked in, Medb greeted her with a dramatic flourish, dropping the spell that had kept her youthful and revealing her true form—the powerful queen she had once been. "How did you enjoy my assist on your little history lesson?" she asked, her golden eyes twinkling with mischief. Scáthach couldn't help but chuckle. "It was... certainly memorable," she said, setting down her bag.
Medb floated over, wrapping her arms around Scáthach's waist. "I thought it was time to spice things up a bit," she said, her voice a musical purr. "History shouldn't be so serious all the time, especially not ours." Scáthach kissed her forehead, her heart swelling with love. It was moments like these that made the centuries seem like mere moments.
They sat down in the cozy living room, a stark contrast to the grandeur of their past lives. Medb conjured a cup of tea for Scáthach, and she took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her. "Thank you," she said, "it's been a long day." Medb nodded, understanding the weight of her words. They had both left so much behind to live in this new era, but it was moments like these that made it all feel worthwhile.
The plushie reappeared, landing in Medb's lap. She picked it up, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I thought you'd be upset," she said, "but I see you enjoyed the surprise." Scáthach took the plushie, examining it. It was surprisingly well-made, the stitching intricate. "You put a lot of work into this," she said, her voice filled with wonder.
Medb shrugged, her cheeks coloring slightly. "It was just a small enchantment," she said, her voice nonchalant, but the love in her eyes was unmistakable. "I wanted to make you laugh." And indeed, she had. The plushie had not only lightened the mood in the classroom but also in their home, bridging the gap between their past and present lives in a way nothing else could.
They sat in companionable silence, the plushie between them, a symbol of the joy they found in the little things. It was in these moments that Scáthach knew that their love, forged in battles long ago, was as strong as ever. The plushie looked up at her, its button eyes seemingly filled with the wisdom of the ages, and she couldn't help but think that perhaps the real lesson of the day was that history could indeed be told with a touch of whimsy.