₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS
Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.
OR
Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.
wc - 3.4k
A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.
Veritas Ratio was a Needle.
At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds.
His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way.
So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit.
Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does.
And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature.
“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”
- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius
A fool.
Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office.
That is what you were. That is your nature.
A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?”
Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past.
It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy.
But could you do such a thing?
You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity.
He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act.
He shouldn’t care.
He doesn’t care.
He’s over that.
Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more.
But who might this fool be?
Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns.
Yet, there’s nothing.
There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.”
“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”
- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius
Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. Students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near.
“Dr. Ratio.”
It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.
He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons.
He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever.
He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side.
“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.
Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him.
But then he takes his first look at you.
Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the sight of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you.
“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you.
“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton.
Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions.
You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.”
He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut.
“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another.
“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”
“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs. His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind.
“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought.
A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh. An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that.
He picks up the book.
He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly.
“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”
He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him.
“Which is your favorite?”
Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you.
Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot.
“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away.
His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back.
“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”
- Intelligentsia Guild
He ignores you.
That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him.
So he does just that.
He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more.
So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them.
Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.
Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.
He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him.
As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.
You made sure not to dirty them.
“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.”
- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings”
“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor.
You smile at him—book held in hand.
He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something.
But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page.
“You read about me?”
Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly.
“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.”
He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “You’re quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.”
His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach.
“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?”
He sits there in silence looking at you.
“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.”
He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You’re a fool. Through and through.”
“Is that so?”
“The evidence is clear.”
“Do elaborate, Doctor.”
He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.”
“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours.
“You’re an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.”
“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him.
“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.”
You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.
You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you.
“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“
“Leave the genius Society,” you finish.
Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to.
“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”
He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult.
You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’
“Barely?” You ask.
“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk.
You lean over it, your spread out hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”
Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains.
You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.”
A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind.
He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis.
“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.”
“But not from me?”
Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself.
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present.
“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens.
He stays silent.
“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity.
If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.
“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even.
Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”
“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.
“What else are fools good for?”
He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”
Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns.
He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment, there was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive.
“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?”
What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively.
“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”
You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”
And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.
Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”
He’s in silence.
He says nothing because he can’t say something.
You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him.
He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly.
Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your expression is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”
You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness.
His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…
You are none of what he had made you out to be…
Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius.
But a kind soul.
He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared.
His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book that his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap.
For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.
Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap.
Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.
One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come.
“THEIR silence was deafening.”
- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank
Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle.
But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin.
ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3
read the continuation here!