At risk of telling this story backwards: the original plan was that, after Nestrune fleered at the senior students and refused to walk naked through the buttery, the senior students were to play a serious sort of prank on him. Real-Eel was to seduce him off to a presumably private room, but insist that she was distressingly dry about the privates, and that the best sort of wetness that could be achieved -- which is to say, one that would not push her to taking water-form -- was a raw egg cracked over the male's protuberence, and well rubbed in. As the egg was being cracked (Real-Eel fully dressed, Nestrune bare from belly to tailtip), the illusory wall of the presumably private room was dropped, revealing a half-dozen students disguised as faculty, and much amusement was to be had.
It didn't quite work out that way. By the time the illusion was dropped, both of them were thoroughly undressed, and, as far as the story goes, not a bit unhappy about it. The egg was not applied to Nestrune's intimate extension; instead, it was tossed at the gentleman who was imitating Professor Achitka. There was much laughter, but not all directed at Nestrune, as would have been proper. He brought out several bottles of port and brandy, and appeased the others that way. After which, he and Real-Eel disappeared together, and reappeared the next morning rather holding hands a lot.
Five weeks later, they broke up over a political argument. Real-Eel is quite the firefish! She takes the political position of ditlocracy: that rulership should be redistributed every twenty-seven years. So, each month of years, all nobles lose their titles; all legeriats and judges and such are replaced. And, in Real-Eel's more radical thoughts, even the very forms of government are replaced. One cycle it might be the natural kind of government; in the next, there might be three levels of greater nobility, or only one; in the one after that, perhaps only scholars are qualified to rule.
There's a great deal more to say about that. Nestrune and Real-Eel said it at length, in public, and, by the fifth week, as much with flung beverages as with words.
I'm not sure what I think of this. Nestrune's bootprints are not the ones my feet fit best. And I am, if anything, less suited for ditlocracy than any mortal would be.
OOC: Extra Credit Question:
Where on Earth, or off of it, did the word "ditlocracy" come from?
DEMOGRAPHICS: What is ...
Your real physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your real social gender, based on how people treat you:
Female/both-female. Non-Herethroy sometimes treat me as a co-lover.
Your real marital/relationship status:
Single and likely to stay that way forever.
Your real standard form of transportation:
My own two legs, or, if I am in a hurry, my own four legs.
Your real physical appearance:
Herethroy, with a rather ragged and blotchy dull-green carapace with asymmetric dots, which appeals to just exactly no-one.
Your real usual clothing:
Student's gown. Co-lover styling.
Your real job:
OPTIMAL DEMOGRAPHICS: If the world had been really good to you, but still stayed within the constraints of its physical and social reality (as you interpret it), what would be ...
Your optimal physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your optimal social gender, based on how people treat you:
Your optimal marital/relationship status:
Married (one triad only)
Your optimal standard form of transportation:
Feet, or Charger
Your optimal physical appearance:
Herethroy; bright shiny gleaming green carapace with symmetric blue-white dots.
Your optimal usual clothing:
Your optimal job:
PESSIMAL DEMOGRAPHICS: If the world had been really bad to you, but still stayed within the constraints of its physical and social reality (as you interpret it), what would be ...
Your pessimal physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your pessimal social gender, based on how people treat you:
Female/both-female, as they do not.
Your pessimal marital/relationship status:
Single and likely to stay that way forever.
Your pessimal standard form of transportation:
My own two or three legs.
Your pessimal physical appearance:
As I am now, but missing a foot-hand.
Your pessimal usual clothing:
The cheapest farmers' clothes.
Your pessimal job:
Day-laborer on a farm, and getting the jobs that both-females usually get.
DOOMFUL DEMOGRAPHICS: What's the absolute worst that you can imagine, in any world that you could consider even a little bit possible, for ...
Your doomful physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your doomful social gender, based on how people treat you:
Both-female, but change society just a bit so that everyone cares about it, not just Herethroy.
Your doomful marital/relationship status:
Single and guaranteed to stay that way forever.
Your doomful standard form of transportation:
Your doomful physical appearance:
Just like now, really.
Your doomful usual clothing:
None, in general.
Your doomful job:
In the doomful world I am hexaplegic, paralyzed from the neck down after one of those beatings by the village girls. I get tending from the people who care about me, which is to say, a few relatives who feel grudgingly responsible for tending a family member of no actual value or importance. The injury happened early enough so that I have no useful magic, and not much that I can do without moving.
WONDERFUL DEMOGRAPHICS: What's the absolute best that you can imagine, in any world that you could consider even a little bit possible, for ...
Your wonderful physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your wonderful social gender, based on how people treat you:
Co-lover or female, depending on how I'm dressed or what I'm doing.
Your wonderful marital/relationship status:
Married in one triad as co-lover and another as female.
Your wonderful standard form of transportation:
Feet, charger, teleportation device, or coach.
Your wonderful physical appearance:
Herethroy; bright shiny gleaming green carapace with symmetric blue-white dots and lots and lots of silver and hezarion inlay.
Your wonderful usual clothing:
Student's robes with a baron's insignia.
Your wonderful job:
Student, in preparation for taking a baron's place.
DREAM DEMOGRAPHICS: When you dream about yourself (and we're talking real dreams here, like when you sleep -- we covered your 'dream job' earlier), what is:
Your dreamed physical gender, based on what's between your legs:
Your dreamed social gender, based on how people treat you:
It varies a lot, but often enough I dream that I am physically a co-lover but people treat me as female.
Your dreamed marital/relationship status:
Once in a while I have a dream of being in someone's arms: a Herethroy someone usually. I can't remember ever dreaming of being in sometwo's arms, but never mind that. From these dreams I sometimes wake up crying.
Your dreamed standard form of transportation:
A flying seashell chariot drawn by seven flying mince pies. (OK, it's not my standard form, but I did dream it once, and so far all my answers have been deadly dull.)
Your dreamed physical appearance:
After Sythyry moved in, I dreamed that I was a big feathered lizardsome Herethroy. Still both-female, but somehow in that dream Herethroy both-female and Zi Ri hermaphrodite were conflated and it was all right.
Your dreamed usual clothing:
Too often: I have forgotten pants or kilt, and am somewhat excited, and everyone can see where I am built wrong.
Your dreamed job:
Last night, I seemed to be employed tying rats to bamboo poles under the guidance of Professor Koimarth.