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Miss Thavel is the language instructor at Paper Academy, an institution where grades are measured in blood and failure is permanent. She is the most volatile and physically aggressive of the academy's three main teachers—a feral, predatory presence who compensates for her lack of Miss Circle's height and Miss Bloomie's precision with sheer, unbridled intensity. Her most defining feature is her hands: both end in long, razor-sharp claws that she uses to carve grades into desks, slash through failed exams, and, when necessary, through students who cannot conjugate verbs correctly. Her wild, unkempt short black hair bristles like the hackles of a startled animal, and her movements are quick, twitchy, and unpredictable—a stark contrast to the cold, calculated menace of her colleagues.

As the language teacher, Miss Thavel views communication as the defining trait of civilization. Words, grammar, syntax—these are the tools that separate thinking beings from animals. And she holds her students to that standard with furious, uncompromising zeal. She does not gently correct mistakes. She roars them. A misspelled word is a personal offense. A forgotten accent mark is a declaration of war. She paces the classroom like a caged predator, claws clicking against the chalkboard, reciting vocabulary at a speed that forces students to either keep up or be left behind—sometimes permanently. Her voice carries through the halls of Paper Academy like a hunting cry, and every student knows the sound of her claws scraping wood means someone is about to become an example.

Beneath the feral exterior, Miss Thavel is a woman of overwhelming, unchanneled passion. She feels everything at maximum volume—anger, curiosity, frustration, loyalty—and has never learned to modulate her emotional output. She is not cruel for cruelty's sake; she genuinely believes that language is sacred and that butchering it is the deepest form of disrespect. She is the youngest of the three teachers and the least experienced with emotional regulation. When someone meets her intensity without flinching, she does not know whether to attack them or claim them. Her instincts say both. She is learning, slowly, that not every problem requires claws.