[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/qSXKgkY.png[/img]
[sub][@Nanaya][@Estylwen][@Psyker Landshark][/sub][/center]
Otis stared at Davil as the blushing boy tried to deflect, to obscure, the obvious. Did the Wund scion believe himself to be unreadable? Did he believe in the brilliance of a perfect scenario, blind to the value of imperfect scenarios? No, that couldn’t be it.

He was just shy.

The Strigidae let out a sigh. [b]“Opportunities that are not grasped become regrets,”[/b] were his last words, before Ciara pulled him away, pointedly ignoring Davil in the process. Was she wholly disinterested in him then? Or was she simply just as incredibly dense? Or was she actually fairly interested, but possessed enough of a poker face that she wasn’t reduced to a blushing mess at the prospect of a surprise morning encounter? He made a mental note to interrogate Davil after, to ascertain the depths of his affections for Ciara. He’d do the same for Ciara too, at a more appropriate time.

Of course, during all this thinking, Otis didn’t even consider how it must look for Davil, to see his roommate be immediately pulled away by the girl he was interested in, as she (didn’t actually) stood on the tips of her toes to whisper a secret into his ear.

[b]“I can only open a Door where I have been before,”[/b] he replied in an even tone. Iraleth was coming over. [b]“We can discuss this transaction at a latter time.”[/b]

And like that, the paladin was upon them, practically towering over the two students. Must be the elf blood, coupled with plenty of nutrition. [b]“I know little about the church,”[/b] Otis said. [b]“And while it’d be lovely to have a conversation with you in regards to the practices, beliefs, and hierarchy of such an influential organization, I recognize that your time is running out, so I will present you with this instead.”[/b]

There were things that his Adapa knew and things that [i]he[/i] knew. Though the spiritual-grimoire had been bound to his essence, there was no guarantee that its creator could not have placed something inside it to allow for clandestine access of its contents.

[b]“Swear that what you see shall not be shared with any other, except with my approval. In return, I ask only that you act upon this knowledge as you wish.”[/b]

Iraleth squinted in suspicion at Otis, but eventually gave a solemn nod.

[i]"I swear it, upon my sword."[/i]

Arcane murmurings and gesticulations upon his brow, drawing out the essence of memory and experience that he had plucked second-hand from the delusions of an unbroken Adapa. Faint light collected in the palm of his hand, before compressing into a needle of prismatic brilliance that shot into Iraleth’s left eye.

…

Dark cellar. Small form. Encaged. Two forms.

One. North Rekordian accent. Tall. Masculine. Settling a debt. [i]She[/i] was that debt.

Two. Small. A beautiful, but unaccented, voice. Slight as shadow. Eyes like emeralds, and, from behind, a [i]giant[/i] eye, splitting that murky void. She succeeded in something. She was working for someone. She needed [i]her[/i] for something.

[b]Goetia will fall.[/b]

…

While Iraleth enjoyed that experience, Otis got his own food...from his pocket pouch, after seeing that it wasn’t free. Stepping out of the line without even having picked up the coffee that he said he would have, the Strigidae sipped on a canteen of tea in-between bites of pemmican while motioning the others to come sit with him.

[b]“Setting aside personal business, how was the remains of yesterday? Let’s swap information regarding this academy.” [/b]