"Mister Cormac?" Aoife greeted, her tone questioning so to urge the instructor to get right down to business.
Desmond frowned, once more patting away his ever-present sweat from his brow. "Please, Aoife. You know I prefer 'Desmond' among students that have already graduated from my class," he said before taking a small wheeze, as if he had spoken at some length without taking a breath. On the surface, Aoife's former instructor sounded as if he were just making casual conversation, something at the back spoke of another, deeper underlying problem.
There was a momentary lull as the Reinforcement Spellcraft instructor paused. He looked lost, physically and mentally. For a time, the Hall of Healers knew only the sound of Adam and Miataea speaking, and the constant current of air puffing in and out of Desmond's mouth and nose. Aoife couldn't help but tap a foot on the ground in impatience, placing one of her hands at her hip and casting a definitive look that said, 'Well?'
That was enough, the nervous instructor seemed to remember the purpose of it all, and again he jumped while seated, even letting out a small 'ack!' in apprehension. Rather than begin speaking, he cast a furtive glance in a seemingly random direction; downturned eyes occasionally flicked upwards, then at times to the sides.
Aoife blinked, what had Desmond Cormac gripped by such nervous tension? He was always a bit mousy, but not to this extent.
The direction he had been looking in would appear random to those out of the know, but Aoife was aware that there was a teacher's ward placed to observe the Hall of Healers. But then, Desmond was a teacher, so what had he to fear from his fellow staffs' peering eyes and ears?
An answer would soon come, she supposed.
"Uhm——" Desmond's head turned to look at Aoife, then back in the general direction of the ward. He muttered under his breath, a poetic verse that could only be a short incantation, "May the wolves be blinded,/so that the sheep may play in peace..."
The red-headed investigator felt a tingle, not only from the faint nuance of magic being used, but from the sensation of being watched fading to some extent. The ward had been deactivated, and using the 'proper' method, too. The only reason Aoife was aware of it was due to her ridiculously acute senses for the matter. Desmond turned back to his former student, a renewed sense of purpose apparent on his face. She could only smile, and tugged at one of the Hall's curtains to obscure the two of them from sight.
Aoife, too, cast a small spell. Though hers was without incantation, but with motion. Surreptitiously, the investigator twirled a finger, and the pair felt a gentle wind about them. "We can talk without the others behind us being privy to the conversation now, Mister Cormac," she began, "It's, of course, nothing suspicious. Everyone is entitled to some privacy when it comes to their problems."
Since entering Aledine Academy, even going so far as upon entering the general territories surrounding the place of education, there was a feeling—a sense that something was watching. Not the spirits that looked through the flesh, but something more corporeal, more tangible; mortal eyes were peering from afar. As Aoife's abilities developed, so too did her perception of magic around her; information from more senior students and the staff also provided insight: the students were under watch by magical wards placed by the teachers.
Of course, security was a necessity in an environment that taught and raised kids with the ability to flay the flesh off another person's bones with their mind or throw fireballs like some sports player. The wards were obvious precautions in the light of security. They, of course, could always be intercepted and deactivated.
Even then, out of sight of the wards and the prying eyes of observers, Aoife always felt something icy cold run up the back of her neck as long as she stayed in the academy and within areas that weren't too private. Even with the known wards disabled, the unmistakable chill of being observed remained. Intuition and experience told her it wasn't the work of spirits.
It was eerie for a time, that there were next to zero resting moments where she didn't feel peering eyes upon her. But, time went on, as she was never aware of its source, there was no sense in worrying about it actively. Not even in this situation, where there was really no place to go with Desmond that wouldn't raise suspicion or break a code of ethics—like going into one of the restrooms with him.
Besides, she was after all on the side of the rules, right? Aledine Academy wouldn’t have given Aoife the privileges and awarded the freedoms she had if she was going to be a liability that abused her power. In the end, the instructor was no criminal, so this just had to be a situation of some sensitivity.
"Right... Well..." Desmond began to supply at last, "Some students of mine have gotten into some trouble..."
The case was as such:
It appeared that as of late, fledgeling Magestravi have been holding much more magical energy locked up in them than ever before. A few foolish students had the misguided idea that raw power equaled prodigal talent and attempted a necromancy ritual on a recently departed accidental student casualty. Apparently, the original intent was to raise the student as a mere corpse puppet, as the child had somehow managed the complicated ritual with his pet cat at one point.
The ritual was an overwhelming success—with emphasis on overwhelming—and, for reasons unknown, the student came back as a lich of some power.
And quite a deal of rage.
It appears that the recently reanimated ran to the Rainbow Lake, where it's currently gathering flesh for flesh golems, and reanimating once dead mystical beasts. A problem, to say the least.
Normally, guards and trained necromancers would have been sent, and the students would have been expelled. Desmond, their primary teacher, didn't wish for them to be put into the detainment center or expelled yet; after all, no one had been harmed, and—at least according to him—it was a child's job to be curiously stupid.
Aoife could see one of two ways to solve this case: simply obliterate the lich for the safety of the school; or get into contact with it to ascertain why it is so angry, then neutralize it however possible. The latter was significantly more risky, as this could somehow be tied into demonic possession, and her better judgement told her to refuse the job.
The near morbid investigator in her, however, goaded the redhead to follow the case. It was interesting, it had zombies, it even might deal with spirits... Perhaps she should get Ren in on this job for that contingency? Aoife let out a laugh, equal parts to ease her discomfort and because this actually was entertaining. Better judgement be damned, she never wished harm or that magic would be abused, but it did give her things to do and things to learn.
"Sure. I'll do what I can, Mister Cormac," Aoife said. Desmond frowned again, still displeased with being called by his last name. "Besides, I like hunting zombies. There's a detached, highly distilled sense of guilt-free violence associated with their extermination, something that could never be attributed to the murder of humans."
She chuckled. In a way, the investigator was joking; she wasn't some hotblooded action junkie. Never-the-less... "Aoife, I'd be careful with that kind of notion," the instructor wiped some more sweat from his brow, "Aren't you supposed to be more subtle than that?"
Apparently he missed the joke, Aoife sighed, "Were you expecting more profound and wise words? Fates, I'm trying to be an investigator, not a philosopher. They're zombies and their lich controller."
That had been enough, Desmond resigned with a shrug of both of his shoulders. He adjusted his slung arm and dismissed the investigator, "Alright, then. Thank you for taking this case, Aoife." The privacy barrier of wind lowered, and Desmond accordingly resumed the functioning of the ward he deactivated.
With a nod, Aoife turned away and cast a longing look at the door. She wanted to get to the exit, over to the opening ceremony, then right onto the case. Just inside her field of view, the healer with a cup of tea from earlier gave the investigator a glare that seemed to say, 'Oh no you aren't. You're taking Adam with you, out of this Hall. For that, you're staying right here.'
She sighed and resigned to that fate, taking a seat near Miss Mana Poisoning and Mister Spell Backlash.
