Obscene Symphony

Obscene's Scratchpad

Obscene's Scratchpad

Hider

Aaron was no stranger to stress. Not by a long shot. His mother told him he’d always been wound a little tight, and his life had been peppered with periods of nigh-inconsolable anxiety: His mother’s illness had his normally docile teenage self getting into fist fights with castle guards and defying Lucan, and in the week leading up to his Awakening, he only ate about a few days’ worth of food, struggling to keep anything down as the prospect of being mundane loomed over him like a death sentence. And, of course, he'd been walking on glass since his first night at the Academy.

But this was different. He thought he knew stress. He was a fool; he truly had no idea. Every waking moment since that broadcast was a storm of worry the likes of which he’d never known; to say it drove him crazy was to neglect the miles past crazy he’d traveled. His only thoughts were of what might have become of Varis, what might become of him if his master really was dead. His nightmares continued throughout the break, but he didn’t care; they paled in comparison to the terrors that plagued him about what might happen if Varis really was dead. Besides, it wasn’t like he was sleeping much anyway, with the swirling pit in his stomach jarring him awake every other moment.

On top of the uncertainty—Malek’s cryptic assurance was no help—he was trapped, Ryner having locked down the castle like a fortress to keep investigators out and a certain manic light mage in. It was the first time Aaron ever felt the walls of Noila Castle close in around him; for a week—a week!—he was forced to stay put, consoling himself by scouring anything and everything that might be even tangentially related to Varis, his companies, the Red Hand, or any other Sinnenodel who might want to target him. But the castle, for all its resources, held next to nothing; he’d never noticed before how much of its records pertained only to the royal family, or how deftly the censors of the realm kept the internet clean of anything too interesting. Yet another instance of having drifted through life blind until now.

That week was one of the longest of his life, along with a few other milestones: It was the first time he’d ever flagrantly tried to disobey an order from the Princess, the first time he’d ever tried to escape castle grounds without permission. To his chagrin, the guards had prepared; Ryner must have had them scramble their usual shift schedules so Aaron couldn’t exploit his knowledge of their routine. Of course, if he hadn’t been tackled by guards those few times, he couldn’t claim to know where he’d go next, or what he’d do. He had no knowledge of investigation, no idea who to contact with Malek and Eris dismissing him, no idea who could help, but it didn’t matter. Even wandering aimlessly in search of a solution would be better than being forced to sit still and do nothing.

By the time he was finally, finally allowed to leave—albeit transported by an armed retinue back to the Academy—Aaron was a stranger to himself. His very skin felt like a prison, tight and squirming, and it was as if he watched his life from some faraway vantage point, difficult to comprehend that anything happening was real. He was exhausted—no, far beyond exhausted, he looked like a man on the brink of death—but he couldn’t rest. How could he when his master might be dead, captured, tortured, or worse? He’d gone through every possible scenario so many times they’d all started to bleed together, his brain running on fumes in a haze somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, but he couldn’t stop. Not until he knew for sure.

On arrival at the Academy, Aaron bypassed his dorm entirely, taking off to every administrative building he could think of in a search for ever more information. Repeatedly, he was told the same thing: There was a standing order that none of Varis’ belongings were to be moved unless he failed to show up for his first class. That was more than he’d been able to learn at home, thank fate, but still infuriating, and no matter how hard he tried, no one he spoke to could—or would—elaborate. So what, were they just as uncertain as him? He was sure Ryner knew something, but his pleading had fallen on deaf ears back at the castle, and he was too disgusted with her cruelty to face her any longer. He ran around campus for a solid night to no avail, until he was forcibly brought back to his dorm and told not to resurface until class the next night.

And so he was trapped again.

As much as he wanted to smash every window in the place just for something to do, he controlled himself; instead, he kept himself occupied by deep cleaning the dorm more times than he could really remember, Dawn hanging from his hip all the while. He washed and disinfected and polished until his hands were red and raw, straightened everything to geometrical perfection, chased every last speck of dust from the house. More than once he stared calculatively at the closed door to Varis’ room or the locked drawers in his desk. There could very well be something among Varis’ belongings that might shed light on his whereabouts, but Aaron refrained. No matter how out of his mind he was, he wouldn’t cross that boundary while there was still any possibility Varis would return. But if he didn’t, Aaron would tear that room and desk to shreds if he had to.

If he slept at all, it would have been with his head on his arm, slumped over the kitchen island between trawling news articles on his phone. But aside from occasional bursts of fruitless research, his phone was largely forgotten; Eris didn't have anything to offer him—or even the decency to answer his phone himself—and no one else could help him, so the multitude of notifications from Lilie and everyone else the past few nights went largely unanswered. He’d long since put it on silent; in his state, he was pulling his sword at every little noise out of place, paranoid it was the Red Hand or some wannabe Sinnenodel heir coming to finish what they started.

When 8:15pm finally rolled around, finding Aaron pacing a rut in the living room floor, things were no different. Between heartbeats swooshing in his ear, the jostling of the front door lock was deafening; Dawn was out and ready before he even registered moving, but then he went stone-still, glaring absolute murder at the door from the end of the hall.

You had better try to kill me after all this fucking grief.

Aaron watched with burning eyes as the door swung inward, heart thundering his ears as someone stepped in. Time crawled as the intruder slipped inside; first a foot, then another, a coat, a glove. Aaron held his last breath, muscles tensed and ready to strike, mind blank and focused until the colour returned to his vision and a red head of hair came into view.

His heart halted in his chest as the realization struck him. It wasn't a stranger, it wasn't an illusion; it was Varis.

“Master?!”

Aaron straightened so fast he almost lost his balance, fumbling to sheathe his sword with unsteady fingers before rushing down the hall to meet him. Honestly, it was a miracle he found his scabbard at all; he was so shocked he nearly dropped the blade on the floor.

“Master, you're alright!” He exclaimed hoarsely, too overwhelmed to temper his voice. It took all he had to keep himself from reaching out to confirm that Varis was real; relief hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. His vision swam, mind abuzz and blank at the same time. He wanted to jump for joy and fall to his knees to thank whatever powers that brought his master back safely.

He did neither, opting instead to catch his balance with a hand on the wall, looking like a man who’d just skirted death. “Master, I'm so glad to see you safe,” he breathed, hardly able to muster a proper speaking voice. “I was so worried, Master, I did everything I could but Ryner wouldn't let me leave, I was out of my mind— of course, you don't care. It’s not important.” He cut himself off from his rambling, raising a hand. He was a total wreck, running his mouth like a fool, but he didn't care. Varis could yell at him all he wanted so long as he was alive and present to do it.

Even with that in mind, Aaron could scarcely contain himself. For the first time in a week, he could breathe, though he struggled to gulp the air down around the growing lump in his throat. Relief didn't even come close to describing it; he didn't spare a single thought to how Varis had treated him the past few months, genuinely overjoyed that he was back, hale and whole.

Suddenly, Aaron gasped; he hadn't made sure of that yet! “But you, Master; are you alright? What happened? They didn't tell me anything—Is there anything I can do?” He spoke earnestly, his questions firing one after the other.

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

_{Dates: December 7th - December 21st}

Dec. 7th: Aaron & Varis

Aaron’s painted-on smile threatened to chip as he saw his fellow mages off, but he managed to maintain it until the door was closed, only to mirror his master and drop it completely when Varis addressed him. Flexing his fingers to dispel the last of the shakiness, he clicked the timer button on his watch—five minutes was one of Varis’ favourites—and set to work immediately; first the parlour, then the sitting room, sweeping through to collect empty glasses and anything else left behind before depositing it all in the kitchen.

The kitchen was a funny thing. Varis never went into the kitchen, and so it was the only part of the dorm that Aaron himself had near-complete control over. He couldn’t exactly do whatever he wanted with it—if he left it a mess, for example, one glance walking by would be all it would take for Varis to notice—but if he were to, say, hide some dirty glasses in the fridge until he got the chance to wash them properly... Well, Aaron could meet his five-minute time limit, and Varis would never be the wiser. Everybody wins.

That said, Aaron wasn’t feeling quite so sly as he went about his task. Instead, that all-too-familiar dread made its menacing return as he buzzed around the dorm, eyes unfocused and hands unsteady as he tried to get through his cleaning without his knees buckling under him. It had been some time since a lecture from Varis elicited such a response; their little bashing sessions had long since lost their punch. It was an old routine: he would grovel, Varis would berate, and no matter how much better he’d gotten since the last one, Aaron would walk away feeling like he’d taken two steps backwards. Disheartening, sure, but no longer scary.

But now, all that was out the window. It felt like his first night with Varis all over again: he was nervous, unsure, scrambling to figure out what under the sun he could possibly have done wrong to draw such vitriol. He racked his brain as he tidied, going over Varis’ instructions for the fiftieth time that evening: answer the door, separate the guests, organize the blood properly, be charming, genuine—by all accounts he thought he’d been hitting each nail on the head. Things had been going so well! The only thing he did differently was the order of the bottles, and while he could cope with having made a bad call, that couldn’t be it: Varis was already on his tirade before he could possibly have known the bottles were switched. Was it how he handled Eris, then? Varis didn’t seem displeased at the time, and it was usually pretty easy to tell when something rubbed the Count the wrong way. Did he not put up a good enough act? What could possibly have prompted Varis to humiliate him so arbitrarily?

No matter how he turned it in his head, Aaron couldn’t figure it out—probably more a testament to his own cognitive ability than Varis’ reasoning, but still. And above all, what tormented him more than the uncertainty and dread was the shame. This was supposed to be his chance to show Varis he could handle being a show mage—a show mage! The entire career set before him was to act well and look pretty and he couldn’t even do that!—and in his weird, twisted way, Varis had sounded like he had some tiny glimmer of faith in him before the party. But of course, somehow, some way, Aaron let him down. Just like he always had, just like he always would. Sun and stars, why couldn’t he get with the program already?!

The thrum of his watch’s one-minute warning woke him from his pity party, but Aaron was sure it would be only a temporary relief. Still, he took a deep breath and forced himself to finish his task, loading trays of dirty glasses and leftover hors d'oeuvres into the fridge to be hidden and dealt with later. As he did so, though, something unusual caught his eye: a glittering diamond tennis bracelet looped around the stem of one of the glasses. Man, he must have been in a daze when he collected everything, he hadn’t even noticed that when he picked it up. Good thing it hadn’t fallen. He wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but he recalled Maddie had kept her jewelry quite understated, so it was probably a safe bet to assume it was Lilie’s. He slipped it into his pocket, making a mental note to return it later.

Another thrum on his wrist alerted him to thirty seconds remaining, and he stood, straightening his clothes and hair to the best of his ability before leaving the deceptively spotless kitchen behind and finding his place in the sitting room, sinking silently to his knees at Varis’ feet.

Varis let his conversation with Eris dwindle away into silence when the boy returned. It wasn’t anything important anyway; only that Eris apparently had a royal’s palate. No wonder Varis couldn’t find anything suitable for him. Varis was starting to consider that the issue lay with him but this confirmed he wasn’t losing his touch. Now he just needed to get Eris more invested and he’d have a firmer hand on the wily vampire.

Varis left the boy to sit in the silence for a while longer while Varis turned over this opportunity in his head. The fact of the matter was the boy performed as expected tonight. His performance was off but his serving was acceptable and the blood situation well handled. Having anyone leave this evening without tasting the boy’s blood would have been a far greater travesty than skipping the Astorio’s bottle turned into. And while usually tearing apart the boy at the end was something to look forward to, more pressing matters demanded his attention at the moment but he had a job to do and no one would claim he hadn’t taken his role in the Princess’ little production seriously enough. He sighed loudly.

“I intended this night to earn you a reward. A few nights off or a picture over one of those ghastly letters hanging on your wall. I believed you finally got it through your thick skull that you were no longer a Noila mage but a Sinnenodel one. Tonight was a glaring reminder.” Varis clicked his tongue irritably, every word dripping with frustration and disappointment. “I can’t even claim that I am angry. I had high hopes for you tonight and so I only find myself terribly disappointed. Three mistakes in a single evening. One is too many, boy. You have this one opportunity to explain yourself. Use it well.”

Stars above, it really was his first night all over again. Oh, how he hated when Varis made him guess! And of course he wasn’t supposed to guess, but after all that agonizing Aaron could still only think of two mistakes he’d made—switching the bottles and his handling of Eris—not three. Was he referring to the debacle with the clock? He thought he’d handled that about as well as could be expected, and besides, he was pretty sure Varis didn’t know about any of that.

But the shame of Varis voicing his disappointment distracted him, and he couldn’t waste time trying to come up with a third answer; he’d have to put all his eggs in the first two baskets and beg for forgiveness on the third—he certainly wasn’t about to make the same mistake he’d made that first night a second time.

“Firstly, Master, I assure you it was my very last intention to insult Count Astorio by omitting his mage’s bottle,” he began first and foremost, speaking more to the floor than to Varis. “I knew time was running short and decided it would be better to embarrass myself by adjusting the bottle order than to embarrass you as a host by failing to serve your own offering. I stand by my decision, but I realize I wouldn’t have had to make it if my timing hadn’t been off. It won’t happen again.”

He tried to swallow the sand in his mouth, but it didn’t do much good. “As for my handling of Mr. Samael, I’ll be the first to admit that I… don’t know how to handle a situation like that. The royal family doesn’t allow such behaviour with their mages, and while I have taken steps to rid myself of their mindset, I’ve never known any different. I was taken by surprise and I knew it would be uncouth to frebuff him completely so I made the first excuse that came to mind; something I’d heard from another mage at a function once. I wouldn’t be surprised if I handled it poorly. I was grossly unprepared.”

And now came the worst part. “As for my third mistake…” Aaron drew a long, shaky breath, using that short moment to work up the courage to slam the guillotine on his own head. “...I don’t know what else I did wrong, Master. I thought I did well, and I realize that was foolish of me. I’m sorry.” Shame dripped from his voice, and he punctuated his apology with a low bow, preparing himself for whatever punishment Varis decided to dole out.

"It’s always the same with you. Still hiding behind the Princess’ skirt.” Varis spat. “Noila’s this, Noila’s that. Stop using them as an excuse. You’ve been away from your sheltered upbringing for months now. You could have taken that opportunity to brush up on your etiquette. You have a wonderful library, your peers, and your instructors as available resources. I have plenty of mages you could have reached out to and yet you’ve done none of this. A Sinnenodel mage needs to show initiative and here you are, waiting for orders.” Varis frowned at the boy in front of him, the irritation far more genuine now. He was sick of the whole Noila angle. It’s always Noila's fault, never his own. Add a failure to accept responsibility to the lengthy list of flaws.

“Your third mistake was altering the musical piece I provided for you. Imagine if that’d been a request by one of my guests and you changed it. Vampires, especially older ones, are very specific in their tastes and any alteration can have devastating consequences on my, and thus your, social standing and in the event you missed it, my social standing is the only thing keeping you from her.” Varis didn’t bother elaborating on who he meant. Even the boy wasn’t enough of a simpleton to need it spelled out for him. “You know you’re meant to be a show mage; you’re a Starag for Anastasia’s sake! I don’t know what a show mage is in the Noila court apparently but you must be able to perform everything perfectly at all times no matter the time constraints or distractions. A show mage is exactly that, a show. You are constantly on stage and your script will be evolving and changing with every word and utterance and step. You have to learn to handle the situation as it is and not take shortcuts.” Varis ran his fingers through his hair with another sigh. It was all too easy to sink into this role with the boy. He really didn’t appreciate how little it took to get him riled up over this. It was something to contemplate when he’d finished with the mage.

“Now, for the other two. There isn’t much to say about your bottle fiasco. The apology was made and frankly, the punishment was on the Astorio’s shoulders. Next time, I’ll keep you on a shorter leash. It was my mistake that I gave you the opportunity to socialize with your lessers. However, your slip up with Eris. That is an entire disaster. Imagine if it was someone outside of my direct control. Eris, thankfully, I can pull around as I need to and that includes sheltering you from mindless decisions.” Varis grumbled, his fingers tapping. “But I’m not going to. You’re no longer in the world of moonlight and fireflies the Noilas had you all comfortably sheltered in, protected from the awful, terrible things that happen right beneath their noses. No, no. You’re going to learn what happens when a show mage offers their services to a vampire. I doubt you’re unaware that objectively, you’re conventionally attractive. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and well built, I have no doubt you have plenty of admirers, and you’re going to find out what happens when a pretty thing like you gets in the hands of someone who is usually off limits. Count yourself lucky Eris is relatively tame. Do you understand what this is likely going to entail?”

Aaron had to consciously resist flinching as Varis spat reprimand after reprimand at him, head sinking lower and lower with every word. Goodness, he really was stupid, wasn’t he? When Varis spoke, he made everything sound so easy: research, network with your fellow mages, take initiative, by all accounts it was obvious, basic stuff. But somehow, as braindead as it all was, none of it ever occurred to him. Maddie talked about her experience in the practical, being trapped underwater with a crack in the ceiling, and that was how Aaron felt; it was like he had to take his hand off one crack to stop up another one, and no matter what he tried, he didn’t have enough hands to save himself from drowning. He thought he’d gotten better, was paying more attention to Varis’ habits and needs, looking over his shoulder for anyone who might target him, but apparently in the course of those changes he’d forgotten the basics. One step forward, two steps back, just like always.

He nodded along with Varis’ reprimands, shocked he hadn’t remembered his changes to the solo he played. He started making excuses in his mind about how alterations were a common practice in music before he cut off that train of thought. Varis was right, this was just one small example of a larger problem that could ruin him down the road.

And speaking of, it was time to get to the meat of Aaron’s worries: Eris. The earlier twist in his stomach came back full force when the topic came up, and he felt the blood drain from his face as Varis explained exactly how big of a screwup he’d made. He laboured to stay quiet, but his breath came in shallow bursts as awful, whispered stories came to mind of mages coming back from exchanges like that broken, used up and ruined. Even the ones that made a career out of it were never the same, he’d heard, and his skin crawled to think that was the very path he might well be treading soon enough.

“I… think I do, Master,” he croaked at the floor, shaking his head at his own recklessness. “I’m sorry, I just—I did what I thought you would have wanted. I see now I was wrong.”

“You thought offering yourself up was something I’d want? You’ve had first hand experience of the disastrous consequences of leaving my side and you thought you should offer yourself away to the first vampire that touches you with the intent to use you?” Varis demanded incredulously. “I am one of the most secretive and private vampires of my generation and you... “ Varis was truly speechless at that point. The boy must know vampires aren’t well known for sharing. You had to send a letter just to inform a Duke or Count that you’d be traveling through their territory to avoid it being considered a threat and he thought Varis would want him to defuse a situation by giving himself away!

“Usually I’d berate you and make you consider the why’s and reasoning but this is far too important for me to give your pea sized brain time to process.” Varis snarled, yanking the boy’s head up. “I will never expect you to offer yourself unless I specifically demand it. There will be times where you’ll share a vampire’s bed but it’ll be at my discretion and often when I know no silly little mental mages are going to play games. For fuck’s sake!” He all but threw Aaron away from him, rubbing at his temples.

“You are going to go shower and clean yourself up before marching over to Eris’ dorm and offering your time and services to him. As long as you can complete the task before the sun sets, you are to agree to whatever he requests.” Varis spoke coolly once he’d reined in his frustration. “And if I get even a single complaint out of Eris about your performance, be aware that anything you’ve suffered so far is little more than a minor inconvenience compared to the agony you’ll suffer tomorrow. Is that clear?”

Aaron’s heart jumped into his throat when Varis grabbed him; goodness, no matter how many times it happened it always scared him. If he ever bothered to consider why that was, it would probably be because he knew firsthand the power held even just in the tips of a vampire’s fingers, and if he lost his temper or if he slid his hand just a few inches down that it could very well be the end of him—but he wasn’t thinking of any of that right now. What he was thinking about was the weird, weird storm of feelings swirling around his head. He was terrified, sure, and ashamed, that was a given, but to hear Varis berate him over thinking he had to offer himself to guests… Aaron wasn’t sure how he’d word it, but it was almost strangely comforting. He knew very well that it was all Varis’ self-interest talking and that none of it came from any place of concern for his mage, but even still, he couldn’t shake the odd reassurance he got from the idea that Varis valued him just highly enough not to want to throw him to the dogs.

But that could be puzzled over later: for now, there was still the sickening truth that despite all that, tonight Varis was willing to make an exception. On pain of death, apparently; or at least, that was what Aaron got out of it.

“Yes!” he answered quickly, his nerves moving faster than his brain as he regained his balance. “I-- yes, Master, crystal clear,” he recovered, nodding quickly at Varis’ shoes.

“Good. You’ll have a new set of lines when you return.” Varis sat back. After that, he needed a drink. “Bring me a bottle of blood and a glass before you begin preparing and then I don’t want to see you until Eris is satisfied with your performance.”

Dec. 7th: Aaron & Eris (&Max)

Warning: This one gets a little uncomfortable coming up on the end, but rest assured it’s nothing too sinister. Still, if you’d like to avoid some squirming you can skip the section between line breaks.

Aaron had never gotten ready so simultaneously quickly and slowly in his life. Once he had Varis set up in the sitting room, he all but bolted to his bedroom, barely getting everything off before he jumped into the shower. He washed quickly, but kept repeating the same motions over and over again: he’d get an earful if he took too long, but Varis’ words echoing in his head made him hesitant to get out. Not a single complaint. What might Eris complain about? Did he have as discerning an eye as Varis? Would his regular hygiene routine be sufficient, or should he do it all again with even more painstaking attention than usual?

Eventually he had to force himself to get on to dressing, but there was just as much second-guessing to be had there as before. What on earth did a mage wear to offer his “time and services” to a vampire? Did he go formal? Casual? Good lord, for all his implications Varis made it sound like he should strut over completely nude with a damn ribbon around his neck. What if Eris’ “one complaint” was about his outfit? Aaron was at a loss, but he couldn’t ask for help; he was pretty sure if Varis laid eyes on him before his very glare would burn him to ashes where he stood.

At long last he forced himself to just pick something, settling—or rather, forcibly landing—on a pink button-up shirt and grey slacks. Foregoing a tie, he rolled his sleeves up for good measure, then hmmed and hawed in the mirror for what felt like an eternity before deciding to step out of his comfort zone and undo his first two shirt buttons as well. Pssh, the thought might have made him laugh if not for the nerves sealing his jaw shut; out of his comfort zone, this whole affair was so far out of his comfort zone it might as well have been on another planet. And somehow, in a feat of apex stupidity, this most daunting challenge yet was his own stupid idiot fault. Unlike the public apologies and the humiliation in front of the Queen and every other degrading thing he’d done these past few months, he couldn’t even tangentially blame Varis for this one; nope, all his doing. He could have punched himself if he didn’t think the bruise would be a point against him with Eris.

Aaron wanted nothing more than to delay his meeting further with more indecision, but he was pushing it as it was—the twenty minutes he spent getting ready might as well have been a week and a half by Sinnenodel standards. So finally he threw on his coat and boots and all but catapulted himself out the door just to force his legs to move, counting his steps all the way to Eris’ dorm to keep his mind off what he was about to do.

There was a short delay after his knock, followed by muffled talking on the other side of the door. It was mostly indiscernible, up until an agitated shout of “I’m getting it, shut up,” erupted from directly on the other side and the door swung open. Max leaned against the halfway-opened door, having already clawed his way out of his suit in record time. His eyes trailed up and down Aaron’s figure briefly before he let out a breath in a derisive sneer.

“You look like a tool,” The metal mage greeted with all the nonchalance normal people might’ve used to say hello. He swung the door open wider to let Aaron in, sweeping his foot in the same motion to push Maxie away from the exit as her little legs scraped uselessly against the floor. “Welcome to Le Château d’Eris, you poor, misguided fool.”

What else is new. In a way it was good to see that no matter how nerve-racked he was, Max could still manage to make him want to roll his eyes. Aaron leveled Max with a flat look as he stepped inside, though his nerves were quick to come back to him. This wouldn't be the first time he spent a day at Eris’ dorm, but the change in purpose was more than enough to put him on edge as if it was.

Eris himself was nowhere to be seen in the front room, though, and Aaron had no idea of the protocol for this sort of thing. “Where's Eris?” He finally asked Max, voice barely a whisper.

“Master Eris is freshening up at the moment, monsieur,” Max replied with a frilly bow. No wonder Eris kept this stupid French crap up all the time, it was funny once you were in on the joke. “You may await him in the… fuck, I don’t know the word for bedroom. Go sit on the bed, I hope you wore your nice red panties.”

Max shut the door with the same butler-ly grace he’d tried to emulate earlier and made a flourishing motion toward Eris’ room. Naturally, he’d be hovering close by for as long as he possibly could; this was hysterical and he wanted to hear every juicy detail right up until the pants came off. Then he’d fuck off back to his room and pretend something else was happening.

Aaron shot Max another unimpressed look; he was quickly crossing the threshold from irritating to downright mean. But he held his tongue, lest Eris be displeased by a quip at Max—whether or not he'd do the same himself. At least it took his mind a little off what he was about to do, even if only temporarily.

It was strange to think about, but this wouldn't be the first time Aaron was in Eris’ bedroom—hell, it wouldn't even be his first time seeing him naked, he remembered with a barely-suppressed shudder. It was no comfort, though. Just… surreal. To think a few short months ago he was gearing up to serve the Queen, and now here he was, awaiting the lecherous whims of common actors.

He cast a backward look at Max as he shifted on his feet in the bedroom, equal parts annoyed and unsure, but he wouldn't ask anything more. Every extra second Eris spent “freshening up” in another room was one he was going to savour.

The sound of the shower could be heard, though the silence that followed once it was turned off was much more noticeable. A hum of a song let Aaron know that Eris was doing...something, though when the bathroom door finally opened, it was revealed that the blond was towel drying his hair. He hadn’t bothered with any shirt, sporting a pair of loose pajama pants as he stepped into his bedroom. Stopping at the sight of Aaron, he looked him up and down, eyes darting over every detail, albeit there was much more scrutinizing than usual. He didn’t say anything as he tossed the towel into the bathroom without a second look, giving Aaron a smile as he passed him.

"Well, well, you actually came," Eris mused out loud, almost sounding genuinely surprised. "And here I thought I'd be getting an apology letter. Good to see you stick to your word."

Aaron stiffened up as Eris emerged, respectfully averting his eyes as the actor looked him up and down. It was just as well, he didn't need to see Eris examine him to feel his eyes all over him, like a foreign creature crawling over his skin. It wasn't the first appraising look he got from Eris, nor would it be the last, but the context overpowered any familiarity, and the gesture felt a lot more invasive than Aaron was used to.

“Of course,” he replied quietly, still avoiding Eris’ gaze. His eyes flicked through the open door to where Max was observing—great, just perfect—but he quickly looked elsewhere, trying to put that out of his mind. “It wouldn't do to…” the word caught in his throat, but resigned to his fate, he forced it out anyway. “Tease someone like you with empty promises.”

Eris' eyebrow quirked at the word, coming to a stop as he crossed his arms. Oh boy, Varis had his work cut out for him. The kid was terribly stiff, he was pretty sure he could lay him down and iron his shirts from how rigid he was. He already knew how this was going to end, unfortunately, shaking his head to himself as he stepped back towards Aaron, lifting his chin.

"True, but you don't really seem enthusiastic," Eris pouted, taking his hand back. "I'm a little confused. I didn’t ask Varis for you, you said you'd come here. Unless you don't want to? You could always just leave if that's the case, I'd rather not waste my time."

Oh crap, a misstep this early? Well no wonder, even Aaron could tell he was exuding all the charisma as a piece of wood that sprouted legs, no one in their right mind would be interested in that. But as much as he'd love to take Eris’ offer and quit the place that second, he knew whatever awaited him when he got back would be a hundred times worse than whatever trial faced him here.

Of course, it was one thing to think that, and something else entirely to go through with it. How could he be expected to do this? Undertones and implications aside, he was woefully inexperienced at this. He could turn on the charm at the party, but whatever reserve he'd pulled that from was proving difficult to tap into again.

His instant of hesitation felt like an eternity, but at last the pressure managed to click his brain into a different gear. If he couldn't do this, then he'd just have to pretend to be someone who could. That should be easy enough, right? He was well accustomed to putting on a mask and burying his insecurities under it—this couldn't be that different, right?

Newly… well, not confident, but at least no longer shaking, Aaron took a breath, willing himself to don whatever mask he'd worn when he offered himself to Eris in the first place.

“Please, don't misunderstand a lack of familiarity for a lack of enthusiasm,” he replied, trying on the same honeyed voice he'd used back when he peeled himself off Eris in the sitting room. Shooting another sharp look Max’s direction, he took a step away and closed the door, hand lingering on the handle for a moment before he turned back to Eris. “You seemed quite interested at the party; I'd hate to think you went away feeling short-changed.”

Too bad Eris could smell hesitance a mile away, he might have otherwise believed the shaking leaf of a mage. Well, at least there was an effort, so he couldn't really fault that. As the blond walked to the door, however, Eris couldn’t resist a comment that popped into his head. Unrolling his arms, he placed them on his hips as he gave Aaron a mischievous grin.

"Oh, you didn't want Maxwell joining us?" He asked. "I thought having a familiar face would help ease you into the process."

The handle twisted out of Aaron’s grasp on its own and the door slowly creaked open again. Max stood on the other side, phone raised and at the ready as if he were taking pictures—or worse, a video.

“Careful, Eric, if you keep asking I’m gonna start thinking you like me for real,” He scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Don’t mind me, I’m just here to watch the show and maybe send Lilie a recording.” As funny as it would be, Aaron was lucky Max wasn’t actually eager to get involved in that conversation. Maybe he could get away with sending it to Flower Boy and waiting for him to inevitably blab. Either way, Max wasn’t letting Eris get any satisfaction at his expense today; the Retriever was the only punchline here and Max intended to keep it that way.

“Not to worry,” He wedged his foot against the door to keep Aaron from simply slamming it on him again, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone once you start going at it.”

The wave of anger that washed over Aaron almost made him break character, though he wasn't sure who to be angrier with: Eris for his usual bullshit or Max choosing that moment to team up with him. He shot Max a look that could boil water before raising his hand, fingers curved as if he was holding a ball. There was a second where a small ball of light condensed in his palm before it erupted into a blinding flash; Aaron used the opportunity to kick Max’s foot out of the doorway and slam the door behind it, this time wedge his own foot against the door to prevent the metal mage from barging in again.

Turning a thin, accommodating smile back to Eris, he explained, “Sorry about that, but you know how private my Master is; he approved this arrangement for one set of eyes, no more.”

Max staggered back as his balance was suddenly thrown off, dropping his phone in the commotion. He heard the door slam and more or less pieced together what happened. Well, he halfway got what he wanted—if goodie two-shoes Aaron was slamming doors in other people’s houses, he was properly pissed off. Besides, he didn’t need photo evidence to start a rumor mill; Eris got him to believe that nonsensical load of crap earlier with just a passing remark, and this was actually true.

“Dick,” He grumbled as he rubbed the spots out of his eyes, then raised his voice to call into the room, “Oooh~ Getting right to it, huh? Naughty, naughty! You kids have fun, call me if you need anything—snacks, a condom, you know.” Once he could see enough to function, he crouched to retrieve his phone and made his way back to his room.

“C’mon Maxie, let’s go gossip about this to Auntie Lilie,” Max said casually enough to not make it sound like he was trying to be loud, but vocally enough that he hoped Aaron could still hear. The dog, to her credit, yipped affirmatively. Dumb rat probably thought it was getting a treat.

Oh, what a show. Eris had to admit there was the tiniest sense of pride in him as he watched Max, though he had to wonder who had slighted him. As easy as it would be to blame Sunny, he somewhat doubted that he had managed to get him so riled up that Max would react instead of sulking off to his room right away. Eh, he’d ask later, he had a task he was supposed to be prioritizing.

The blond did give Aaron a short clap of approval, sliding onto his bed as he quirked an eyebrow at him. “Bet he’s just jealous he doesn’t get such a handsome bedwarmer for the morning.” He winked.

Making a mental vow that Max would suffer twofold for anything that got back to him about this, Aaron quickly pushed Max from his mind; one worry at a time was all he could really handle at the moment. Eris’ “bedwarmer” comment made him feel like he swallowed an eel, but he managed to twist his expression of discomfort into something bashful, putting on a grin. “You flatter me, sir,” he said, finally stepping away from the door.

Realizing he had no idea how to proceed, he fiddled with the cuff of one of his sleeves, resisting the urge to roll it back down to his wrist where it belonged. Much as the idea repulsed him, he didn't want to keep Eris waiting any longer; he wasn't sure if Eris had a thing for the clueless virgin type, but if he didn't concede some inexperience then they'd never get anywhere.

“I can be here until sunset tomorrow to do whatever you ask of me,” he started, though he wished he could take the words back the moment they left his mouth. That was stupid, Eris already knew that, but whatever, there was no taking it back now. “So, if I may be so forward… what would you have me do?”

Eris watched Aaron’s movements, the smile on his face never leaving him. Sunny really was adorable, his nervousness practically rolling off him. He made a mental note that he may as well give Wells a head start on his own training, but for now he focused on the blond in front of him. What not to do? He didn’t want to scare him off just yet, but the temptation to tease was just too much.

He settled for patting the spot next to him, throwing a wink at the kid. “How about we start by you coming over here? You’re a little far for my taste.” The obedient mage did as he was told, and Eris scooted a little closer, batting his eyelashes. “Isn’t that better?” He asked, reaching out to brush back a hair on Sunny’s head.

Eris had always been touchy, but it was usually impersonal; a poke here, a prod there, touching his hair or clothes or whatever just to get a rise out of him. But that was different. Aaron managed not to pull away, but even that small of a touch, in this context, was enough to start the alarms in Aaron’s head ringing. But he had to resist. That was barely a glimpse of what awaited him; if not now, then sometime in the future. This would be a part of his life whether or not he ran screaming tonight, and he needed to come to terms with that. The sooner he got used to it, the better, and like it or not, Eris would be an excellent test run.

Putting on a bashful smile, Aaron touched the lock Eris had moved, almost as if he was savouring his touch. “Much better, sir,” he murmured.

For just a second, something resembling sympathy (or maybe exasperation depending on who you were asking) went across Eris’ face as he slowly shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” He took a random shot in the dark, his hand trailing down to the pink shirt, his hand hooked on the spot where his shirt was still buttoned.

---

“We’re going to have fun. If you’d like, you can sit back, relax, and let me take the lead,” He offered as his free hand pushed the mage down, thumb pushing the button through the hole and freeing up his chest a touch more.

Sun and stars, at this point, hurting him would be preferable; Aaron would take a few good blows over this any night of the week. It was strange, though; Eris sounded genuinely concerned for his comfort, even as he pressed on. Aaron was sure he was in on Varis’ scheme to make him regret offering himself up, but he was acting like he was genuinely there to have a good time. Whether that was better or worse, Aaron couldn't say, but it was… weird.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as Eris pushed him down, and he had to fight down another wave of panic with a deep breath he hoped would just sound like a symptom of anticipation. “Whatever you want, sir,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt. In fact, it had felt like someone else was doing the talking for a little while now, but if that was what it took to get through this, then Aaron would go with it.

He raised his head to look at Eris, glancing down at his newly exposed chest, and that other person spoke up once more. “Don't worry about me, though; I'm tougher than I look.”

Oh? Had Eris underestimated Sunny? For all the faults Varis had listed, he had expected some difficulty here. Or was it an act? Well, there really was only one way to find out. Eris didn’t usually go all out for mages--he’d be lying if he said he never bedded a mage--but Sunny here needed to be taken care of. Not to mention part of Varis’ guidance stated that he shouldn’t need a life mage after, so no bard biting or nicking. He knew what to do.

His hand continued on getting rid of the shirt, his other exploring the canvas. Hmph, the Astorio was right, there really was some lost muscle definition, though he wondered if Varis even noticed things like that. Still enough to look good, at least, and boy was Sunny still a gorgeous specimen for a mage.

“If you say so,” Eris hummed, pleased as he let his lips explore. He figured he may as well get the blond comfortable, hands sliding downwards until they hit his pants. Fortunately he didn’t need to look to unbuckle them, freely working on the last button and zipper.

To his credit, Aaron didn't squirm much, merely shifting on the bed to lie a bit more comfortably as Eris went about his business. He seemed quite occupied, which was good; while he was looking elsewhere, he couldn't see Aaron set his jaw, eyes burning a hole into the ceiling. The buttons weren't so bad—it was just a shirt, he'd been naked plenty of times before—but the… lips were a different story altogether. Aaron’s skin crawled where Eris kissed him, and his breathing grew heavy as Eris’ hands made their way downward, chest heaving as he tried with all his might to stay put. His cheeks burned as he tried to distract himself, counting shadows on the ceiling and reciting the first section of the Treaty in his head, but when he felt Eris slide down his pants’ zipper he knew it was over.

A small, desperate noise escaped his throat as he moved despite himself, perching up on his elbows and pulling away no more than a few inches before freezing up again. Fuck, he'd really done it now; all the panic that made him move in the first place was nothing compared to the crisis that paralyzed him now, Varis’ words echoing in his head once more.

If I get even a single complaint out of Eris about your performance, be aware that anything you’ve suffered so far is little more than a minor inconvenience compared to the agony you’ll suffer tomorrow.

---

He was stuck in place for a moment before he remembered Eris, and he whipped his head back at him, fumbling for something to say. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, breath catching in his throat as he tried and failed to shimmy back to where he was. He couldn't meet Eris’ gaze, eyes locked on the sheets next to him. “First-time jitters, please pay me no mind.”

Ah, now that was what Eris had expected. He didn’t know if he should laugh or be annoyed, the blond vampire staring at him for a moment. There were a few things he could do next, but ultimately he only saw one way that this was going to end. His face was blank as he deliberated his next step, though in his head there wasn’t anything that could be done.

Eris touched Aaron’s chin to make him look at him, flashing a grin. “No, I don’t think so,” He stated, getting off of Aaron and settling himself on top of his pillows, making himself comfortable. “You can see yourself out, right? I think I’m going to call it an early morning, I need to get up early for some training.”

Aaron’s face lost all colour as Eris climbed off of him, the mage jumping to his feet. “What?” He gasped, circling around the bed to Eris’ side. “N-no, I mean--I’m sorry, I'm fine, really.” He gestured frantically, mind racing through all the horrible things that might await him if Eris sent him back empty-handed. “Please, I--I’m inexperienced, that's all. I didn't mean to offend.”

Eris settled in, reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing his phone as he let Sunny make a half-assed attempt at redeeming the night. “Is it inexperience or a lack of eagerness?” He asked, not bothering to look at him as he scrolled through a page. “Because I’ve dealt with the former before on multiple occasions. I can deal with no experience. But I don’t know how to handle unwillingness. There are certain lines even I won’t cross, you know.”

If Aaron wasn't so panicked, he might have been confused. Eris sounded spurned of all things, like he was insulted Aaron didn't want to spend a passionate day with him. But wasn't he in on this with Varis? He should have known what to expect from the start. Not to mention Eris set this garbage in motion by yanking him off his feet at the party! The actor knew perfectly well how discomforted he could be, what did he expect?!

Of course, Aaron was in no position to argue: as far as he was concerned, if he left Eris with a bad impression, he was as good as dead. But he couldn't very well just grin and bear it, Eris saw right through that. So what, then? The truth? Aaron didn't need to be a Sinnenodel of any great aptitude to know that the truth was almost always the wrong answer. But what else was left to him?

Aaron re-fastened his pants as he deliberated, looking around the room as if the answer would be written on the walls. When he failed to come up with a better solution, however, he resigned himself just to come out with it.

“Mr. Sa--Eris, listen, I'm sorry,” he tried, sounding sincere for the first time all morning. “I… I'm in over my head. I made a bad call at the party and this is how Master decided I would atone for it. I didn't mean to insult you.”

He doubted the truth alone would set him free, but he'd rather humiliate himself here than face whatever Varis would come up with tomorrow. “Let me try again,” he said, “I won't back down again, I swear. Whatever you want. I just…” he sighed, a crushing helplessness settling over him. “I can't go back empty-handed.”

At the end of Aaron’s rambling, Eris finally looked up, entirely unamused. He was quiet for a second, but he wouldn’t leave him in the dark for too long as he let out what sounded like an exasperated sigh. “It was a bad call, at least you recognize it,” He admitted that much, though he didn’t move from where he was. “Imagine if it had been someone else, someone who your master was trying to gain the favor of. You’re given the chance to follow through only to collapse in yourself the second things even hint at a chance to heat up. Then what?”

Contrary to his usual, jovial self, Eris was completely serious as he spoke. And he wasn’t finished. “It’s funny, I thought to myself, ‘Why is he so hard on Sunny?’ a few times. Sinnenodel training has always been harsh, yes, but I still thought he pushed down too much. But now I know why,” He said, shaking his head. “You say you’re willing to try again, but with most people, there is no trying again. You get one shot, one try, and it has to be perfect. There is no begging for a second chance, there are no redos or retries. I don’t think you really understood what you had done back there, you had at least three other options to get away from me and you chose the worst one. You decided your fate tonight, making a promise you damn well knew you couldn’t keep, and it’s insulting that you think I would take that likely.”

Aaron listened as Eris said his piece, feeling more and more ashamed with every word, until suddenly, in a moment of clarity, his shame turned to indignation. One shot, one try, it has to be perfect. There are no second chances. That was Varis’ creed: if you weren’t perfect on the first try, you were garbage. And suddenly, all his difficulties adjusting to Varis’ methods made sense: How on the green earth was anyone supposed to learn if they never had the chance to fail?!

It all seemed so clear now, Aaron didn’t know how he never saw it before. He used to take pride in his ability to learn, but failure was a crucial step in that process; he learned everything back home flawlessly because he made every single mistake once and never repeated it. Now, though, if he couldn’t even be allowed that first crucial misstep, how could he ever take the next? Good lord, no wonder he struggled! It was like learning swordplay from scratch with sharpened blades, every student would die before they ever got the chance to learn anything. Varis’ expectations weren’t just strict, they were literally beyond human capability!

Of course, he couldn’t say that to Eris’ face, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel like this particular scheme had backfired. Maybe not—maybe Varis really did want him to learn something valuable from this little excursion—but he doubted the goal was to send him back feeling better than he did when he left.

It was strangely comforting to think that maybe Varis’ standards weren’t so easily achieved after all, but Aaron wasn’t foolish enough to think that was the end of the story. Malek and Eloise and all the others somehow managed to get through, so it couldn’t be impossible, but that was something to look into another night. Right now, there was still a very huge problem staring him in the face: groundbreaking realizations wouldn’t be much good to him if Varis melted him into a paste after hearing Eris’ terrible review of his performance tonight.

The tension that had momentarily released his lungs came back full force as he remembered that little detail, and Aaron’s mind was set racing once again. If Eris wouldn’t let him complete his job tonight, what was he going to do? It wasn’t like he’d be happy with a good lecture and call them even; Eris liked toying with mages just as much as the next traditionalist. So what now?

“You’re right,” he conceded, an air of determination replacing the former tone of defeat in his voice. He’d just have to find a Sinnenodel solution to this problem, or otherwise go down trying. “I was stupid, that’s no surprise. You and Master and everyone else have made that abundantly clear to me. I truly am sorry for insulting you; I assure you, it comes down to incompetence, not malice.”

He met Eris’ eye then, something that still made him squirm, but he had to make sure Eris knew he was serious. “But I meant what I said: I obviously have a stake in having this morning go well, but I really don’t want you to leave this engagement feeling short-changed. If my… services won’t suffice, there must be something I can give to make up for it.”

Now this was what Eris wanted to hear. Not that he came in this expecting this outcome, but the kid was way too skittish for his taste. He’d have to recommend Varis introduce him to someone sooner than later to get him to be more effective, so the night wasn’t an entire loss on that end. There was, however, one minor snag:

“And what would that something be, exactly?” Eris couldn’t help but ask, raising an eyebrow. “Everything you have you owe to your master, and I’m not interested in a sword.”

If he was perfectly honest, Aaron didn’t expect Eris to bite in the slightest. He was an enterprising vampire, sure, but he was usually so deep in Varis’ pocket that it was hard to believe a favour from a mage could make him even entertain the idea of straying from his purpose. But then again, he wasn’t in so deep with Varis anymore, was he? Outwardly they seemed as thick as ever, but after Eris’ snooping and what Aaron could only assume was some kind of fight, it was likely that whatever ties they had between them had been stretched beyond comfort. Vampires were creatures of convenience, but they weren’t known for forgiving or forgetting.

But that was beside the point. Eris had lowered only a hair of a lifeline, but Aaron would grab it with whatever strength he had left to him. “Of course, I’m sure you’re not interested in anything I have to give,” he agreed, “but think of who I am—more importantly, who I know. Right off the bat, I have three other Starags serving members of the royal family who would pursue almost anything I asked them to; beyond that, we have a network of contacts all throughout the aristocracy. Nobility, business giants, media—it goes on. I can’t offer you anything on my Master’s behalf, but there are things that I myself can make happen.”

Said vampire stared at Aaron intently, though the gears in his head were turning. There was something to be said about having a Starag in debt, but the mage was too smart to accept a favor open-endedly. Still, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested; his annoyance smoothed over into something more thoughtful.

“Quick to think, too. If Varis does end up choosing to throw you away, I need to make sure to scoop you up for myself,” He mused out loud, looking back down on his phone. “Mmm...I’ll warn you now, while your offer is tempting, it’s not something I’d cash out on right away. I’d need to hold onto it for a little until my own pieces line up. But I’ll need an audience with someone you can get me in touch with--I’ll let you know when, and you can set it up.”

Looking up at Aaron, Eris gave him a wide smile. “It’ll be our little secret. I can’t say I like seeing you in distress, so I can give you my word that this won’t get out to your count,” He promised that much. “Let’s see...you were inexperienced yet willing, but otherwise it was a fun time.”

While Aaron wasn’t thrilled with issuing what sounded like a blank cheque, he didn’t exactly have much room to argue. At the very least, Eris agreed to keep this little transaction under his hat, and he seemed alright with limiting the scope of his as-yet undetermined favour to something Aaron himself could give. That was… well, it was as good as Aaron had hoped, really.

It was hard to contain the sheer relief on his face, though after a moment he didn’t even bother trying. “Yes, yes, perfect!” he all but exclaimed, offering Eris a series of flustered bows. His head swam with relief, and he nearly had to catch himself when he teetered slightly off-balance. “Just say the word and I’ll set you up, absolutely. Thank you, sir, Eris, really.” He’d probably have to work on his closing skills for future negotiations, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

There was no helping the amused chuckle from him, the blond vampire waving Aaron away. “Just promise me you won’t make promises you can’t keep in the future,” Eris reiterated. “I don’t think you’ll get so lucky in the future--nor will any future prospects be as flexible, all things considered.”

Settling himself in bed, his hand bopped the lampshade, darkening the room. “I’m going to bed. You can hang around if you want, but you should find something to do before going back to your dorm to make it believable,” He told him under the muffle of his blanket.

“Yes--yes sir, absolutely. I won’t forget this,” Aaron promised, wasting no time collecting his things. He had to resist another round of nervous bows, instead slipping out of the bedroom as quietly as he could manage and quitting the dorm before Max could see him.

Dec. 7th: Aaron & Lilie

By the time Aaron got out of Eris’ dorm, the sun had already started to rise, bathing the Academy lawns in a pale golden shimmer of sunshine on frost. He took a deep breath, savouring the bite of the crisp, frigid air in his lungs after spending the past hour or so suffocating under a veil of dread. Not that it was gone, mind—far from it. But at least with a tentative agreement—however fluid it might be, vampires were fickle—it was a drowned out for the moment by an intoxicating sense of relief.

So, rather than think too hard about the fact that he’d saved his skin with the Noilas’ resources and risk ruining the first good mood he’d had in weeks, he focused on the soft crunch of frozen grass beneath his boots as he made his somewhat meandering way home, watching the way the sun glinted off the leafless trees. The sunrise was colourful, but more interesting was the gathering blue of the rest of the sky, so pale it was almost white; it was as if the sky itself was frozen. He sighed. Strange how one of his rare chances to admire the daytime came on the heels of one of the most harrowing experiences of his life.

Regretting his decision not to bring gloves, he shoved his hands in his pockets, though his brow furrowed when one of them met with something cold and hard. When he pulled his hand out to investigate, he was greeted with an exquisite diamond tennis bracelet, sparkling magnificently in the morning sunshine. Weird, that was the bracelet of Lilie’s he’d found on her glass; he must have shoved it in the pocket of his new pants during his brainless, manic dressing session.

He rounded a bend at a leisurely pace, the gated cul-de-sac of noble dorms coming into view. Well, now was as good a time to return it as ever; it wouldn’t take long to deposit it into her mailbox, but it wasn’t like there was much else to do but wander the campus for another few hours anyway.

Pulling out his phone, he tapped a quick message to Lilie; she was probably asleep by now, but he wouldn’t want her to pull her mail out in the evening only to unknowingly lose her bracelet on the ground.

> Hey, just FYI I found your bracelet in the living room, I’m leaving it in the mailbox ^^

The message’s tone momentarily stopped Lilie, causing her to abandon the couch cushion to go back to her room. The place had looked like a hurricane had passed through, her sheets scattered around the floor and nearly every drawer she had partially opened. In her manic search, she didn’t bother cleaning up--what she had lost was too important and she needed to find it, cleaning could come after.

It wasn’t until Lilie had returned to the dorm (and after admiring herself for a lot longer than she wanted to admit) that she realized the bracelet was missing. She thought she had put it in her purse, but she hadn’t brought one to the dinner, so the next logical conclusion was that she had lost it somewhere. Considering how fine it was, she thought maybe it had fallen somewhere, but in her panic she had torn the dorm apart looking for it.

So when Aaron’s message came, a wave of relief surged through Lilie, her hand to her chest as she tried not to laugh. How could she have been so careless to forget it over there? Shaking her head, she decided to send him a quick message before she went around the living room trying to put everything back into place:

> OMG I’m so glad! Do you mind bringing it to the dorm? I don’t want to lose it again >_<

Aaron hadn’t even managed to get his phone back in his pocket before it buzzed with a response, earning it a look of surprise. Lilie was still up? Well, by the tone of her message, she’d probably been looking for her bracelet, though he seemed to recall that she was a bit of a day jay under normal circumstances. Nevertheless, it was a great coincidence; whatever happened between them at dinner, seeing Lilie’s face after all he’d gone through tonight would be a blessing.

> Yeah, no problem! Be there in a sec.

He was only just outside the cul-de-sac gates when he pocketed his phone, so it didn’t take long for Aaron to make it to the Eve dorm steps, thankful that the closed curtains on every dorm guaranteed Varis wouldn’t see him skulking around where he wasn’t supposed to be. He knocked on the door as lightly as he possibly could, hoping not to wake Count Benjamin.

There was a tiny scuffle before Lilie made it to the door--despite having been the one to tell Aaron to come, she momentarily forgot she was only in a silken nightgown and needed to make herself decent. Grabbing the robe hanging from her bathroom door, she hastily wrapped herself up in it, opening the door partially as she fidgeted with the knot. To think she was such a mess! She supposed she could live with Aaron seeing her hair all loose and frazzled, even if she wished she had given herself a minute to pretty up.

As she lifted her head, however, another thought hit her as she realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She had only discovered she was missing the bracelet after her bath, and the last thing she wanted was anyone seeing her pale face. Without thinking, she suddenly slammed the door shut, holding it down with both hands.

“I--I’m sorry!” She apologized through the door, opening it just a crack but making sure to hide behind it. “Thank you! I--I’m so glad you found it, I thought I lost it.”

Jumping back in surprise from the door slam, Aaron glanced around on instinct to see if anyone noticed before leveling the now-cracked door with a confused look. “Lilie?” he whispered, leaning to get a better look at her through the crack, “Is everything alright?”

“Uh…y-yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Lilie squeaked out a response, seeing Aaron’s figure looming and hiding further behind the door, unintentionally opening it further.

Aaron stepped a little closer, almost sticking his head in the door. “Why are you hiding?” he asked, mostly ignoring her question. He tried to peer a little further into the dorm, but from what little he could see, there wasn’t any sign that anything was amiss. He lowered his voice further, a little nervous about whatever she might be hiding. “Did something happen?”

Lilie’s heart was pumping fiercely as she tried to think of a way out of this. Every single thought went out the window, however, as soon as she saw his blond hair. He was close! Too close! She was going to get exposed! Her first instinct was to try to slam the door shut again, shaking her head as she cried out, “No! Don’t come in!”

Reflexes kicking in, Aaron blocked the edge of the door from hitting him in the nose with his forearm. Concern overtook his regard for boundaries, though, and in one motion he pushed the door back and forced his way in, briefly scanning the entryway before looking around the door for Lilie.

The coats slumped on the floor beneath their hooks gave him a bit of a cause for alarm, but behind the door, Lilie looked… normal. Frazzled, maybe, with her hair like a fishing net all around her, wearing nothing but a robe and a silky little nightgown that only went down to her-- well, she seemed fine. Aaron let out a sigh of relief; the way she was acting, he was scared she was all beaten up behind the door or something.

“Goodness, Lil, you had me worried there,” he breathed, remembering himself and stepping backwards toward the door. He leveled her with a questioning look. “What was that about?”

Throwing her hands up to her face, Lilie quickly turned away, her heart jumping up to her throat. She was caught between being over the moon at ‘Lil’ and sheer horror at him looking at her face. He was acting like he hadn’t seen anything, and she could feel him staring at her. A sudden chill went up her spine, and she realized she never did tie her robe up fully.

One hand stayed over her eyes as the other blindly groped herself for either the tie or the edge of the robe as she frantically shook her head. “N-Nothing, there’s no need for you to worry,” She lamely tried to assure him with a fake laugh. “I just--I’m not dressed, b-but there isn’t anything wrong!”

Suddenly straightening, Aaron realized how inappropriate he was being, averting his eyes to the doorway as Lilie tied her robe up. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just-- you know, I mean, not that I think Count Benjamin would-- ah,” he shook his head at himself; barging into noble’s dorms to save distressed damsels one moment, tripping over his words the next. He resolved to shut up until he saw in his periphery that Lilie had finished putting herself together, though strangely she still covered her eyes.

Brow furrowed, Aaron took a step closer, stooping down to her eye level. Goodness, maybe he was too quick to let down his guard; he’d been too distracted by her state of dress to see whatever she was trying to cover. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t get it out of her like this, though, so in Lilie’s interest, Aaron made an executive decision: taking her wrists in hand, he gently, but firmly, pulled her hands away from her eyes until he could see them.

But, like before, there was nothing there; she looked perfectly fine, if a little different. He supposed this was his first time seeing her without mascara—it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that her eyelashes were also white, but he supposed he never really gave it any thought.

Unable to resist a bewildered grin, he peered at Lilie. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but what on earth are you doing?”

Good, good, she bought herself a little time. At least, that had been Lilie’s initial assumption, but she could hear Aaron stepping closer. No, no, no, now what?! Should she scream? No, that’d get Ben up, and the last thing she wanted to do was admit she had forgotten the bracelet so carelessly. Not to mention she could get him to think the wrong thing!

In the time she spent thinking, Aaron managed to pull her hands away from her face, and at that point she knew it was all over. The first thing she tried to do was cover her face again, but he wisely chose to keep her wrists in his grip. Blinking back tears, she looked up at him, though she was thrown off guard by his grin. She must have come off as completely ridiculous to him.

“I...I didn’t want you to see my face like this,” She replied quietly. “It’s weird and off-putting...I look like a ghost.”

The tears welling up in Lilie’s eyes were concerning, but as soon as Aaron heard the explanation, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was a tiny, barely noticeable laugh, more of a little chirp before he clapped a hand over his mouth, but what could he do? Here he thought she was hiding bruises, but this was all just because she didn’t want to be seen without makeup!

He released her other wrist, standing back to his full height as he shook his head. Only when he was finally confident he wouldn’t let out another chuckle did he lower his own hand from his mouth, but the grin that remained simply wouldn’t be wiped away.

“Lil, come on,” he reasoned, his barely-contained laughter tinting his voice. “With all due respect, every woman thinks they look weird without makeup. I grew up with three of them, remember?”

Still grinning, he dug into his pocket and produced the bracelet. “You look perfectly fine, I promise,” he insisted, holding the bracelet out to her. “But please, don’t scare me like that again.”

Shaking her head, Lilie refused the bracelet as she took a step back from Aaron. “You don’t understand, your family looks normal. No one’s going to call them weird, or freaky, or--or abnormal, or--” She stopped herself as she realized she had raised her voice, her hands covering her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, pushing away a bad memory.

Letting out a sigh, whatever anger she had dissipated, though she still couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. It’s just a touchy subject for me,” She apologized, timidly looking up at him. “I can’t really do anything about my hair because my mom wouldn’t let me dye it, but at least I could make my face look like a person. You have to admit I look really weird and off putting without my mascara on. And without blush, I look like an actual corpse.”

Aaron’s grin faded, and he withdrew the bracelet, placing his hands on his hips. “I do not have to admit that, no,” he replied flatly, though his tone softened afterward. “Come on, give me a little credit. I’m not a vampire. I think--” he cut himself off before he said something he’d regret, remembering their conversation in the kitchen back at the party. She didn’t share his feelings; he didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable than he already had.

“...I think white suits you,” he finished, reining in his urge to sing her every praise. “Anything darker would be much too dreary to deserve you.”

Lilie’s eyes widened as he talked, though after he finished, she couldn’t really stop her smile. She wondered if he really thought that or if he was just trying to make her feel better. Well, either way, she could take it as a positive thing, right? And he didn’t seem like the type of person to just say things he didn’t mean.

“You really don’t think I look weird?” She couldn’t help but ask.

Happy that his (admittedly weird) comment wasn’t taken the wrong way, Aaron offered a soft smile, shaking his head. “Of course not.”

Looking down as she tried to control her smile, Lilie tried to calm herself down. He really meant it, didn’t he? Of course he did, he wouldn’t lie to her. But she felt like she made a big deal out of nothing, even if it was a sensitive topic for her.

Clearing her throat, she gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I was so weird about it,” She told him first and foremost. “It’s hard to admit, but I...don’t really like the way I look. I know it makes me come off as really vain and shallow, but I’ve always gotten weird looks and comments from, like, everyone I’ve met. I kinda hate it, honestly. But I…”

She didn’t even really know what her point was or what she was really trying to say. Goodness, even in situations like this Aaron was too easy to talk to! “...I’ll hate it a little less if you don’t think it’s weird,” She ended up admitting.

Smile widening as Lilie’s did, Aaron took his hands off his hips, fiddling with the tennis bracelet as he listened. It was sad to hear, but he couldn’t say he was surprised; for better or worse, Lilie stood out from a crowd, and that sort of attention would only have gotten ten times worse when she entered the world of vampires. At her last admission, though, Aaron felt his heart swell, and he had to swallow the lump that welled up in his throat. To think his approval—if that was even the right word—was the thing bringing Lilie comfort touched him to his soul, awkward kitchen exchanges and unrequited feelings be damned.

“Good,” was all he could manage to say, grateful that the gloom of the hallway hid his dopey expression of joy.

As she straightened up, Lilie spotted the bracelet, having nearly forgotten about the whole reason Aaron even came around in the first place. “Oh, right!” She gasped, though she laughed a little at herself. “And thank you for bringing it! I can’t believe I didn’t notice I didn’t have it until I was putting everything away back in the little box Ben--Count Benjamin had.” She thanked him, reaching for the bracelet now that she had calmed down.

“Ah-ah,” Aaron hummed, pulling the bracelet just out of Lilie’s reach. In a fit of playfulness he himself didn’t even expect, he raised a finger at her, fixing her with a mischievous look. “Not until you promise not to scare me like that again; I don’t need to be breaking into dorms again thinking you’re under duress.”

Instinctively following the bracelet, Lilie didn’t realize what Aaron was trying to do until he spoke. Blinking slowly, she huffed in disapproval, crossing her arms at the realization that she’d never reach it unless she decided to climb him to grab the bracelet. Why was she the only one in her family that ended up so short?!

Still, this was the Aaron she liked to see--he was genuinely himself, sweet and caring and apparently a little on the mischievous side! She listened carefully to his words, letting out a hum of agreement. But she couldn’t really resist doing something equally playful, reaching out as best she could, only to fail as her fingers barely brushed the jewelry. Life wasn’t fair.

“Mmm...okay. I promise,” She held out her hand, bouncing on the heels of her feet. “But…”

Genuinely unable to resist, Lilie approached Aaron, ignoring her racing heart as she reached for the bracelet as he lowered his hand. Instead of grabbing it, however, she acted in the moment, placing a grateful kiss on his cheek before backing away in slight disbelief.

“But I’d...really like it if you’d come breaking the door down if I’m in trouble!” Lilie giggled, trying not to look too giddy as she blushed.

Aaron chuckled as Lilie strained to reach, allowing himself to enjoy the new, happier tone of her voice as she hummed in his ear. It threw him a little off guard, lowering his hand a bit, but he didn’t care; that was, until he felt her lips on his cheek.

It was only a split second, but all at once the smile vanished from Aaron’s face, his expression going blank with shock. Did… did she really just kiss him? For real? Did he pass out back at Eris’ and this was his version of a fever dream? No, there she was, standing in front of him and giggling as she teased him. It had to be real. It was real!

It took everything in him to resist touching the spot where she’d kissed him, instead dropping his hand and handing over her bracelet. He’d have probably handed over all his credit cards, too, if he had any; that and the heart from his chest if she asked for it, so astounded was he. Was that just friendly? Salem was in the habit of kissing everyone he met, but this was definitely something different. Lilie was giggling and blushing—who said she looked like a corpse, she was full of colour!

“...Anytime,” he finally replied, bewildered and still not entirely sure what just happened was real. But he wouldn’t question it; if he was about to wake up from this dream, then he’d savour every second before he did so.

There wasn’t anything that could wipe the smile from her face, Aaron’s reaction sealing the deal. As much as she wanted to invite him to stay so they could spend more time together, she figured it wasn’t a good idea. She was indecent and he looked ready to pass out.

Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled happily, tucking a hair behind her ear. “Thank you again, I’m going to make sure that it’s put back safe and sound,” She told him, her eyes landing on the coats. “...and I have to clean up. I kinda tore apart the place looking for this.”

“Anytime,” Aaron repeated, chuckling a second later as he realized his mistake. “Um, I mean-- yeah, it’s no problem, don’t worry about it.” He was also having a hard time wiping the newly refreshed grin off his face, and he couldn’t quite muster the energy to turn completely away, awkwardly sidestepping to open the door. As he did so, just for a second, the daytime light illuminated the red flush on his cheekbones. “Have a good day.”

_{Dates: December 22nd - January 5}

Dec. 25th: Aaron & Ryner

The harvest this year will be bountiful.

Your daughter will find herself healthy and hale in a few days’ time. Apply the herbs under the nose three times a day and you’ll have her running around soon enough.

We lost another shepherd. It’s the third one this year.

She enjoyed listening to the voices now. The wind no longer demanded she hear them, bringing whatever its whimsical flights of fancy to grate against her ears. Now it only spoke when she asked politely and quickly held its tongue when she had enough. Her moon taught her painstakingly, sheltering her when it got too much, praising her when she didn’t need the silence only her moon could bring. It made something in her chest warm, like when she finally learned to count to twenty and her moon was delighted or when she read her first full sentence without stumbling or asking for help. Those pesky little lines that made letters still confused her but she’d do anything if it put that smile on her moon’s face. She realized that the voices had faded but a peek at the hourglass said it wasn’t time to move on so she focused once more on the gentle breeze swirling in from the open balcony.

Cydril… I won’t let it happen. She can’t touch this one.

The girl flinched at the tone, her moon’s gentle voice all wrong. It was harsh and mean and… and… All she could think of was the belt and the cold and the hunger and the stone and she curled in on herself to get away, hands wrapped around her knees and she shoved the wind away and away and away, demanded it take the scary voice with it and bring back her moon, bring back the person who saved her. But the wind didn’t listen. It spoke and it spoke and it spoke.

Oh stars above, you like the little thing don’t you? You got attached. Our sister dearest is relentless. Are you really going to tell her no, hm? You knew what we were doing going into this.

You may have the spine of a jellyfish but I have no asinine fears. This one is mine and if I come back and find a single hair out of place, I will stake every one of you for the sun.

Yvaine… Very well. I’ll see what I can do. Though do make sure to come back in one piece. I’m not in the habit of risking my neck for a pile of ashes.

The wind slipped away, the words fading with it, but she wasn’t there anymore. She was far away, on the ground, in a dirty cell with tens and tens and tens of marks carved into the wall. Where she couldn’t remember which flake of blood was hers or someone else's. Where the sound of a belt was her worst nightmare and her only solace was the silence. She couldn’t stop the tears but her throat squeezed painfully to fight back the sobs. They wracked her body anyways.

She didn’t know how long she was like that. Only that at some point she’d heard the creak of the door, the softness of a voice, and the chill of arms around her. She realized she was rocking back and forth and a familiar rush of peace washed over her. Her moon sung sweetly as they rocked, her dress soaked through where the girl buried her face. A hand carded gently through her hair and the tears threatened to spill again. She didn’t know why her moon was so angry, why the star who played with dolls and puppets with her sounded so upset, but she did know her moon loved her and as long as the moon stayed near, the girl was safe.

~ /// ~

Aaron gasped as he woke, clutching his sheets where the moon’s dress had been, but he wasn't in a panic like he usually was; rather, he only felt a little irritated, having been rudely pulled from a sound sleep and the pleasant embrace of… Yvaine, he supposed. Of course, as seconds passed and he came to his senses, the realization of what had happened struck and turned his irritation to fear—or it would have if he wasn’t so damn exasperated. Sun and stars, didn't he have enough going on already? Alarm clocks popping up all around the dorm in the middle of the day, looking over his shoulder for assassins, preparing for the Mental program—in the two months since his last dream, he'd been foolish enough to think he could turn his mind to the million other things in his life jostling for attention. But no, of course fate decided he needed something else to keep him up all day.

Dragging himself upright, he downed the glass of water on his nightstand, fuming. Not only that, but the dream dared to have such a pleasant, soothing ending that he found himself longing to sink back into it even now. What was he, five? Was he really so starved for comfort that he’d seek it in the arms of long-dead vampires from foreign memories?

He flopped back onto his pillow, slapping his hands over his eyes. He supposed he couldn't just ignore this, could he? If it was anything like the two previous iterations, it would plague him for at least a week before leaving him alone. Ugh, and Salem probably got the same one; great, something else to look forward to when he got back to the Academy. At least he wasn’t in the castle this time, beating down his door and shouting incriminating details for every servant on the grounds to hear. No, he'd probably be shouting it from the rooftops to be heard by everyone in whatever backwater human town he came from—honestly, Aaron had half a mind to just distance himself from the man and let Salem dig his own grave.

He groaned, drowsiness creeping back in as his anger faded. Those were all matters he could worry about in the evening. Maybe he was jaded, but Aaron was presented with a rare opportunity to sleep uninterrupted by alarm clocks and paranoia, and nightmare or not, he was going to take advantage of it. Moon only knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep when the break was over.

~ /// ~

Evening came too quickly, and though with no duties to attend to Aaron could finally sleep past six—something he still wasn’t sure how to feel about, given the extra sleep reminded him he’d been replaced—he was still out of bed bright and early, fiddling with his clothes for an hour until it was finally an acceptable time to seek an audience with the Princess.

It was strange making his way to Ryner’s study through the main hallways, but with no place among the staff and no job to do, it would be even stranger to show up from behind a bookcase through one of the servants’ corridors. He’d made sure there were no guests expected tonight, so at least his presence wouldn’t be noted by anyone of importance, but even though the Starags were given largely free reign of the castle, walking through the halls like a guest in his own right felt… well, weird. Though, he supposed he really was a guest now, wasn’t he?

He shook his head to dispel that disheartening thought as he reached the study door, taking a breath as he raised his hand to knock. He really shouldn’t disturb her without notice, but he reminded himself that for whatever reason, she’d taken great interest in his dreams before. She’d want to know.

Ryner looked up at the sound at her door. She wasn't expecting anyone and certainly neither her mother nor her sister would be kind enough to knock. She'd permitted herself more casual attire tonight, a pair of sturdy and comfortable jeans and a button up blouse rather than a more formal dress, and she cursed her laziness. She cleaned up her desk, putting away a financing request from the charms department at her academy, and schooled her face into a polite smile.

"Enter!" She called through the door, fingers tapping irritably on her desk at the interruption.

Aaron grimaced at the Princess’ tone, but it was too late to withdraw now. Clearing his throat to wipe the discomfort from his face, he opened the door quietly, sliding in a step and offering a bow.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Your Highness,” he said, though he still closed the door behind him. “I would have given notice, but there have been some… developments I thought you'd want to be alerted of immediately.”

The tension melted out of Ryner immediately and her smile softened into something far more genuine. She stood up and made her way across the room to him. "Oh please, don't apologize. I thought you were someone else, that's all." She rested her hands on his shoulders, taking a moment to cast a critical eye over his appearance. "I'm glad to see this break is getting you some well deserved rest. But is everything alright? Are you alright?"

Aaron offered the Princess a thin smile, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. Looking down at his cuff, he fiddled with it as he spoke. “I suppose; as alright as could be expected, anyway.” He looked back up, expression more serious. “I've had another dream.”

"Another…? Oh dear." Ryner sighed but she gestured for him to sit across from her as she returned to her seat. She took a moment to pull out paper and a pen. "Tell me about your dream and let's see if this one will give us a clue as to why you're getting them."

Aaron sat where Ryner indicated, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before launching into as detailed a summary of his dream as he could manage after only one repetition. He told her every detail he could recall about the voices on the wind and the overheard conversation between Yvaine and the puppet man, now given the name Cydril, focusing more on that exchange than the now-familiar lamentations of Ellmare. When at last he finished, he sat back in his chair, rubbing his temple.

“So we have a name for another major player, that’s good. And some sister in play, and confirmation that Ellmare is actively being pursued. Maybe for having escaped her confinement?” He looked up to Ryner with weary eyes, the toll all this confusion was taking on him plainly evident. “This Cydril is definitely the man she mentioned before that would play with her, but it’s strange… his voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I don’t really recall hearing him speak in any of her recollections before.”

Aaron looked puzzled for a moment, twisting a lock of hair between his fingers, before he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just forgetting. I’d be lying if I said all these dreams and whispers weren’t starting to run together.”

Ryner was staring at her notes, frowning as she considered the new information. “It seems there’s a break in the ranks, hm? Something’s going on that Yvaine is willing to kill over and clearly it has to do with this little girl sending out her experiences.” Ryner chewed at her lip as her fingers tapped. She looked up but she seemed elsewhere as she seemed to look out beyond the confines of this room, lost in thought. It took her awhile to come back but she registered Aaron’s exhaustion and cooed sympathetically.

“I’m sorry this is happening on top of everything else that’s going on in your life. I have some colleagues looking into the matter but so far we haven’t found out why you’re having these or how to stop them.” She informed him with a reassuring smile. “I’m hoping that the techniques you pick up in the mental classes may stop these but the lack of precedence leaves me as unsure about that as anything else in this situation. Though, I do wonder about your feelings of familiarity with Cydril’s voice. I wonder if your mind is accepting these memories as your own as opposed to recognizing them as outside transmissions. You can’t think of where you may have heard it at all? Maybe even something remotely similar?”

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he combed back through the conversation in the dream, racking his brain to pinpoint what exactly felt so strangely familiar. But remembering a voice he’d never truly heard was as difficult as remembering a face in a dream; every time he thought he had it, it escaped him, like grasping at smoke. The harder he tried, the more difficult it was to determine whether the voice in his head was a dream, a memory, or an outright fabrication.

Finally he had to give up, plopping his cheekbone on his fist. “It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue,” he explained. “The closest thing I can think of is that it sounds a little like Master’s voice, but… I don’t know, deeper maybe? But that doesn’t feel right, either.” He sighed, his frustration evident as he clawed at the arm of the chair with his free hand.

“Whatever it is, it’s nagging at me,” he continued. “Almost like deja vu. Do you think that might be what’s happening?” Aaron flicked his eyes back up to the Princess, latching on to her comment that he might be adopting Ellmare’s memories as his own. He sat up a bit straighter. “I mean, I think I can easily separate Ellmare’s memories from my own, but what if the edges are blurring? Should I be worried?”

His leg started bouncing, the mage more awake now as he seemed to search the wall to his right for answers. “I remember Mr. Deshane saying something similar about affinity loss through mental magic. The way he said it, it sounded like your affinity is a culmination of your experiences, and mental magic can make you lose track of which experiences belong to you or someone else. Is that what’s happening to me with these dreams?” He was growing distressed, the notion not having occurred to him before. “Not affinity loss necessarily, but… I don’t know. I don’t like this.”

“I don’t think you’re in any danger of that. Mages who stop being able to tell the difference between their own lives and others usually speak about the others as if they were their own.” Ryner reassured him, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry I alarmed you; I was only thinking out loud. You’re heading into the mental program to help defend yourself from possible situations for the time being; perhaps the tools you learn in the program will work to keep whatever this is away from you.” She leaned back and stared at Aaron unblinkingly, deep in thought.

“You say it sounds like Varis but not Varis… I wonder if your mind is unconsciously filtering it to help you make sense of it. Which would mean…” She trailed off as she considered, fiddling with the pen, and then turned her attention fully to Aaron. “How would you feel about meeting the Dean of the mental program when you return to school? He may have some more insight into how these visions come about. We’ll have to be careful with what we reveal but if we play our cards right, we could learn something about this situation that’ll help us stop them.”

Aaron nodded as Ryner spoke, marginally comforted by her explanation. It wouldn't surprise him if his mind was constructing similarities where there were none; he had no way of knowing if these things worked the same, but he imagined it was like searching for something and imagining having put it in every possible place.

His head snapped up at the mention of the Dean of the mental program, and he nodded. “Absolutely,” he answered instantly, “I’ll do just about whatever you think might put an end to this.”

"Excellent! I will warn you, Vizar has a… mild hyperfixation on the Starag family line so I apologize if he comes off as a bit too enthusiastic with you." Ryner warned him. "But I will take care of the details. As for now, thank you for bringing me this so quickly. Why don't you capitalize on this opportunity and enjoy some extra sleep, Aaron? You don't have to worry about anything and I know that is a rare thing these nights for you."

Aaron couldn't help but laugh at that; what did a “hyperfixation” on his family line even mean? Was he going to start pulling hairs out of his head for genetic examination? It was funny to think about for sure, Aaron wouldn't have expected a mage to take special interest in any family line unless they were a geneticist or something.

At the Princess' suggestion, he was hesitant at first, but slowly nodded. The idea that he “didn't have to worry about anything” was foreign to him, but he supposed she was right; he couldn't do anything for Varis from here except keep track of current events, he had no Academy assignments coming up, and there wasn't any work for him to do here. He wasn't sure if that last part was a relief or a burden, but either way, he'd be an idiot to give up a few extra hours of rest.

“That's probably wise, Your Highness,” he finally agreed, standing from his chair. His fatigue was even more apparent now that he was a little more relaxed, but he still offered a bow. “Thank you for your time.”

Rybee stood with him, coming around the desk to give Aaron a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "You know you never have to thank me for it; I'll always have time for you, Aaron. Sleep well."

She watched Aaron leave and waited until she couldn't hear his footsteps any longer before she let her lip curl into the sneer she'd been keeping at bay since he told her. Whoever was behind this was going to pay dearly once she got her hands around their neck.

Dec. 28th: Solo

♪ As we sat on the front porch of that old grey house where I was born and raised
Staring at the dusty fields where my daddy worked hard every day
I think it kinda hurt him when I said, "Daddy, there's a lot that I don't know.
But don't you ever dream about a life
Where corn don't grow?" ♪

The newspaper in Aaron’s lap crinkled quietly as he tapped his foot to the music, cheek resting on his fist as a country guitar picked in his ear. His taste in music was a bit of a mystery to his peers at the castle, but what never failed to impress him was the sheer detail of the imagery these writers could cram into just a few sentences; one verse in and he could already picture a small house with faded vinyl siding and a porch bathed in the auburn light of a melancholy summer sunset, sinking under an endless stretch of rolling fields. He’d always been envious of that detail; Aaron could hardly express a single sentiment without tripping over himself, whereas a country writer could turn two verses into a vivid memory from a life he’d never lived.

He shifted upright in his seat, rubbing his eyes as he realized he’d been reading the same out-of-focus sentence for the past few minutes. Goodness, he must have been dozing off, he didn’t even remember the last few songs in his playlist. Ha, wasn’t that something that would never happen at school; the only place he ever felt calm enough to doze off there was the infirmary, in what few precious spare minutes he could get away from his duties and the trials that plagued him after he went to bed. It was still a little weird to think he nearly fell asleep in the Starag sitting room at the castle, but with no duties metered out for him anymore and no Varis to catch him slacking off, maybe it was okay to take a break. It was apparently a slow news day anyway, with the front page story in this particular paper being something about some green energy company preparing for new business deals. Probably good to keep track of, sure, but with nothing else to do for two weeks but read the paper, there was probably some time in the night to follow Ryner’s advice and catch up on his sleep. With a new nightmare and a lingering lack of sleep dating back about a month, moon only knew he probably needed it.

Mind made up, Aaron set his paper aside, took his earbuds out and stood up to stretch, only to jump when the TV on the wall flashed to life. He squinted suspiciously at it—they really only had it for shame’s sake, no one even remembered where the remote had gone off to—as a “Breaking News” splash sequence played, before cutting to muted aerial footage of a smoking car wreck in the forest. Aaron took a step to turn it off, but stopped in his tracks when the words “SUSPECTED ASSASSINATION NEAR ASTORIO TERRITORY” rolled across the chyron on the bottom.

A stone grew in his stomach as he watched—something felt off. “Assassinations” on Astorios weren’t emergency broadcast material; that family would fight to the death over a parking space. Feeling around the edges of the screen, he eventually found the volume buttons, clicking blindly until he could hear what was being said.

...area was scorched and burned around the remains, making the investigation believe Count Sinnenodel managed to survive the initial attack but was unable to escape his pursuers.

Count… Sinnenodel?

Lady Sybil Sinnenodel released a statement shortly after the discovery of the vehicle.

“I have no doubt that treachery was involved in this attack but it is too early to determine the fate of those involved. If it is indeed my heir, the Red Hand will reckon with the consequences of my attention. This slight will not go unpunished.”

What?

The feed switched to a panel of hastily-assembled analysts, already chattering theories of what might have happened and the consequences of the Red Hand pursuing such a high profile target, but Aaron was deaf to it. He was rooted in place, staring blindly at the screen, until a faint shrieking noise garnered his attention.

The sound drew nearer like a speeding car, resembling a woman’s scream in pitch until it finally reached a piercing climax at the sitting room door; there materialized a very flustered-looking Clara, almost losing her balance as she came to a sudden halt.

“Aaron, did you—”

Before she could finish, she was cut off by a thump and the sound of clinking glass as a wide-eyed and pallid Dora materialized a little too close to a side table, shaking one of the antique lamps. “Clara, did he see?”

“What do you think I was just asking him?”

“Oh come off it, it’s not a race.”

“Well pardon me for rushing to check on him!”

“What do you think I’m doing here?!”

“Sun and stars, must the two of you be so dramatic?” Aaron’s mother’s voice was comparatively calm from the doorway, where she’d simply walked in cradling a cup of tea. She leaned against the door frame, looking exasperated. “Honestly, it isn’t that far a walk.”

“I was all the way over in the west wing!” Clara argued.

“And I was upstairs!” Dora added.

“Guys!” Aaron snapped, finally shaken from his daze by his relatives’ bickering. He leveled them each with a sharp look, but any trace of anger quickly evaporated to a much more familiar expression of worry. As if to pester him further, his phone chose that moment to buzz, and a short message from Max rolled across the preview screen on his smart watch.

> LOL

Aaron let out a slow breath; it was a good thing the message displayed on his watch, because if he had his phone in hand at that moment he very well might have thrown it through the window. Fortunately for Max, though, the message reminded Aaron to move, whipping out his phone not to toss it, but to call Malek.

When the line opened, Aaron didn’t bother waiting for a greeting before he started talking. “Mr. Abadi, are you seeing this? Is this true?! This can’t be true.” His mouth moved faster than his brain, the words practically falling out of him. “Do you have more information on the Count? What’s going on? Why wasn’t I contacted before the press got a hold of this?!”

There was a pause on the line, as if to wait and see if another verbal outburst were to follow, before Malek’s voice rumbled back with an answer.

“Everything is under control.”

Aaron opened his mouth to demand more information, but the line went dead before he got the chance.

His family had congregated behind one of the couches, looking on in muted concern as Aaron tried three more times to reach Malek, to no avail. He moved without realizing it, pacing a few laps around the rug before making a break for the door.

Clara intercepted him, blocking his path. “Slow down, darling. Let's not be rash.”

Aaron didn't hear her. All he heard were Malek’s words echoing in his head, like a cruel, mocking prediction coming true. Your final responsibility will be to protect the Count as the final line of defense.

And after this conversation, I have no confidence in your abilities.

Aaron tried twice to sidestep his aunt, only for the other two to close in on him. “I have to go,” he growled, malice borne of desperation leaching into his tone.

Dora was clearly shocked at his tone, but his mother didn't seem perturbed, placing a hand on his arm. “Go where, honey?”

“I— somewhere!” Aaron shouted, wrenching free of Ella’s grasp and stumbling a step backward. “I have to go… figure out what’s going on! See if I can help! They’ll probably have questions—I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“Aaron, calm down,” Ella cooed, her soft voice a sharp contrast to her son’s shouting. “Sit down and think for a moment. You were nowhere near him when it happened. This isn’t your fault.”

It was uncanny how his mother could always find her way to the root of an issue without ever being told, but Aaron wasn’t concerned with that right now. “My master might be dead and you want me to be calm?!” he shouted back, raking his hands through his hair. “How isn’t this my fault!? I’m his mage, I’m supposed to protect him, and I wasn’t there to do my job because I was here, relaxing while my single biggest responsibility got blown up in the fucking woods!” His breathing was growing more ragged by the second, and he had to sit down, rocking with his elbows on his knees. “Sun and fucking stars, Mom, I might as well have killed him myself!”

As Clara and Dora looked on in shock, Ella leveled her son with a look of matronly patience as he had his outburst, approaching only when he’d finished to sit next to him on the couch. “We don’t know that anyone’s killed him yet, sweetheart,” she reasoned softly. “You can’t always be there. You’ll always regret it, but it’s the way things are. You’re not his only lifeline, Sunshine. If his retinue let this happen, then that’s their stone to bear.”

Aaron was lightheaded as he tried to listen, labouring to steady his breathing so as not to pass out. He wanted to believe his mother. Everything she said was sound. But with Malek’s words bouncing around his head and the sharp memories of his every failure haunting him, it was hard to reconcile the idea that he wasn’t somehow to blame.

“I can’t keep going on like this,” he finally croaked, a new subject popping to mind as he dropped his face in his hands. “I can’t. I can’t live between two worlds anymore. I can’t be Count Sinnenodel’s mage at school and come back to the Noilas at home like nothing changed.”

Ella’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t belong here, mother!” Aaron suddenly shouted, looking at Ella with burning eyes. “Good lord, Mom, don’t pretend you don’t see it! It took them minutes to replace me! I come home and I float around like some kind of transient with no job to do and nowhere to be, while my real master goes on without me! I’m useless here!”

His voice broke a bit on those last few words, and clutched at his eyes, allowing himself a moment to swallow the lump in his throat. When he spoke again, he was much quieter, nodding to himself. “If I’m to join another family, then I have to commit,” he decided. “I can’t stay here where everyone insists that I stand still. At least at my master’s estate they could find some way for me to make myself useful.”

The three sisters shared a pained look, peering at Aaron for a moment in silence. “You don’t want to come home anymore?” Dora asked timidly.

Aaron shook his head, finally thinking a little clearer. “This isn’t home anymore, Dora. I’m as much a guest here as any other.”

Dora’s eyes welled up with tears, but Ella maintained a flawless mask of motherly neutrality. “And that’s your decision?”

Aaron met her eyes, his anger starting to evaporate. But even if he said it in distress, he couldn’t deny the truth behind what he said; coming home felt like pretending, a brief escape from the harsh reality that the Noilas had no further use for him, but the truth always burned in the back of his mind nonetheless. But even still, he couldn’t decide tonight that he’d never come home again. “I don’t know, I just… I feel like if there’s anywhere I should belong, it’s in my master’s home, and this isn’t it anymore.”

He let out a long breath, only to double over once more in a harsh realization of the situation. “Moon above, if there’s even anything left of him.”

Ella considered her son with sad eyes, but if she had objections, she didn’t voice them. “If that’s what you think is best, I won’t stop you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to meet his eye. “You do what you feel you need to do, Sunshine.”

Aaron’s head snapped up at that, and though his heart wanted to break at the sight of his mother, he had more important things to deal with. “Thank you, Mom,” he told her, kissing her cheek before he jumped to his feet and took off in search of something to contribute to Varis’ situation.

He was far away by the time Ella started sobbing.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_@Achronum

Jorah raised his eyebrows at Clarissa’s comments. She’d already been talking to some of the Lions, eh? Well, if the Officers’ Academy welcomed commoners alongside nobles, then it came as no surprise to him that one of them was “behind on a number of social and academic skills”. Outside the walls of Great Lords’ estates back home were hundreds and thousands of everyday peasants in the same boat; if anything, it was the nobility’s pathological attachment to ceremony and procedure that was out of place. Of course, he’d been banging that drum since childhood and no one ever bothered to listen, so he doubted he’d change any minds now. So what if his point was tangentially related to worming his way out of etiquette classes? It was a good point!

But doomed and silenced as ever, Jorah elected to use his mouth for chewing rather than talking, starting ravenously on his second plate before it had the chance to get cold. That was, until a scuffle broke out just outside the dining hall and some lunatic started shouting about the end times.

A spike of panic rang out through the dining hall like a scream at the sound of a struggle, but while the thief himself was radiating a fair bit of it, he wasn’t the source; if Jorah had to guess, it was more likely the white-haired Lion - Lena? - Clarissa’d been talking about, who jumped to her feet in record time at the first sign of a struggle. That wasn’t the lightning-fast reaction time of someone who “felt out of place”; the closest thing Jorah could compare it to was the behaviour of the sailors he drank with on the Derdriu waterfront. Some of them would jump up at the first sound of trouble, be it the crack of a breaking chair leg or a peal of lightning; he learned it was a reflex honed by years at sea, where pirates and storms could converge on a ship at the drop of a hat. He doubted this Lion was the seafaring type, but if he had to guess, he’d say she’d spent a fair bit of her life on the lookout for something.

Not that the thief wasn’t interesting in his own right. He had to have a set like bronze to try stealing from Garreg Freaking Mach in broad daylight, if not a bit light of head to compensate, and it was clear to Jorah that he believed every word he said: the man was a storm in his own right, a swirling maelstrom of dread and panic and feelings of doom, all amplified like a horn in an empty hall. The poor man must have been out of his mind with fear; maybe that was why whatever affliction he clearly suffered from prompted him to do something so stupid.

But the man was quickly taken care of - though Jorah was sure it didn’t feel that way to him - and after a moment, the thrum of conversation in the dining hall resumed, tensions starting to ease as students and faculty alike shared commentary. Clarissa spoke up as well, earning her a mischievous look from Jorah.

“I don’t know…” he hummed, eyeing his friend. “You heard him. The Mark will be our downfall when she comes. Maybe he’s really our saviour warning us of our impending doom.” Jorah waggled his fingers at Clarissa like a nursemaid telling a ghost story before resuming his work with his fork. “That better not have been a shot at my face paint,” he added, slurring with his mouth full.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_{@Hero @Scribe of Thoth @ThatCharacter}

Lienna would never claim to be a patient woman, so it should have come as no surprise when Auberon’s long-winded explanation failed to draw her attention for much longer than it took her to prompt it in the first place. But he quickly regained it with his little dining etiquette comment, her distaste for the highborn prick simmering as she shot him an icy glare.

“What a shame, Derec; it seems we shall have to learn to eat at tables with the highborn now. Next they’ll make us stop walking around on all fours.” She offered her fellow of lower birth a thin smile, putting on her best pompous voice for Auberon’s benefit.

And of course he was off to tea with the saints-damned Archbishop of all people - honestly, it was as if a campfire joke of a noble had come to life before her very eyes. Lienna had a brief idea that it might bring Auberon down a few steps from his high horse to spend an afternoon with a child Archbishop, but she wouldn’t hold her breath; Ianno--Annais? Whoever-- had probably been swaddled in silver and gold from the moment of his birth, he wasn’t likely to be much different. The Church preached humility and understanding, sure, but they also preached mercy, and yet there was always a soldier in Hima bragging about the time his friend saw a Knight of Seiros cut a fleeing heretic in two.

Suddenly, a chorus of gasps washed over the dining hall, cut short by a loud cry of pain and the heavy thump of a body falling to the ground. Lienna was on her feet in an instant, heart in her throat as a lifetime of dodging Srengese raids screamed at her to run and hide. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her, but all eyes were fixed on the interloper and the retinue of monastery guards that filed in after him, every diner shocked into silence as the green-haired thief ranted and raved about “marks” and impending doom. It was a disturbingly familiar routine to Lienna, who backed up a step before bumping into the side of Kellen’s chair, and though she tried to turn her mind away, she had to wonder if that forsaken soul had the same affliction that plagued her grandmother for so long.

The scene was over as quickly as it began, the guards hauling the mad thief away. The dining hall erupted in hushed conversation a moment after they were gone, and Lienna simply stood there, arms wrapped around her abdomen as she willed her heart to slow down back to normal.

Realizing she was making a scene of herself, she quickly stooped to pick up her chair, pushing it back in with shaking hands before sinking into it, pallid and much less incensed than before. She’d have loved nothing more than to leave, but the way out was blocked by a million stupid chairs that her sore foot was not in the mood to navigate, and then what? She’d flee like before and leave her housemates to gawk at the scared, flighty peasant? Goddess only knew the excuses Auberon would come up with.

“Well, that was something,” she finally managed to say, voice quieter than before. She tried to keep her tone light, but her thousand-yard stare fixed on the tablecloth suggested otherwise. “Who knew a Monastery would attract such excitement.”

Hello, I'd like to get a word on a few things.

So if I wanted to apply for an RP would I do that in the OOC tab or would I send a PM to the people running it?

@Medium Light

Either works, though the OOC tab is better for RPs that haven't yet started and PMs are better if they have started.

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_@Hero

Jorah gave Clarissa an incredulous look at her mention of his table manners. “If I don’t eat this one quickly, then that one is going to get cold,” he explained, gesturing with his fork between his two plates.

He continued to scarf down his meal as she spoke, listening as she launched into a lengthy retelling of events at the cathedral. Honestly, she said he talked too much, but Clarissa could carry on both sides of a conversation all by herself. Not that he minded; after those few precarious years where she withdrew from the world, he was all the more grateful for her enthusiasm in returning to it. He’d let her go on forever if it meant she wasn’t bottling things up inside.

But boy, the things she got up to in such a short time! Only Clarissa could turn her very first day at Garreg Mach into tea with the Archbishop. Goodness, next thing he knew she’d be bridge partners with the King of Faerhus and pen pals with the Adrestian Emperor - though he supposed the latter wasn’t all that far-fetched anymore. Man, Garreg Mach really was an ocean of opportunity for enterprising types like Clarissa, wasn’t it?

“And here I thought I’d be the one making friends in high places,” Jorah joked between bites, eyes crinkling with a full-mouthed smile. He really was happy for her; this place was her dream come true, and she was certainly making the most of it. Not to mention, he was glad she’d find some routine here; she bothered him about his routine, but he could raise the same concerns for her. He knew how close she was with her father, and he was a little worried about how she’d get on without him, but as usual, it was clear his worries were baseless.

He couldn’t help but smile as he polished off his second plate; Clarissa’s joy was infectious and mellow, like a hot drink warming up the whole body. It was a pure and wholesome sort of happiness he didn’t get much anywhere else - Clarissa had always been clear and direct, and her feelings were no different.

“Would it be naive to hope that tea with you and the Archbishop will loosen him up a little?” Jorah asked, shaking his head. He loved the way she worded things: Auberon’s opinion of him was “malleable”, he noticed his “natural informality”. What a nice way to say that first impressions hadn’t been great. Jorah himself was rather pleased how things went among his fellow House Leaders, but then again, he’d made a career out of teasing the stiff-necked nobility, and Auberon had painted himself a fine target.

At long last Clarissa commented on the return of his usual adornment, and Jorah’s grin turned a fair bit more mischievous. “Oh don’t worry, he tried,” he assured her, remembering his father’s periodic patrols while his servants were packing his trunks. He gave Clarissa a wink. “Poor Duke Riegan is always just a trick behind.”

“And of course I did! At the cost of a few pairs of riding pants maybe, but I’m sure the horses aren’t too picky,” he assured her. As if he’d forget his lute! He’d sooner forget his arms and legs at home. “Rai expressed the same concern, but don’t worry, I’ll be dancing on tables in no time.”

“You’ll have to join me, though,” he added quickly, pointing his fork at Clarissa. “One song at least, and no sneaking off before things get rolling!” He gave his friend a serious look, which on his face looked even more comical than any smile.

Of course, he could only hold it for a second before breaking into chuckles, looking around the dining hall. There was a niggling feeling of tension coming from somewhere, and a brief look around made him pretty sure the source was the next table over, where none other than Auberon, the shining knight of Faerghus himself, was eyeing what Jorah assumed were his housemates. Yes, there was the tall redheaded one, and the chilly white-haired one facing away; the third boy must have been the nervous one, if that shuffling was any indication. Oh dear, oh dear, things did not seem to be getting off on a good foot over there.

“Maybe you should see if Auberon will come, too,” Jorah suggested, quirking his chin in the direction of the forthcoming storm. “I don’t think he’ll accept my invitation, but I daresay the man might need some stress relief after today.”

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron stiffened a little more when Lilie approached him, concern plain on her face. Damn, he was that transparent, was he? That would be one more point in Varis’ upcoming lecture, no doubt, not that he’d be wrong to criticize it. He must have been as white as a sheet, and no one wanted a ghost waiting on a party.

“Of course,” he murmured, trying to comfort Lilie by painting on a thin smile. “Just a long night, that’s all. I’ll take it easy soon, I promise.” He lied through his teeth, but snuck her a wink for good measure, before quirking his chin in the direction of the hallway.

“Now, if you’ll meet me at the door, I’ll fetch your coat for you," he told her at a normal volume, offering a dip of the head and a gesture to the hall. "Have a pleasant evening, Miss Dionne.”

_@Hero

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_{@Hero @Scribe of Thoth @ThatCharacter}

The red-haired Lion, whatever his name was, could at least take a hint, though while he seemed content to eat in easy silence, Lienna had no such luck with the other two that found their way to her. First there was Kellen, looking significantly worse for wear and pointedly avoiding her gaze for reasons unknown. Cichol’s teeth, was he really that nervous? Lienna struggled to understand how anyone could eke out a life in northern Faerghus whilst jumping at their own shadow, but once more she was shown how skewed her view of the world could apparently be.

And then, of course, there was Auberon, casting a judgemental eye on his subordinates as he took his seat across from her. Why yes, she was a difficult woman to find - it was almost as if she’d arranged things that way. Of course, any lingering scrap of guilt she might have had over avoiding her fellow Lions evaporated when she caught that haughty look from Auberon, gaze growing icy as she watched his pitiful attempt at subtlety. Of course, now that was more in line with what she’d expected from the highborn students; Clarissa had at least tried to frame her corrections in a helpful light, but Auberon seemed to think she was a child in need of careful instruction. If she could trust her lowly peasant brain, she’d guess she’d chosen the wrong fork. She made a mental note to do the same thing next time, or maybe just eat with her hands and see if steam would come out of Auberon’s ears.

“Yes, forgive me; I was sorting something out with the staff,” she told Auberon coldly, very deliberately making eye contact as she forewent her knife and tore a piece off her tart with her fingers. “It seems they made a mistake and put me in one of the common dorms, but it’s all fixed now.”

Derec tried to ease the tension, but his intervention did little for Lienna’s mood. She’d already used up a considerable amount of patience today, she didn’t foresee her reserves replenishing anytime soon. Of course, of all the Lions, Derec was probably the most relatable - from what little he’d said so far, anyway. Prior to her few weeks at Count Francis’ keep, this would also have probably been the best food she’d ever eaten, and it was definitely the first food she’d ever tasted from outside of Faerghus. And, of course, despite always having cooked for two, she was more than accustomed to eating alone.

“Kellen, sit down before your knees give out,” Lienna said suddenly, not looking up from her meal. Her tone was probably a little sharper than necessary, but it was unnerving to have the boy shuffling over her shoulder, and if he wasn’t going to take the hit to his reputation and leave then he could bloody well sit down and endure this ordeal just like the rest of them.

“Speaking of settling in, did you talk to our professor Auberon?” she asked, toying with her napkin. Did she sound a little condescending? Maybe. Did she care? Not at all. “I’m very interested to hear your plans for us as House Leader.”

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

_@Achronum

The afternoon with Imogen went quickly, very much similar to a raucous night of partying where the sun seems to show up much too far ahead of schedule. The two of them easily clicked, playing off each other’s energy in a whirlwind of snappy back-and-forths, and they had a rollicking good time exploring the grounds and nearby village. Garreg Mach really was a beauty, and Jorah had already begun a mental account of pathways, hiding places, and other haunts he was sure he’d be referring to throughout the school year. The scale of the place was beyond Jorah’s expectations, the mountains were terrifying and breathtaking, and all told he was even more secure in his judgement that it had been a terrible, terrible idea on his father’s part to send him here.

All the more reason to love the place!

But good things must come to an end, and much like those raucous nights of partying, there always came a time when he had to leave the pub, unsteady and red-faced, and stumble his way back home. Jorah bid his farewells to Imogen at the dorms, but, daunted by the prospect of so many trunks to unpack, didn’t find his own just yet; instead, he decided to take one last lap of the monastery grounds. He didn’t have much of a destination in mind, just wanted to soak up the atmosphere without the titter of laughter in his ear.

Alas, as much joy as Imogen’s company brought him, it was quickly apparent that her company would be demanding to maintain. He loved her energy, fed off it; she alone had the same energy as a riled up tavern crowd five ales deep, and it was that exact sort of high he spent his life chasing. But for every high, there was a crash, and Jorah was feeling it: like the ringing in one’s ears after a long bout of cheering, he could feel his soul still buzzing with energetic fervor. He’d never say it out loud, but at the end of the day, it was taxing. This was the time, back home, when he’d seek his sister’s company; her aura was the ocean to his gale, and when he was with her, he could sink into its calm depths and escape the mania for a moment. Granted, he always returned to the chaos, but those moments of reprieve were the rest he needed to keep going back.

But here, he didn’t have his sister to run to, did he? He vaguely recalled Clarissa bringing up that very issue. But certainly it wouldn’t cause that big of a problem, would it? Sure, her company was ideal back home, where the only alternatives were his father’s disapproval and the numbness of solitude, but maybe Garreg Mach would be different. The place was a town in its own right, people of all stripes always crawling around; he wasn’t sure he could be completely alone in this place even if he wanted to. Maybe he could make do with the occasional calm walk on his own.

Hellooo Nurse!

Said calming walk eventually brought him to the cathedral; specifically, after a long moment of gazing out at the view from the bridge, it brought him to a door leading to the cathedral’s second floor. It never occurred to Jorah that cathedrals had second floors - wasn’t all the space taken up by the tall vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows? - but it wasn’t like him to question these things, simply to explore them.

At the top of the stairs and down a few hallways, he was surprised to stumble upon a fully-outfitted infirmary, complete with what looked like a few village locals convalescing in beds with curtains stretched between them. The aura in the room was… odd, in a way. Walking into a room full of sick people, he’d have expected feelings of dread, fatigue, fear, maybe even relief, but the place felt… subdued. Like a heavy blanket had been laid down on top of it, muffling all the emotional “sounds” underneath. It was calm, in a way, but definitely strange; magic, perhaps? To help the sick people rest? He had no idea.

Jorah was squinting around the room, puzzled and oblivious to his intrusion, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Excuse the delay!” Kaira stepped out from behind a divider in a hurry, hastily cleaning her hands as she rushed to the entrance. She stopped as she saw Jorah, giving him a warm smile. “Oh, hello! I...oh!” She turned towards a small desk with a pitcher and several small towels, placing it down before wiping her hands.

“There we go,” She said, giving him her full attention. “Welcome to the infirmary! Did you need healing?”

Jorah nearly jumped at the voice, though any surprise quickly drained out of him as the infirmary attendant - who he recognized as the pretty green-haired woman from orientation - drew near. The vibe in the room seemed to shift as she did so, the muffling effect he’d noticed before growing a bit stronger as she approached. She must have been the source of it, then; almost like his sister’s calming aura, but with a totally foreign flavour. Man, Garreg Mach was full of emotional anomalies, wasn’t it?

That said, it was hard to think on those logistics for too long with a soft pair of sea green eyes staring at him, and Jorah shook his head, a charming grin sliding easily onto his face. “Oh, no, terribly sorry for the confusion,” he excused himself smoothly, looking around once more for good measure.

But his eyes were quick to snap back to the attending girl, with a very conscious effort not to travel down her body and up again - she seemed like the shy type who might not take a fancy to that. “You’re… Kaira, who likes praying, I remember,” he suddenly recalled from introductions, perching a hand on his hip. “Are you the one in charge here?”

“Right on both of those!” Kaira replied cheerfully. “I’m glad you remembered! And I remember you as well, Jorah.” She returned the favor as she placed her hands behind her back, openly looking him over.

“Are you injured?” She ended up asking, seemingly not finding anything wrong with him. “Or...did you come to see me?”

Well he’d certainly come back to see her now, Jorah thought with a grin, though he gave Kaira a shrug. “Nah, I’m not the one who challenged a Knight of Seiros to a duel,” he chuckled, though a quick glance around revealed the Aegir boy nowhere in sight. “I’m just getting the lay of the land, exploring the buildings, opening doors I probably shouldn’t…” he gave Kaira a wink.

“Though if I were to come to see you, what might I see you for?” He asked, voice as smooth and sweet as honey. He let the question hang suggestively for a moment, then added, “I’m afraid with so many names to remember, I don’t recall which subject you teach.”

Despite the smile never leaving her face, Kaira slowly raised her eyebrows, the smallest giggle escaping her before she regained her composure. “Ah, yes, I don’t envy your position,” she replied lightheartedly, a hand on her cheek. “I’m the school nurse, but I will also be teaching white magic for your classes. Even if you never learn it, it’s important to know your faith. But I figured you would have guessed that finding me in the infirmary.”

“Eh, I try not to judge,” Jorah replied with a shrug, though his smile was similarly cemented, especially seeing as Kaira seemed receptive. “I wouldn’t have guessed Professor Kalonic would start whipping her brother like a rented mule, but here we are. For all I know, you fill your time between patients hurling javelins from wyvernback.” He chuckled through the last few words, enjoying the mental image of sweet and gentle-looking Kaira smiting down death from above, when he remembered something else.

“But speaking of free time, you wouldn’t happen to have any tonight, would you?” he asked coyly. “On recommendation from my friend, several of us are getting together sometime tonight. Kick off the year with a bang.” He smiled, though something mischievous glinted in his eye; a look Clarissa would probably have glared at him for if she was around to see it. “I’m sure we’d all love to have you - unless it’s uncouth for professors to hang out with students, but if I may say so, Miss Kaira, you’d blend in seamlessly with either.”

Kaira couldn’t quite hold in her laugh at the mention of Euphemia, though she did recover in time to shake her head. “That was entertaining, but no, no javelins. I do love swordplay, though,” She admitted that much with a small shrug. “It’s always good to have multiple options on the battlefield.”

At the invitation, she gave him a surprised look. After thinking about it for a second, she let out a tiny hum, hand on her chin. “How forward. But I can’t very well say no to that, now can I?” She asked. “You don’t think my presence would make everyone uncomfortable?”

Hm, Jorah thought with a grin, if she thought that was forward, then he was happy he went with his softer approach. Swordplay, though, that was unexpected. He had the funny thought that she and Clarissa would get along famously, but that he should also make a point to keep them separated lest Clarissa try to “warn” her about him; last time she tried her hand at that public service, it ended with a drink thrown in his face before he could even get out a proper hello.

But Kaira’s question gave him pause, and he raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?” he asked in return, gesturing to Kaira. “A party doesn’t even begin until a beautiful lady walks in; Miss Kaira, your attendance is basically mandatory.”

He shot her a suggestive look, but capped it with a chuckle, waving the thought away. “Besides, if my dear friend Raimund works his magic, more than a few of us will be stumbling before long. We may very well need a healer around.”

The green haired girl couldn’t help but shake her head at his comment, the smile on her face just a touch wider. As he continued, it fell as she considered it. She teetered for a moment, eventually closing her eyes. “Mmm...alright, then,” She finally responded, clasping her hands in front of her. “Though I think I’ll attend as a...colleague, instead of a professor.”

Jorah’s face lit up at the answer. “Excellent!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands once before realizing he probably shouldn’t disturb the patients around him. “We’ll be thrilled to have you - or at least, I know I will.”

He shot Kaira one last charming smile before it dawned on him that he really was holding her up from her work. Normally, he’d be fine with that - Goddess only knew how many barmaids he’d made late for their shifts in his time - but something about the sick and recovering people lining the walls felt a little more pressing than a few flagons of ale waiting to be served.

“Well then, with that settled, I won’t keep you any longer,” he decided, though it still pained him to part so soon. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Aw, leaving so soon?” Kaira asked, feigning shock. “I see, you got what you wanted and are on your merry way.”

Though before Jorah could reply, she let out a laugh, giving him a small wave. “I’ll see you tonight, then,” She picked up a nearby tray and disappeared behind the closest divider.

“What? No, wai--” Jorah’s shock was genuine at Kaira’s reply, and he reached out futilely as she vanished behind a divider. But alas, she was gone, deaf to his pleas, blind to his remarkably stage-play-like gestures. A bitter day indeed, to have two new loves slip through his fingers! But Jorah had to smirk at Kaira’s teasing nonetheless; he’d expected a shrinking violet after that halting introduction back in class, but it seemed she had a playful streak he was very interested in seeing more of. And, as luck would have it, he did get what he wanted; hopefully he’d see more of that attitude tonight.

With his satisfaction at coaxing Kaira to the party mostly balancing out his dissatisfaction at cutting their conversation too short, Jorah decided that this was as good a time as any to finally head back to his dorm and took his leave, winding his way back through the Monastery paths to the dormitory building.

~ \\\ ~

While “unpacking” was a strong term for what Jorah was doing in his dorm until dinner, it still took just about every spare moment he had. Naturally, he’d brought several trunks with him, but instead of the clothes his servants back home had so lovingly packed, several of them contained certain treasures he’d made sure to hide from his father’s prying eyes. The challenge, then, was remembering which went where.

It wasn’t long before the room was an explosion of opened trunks and uniform pieces carelessly tossed aside as he dug through them, but eventually he did secure his most important possessions. Naturally, he’d brought his bow, a lovely handcrafted affair in dark wood protected by an equally exquisite case, and took some time to properly mount it on the wall; on the contrary, wedged into another trunk, almost too big to fit and hidden by only a thin layer of laundry, was a plain, beat-up box with nothing remarkable about it save for the fact that something so drab could belong to a noble. Ah, but appearances did deceive, and Jorah opened the box to find one of his most prized possessions, a lute he’d commissioned in secret from a luthier in Derdriu. It, too, was plain, a simple peasant’s design, but it was well-worn and broken-in, and Jorah was convinced the sound it produced rivalled any overly ornate model in the hands of any stuffy court musician, any day. He set the lute carefully on a stand in the corner behind the mirror, where he couldn’t accidentally knock it over when he inevitably stumbled home in a drunken stupor.

The final diamond in the rough of uniforms and linens was hidden expertly among his toiletries: a few small but precious vials of pigment, a jar of binding gel, and some delicate brushes. Such materials for making paint might not have been so suspicious, but his father knew well that Jorah was no artist - not on canvas, anyway. No, these were supplies for making body paint, a habit Jorah had picked up from Brigid sailors, and one that his father hated from the very first. Consequently, it was one of Jorah’s favourite things; partly to satisfy his fascination with the foreign, and partly because it pissed Duke Riegan off.

As soon as he found his paints, any illusion of unpacking was thrown out the window. He immediately fished out his favourite pigments and brush, alongside a little palette made of thin wood and stained with years of pigment, and situated himself on the floor in front of the mirror, setting to work.

By the time the dinner bell rang, he was just adding the finishing touches: tonight, he adorned his face with a few petal-shaped markings on his nose and the outer corners of his eyes. If he recalled correctly, these were supposed to invoke air spirits for luck, and as such, it was a design he returned to often; one could never have enough luck, and especially not to kick off a year of new adventures.

Jorah put his paints aside at the toll of the bell, happier than he probably should have been that he didn’t need to hide them, and pulled himself up off the floor with a long stretch before following his growling stomach to the dining hall. Fish seemed to be the theme of the evening, and he wouldn’t complain; no fish dango tonight, unfortunately, but sweet-and-salty whitefish was a close second, and Jorah snuck two servings while a server’s back was turned before making a speedy escape to the nearest open seat.

And it appeared that his lucky face paint was working, because it just so happened that he’d plopped himself down blindly right across from Clarissa.

“Hey! Long time, no see,” he greeted her heartily, tucking into his meal without so much as a breath. Clarissa was emanating a rare and wholesome joy - compliments of that two-fish saute, no doubt. Good for her; hopefully his sudden appearance wouldn't sour the mood too much.

After a few hasty bites he tracked down a napkin, coming up for air long enough to ask, “How was church?”