Vis Attrahendi!

A little less scared now, Otus tilts his head with a flinch of the ear-feather and steps back off of his seat. Unable to do much by way of words, he approaches the talking tome and leans over it for a small, impromptu inspection. 

It’s a nicely decorated maroon hardback, though one without any obvious title, and it has a little something poking out of it – which is where the voice must be coming from. They look like a very flat, very angry pink cat, Otus thinks.

Then he looks a little lower at the kettle hanging onto its hook, drawn by the smell of freshly-brewing tea and the sound of faint water bubbling. Without any regard for his hands, clad in iron as they were, he reaches out to grab it by the handle…

…and pours it directly into his mouth, scalding hot.

“WH-” Klug freezes, too stunned by the spectacle to even consider intervening.

Even Aka's aghast. For a second at least, before they crack up laughing as if this was the funniest thing in the world. “Was that good??” They wheeze through cackles, laughing all the more when they realise that Klug’s still staring at the owl as if he had sprouted another head. Seriously, the kid’s clutching at his chest as if he’s narrowly avoiding going into cardiac arrest.

“...I’m... not drinking out of that...” he mumbles, gradually coming to his senses. The demon keels over again at the nonchalance of it all. “Cooties! That’s what’s concerning here!” “Look, it’s a communal kettle, but come on-” “The bird thing just drank boiling water, it’s earned bonus kettle privileges!”

Klug just flops down into the nearest chair and slams his head on the desk. A little too hard. Ow. There’s no way he can get into the The Zone™ and do his homework like this.

owltwink

With his expression at ease, the owl takes up on the offer; shuffling the books into a teetering pile on the table before taking his seat near-silently. Not floorboards nor chair legs squeak as he leans forward a little to shift his cloak, pulling the ends into a criss-cross motion and making a cocoon around his legs – for security, more than warmth, if the fire is any indication. 

He then flicks through the corners of his books all in one motion, taking careful time to turn down any creases that his clumsiness had caused.

With that done, he knits his fingers together and places both hands on the table, politely waiting for Klug to speak again with attentive eyes and an obliviousness towards Aka.

He gives another nod to thank Otus for quickly remedying his mistake, an action that yet again dissuades him from giving the bird a row. If any of his classmates were here they would think he’d been replaced by a benevolent lookalike.

He only just opens his mouth when the book interrupts again, sounding insulted: “If that’s an owlbear it’s going to eat you. See if I care.” Immediately Klug gives an aggravated growl, frantically gesturing towards the feathered boy with both hands and glaring the tome down with his best ‘are you serious right now?’ scowl.

“Please tell me where you see ‘bear’ here, Aka!” If the lack of a witty reply afterwards is anything to go by, that retort did the trick.

Well, that was an uncomfortable answer, in the fact that it was definitely applicable. Arle’s discomfort with the answer was made visible through their physical tension.

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever felt explicit wrongness for no reason…In fact, I’d say it’s the opposite. There was one encounter I had in which both of us were pretty riled up, but once the other person was gone, that feeling went away and stayed away. I’d describe the feeling as energetic and unique.” Arle paused.

“Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve felt the same as I did before I met that person and they were cast out. I can’t really explain how I’ve felt besides the fact that it’s been different from anything I’d ever known. I guess I’d describe it as feeling clearer, but there’s always this strange feeling as well, the one that makes it unexplainable. I guess it would be some kind of wrongness, actually.”

Arle gave no remark on the memory issues for now. They were concerning enough as is.

There was silence when Arle finished, both boy and demon trying their darndest to parse what was said. After a while Aka turned back to look at Klug, waiting to catch his eye and share a bemused look. “Boy, be honest, do I look like a therapist?”

“Spell?” 

Phantom R was quickly becoming aware that he might be in the presence of some kind of wizard – or maybe a fanatic – peeled freshly off the page of an old novel or storybook. However, raised to be nothing short of polite to his guests, he’d relent on quizzing the boy.

“Have you ever thought about how many hearts around the world are beating in time with one another?” he asked instead, smiling to himself as if in on a secret. “Or about how many car engines are running at once? The rhythm of water as it runs? The sound each footstep can make?” 

He sat down on the floor by his jacket, Fondue’s head finding its way into his lap, and brushed through the fabric of the carpet like he was searching for signs of life. “Everything on earth has music to share, I think. There’s a kind of magic in that.”

Klug sits quietly as Phantom R speaks, hands clasped in front of his face and listening intently. He needs a moment to parse what the thief is sharing with him and looks elsewhere whilst he does so; poetic things take a bit more mental buffering for him than they perhaps should.

‘That’s... Oddly sweet.’ is the conclusion he comes to.

The boy’s no romantic, but there’s something to be said for such warm sentiments regardless of how ‘factual’ a person you might be. Quashing that outlook isn’t kind or worth the energy.

“I’m just trying to get a grip on what you’re saying. I’m not actively trying to irritate you here.”

Wait…

Something clicked for Arle; it was able to be seen in their eyes.

Arle held their hands palms-up towards their face, but not in sight of anyone else. The scars and callouses of their palms and fingers; something had always been strange about those.

In fact, there were a few things about them that others found to be odd, things that were not explained, things that set them apart…

Arle furrowed their brow and looked back over to Aka, not moving their hands.

“Would there be symptoms of being split like you claim I am?”

“That would depend on what has happened to the other half and what split you in the first place.” They’re not skirting around the answers purposefully, it’s all the demon can say without knowing all the details. “For example, I feel some pain when my other half is injured. A general feeling of 'wrongness’ and memory loss is to be expected.”

“Oh, I think I understand. Thank you, Klug.” 

That was a pretty clear strike between Aka and Arle. Either Aka had intentionally lied, or they were just stupid. At this point, it could be either one, but either way, Arle was still skeptical.

“So, you can smell that I’m apparently not whole, huh? What am I missing?”

Aka's fairly certain that Arle is the one that’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

“You’re vexing me.” They sigh, looking towards Klug in the hopes that he’ll offer an explanation again. Alas, the boy just shrugs, unsure of where Aka is trying to lead the conversation. The demon mutters something under its breath before sighing once more in defeat.

The books topple to the floor before Otus can be reassured, his plumage ruffled and his eyes open wide, and both of his ear tufts jolted up straight in alarm. He’s fixing the tome a frightened look as if it might hop up and bite him.

He seems to not hear the other boy as he realises his second slip-up of the day; the multi-coloured mess of novels littered against oak jumping out at him like something sinister. Klug is only a head or so bigger than him, and yet he feels like a small child caught in awe under the towering height of a parent. He hunches apologetically in the wizard’s direction and scatters to pick up the books, hoping to avoid any scorn that may come his way for the blunder. 

It’s only minor, he assures himself — though the voice in his head sounds an awful lot like Geddy’s. It would be unfair for Klug to get mad!

Klug winces at the sound, still cringing as he opens his eyes and fearing the worst for the books... Only to deflate with relief. Any damage is practically nonexistent and completely negligible. At worst there’s a creased page or two from some books landing open.

“I feel like you’re trying to give me a heart attack.” he says, shooting Otus a dirty look; the kind you’d give a dog for rooting around in the dustbin. The fact that he’s clearly sorry (again) goes a long way in sparing the owl from a scolding. The frantic nature of it all actually pulls on the wizard’s heartstrings a bit, but that doesn’t show.