dysmania.txt

The warm sun hung high above the sea glittering surface, casting its rays of golden light across the seemingly endless waters. Each glint of light that fell upon the waves sparkled like thousands of little sapphires, turning the sea into a mosaic of blue, gold, and silver. It truly was a view that never grew old, no matter how many times Akira watched it from the bow of the Ogon no Yoake. No wonder the waters were known as Paradaisu’s Sapphire Sea. Akira leaned against the smooth, polished railing, the breeze tugging at the edges of her white coat. Her wide, tricorn hat shielded her eyes from the sun’s blinding light, offering some small relief as well from the heat. With ivory hair fluttering behind her and skin the color of dark sand glowing under the warm rays, she looked every bit as elegant and commanding as the legends made her out to be.  “Cap-Captain!” A voice, slightly out of breath, called from behind her as footsteps ran up. Even without looking yet, Akira could tell that the display was dramaticized. With a small smile pulling at her lips, the snow-haired captain turned to see Suki, her First Mate, skidding to a halt. With as much exaggeration as the empire’s most renowned actor, Suki gestured wildly with fake despair in her voice. “We’re being boarded!” “Oh, are we now?” Akira raised a brow, her voice as smooth and calm as ever as she began to smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Aye! I fear we shall not survive!” Suki threw the back of her hand on her forehead and moved to fall against a post, but missed, accidentally falling back toward the ground. However, she never hit, a hand grabbing hers to keep her steady.  Fujin, the other ship’s navigator, caught Suki easily. His face was expresionless, per usual, pulled her upright and furrowed his brows. “Are you faint, dear? Should I summon medical assistance-” Suki began to stammer, unable to explain herself, cheeks darkening as her lover tilted his head in confusion. He tugged her away for a medical examination by the ship’s doctor, making Akira chuckle. Suki could be perfectly collected and calm, but the second she was around Fujin, she became giggly and started stammering. It was actually quite adorable.

Exhaling slowly, Akira closed her eyes for just a moment to enjoy the sound of laughing and merriment aboard her ship as the other boat’s crew visited. The salt in the sea breeze filed her lungs, the scent making her feel at ease, per usual. Then she felt it. Strong arms slipping around her waist, a warm chest against her back, a familiar presence she had felt more than a thousand times and could never grow weary of. The comforting aroma of coffee and ink enveloped her as a light kiss brushed the top of her head. “Hello there, Captain.” A familiar voice, sweet and filled with adoration, spoke from behind her. Akira smiled, still not opening her eyes as she faced away. “Hello to you as well… Captain.” Finally, she turned in the embrace, tilting her head up and opening her eyes to meet the dark gaze of Ankoku, Captain of The Ebony Night. His black hair fell messily around his pale, sharp featured face, which was quite the contrast to Akira’s softer and darker visage. Where Akira was like the day incarnate, Ankoku was night embodied.

Akira commanded a shining example of navy craftsmanship, after all. Her ship was the one paraded before the foreign dignitaries, drawing crowds everytime it docked. Its sails were kept in perfect condition, decks polished until they reflected the sky like a mirror. Every inch of it was perfectly maintained, showing an example of the ship’s order, discipline, and grace. Ankoku, on the other hand, was meant to never be seen. After all, it was a warship. Scuffed railings had been witness to a hundred battles. Sails were tattered on the edges, though still holding strong, and the scent of gunpowder seemed to cling to the wood itself. Even now, after at least a thousand scrubbings, there were still some dark places where blood had seeped into the wood and couldn’t be washed out.

Akira tilted her head, looking over Ankokus’ shoulder toward the deck of her own ship. The Ebony Night had pulled alongside smoothly, long, wide planks laid between the two ships so they could board easily. Their crews mingled freely, old friends laughing and embracing as they told new jokes and old. She spotted Suki and Fujin talking before Suki descended into a giggling fit presumably at something that had been said, leaning on Fujin for support while he blinked in confusion. Akira chuckled, warmth filling her chest at the sight of young love. Beside her, Ankoku raised a single brow, intrigue clear in his expression. “...Does my crew amuse you so?” he asked, his voice tinged with its own hint of laughter “It’s our crew that amuses me,”  Ankoku hummed thoughtfully and leaned down to press another kiss to her cheek. His long, jet-black hair was loose today, falling in silky sheets over his shoulders and down his back as he then kissed her temple. She hadn’t told him, but she quite honestly preferred his hair down. It made him seem softer. Though, him constantly kissing her and hold her as much as he could when they were together for brief moments also made him seem quite soft.

“We’ll be home with the kids in a few days,” Akira murmured, looking up at him in a mix of confusion and affection. “Why couldn’t you wait until then? Could it be that a certain Captain is impatient?” Ankoku was silent for a moment as he reached for a strand of her snow-white hair, twirling it around his finger. Fates, he was like a giant puppy around her. Normally, he stood straight, stared down, and damn near terrified the life out of anyone who had the misfortune of crossing into his path. But the moment they were with each other, he went from a snarling wolf to a tamed dog. He kissed the tip of her nose, his hand moving from her hair to hold her cheek. “Is it a crime to visit your ship?” “Ankoku…”  “Fine, fine… Fujin wanted to tell Suki about some map he found. Kanji, the idiot that he is, claimed he was overdue for another shot at charming Mizugami. And…” His voice softened, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. “Well. I missed you.” Akira gave a gasp before it turned into a sweet, small laugh. “How sweet! Such tender words from the infamous, ruthless captain of the Ebony Night? If this got out…” “I’m your husband, for Fate’s sake. I don’t think anyone would give it a second thought. Anyway, I almost forgot-”

But whatever he meant to say was drowned out by the sudden sound of steel clashing against steel. The ring of blades striking echoed across the deck, drawing both the Captain’s eyes immediately toward the source. On the main deck, Kanji,  the slightly arrogant, red-haired first mate of The Ebony Night, was locked in a duel with Mizugami, the stern and formidable Master of Arms on Akira’s ship. The two moved with the sort of elegance that only two maters of the blade could, their rapiers glinting under the afternoon sun. “Are they-?” Akira started. Ankoku moved to lean on the rail beside her, squinting down at the fight. “Flirting,” he said, deadpan. “Look at how he’s not even aiming to land a real blow. That’s all show, like he’s some sort of bird flaunting himself for attention. Mizugami’s not striking his openings, either, and we both know she sees them. It’s just that she’s deliberately holding back.”

As if on cue, Mizugami parried a overhead slash with a scoff, strands of her navy hair falling down from her loose bun. “Your footwork is sloppy, hot head.” Kanji wiggled his eyebrows and twirled his blade with a very unnecessary flourish. “At least I look good while doing it, seaweed brain.”

The rest of the day aboard The Golden Daybreak passed in a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shouted story punctuated by bursts of raucous laughter from both crews. Beneath the gleam of the sun and the gentle rocking of the sea, it was easy to forget that war and bloodshed ever existed.

But peace never did last long at sea.

Night had since fallen. A dense, fog crept across the blackened water, blanketing the sea in a silvery mist. The stars barely glimmered through it, like distant lanterns threatening to blow out. The two ships, The Golden Daybreak and The Ebony Night, drifted in companionable distance. Ankoku and his crew had returned to their vessel, now sailing a few hundred yards off Akira’s port side. Just far enough to respect space, but close enough for a lantern signal or shouted command to carry. Akira stood quietly at her wheel, her coat draped over her shoulders, hat now hung beside her. The mist curled around her boots like fingers trying to pull her under. The sea was silent but for the slow creaking of wood and the whisper of wind. Peaceful. Too peaceful.

She exhaled slowly, brows drawing together. A tension coiled low in her gut. That kind of unease only a seasoned captain would understand. Something was wrong. Muttering under her breath, Akira traced a glowing sigil in the air. A soft orb of light flared into existence and hovered just above her shoulder, illuminating the deck around her with a gentle white glow. Her eyes swept the waters, scanning.

At first, there was nothing. Just the usual dark shapes of rolling waves and the silhouette of The Ebony Night in the distance, a faint outline in the fog. Then, there was a sound. Faint, muffled voices. Then…

Cannon fire. The deck rumbled beneath her feet, the explosion cracking through the night air like a whip as a cannonball sank into the water, causing a wave that pushed her ship ever-so-slightly. The sound tore through the fog, waking almost the entire crew immediately. Akira’s blood ran cold. She seized the ship’s bell rope and rang it hard, the clanging echoing through the ship like a war cry. “All hands on deck! Open fire on the enemy ship!” she yelled, already pulling her collapsible telescope from her coat pocket. She snapped it open and pressed it to her eye. Through the eerie fog, a ship  with half-tattered sails and a battered hull emerged. No flag. No colors. ...Pirates. Akira fell into the role of a war captain, instantly beginning her calculations of how she would manage should a cannonball hit her ship, but then she realized. The enemy ship wasn't aiming for The Golden Daybreak. They were heading for The Ebony Night. Her heart clenched as she saw the first of the cannonballs strike Ankoku’s ship. And then, barely a second later, she heard Ankoku’s voice rising above the chaos, giving sharp, commanding orders.

⟢

“Kanji! They’re attempting to board!” Ankoku shouted aboard the other ship, his voice cutting through the smoke and chaos like a blade. His dark coat billowed behind him as he stood at the helm, one hand raised from his side. In a smooth flick of his wrist, a shimmering black sigil appeared, and his blade materialized in a burst of black smoke. The pirate vessel crashed against the side of the Ebony Night, the groan of timber-on-timber grating on all the crew’s ears. Pirate brutes swung across on ropes and ran across the laid gangplanks, howling like demons with their blades drawn and eyes gleaming with bloodlust. In response, Ankoku moved like a shadow. His blade ruthlessly cut through the first pirate that landed on deck, dark magic crackling in the air around him with each strike that landed on the unfortunate souls nearby. Steel clashed, sparks flying as he spun, ducked, and parried like a man who had danced with death before and won.

Kanji was beside him before he even realized, his First Mate grinning like a devil. Flames curled up from one hand to run up his arm, his sleeve burnt off, the light illuminating his face and glinting off his hair. “Been a while since we had a decent fight!” he shouted, catching a pirate by the collar and slamming his flaming palm into the man’s face. The scream was short-lived as Ankoku’s sword finished him. Another attacker lunged. Kanji’s boot met the pirate’s chest, knocking him back before he grabbed the man by the shirt and hurled him off the edge into the water. It was only then that Kanji drew his sword, fire trickling down the blade until the metal was fully engulfed. They moved together, back to back, striking down countless assailants, but still, they kept coming. Wave after wave of pirates poured after each other, some leaping from the mast, others clawing up from the side, all screaming, snarling, bleeding. It felt like the two men had already killed a hundred attackers, yet more appeared onto the ship as if conjured by the fog itself. Ankoku’s eyes narrowed as his stabbed his blade through his opponent’s neck, throwing the body to the side. This wasn’t a normal raid. Normal thieves would have realized this was no easy loot and fled by now. This was an planned ambush.

“Captain! What do we do?!” Fujin’s voice cut through the roar of battle, his normally calm expression twisted with panic. “There’s too many!” Ankoku grit his teeth, blood dripping from a fresh gash across his cheek he hadn’t realized he had gotten. Steel clashed around him. Smoke stung his eyes. The deck of The Ebony Night was burning. “Abandon ship!” he yelled back, parrying a blade and spinning to knock his attacker overboard. “Get to Akira’s! I’ll deal with the rest, and I don’t want any of you in the crossfire! GO!” Fujin didn’t hesitate a second longer. He grabbed Raiden by the arm, and the two bolted toward the lifeboats. They leapt over the side into the boats, hitting the water with a splash. But Kanji didn’t move. Still grinning like a devil, he stood tall on the burning deck, swinging his blade with gleeful aggression. Fire rippled across his arms, most of his shirt in burnt tatters now from the lapping flames.

“Damn it, Kanji! I gave you an order!” Ankoku shouted, cutting down a woman with a spiked mace who tried to rush him from behind. “And abandon my captain and my ship?!” Kanji laughed, sending a ball of fire into the center of a cluster of pirates. One screamed as the flames overtook him, the scent of burning flesh rising into the night air. “I’m hurt that you would assume I’m that kind of coward!” “You’re a damn idiot!” “And a loyal one, Cap!” Ankoku grit his teeth in annoyance at the stupidity of his first mate as he twisted his wrist sharply, blade flicking blood from the black steel’s edge. Then, with a nod to Kanji so the man could brace himself, Ankoku dropped to one knee and stabbed his sword into the center of the bloodied, charred deck.

A pulse of dark magic exploded from the point of contact, rushing outward in jagged, sparking waves. Shadows surged up from the veins of sprawling darkness like living beings, grabbing pirates by the legs, the arms, the throat. Screams erupted as they were dragged to their knees and consumed by the black, some wailing in fear, others choking on nothing as the darkness invaded their lungs and crushed their ribs. The same shade would have strangled Kanji had he not immediately made a circle around him with his boot where he stood, a ring of fire shooting up to keep the dark at bay. Ankoku clenched his jaw, pain lancing up his spine as his magic took its toll. He could feel his vision going dim at the edges, his body trembling, but still, he pushed. The enemy ship was slowing, sailors falling into confusion as the darkness began to creep across their own deck now.

As soon as the enemies slowed, Kanji didn’t waste a second. He slammed his palms together, fire sparking violently between them. The flame swirled into a ball, growing larger as he pulled his hands apart. One foot forward. Magic roaring through his veins. The fireball expanded to the size of three , maybe four men, and he hurled it toward the pirate ship. Ankoku lifted his head, blood trickling from his lips, and saw it: the blazing flames, arcing perfectly, aimed at the heart of the enemy vessel. A slow, weak smile formed on his weary face. They had won. But then, just as quickly as his smile had appeared, it vanished. From the enemy ship’s deck, their captain stepped forward. Robed in shreds and adorned in bone, his face masked by a jagged iron mask with what looked like actual teeth embedded in it around the mouth. The other man lifted a hand. And in it, a charmed object, flaring with cursed energy.  Then, the fireball bent. It turned in mid-air and came hurling back toward the Ebony Night. The warship fully stocked with gunpowder. The explosion was instant, and the next thing he knew, pain seared through him and his vision blurred. Then… Nothing. “ANKOKU!” Akira’s cry tore through the night as her husband’s vessel erupted into a blazing inferno, flames turning the fog red. The anguished scream of his name left her throat raw. Her hands clenched the railing until her knuckles went white and the wood splintered under her fists, breath catching in her chest.  She would’ve shouted for Mizugami to command the waters, to bend the ocean itself to her will and drive them closer, but- “Don’t,” Fujin had warned, his voice barely above a whisper and filled with pain. “The shadows… his magic... if- If you get too close, it might consume your crew as well. You saw what it did to the pirates.” So she stood there. Watching the man she loved vanish in a tower of fire and smoke.

Raiden returned in the small lifeboat hours later, his face pale, his hands trembling as he stood before her and delivered the words she already knew but couldn’t accept. “They’re gone, Captain. The pirates, the Ebony Night... no survivors.” After that, everything began to blur together.  She didn’t remember stumbling back to her quarters. She didn’t remember removing her coat, or the way her legs finally gave out as the door shut behind her. But she remembered the sobs. The kind that left her choking, hunched over her bed, her chest aching.

When they returned to the mainland, the sky was gray over the white marble courtyard of the palace. The flags of Paradaisu hung low in the still air, and all ships in the harbor bore black sails in respect. Towa, Empress of Paradaisu, stood before a gathered crowd of noble and commonfolk alike. Her voice was somber, trembling slightly at the edges as she spoke into the silence. “Today, we mourn the valiant,” she began, “those who risked everything to protect our seas, time and time again. Captain Kuroiwa Ankoku of The Ebony Night and his first mate Himura Kanji died with bravery, shielding this nation from hundreds of threads in their time here. Their legacy will be eternal and their courage… never forgotten.” Akira stood in full dress uniform, stiff with the effort to not breakdown once more as her daughter cried into her coat and her son watched the crowd quietly with tears streaking down his cheeks. She heard the Empress’s words. Saw the crowd begin to disperse, felt hot tears soaking through her clothes from her Marise’s eyes, but everything felt far away. Felt dulled, as though she had been pulled underwater with the remnants of that ship.

She didn’t know which was worse, the knowledge that she would never see him again… 

Or that she would never love again.

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . astrum novaesson

. It was quite the surprise to him, at first. Quite the surprise indeed when Astrum looked up and caught your gentle eyes trailing over his face. 

     Now, he had been stared at before, gawked at, whispered about and been the topic of conspirital murmurs. But, when he caught your eyes looking at him with a certain softness he had never once seen directed at him, and then you smiled?

     He panicked.

     To see that soft look directed toward him? For that sweet smile to touch your lips after looking at his own face? He chokes on air a little bit, but masks it with a cough. 

     “...These books are dusty.” He comments, trying to act as if the dust of the ancient library was the reason he coughed and not his heart giving a strange twist. You chuckle a bit and he swears he can feel a slight warmth at the tips of his ears. He waits for a moment, to not make it too obvious, and then stands, snapping his book shut. A few students reading at a table on the other side of the room jolt a bit, then glance over, shrug, and go back to their writing reports.

     “Are you alright, Astru-” You begin to say.

    “Quite fine. I’ll be borrowing this book, please make sure to record that in your log. Thank you.” He gives a quick bow before he grabs his long black coat and pulls it on, striding out into the hall. His boots click against the stone floor with each step he takes away from that room. Just the sound of your voice had made his long, pointed ears twitch and his tail flick behind him involuntarily despite his best attempts to will the wild appendage under control.

     ‘Dear stars above, you might kill an immortal man.’

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . estrella agostaro

. Estrella sat in the corner of the library, flipping through old books on divination, clicking her tongue as she struggled to find the specific passage on using the reflection of water to- Oh dammit, if she remembered what the reflection of water was supposed to do, she wouldn’t be looking for the passage on it! She sighed, looking up to ask her favorite librarian -you- for their help only to find your eyes already meeting her's. “Oh, were you staring, darling?” Estrella teases, her white hair spilling over her shoulder as she leans her elbows on the table, chin resting on her intertwined fingers. A familiar, mischievous smile starts to pull at her lips as she looks at you. “You sighed fourteen times since you sat down, I was about to ask if you needed help.” You say simply, unaffected by her teases. Or maybe just oblivious to her playfulness. “Aww, you pay that much attention to me to count all my sighs?” She tilts her head, the sly smirk now a full smile. “I’m flattered, sweetie. Now, is that offer for help still open?” Estrella pats the seat next to her and soon, you’re sitting right beside her, your coat draped over the back of your chair and a furrow in your brows as you look for the passage with her.  ‘You’re so cute when you’re focusing.’ She thinks to herself, musing about that adorable little expression of yours when you glance up to her. “You’re staring, Estrella. But thank you.” You say with a raised brow as you glance to her and heat rises in her cheeks, casting her fair skin with a shade of pink you haven’t seen before.  She had been caught staring and had spoken aloud? Oh, how embarassing. Then she sees a slightly teasing glint in your eye and she can’t help the smile that creeps back onto her face. Now it’s even at least.

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . james taurus

. “Hm, that’s a bad one, isn’t it?” James says, holding the griffin’s paw in his hands as he kneels in the dirt of the barn. The long, white bandage he wraps around the wounded paw has already been smudged with dirt, but thankfully only on the edge, away from the wound.     The griffin lets out a low noise like a purr and nuzzles its head against Jame’s cheek, making him chuckle. He reaches a hand up and ruffles its feathers. “Steady, girl.” He murmurs as he refocuses on wrapping the bandage. You lean against the stable wall, having been passing him the veterinary supplies as he worked, but as you look at him kneeling in the ground, your mind starts to wander. Your gaze traces over his curly, dark hair, his tanned skin riddled with scars, his vest, which seems to fit him extremely well… “Can you pass me the clasp?” James asks as he finishes wrapping the bandage, holding it in place with one hand whil ethe other keeps the paw lifted. It’s silent. “Uhm… It’s small and silver, kind of an ‘I’ shape?” He tries to explain, assuming you’re just having trouble finding it.  Silence again. He turns back and finds your gaze just on him, zoned out. He tilts his head, confused for a moment. As soon as he makes that little bit of movement, you snap out of it and back into reality.  “Ah, the what? Sorry-” You kneel as well, looking through the box of supplies. “The clasp to keep the bandage in place, the large one.” “Right.” It’s quiet for only a half second before you fish the clasp out and move to put it on the bandage, keeping it in place. As soon as it’s held in place, he gently lets go of the paw and dusts off his pants as the griffin purrs again. He looks to you and you two lock eyes, his large, brown eyes meeting yours as his brows furrow. “Are you feeling alright?” He asks, concern creeping into his voice. “If there’s something on your mind, I’m a good listener.” You shake your head with a small smile. And he visibly relaxes, the slight worry in his face changing back into that gentle look you’ve start to recognize as his most common expression. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You assure and he nods in turn, patting your hand resting on your thigh before he stands and stretches. You can’t help but start to stare again as his muscles slightly flex and he lets out a low rumble of satisfaction. Then he looks down, catches you staring again, and raises a brow. “That’s twice now. Are you sure you’re alright? Here, let’s go inside. We can get some coffee from the lounge and you can tell me what’s got you bothered.” He says with that same look he gives Lani, his daughter, when he’s being firm with her. But, below that look of sternness, you can still see that hint of concern that shows he’s actually worried for you. ...Yeah, you're not getting out of this one easily.

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . michiko hisakawa

. “So that’s how the Cyprinus Empress, well, you know the Cyprinus, right? Who am I kidding, of course you do. Anyways, so that’s how the Cyprinus Empress was able to heal an entire group of people with her magic- not even Deital, but Innateblood magic!” Michiko said, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she spoke. Her hands gestured in a very animated fashion as she rambled on about yet another history topic, specifically a story regarding a group of Merfolk. “Mhmm.” “See, and you obviously know that Innateblood magic isn’t very powerful at all, so everyone was like, ‘How did she do that?!”and so, Empress Kishiko Miuna was then the topic of tons of conspiracies.” “Mhmm.” “See, some people thought that she actually was using Deital Magic, and just lying about it, which made a few Aquae Cyprinus –The Cyprinus people still in the sea and not on land– incredibly wary of her. But-but! Others thought she actually swam down to the bottom of the seas to learn about secret techniques from the Blackfins. Which, looking back on records-” Michiko finally looked up from her book, only to catch you just staring, your chin resting in your palm and your elbow propped on the table. She almost imemdiately completely flushes, her dark skin turning a bit darker around her cheeks as her ocean blue eyes widen. “I’ve been rambling, haven’t I? Oh gods, I must have been boring you, oh, I’m so sorry! You should have said something, I don’t want to bother you-” Michiko says, rambling about her rambling. She grabs your hands over the table and squeezes them slightly, a look of guilt in her eyes. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that not everyone finds my stories interesting, I’m so sorry-” “-No, no, it’s fine!” You interrupt her and shake your head, smiling a bit. “Don’t apologize at all! I actually was quite enjoying the story, I just got distracted for a moment.” She visibly relaxes at your words, letting out a sigh before she asks tentatively, glancing to her hands in yours. “So… my rambling wasn’t bothering you?” “Not at all. I found it incredibly interesting.” You squeeze her hands in turn and a smile, bright and happy, appears on her face. She quickly lets go of your hands and opens back up her book that had shut, finger tracing the page as she looked for her place. “Ah-! Where was I then? Oh yes, so- The Blackfins actually may have taught Kishiko Miuna about Innateblood magic and its uses in healing because according to the records…”

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . hawthorne soleil

. Hm.  His sunflower is wilting again. Hawthorne hums as he looks over the petals, the stem, the leaves, the entire plant, trying to figure out the issue. Realizing the issue lays within the lack of sunlight since it’s been snowstorms for a week straight now, he sighs and gently hovers his hands over the sunflowers petals, willing his innateblood sun magic to flow through his hands and into the plant, revitalizing it. Then he feels it. Eyes on him. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t look up, no. He just continues his magic. He feels warmth flooding his veins, the kind of warmth one feels from lying in the sun on the grass on a warm summer afternoon. Not sweltering heat, but comfortable. Still he feels the gaze on him. Still he does not move. Perhaps they are judging him for his use of magic on his plants instead of just being able to let it mend with time and care. After all, as the professor of magical botany, he should be able to take care of it without magic. However, if this person were to think that, they would be a fool since there’s no possible way he could naturally give his plant sunlight because of this damend snowy landscape. Hm. After a long while, his voice, calm and slightly sharp cuts through the air. "You’ve been staring for a while. Need something?” “Nooo, just was watching your magic work! Ooh- actually I did need something, do you know where I can find…” Oh, thank the benevolent gods that watch over this world. It’s you. The sound of your voice puts him at ease, thankful it’s not some student spying on him for whatever reason. You always did have a nice voice to him. Maybe it was just how happy you sounded? Your voice really was no more unique than anyone elses… Perhaps it was the inflection of your words- or your joyful tone specifically-... “…thorne? Hawthorne!” Your voice snaps through his thoughts and he glances back to you. “...Sorry. I was thinking.” “It’s okay, I was wondering if you had one of the books I'm looking for? It’s ‘The Mystic Flora of Ethrea, Volume 6.’ Actually, what were you thinking about?” You speak somewhat quickly, your boundless energy evident and quite contrasting with his own stoicism and calm. “You.” You pause and a slight bit of warmth appears in your cheeks at his straightforwardness, or, rather his bluntness. He hums a bit and then glances to a table to hsi right, plants covering the surface in all manners of pots and containers. Though, that’s to be expected in the greenhouse. Following his gaze you see him looking to the book you mentioned needing to get. You grab it and dust off the stray clumps of dirt which had found their way from his garden pots onto the book. “Sorry for the dirt.” “It’s okay! No worries at all! I’ll be heading back to the library now but uhm- I hope your magic gardening thingie goes well. Bye, Hawthorne!” You give a small wave goodbye as you leave and he watches you go, his expression still never changing from it’s emotionless look. But, his thoughts of you continue, probably not to stop any time soon.

☾ ༒︎ ༄ . macchiat grande

. “Go in, get the book, get out. Go in, get the book, get out.” You repeat the words Estrella had told you over and over in your mind. You two had been chatting earlier when she stopped by to look for a book on water in divination, and as soon as you mentioned that you had to pick up a book from one ‘Professor Macchiat Grande’, her expression soured. “Oh fates, that man?! Eugh, he’s an absolute insufferable, egotistical bother that just loves to get on my nerves whenever he can.” Estrella had said, leaning her back on the book counter you worked at, groaning dramatically. “I swear, he’s so strange! I mean, his name is literally coffee! What kind of weird-” She had paused then, seeing your expression of befuddlement and shook her head. “Sorry, dear, I just cannot stand him for the life of me. For your sake, I would advise just to go in, get the book, and get out.” So that’s what you were doing. Going in, getting the book, and getting out. That’s all you had time for anyway. Plus, you’d like to think that you’re pretty good when it comes to getting a task done with no detours. I mean nothing's going to possibly distract you- “Yes, and that’s exactly why we CANNOT let the- No- Are you even listening?! I swear on everything in this forsaken realm-!” You froze in your path up the stairs to the tower where the Potions class and its professor, Macchiat, were. After a moment to process whatever the abyss that was, you continued up the steps. But as you continued, so did the yelling. “You can’t pull the age card on me, I am over two hundred damned years old! If you think that you can try…!”

…What? 

How many years old?!

Finally, you get to the door which you presume Macchiat’s behind, the large, oak door slightly ajar, letting you peek your head in. In the middle of the room,  pacing back and forth, is a man with short, brown hair, a few blonde streaks littering it. Or… maybe those are slightly grey? Either way, his hair is disheveled and halfway brushed back, and there are dark circles under his grey eyes.   This man looks like he has not slept in at least a week, and you can tell that just might be true from the way that he slightly stumbles as he turns on his heel to continue his pacing. Macchiat grips a stone inscribed with blue, glowing runes, a ‘Sending Stone’ as you’ve recently learned, his brows furrowing as a more muffled voice, deep and smooth, emanates from it. “... need to calm down. It is not… …capable… …handle it on their own…” “It would be a damned death mission! If you genuinely think I’ll send my students to the forest -which multiple hunters have been killed in– just to gather their own ingredients, you’ve lost your mind!” “Indeed, it would be… …beneficial, to say… …exactly why they should…-” “No, absolutely not! I am not killing my students just so you can save expenses on ingredients! If the budget is truly in so dire a situation that you cannot spare the Aurum to pay for a few leaves and items, then I’ll gather them my own damned self!” Macchiat slams the sending stone on his desk, the glow fading away as he braces on the desk and sighs.  You can’t help but continue to watch, baffled by the display you just saw. You had heard that low voice only once before, and it was the Headmaster’s. To imagine that this professor would speak- no, not speak- yell at the Headmaster in such a manner was baffling to you. Silence falls for a moment, and then Macchiat's voice, tired and weary, speaks up, his eyes not moving from where he stares at the Sending Stone. “Staring is rude, you know. I’d much rather you come in and sit down for a cup of coffee than gawk from the door.” He looks up, his grey eyes meeting yours, and you comply, slipping into the room and giving a small bow of apology. “Sorry, you just seemed occupied.” You say, a bit embarrassed at your lack of manners. “You heard the yelling then? Messy business, all that. Sorry, I don’t commonly lose my temper like that. Anywho, come sit! I’ll make you a quick brew-” A facade of an easygoing man falls into place as he moves to a counter in the corner of the room. “I don’t need any potions, but thank you.” You quickly say, a bit intimidated by whatever strange brew he might offer you. “I just came for a book-” “I was offering you a cup of coffee, friend. Not a potion.” He laughs a bit as he soon returns with a cup of coffee and passes it to you. “Now, what book was that? I think I have about thirty of the libraries that have gotten mixed with my personal collection, so… It might be a moment.” “Oh, it was a book called ‘19-” You began, then saw a spark of recognition in his tired eyes. “Ah! I know just the one!” “So you know where it is?” You ask, surprised at how quickly he recognized it. Apparently there weren’t many books with 19 in the title. “Haha! ...No. Care to help me look through the shelf?” He grins and gestures to a towering shelf filled with all sorts of books, scrolls, and journals. You sigh and stand, taking a sip of your coffee which is surprisingly pretty good. After a small nod from you, he moves to the shelf and pulls out a ladder. “Perfect! Should only take us… what? Three or more hours?”

Oh Gods… You’ll be here a while.