UN/WORTHY ?

But he knew the book so well at this point, that his eyes just glazed over them like they were as bold as they had surely been when this book was first printed.

It was probably more antique than book by now, though, in most people's eyes. And yet, Kurth couldn't help but to return to the story over and over again. It was... a comfort to him, that the words would always be there no matter what he was going through.

his uncharacteristic lack of intrigue is not unnoticed by him, so much as it is purposefully shoved in a box and launched off a cliff.

erk attempts a nervous laugh. it comes out sounding a little more than nervous, though hushed. he attempts to respond to the (perfectly reasonable, polite) conversation, and nothing comes out for a long while. when the ice on his tongue finally cracks and breaks, he means to say, 'i suppose... but it would be a shame. are there any other copies of your book?'

Spellbound Gothic - Submitted by @meowstic-seer-of-the-future

"Don't let my presence bother you, I intend to quiet. I promise," He says a smile. Once they both got into their books, they probably wouldn't even notice the other was there.

But... it was nice to have some company just to sit with sometimes; wasn't it?

whatever it is, his young mind lacks the acumen to know... but a hint presents itself in the form of his next question, which catches him by surprise.

"i can see it's been yours for a while." or... maybe in his family? "has it ever been re-bound? or repaired?" while he speaks, his finger traces the spine of his own book. mentally, he compares the two, then imagines kurth's novel reborn in coloured leather, strong and durable in his thin hands. "if you want that done, and you can't find a professional... i'm very good at it. --er. i'd understand if you hesitated, as i am only an acquaintance. but even my master has trusted me with his tomes."

Wait, what?

Did he just say yes?

No complaining? No dragging his feet? No carrying on, and on, and on? Just... yes? Well — yes enough, for him? He’s — he’s agreeing, anyway, isn’t he?

She blinks.

“Uh—” No, don’t act surprised! This was all part of your plan! She smiles instead, bats her eyes. “Maybe, like, tomorrow? I’m free then... and it’s an off day for school, too... Why don’t you pick me up at my room? You remember the way, don’t you?” Now she’s grinning broadly, all happy, excitable energy, again. “In the morning, too, just after breakfast is done! So we can spend the whole day out there! There’s a ship going out then!” Claps her hands together, once, happily. “Hehe... I’ll see you there!”

"i h--" i have even more studying to do tomorrow, you can't expect to have me all day. "if--" if people keep seeing me at your room, they're going to talk, serra. they'll spread rumors! ghastly ones! "w--" wait, morning is a terrible time, that's when i'm most productive! "wh--" when do you even have breakfast?! i eat mine early! "..." ...whatever...

after a certain point, giving up doesn't even hurt. even if he had the space to speak, her smile and hand motions are so dizzying to him... the strange, bubbling feeling under his ribs would have him stumbling over his words. he doesn't give her the pleasure of admitting he knows the way to her room, instead preferring to watch her bound off with a curt, "yes, yes, i'll see you." as soon as he can, he shuts the door, blinking at it a few times as he mentally rearranges his entire week. (which is absolutely necessary, totally, yes indeed.)

Because here’s Erk, leaning over her, holding his bottle to her lips, his hand on hers, and this is an indirect kiss, and he’s holding her hand, but all she can think of, ahh, water.

It’s cool, and nice, and it tastes really good, for some reason. She takes a lot of greedy sips — too many to be polite, for sure. But finally, the world starts arranging itself into clean little shapes again, and Erk is by her side, eyebrow all angry, standing over her.

“... Why are you looking at me like that?”

He looks like he’s about to... maybe yell? Or something? She doesn’t really know, just — something’s up with his face. It’s really, really serious!

it comes too quickly, as if he knows he's guilty of something. quickly, he withdraws the emptied canteen and fastens it back to his belt, glad for the excuse to hide his face. when he looks at her again, he is wiped clean of what she saw. his lips, again, are flat; his brow is a soft, neutral V-shape; his jaw is unclenched. "like what?" he presses, dishonestly. violet eyes assess her up and down, and he takes a step back, down one stair.

"hmph... i thought you said you were sick, not that you still are." then, he asks, undeterred by the callousness of his question: "are you even fit to be here? what kind of healer goes around fainting all the time? i won't be around to catch you every time, you know."

That's okay though! Mistakes happened, and to be fair, he had been walking quietly. And he may or may not have unintentionally snuck up on him. Not on purpose! Of course! Kurthnaga would never do such a thing to someone who was not one of his siblings - not that he would dare to with Almedha now.

He does wonder: who in the world had this boy thought he was? Clearly someone who bothers him a lot... no, no! It's none of his business. He shouldn't pry. That would be terribly rude of him indeed. He didn't know this other boy at all, he shouldn't both him with uncouth questions.

"yes, that's true... there is plenty of space." unconsciously, he runs a slender hand through his hair, as if trying to smooth out the echoes of nervousness that remain. once he realizes he's doing that, he stops, but it's a gesture done in vain; he simply moves from fiddling with his hair, to fiddling with the cover of his book. as he eases back into his spot, a comfortable air settles between them. purple eyes dart between his book and his company.

...he was advised by lord pent to make friends while he was here... wasn't he? so far, he's failed to come out of his shell. a better time may not present itself for a while...

Does she love reading? Yeah, she would say so. Does she love learning new magics or spells? Oh, 100%. But she's not a woman who can truly claim to 'love' much -

She doesn't have enough time to.

"I do it because it's my job. House Ordelia needs an intelligent member to take charge, and I will do anything I can to bring it into the next generation without worry."

'If I even make it to having a kid...'

Lysithea shakes her head, closing her book and rubbing her tired eyes, bright pink eyes hidden away amidst the bags beneath.

"I don't keep track of the number - that job lies to people who have more time to spend calculating. I have my books, and I have my magic. I'm good at those. I make what I can with those. I don't have the time to waste."

Even if she did... honestly, Lysithea still probably wouldn't have done it. But, how much of her mentality originates from this artificial clock? Lysithea didn't want to think about that.

"If my words come off harsh... I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind almost constantly. At least you haven't belittled me - that makes one."

Lysithea dryly smirks to herself, slinking into the library when it opens, instantly dashing over to the bookshelf on reason magicks, snatching tomes from it with steady hands and a stony face.

"...Grab a stool, please."

in response to her apology, he merely offers a short, forgiving nod. if anything useful was at risk of coming out of his mouth, it is squashed by what she says next: at least you haven't belittled me. it tempts his nosy side a bit. what reason would he have to be so rude? is there something he doesn't know? in the end, though, social grace wins out. all he ends up giving her is awkward, slightly-widened eyes.

(probably for the best, anyway... does anything good come from delving into such things?)

"Kh-! Watch where you're aiming that!"

A bolt of flame soars just-barely over her head as she yelps, a very unladylike declaration leaving her mouth. She'd put her hands on her head, ducking, making eye contact with the youth before her. She swears there's something familiar about him, but she's pretty sure she doesn't know -- or know of anyone -- quite this young.

This is a question she doesn't have time to focus on, anyway!

"Are you lost?" she asks, now that she's less startled and (hopefully) less in danger of being given a new haircut. She spreads her arms, showing the child her open palms.

(Is that what you do for children? Or is that for scared dogs? Oh, she should've read more on the subject...)

"I promise, I shan't hurt you! I only want to help. Tell me, what is your name?"

It's a hard thing to bite down upon, but she keeps herself just-barely from her spiel about her duty as a noble. She isn't certain how well it will land here, and although she finds it of the utmost importance, it can wait until they've both settled down.

(Yes, her face is definitely very red, and her hands are shaking besides. She'd really rather not get burned to a crisp today, no-thank-you!)

his intention hardly matters, though, considering the scorch mark in the wall behind her.

he might be very young, but erk is no fool. the halls of such a grand building as this (...where was he again?) are almost never -- in fact, he'll just go ahead and say never, full stop! -- sooty and burnt, wallpaper curling as if hurt from the heat. around him are ashes of many different shades, and some remnants of furniture, and... and it looks awful, and, what's worse, it's all his fault. the frustration of it all only serves to add more fuel. he echoes the older one's cry, slapping his palm on the dirty carpet. a grey cloud rises from the impact; his violet hair frizzes with a sudden invasion of static cling.

"BUH," is his first response to her, nearly as loud as her earlier yell. it's said with conviction, as if determination alone could communicate all the things on his small mind. when she opens her palms to him, he stares at them curiously, not registering how they shake but instead expecting magic to spill forth from them. unfortunately... he goes disappointed. the frown on his face only deepens.