#corvusi

Strange. Azama had not expected chills at such an innocent-sounding suggestion. Was this payback for shooing away Mr. Meow Meow?

... Hm. No.

The lad's cheerful and bright, and clearly possessed of an inquisitive spirit where theory is concerned. As a professor, would Azama not be remiss in losing the chance to encourage such wonder?

"Ha ha ha~! Asking the important questions this fine evening, I see. Hum... It would make you really good, or really bad, I suspect."

How in the world...Mitama stares blankly at the pair in the distance. It truly did seem as though they were only able to roll red in their game. Which was fine, initially, when all it involved was taking a step, but...

"They are going to give up very quickly once they realize how impossible it will be to claim all the spots without coordinating." Already they seemed to be losing steam at their attempts.

Still, Mitama stands besides Henry and continues to watch for another quiet, thoughtful moment.

"You should make it so every once in a while it rolls a single blue, just to keep them on their toes."

"A magic guy, huh? There's a looooot of strong magic folks around here." He throws his hand back toward the academy, waving it — wildly, as if his arm is devoid of bone — before it collapses back on the tea table with a thud. "People who can cast all sorts of things really, really well!"

Laughter, as his eyes crinkle further. "Aaaaand there's never any shortage of a good fight here! Really good killing practice, don't ya think?" ‎ ‎

Perfect Teatime? | no longer accepting

All the dishes on the table rattle under the weight of Henry's arm, and Salem's eyes dart instinctively to the tea kettle on its stand. But his outer reaction is no more startled than that. Internally though, he half-wonders if unleashing Henry into a room full of glass sculptures might end in their destruction faster than if he'd tried to break them himself.

"While a fight to the death would be the best training for war, I suspect that the Archbishop has a strict no-killing policy within the monastery's walls." Salem says levelly, glancing up to find his companion's eyes hidden now by delight. "This is no gladiatorial arena; many of the students come from influential families, after all."

He stirs his tea, considering whether this is Henry's version of a threat, or if he speaks candidly, and decides for now to entertain him for a little longer. There's something familiar about him that he can't quite put his finger on, although if Salem had ever met a man like him before, he's certain he'd remember.

"But I suppose good killing practice for you would make an equally valuable life-saving practice for those of us skilled with healing staves. Tell me though: what does taking a life mean to you?"

...Her legs were transparent. And red. But mostly transparent, which he blinked at. Wonder gurgled in the back of his throat as he giggled. "How'd you do that?" A point at her legs. "That's... the coolest thing I've ever seen!"

He rustled in his pouch, holding out an orchid — sleeve still pouring onto the ground. "If you... tell me your secret, I'll give ya a flower in return!"

This one. This one stood out to her, a memory of summoning him for her army. The lich pursed her lips when he spilled water over her and she stepped back. Supposedly he caught a glimpse of her legs and she was certainly quick to readjust her dress to hid them again. It was only her slight familiarity with Henry that made the question not a surprise.

There was some discomfort at his question and praise, even more so when he offered her an orchid for her "secret." A snap of her fingers and a quick wisp of a wind spell was enough to dry clothes... and Thrasir reached out and gently took the orchid, gently touching it's delicate petals...

"I died," she replied softly. "I died and was amalgamated by a death god."

Gods, what was she even doing here...?!? She was dead. Sentiment was worthless.

He holds up something in his hand as he runs up to Professor Edain — it's a padlock, which had been clearly cut by something. Laughter, as he spins it around on his finger. "Where do you think this came from?"

edain spits out the champagne she was in the middle of drinking. she does cough and clear her throat after forcing it down. "henry!" she almost screeches but not quite. "where did you get that!? i— put it back!" crusaders above please forgive him if he didn't just find it! if he was the one that cut the lock....!

So Henry did exist outside of that terrible pizza parlor—and he happened to be in the ball, handling the photo-artifex of all things. Wonders never cease.

Takumi sighed. "Don't remind me. I think that guy showed up in my nightmares for a couple weeks afterwards. Better to focus on nicer things, like the ball. Speaking of which—"

Uh, no matter! Henry puts the lid back on, and with a grin wide on his face, he shakes the box. The chocolates rattle before they go silent, and when he opens it back up—

Orchids explode out of the box, spilling over his hands as he laughs. "Want a chocolate? They'll be somewhere under all," a gesture with his head, "that!"

Nyx was used to people’s first impressions of her being favorable due to her youthful appearance, but this is the third person tonight to try to feed her. Though, this time, she doesn’t seem as bothered as she usually is by strangers approaching her. 

Ah, youth. How spirited they can be.

“If you are seeking a future as a street performer, you should seek no further. You are quite the natural at making a fool of yourself.”

Despite her words, Nyx’s tone lacks any semblance of malice or annoyance, but rather, it manifests in a more endearing cadence.