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A timid feminine voice calls out to him as she walks up to Sylvaine by the sofas at the end of the Lecture Hallway by the staircase,

"It's me, Fyo.. na. I know I look quite different since we last met. My biggest transfiguration spell yet was successful. But I thought I'd drop by, uhm.. how have you been lately?" She shuffles awkwardly in-place, fidgeting with her gloved fingers. The noble sanguine prodigy meets his gaze with that familiar meekness.

"And I'd like to apologise for the scare I gave you in our last assignment together. I hope you're not mad at me but I completely understand if you won't forgive me for that.."

- Magister Fyo

“FYO—”

Sylvaine catches her eyes just as she flinches, and a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“…na!” he finishes smoothly, letting the syllable hang in the air.

He steps a fraction closer, tilting his head, surveying her.

“Well,” he says, voice dipped in mock concern, “I must say… ambitious spells suit you. And you’ve clearly grown since last I saw you.” His eyes drift over her with just enough weight to make her self-conscious.

“But tell me, Fyo-na…” He lets the syllable linger, deliberately casual, “do you always make such a habit of startling others, or am I merely… honored?”

He lets a small laugh escape — soft, teasing — leaning slightly against the nearest railing, arms crossed. “And as for your father,” he adds lightly, half shrugging as if the man barely exists, “don’t worry about it. He’s… not exactly a challenge. I handled it. No harm done. You can leave the theatrics to him.”

“…Oh. You were serious.”

No. Of course you can’t copy my rune homework. If you had the baseline literacy to follow it, you wouldn’t be in my ask box begging for scraps like this was a study group.

Rune arrays aren’t recipes. They’re proofs. Copying them without comprehension doesn’t make you clever — it just advertises that you don’t know where the failure point is until it explodes in your face.

Yeah, right. Hehe…they absolutely do….and you and I both know it, don’t we?

~@serenaofesperia

Serena!

Haha. Yes. “Hehe.” Very amusing.

I’m glad you find my work memorable enough to comment on so quickly.

And for the record, most of my spell outcomes are intentional, actually.

Hey,

it's been a very special day, that made me realize how much I love (to endure) your presence. Wish I could watch you spend eternity with me right now. Sooner or later, we shall united! I'll always be there to catch you. Whether you currently want to hold me close or break my neck - I will wait for you. Don't keep me waiting! ;-)

Yours eternally,

Death

The faint green glow flickers against his sleeve.

Sylvaine does not flinch.

He studies the rose hovering before him, gaze narrowing slightly at the chill in the magic.

“…Tacky,” he murmurs.

With two fingers, he catches the stem mid-air. The petals frost faintly where his touch meets them.

His eyes scan the letter once. Twice. A breath leaves him through his nose — not quite a laugh.

“You’ll forgive me if I decline the melodrama. If you intend to ‘catch’ me, you’ll have to try harder than theatrics and horticulture.”

“Do try to be patient,” he adds coolly. “I have no intention of arriving early.”