#grydric

Hei,

Merry Christmas. It is a pleasure to have you in my house. I am proud to call you one of my students and so I have given you a ring to represent our house. As well you can find a kit to make your own wax seal. It is important for any person to have a personalized wax seal.

Godric Gryffindor.

Evie,

Merry Christmas. It is a pleasure to have you in my house. I am proud to call you one of my students and so I have given you a ring to represent our house. As well you can find a kit to make your own wax seal. It is important for any person to have a personalized wax seal.

Godric Gryffindor.

The mistletoe seemed to be causing chaos at the feast, not that Mateo minded. Until he found himself almost about to walk towards Sam. Unwilling to risk it, he quickly turned and grabbed the first person he saw. “Please talk to me.” Realising it was Godric, he flashed a smile. “Consider it a favour to Ellie, saving her little brother from torture.” 

The letters crammed into his pocket seem to weigh him down, parchment so heavy with the concern it carries that he has to stop, for a moment, and shelter behind a small livestock shed, trying to regain control of his breathing, to calm down and pull back the furious, volatile magic tingling at his fingers.

Mercy and Feliks have been writing since he left, alternating between demanding he return home and ordering him to stay safe, stay out of sight; but he could feel something was wrong here the moment he passed the outer limits of the village.

Now, with the thick smell of smoke almost sickly sweet in his noise and at the back of his throat, he feels their concern far more heavily; but the desperate, clawing worry takes precedent.

Cecelia wasn’t in either of the other villages. She has to be here, has to be somewhere; and he needs to find her. He needs to find her, and get her out.

Tris swallows hard, blinks to clear his eyes, and moves to try edging deeper into the village, toward where the smoke is coming from-

Only to freeze when he finds his path blocked.

No. No no no.

Knowing exactly how to keep Eleonora from yelling at him again, Mateo had decided it was time for another portrait of her. This time, she was going to be the most ethereal angel anyone had ever seen. 

His canvas set up, paint palette floating in the air, his attention was focused entirely on the curve of her face as he painted her from memory. With her face done, he turned to wash his brush only to see an unfairly god-like man. Mateo already wanted to paint him as something grand. Apollo or Hercules. 

His face lit up with a brilliant smile. “Well, hello there. See something you like?”