#just-a-drop

It's nearing midnight at Savanaclaw Dorm; the rowdy students gone off to sleep in their dens, the open fields barren of bustling sport.

Yue lowers the spoon and pot within their hold, settling them onto the floorboards with a delicate clacker. It takes a few seconds of tiptoeing around scattered kitchenware to reach the snoring Grim, positioned starfish on a carpet. Visibly, he lay exhausted from the marathon of haphazard drums and clangs, songs from Earth Yue sang that he barely knew but sang along to anyway. And a chuckle breaks out of them. This— ladies and gentlemen, is their beast.

“Barely two hours in and he's already out cold.”

As Yue transfers him onto the cot, they wonder what oddities he could be dreaming of now. Last time it was tuna and beforehand, it was ostriches. It fascinates them, every now and then, how easily Grim can fall asleep.

In spite of this, slumber has yet to claim a certain two, and is further yet to be given freely to a certain lion beastman.

“So, senior, what'll it be?”

Yue casts a glance over their shoulder, to Leona huddled in blankets, turned away from where they stand.

“I told you already: 𝙉𝙤.” His voice— gravelly as is, is made even deeper by the lack of sleep. “And now that the furball's knocked out, I'm gonna get some shut-eye.”

He tosses the blanket over his head before falling into silence...

Yue turns to face him. With a gentle voice that pierces through the evening lull, they speak.

“You know, you could've easily gotten rid of us."

He feels their gaze drilling into his skull.

“Could've shoved us into Jack's room, or straight out of Savanaclaw, even."

The final words of it are left unspoken yet Leona can hear it as clear as day. '𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵. After all that ruckus Grim and I caused, you didn't, and that means 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.'

Not a word of reply is given to confirm nor deny. They aren't gullible enough to believe him truly fast asleep. Yue smiles — a soft and amused thing. Quiet steps lead them to the side of the beastman's bed and the mattress weighs down. He sees their silhouette through the sheets.

“I need you to hear me out, Leona. My friends and I will keep the Leech twins busy tomorrow until sundown. While they 𝘢𝘳𝘦 an immature bunch, they thrive best in creating chaos, I tell you." The prefect stops to laugh as if proud of their merry band's idiocy. "What you'll need to do is this: Create a commotion in Mostro lounge. With Floyd and Jade absent, Azul will be forced to tend to the problem himself. Have Ruggie put his pick-pocketing skills to use. Grab the key, and by the time Azul returns, you ought to have already taken the contracts. Leona, listen closely,"

Their voice greatens in severity and out of all the things he could imagine Yue to say, none of it comes even close to what is dropped.

“𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢."

And by 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘴, he can't help the shit-eating grin that crawls its way to his face.

"If this works, Grim and I will be out of your hair by sundown. You could even use this as an opportunity to get some payback."

A finger tugs down the blanket over his head. His gaze is instantly met with a sly, smirking Yue. The doe-eyed kid with a baby face and not an ounce of magic, giving him a look that shouts pure mischief. "I doubt you'd be calling him an 'Octo-punk' without having some sort of vendetta against him, no?"

And he 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘴.

He laughs at the sheer absurdity of all that is present and all that is the prefect, hearty and rumbling.

“You sure are one hell of a herbivore..."

They perk up.

"Is that a yes, senior?"

"It's a '𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦'. You got me there with your shrewd thinking," he sneers and Yue glows at the praise. Eager to extinguish the light, Leona hurriedly follows up. "But I'll take your word on my part of the deal, you hear me?"

"Of course! I wouldn't 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 of sleeping in the same room as you ever again."

"Well, the feeling's mutual, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵."

They chuckle, foolishly lenient and kind. Leona thinks to himself, as the prefect heads over to their cot, how someone so gold-hearted could be so cunning and bold; how a lost, stowaway magicless could be so extraordinary.

. . .

His eyes droop to a close. The last thing he hears is their voice, whispering with the lull of evening.

Warmth.

Warmth is the first thing that they feel. Fine velvet against their skin, plush like some mattress of royalty. A drowsy groan makes it out of their throat as they turn, seeking something to hold on to... but it's cramped. They stir their shoulders in an attempt to shrug off space. Nothing. It's getting hard to breathe. Eunice's eyes fly open as memories of it all flood back: the fight, the music, the tracks, the horse, the black carriage. They were hit. 𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘰𝘥, they were hit. Where were they?

Darkness is all that they see. Hands searching on every surface there is, Eunice grumbles at the tightness of the confinement. (A shrill voice seeps in somewhere from outside the walls, incoherent and inspirit.)

With a resolved nod, they gather their courage and shove with all of their weight. A bang and the lid flies outward. So do they— 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥, against cold porcelain.

“What?! You ain't supposed to be up!”

Grey pops into their peripheral, hollering a string of colorful expletives. Eunice winces through the throbbing of their body. Shoulders planked on the cold flooring, they pick themselves upward and their gaze is instantly met... with a cat.

The thing is standing on its hind legs and a pair of blue flames dance within its ears. They almost mistake it for taxidermy until it 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, striking and uncanny like some fever dream apparition. The shrill voice came from 𝘪𝘵.

“The cat talks...” A bewildered huff escapes them, near-bordering hysterical laughter. “Shit. Was I drugged?”

The cat gives them a look as if they've grown two heads. They might as well have. They're speaking to a damn cat.

“Drugged? Are you loony? What are ya on about? And I am no cat! I am Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!”

. . .

The silence that follows the grand introduction is deafening. Eunice can only blink once then twice, still trying to grasp the situation. 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩-𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘬?

It visibly sours when no praise is found to stroke its feline ego.

“Hmph. Whatever. Just gimme your clothes, and be quick about it! Otherwise..."

A Chesire grin curls its way to the thing's face when it raises its claws with a firework crackle. Eunice's eyes dart about their surroundings, past the dimness of night and that aurora-green glow. Above them are chandeliers, around are large windows, mauve curtains, and one empty hallway. It's all so whimsical yet unsettling like some carnival haunted mansion. Blue flames begin to spark upon the polished surface, singeing the long and golden edges of their— not even their — robes. Quickly. Perhaps there could be something...

Their open coffin.

"I'll roast—HEY!!”