“Cynda, your studies,” he reminds her from where he's bent over scattered parchments, reading glasses low on the bridge of his nose. A long sigh rings out from the table in the corner, where the child is meant to be practicing her letters.
“This has nothing to do with magic,” she grumbles under her breath, voice shrill with the fury only an eleven year old can manage. Ulumb tries in vain not to laugh, not wanting to encourage the unruly pupil. She sees Kazara's ear twitch from his place on the floor, seated close to the fire light.
“What mage worth their salt is unable to read?” he retorts, voice distant and distracted as he pens something down, masterfully dipping his quill in a pot of ink without dripping.
Behind them, the child complains further, but the messy sounds of her doodling are quickly replaced by the repetitive lines and swoops of letters being traced.
The peace is not long lasting. Ulumb gets halfway through her glass of wine, watching with bemused interest as Kazara pushes his glasses back up for the hundredth time, before the writing from the other side of the room tapers off. It takes only a moment before he notices as well, eyes not leaving the words on the paper in front of him when he calls out her name, a warning.
She lets out a defensive breath, glaring daggers at his turned back when Ulumb finally glances in her direction.
“You told me to finish the page, and I did,” she complains.
“Alright then, bring it to me,” he says, hand raising expectantly to receive her finished paper. There is a moment of hesitation from the corner as Cyndassa turns back to her work, giving it a nervous once over, her confidence immediately faltering at the raised challenge.
“If you're unsure-,” he starts, but she cuts him off with the sharp sound of her chair scooting out. With a few heavy footsteps, her rain damp boots dragging on the wooden floor, she appears at his side, eyes still scanning her own crumpled paper.
“Here,” she says, nervously placing her work in his waiting hand. She chews at her lip as he pauses his reading to tilt her paper towards the light, illuminating rows and rows of messy letters. Ulumb thinks it's endearing, but Kazara only furrows his brow and hums.
“Your lines are getting better,” he starts, and Cyndassa's eyes immediately light up at the praise.
“Does that mean I can-,” she half shrieks in her excitement, but he cuts her off with a patient finger.
“But,” he says, “your letters are sloppy. I want you to do another page.”
She wilts like a flower before them, lower lip protruding out at the overwhelming flood of despair.
“A whole page? But you said I could have my flute after this!” she whines, hands tugging at themselves.
“I know what I said,” he sighs, “Do another page, and you'll get your flute back”
“But that wasn't the deal!” her voice raises, posture going stiff with frustration. Behind him, Kazara's tail flicks impatiently.
“The flute is a privilege, one that I will revoke if your studies fall behind. You can either rewrite the page, or you can go lie in your bed till supper.”
At that, her face flushes bright red from anger and embarrassment alike. Ulumb can almost see it happen before it does, Cyndassa tearing the paper from his hand in the midst of an outburst. He turns to look at her, eyes stern.
“I'm going, you don't need to say it again!” she yells. When she turns to dramatically stomp away, her boot comes down on his still moving tail rather than the floorboards.
Kazara immediately lets out a pained cry, and the child nearly falls backwards in her urgency to remove her foot from his tail.
“Shit,” Ulumb mutters, rising up in her chair at the sudden commotion.
“I- I didn't mean to,” Cyndassa tries to apologize, tripping over her own words. Kazara's face goes pale in his sudden anger, shooting her a piercing glare.
“Go to your room,” he says, voice just beneath a yell. Her face drains of all color, tears welling up in her eyes. She's gone in an instant, running to her bedroom and slamming the door hard enough to make it shake on its hinges. Only a moment later do the sounds of her muffled sobs begin to echo out.
Still sitting up in her chair, Ulumb frowns and runs a hand over her prickly head. Before she can even comment on the situation, Kazara lets out a deeply tired sigh, setting his glasses aside to bury his face in his hands.
After a beat of silence, she attempts to broker some sort of peace, “you know it was an accident, Kaz.”
Ulumb isn't entirely sure how to answer. On one hand, she's never been all that fond of undisciplined children, especially having been raised rather sternly herself. While Cyndassa has the luxury of learning to read and write, she had been learning the ropes of the lumber trade by this age.
“I know,” he stresses from between his palms, “but what am I meant to do? Let her get away with that sort of behavior?”
On the other hand, she finds herself conflictingly sympathetic towards the child, wanting to shower her with affection despite her better judgment. It wasn't too long ago that Cyndassa lost her parents and was left to fend for herself, something Ulumb can't unsee when faced with her poor behavior.
“Maybe you should try being more.. gentle with her,” she attempts to advise.
Kazara raises up, his tail curling around his lap. He gives her a fatigued look, pinching the place between his eyes.
“I am nothing but gentle,” he argues, “my teachers would've swatted me for sloppy penmanship.”
Ulumb nearly laughs, picturing a much younger Kazara nervously presenting his own writing to stern and unforgiving mages, ready with a branch for striking.
“Yes well, she isn't you and you certainly aren't those teachers,” she chuckles, knowing full well that Cyndassa would hit back.
“I'm aware,” he says dryly.
