CEARTAS

His hand trails slowly down your arm, fingers brushing against the skin like a painters touch, his own magic leaving faint trails of orange in his wake that eventually fade from sight. You still feel them though, settling into you with an oddly comforting gesture. Music is played softly by unseen hands from the harp in the corner of the room and only serves to lull you into a deeper state of bliss. Inside this room, away from the frigid cold of the northern lands outside, it is easy to lose yourself to sensations.

Idris himself seems to be in a rare state of relaxation; his body is not tense and taut, he isn't mumbling out loud about the thousands of things that need to be done, and you have yet to be disrupted by any attendants knocking on the door to request his presence.

You press your face further into the crook between his neck and shoulder at this thought; it's so rare to have him to yourself these days. Albeit, a lack of quality time is what you expected considering who Idris is, but still.

It's rather lonely.

His fingers slow to a stop on your arm and you feel him turn his head ever so slightly. You feel the rise and fall of his chest as a slow sigh escapes from him, and then moments later his hand comes to rest on the back of your head, holding you closer than before. He, too, is aware of the rarity of this time—and just how limited it truly is.

"Spare thoughts for the curious?"

Their voice serves to pull you from your rumination as your attention is drawn from the scenery below. Unlike your previous journey to the Summer Palace—which is one you would like to forget—the tranquility of this one is gradually serving to replace those murky memories.

Séaghdha has certainly served to assist in this. They move gracefully across the marble floor as they approach you, their golden eyes glimmering with amusement. The faint fragrance of citrus surrounds them, and when they rest one warm hand on your back, you can feel your body easing back into their touch.

"Can you not just peer into my mind and see them yourself?" Your voice is coy as they come to rest beside you. Their hand travels up and down the length of your spine, drawing forth a shiver from you, as they hum in return.

"Ah, but that takes away the fun of hearing them in your words." Their lips twitch into a faint smile. "I do like hearing your words. They're far better than those of my peers."

"Because your peers all have filters for what they say." Unlike you. Séaghdha engaged in conversation with you initially because they liked how candid you were with your words and now, many months later, that's only one of the reasons why. "But because you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I'm thinking about how much it's changed."

Séaghdha's hand pauses in its actions for only a moment before resuming. Their body rests against yours—light enough that you don't move, but close enough that their warmth envelops you. You can feel the tension easing from your body the longer you remain in their presence.

"What's changed?"

"The Palace. It's... calmer. Better." Beithir's presence still hung heavily in the halls, but time has begun to ease the shadows away, as it always does with death. Séaghdha hums in return and tilts their head. The suns rays dance across their face and makes their feathers look like gold—a captivating sight to behold.

Law school was, as one would expect, exhausting. 6:45 wake ups were bad enough for you, but for Morgan? For Morgan, who stayed up until 3 in the morning and survived off of red bulls?

You think you'd have an easier time prying teeth out of an alligators mouth.

"You can't keep doing this," are the first words to come out of your mouth when finally manage to pry open their door. The room was the same as usual—hamper overflowing, computer with three screens lit up on the desk, fast food cups shoved in the garbage—save for the giant fish tank, which sat shoved in one corner of the room.

Despite juggling four cases a week in addition to 50 or so pages of reading, Morgan still found the willpower to adopt several goldfish under their care. You spare them an apologetic glance as you make your way to the bed; in all fairness, they seemed to be thriving.

The same could not be said for Morgan, however. Their white hair fanned out across their pillow as they buried themself deeper into the sheets, clearly trying to ignore your voice as you rest your hands on your hips. You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and with a tone that you know indicates exactly how you're feeling you simply say:

"Morgan."

There's a pause, a moment of silence, and then they slowly roll over onto their back to look up at you. They're wearing a hoodie that looks way too hot for the amount of sheets they have and their lips are set in a sleepy, yet still sheepish, grin.

"What? No breakfast?"

"When you do it for me, I'll do it for you," you fire back, yanking the sheets from their body. They scramble up into a sitting position at the motion and shoot you an offended glance. Upright and attentive, you can see the effects of their poor sleep habits are becoming more noticeable—dark bags sit under their eyes, and their face looks more pinched than usual. You grimace.

"Morgan, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" They stretch upwards and then lean sideways until their face is pressed against your stomach. You rest one hand on their head and the other on your hip. Morgan has always been a physically affectionate person, but when they're needy like this, it usually means they aren't feeling too well.

"The super late nights when we have early mornings? Have you even reviewed the cases for class today?" You toy with their hair a bit, surprised at just how soft it felt, before they pulled back enough to look at you. Then, their gaze goes to the state of their room, and their expression shifts to one of misery.

"... Fuck," they finally sigh, reaching up to rub their eyes. "I'll read the case over as we walk to class. I'll be able to get it by the time the lecture starts."

You sigh—a long, drawn out sound—as your hand goes from their hair to their cheek. You hold their face for a moment, studying the evidence of their low health in their features, as you brush a thumb of their cheek.

Then, you pinch it tight, which earns you a yelp in response.

"We fix this starting today, yes?" Even though your words come out as a question, your no-nonsense tone lets Morgan know they have no say in the matter. They send you a half-hearted scowl as they reach up to rub their cheek.