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Max surprised Aaron by replying pretty quick—there was a jab in there somewhere about Max having no one better to talk to on his breaks, but Aaron wasn’t too interested in finding it. 

[indent][color=8585ad][i]> Dude's a fucking weirdo, got in a spat with the professor that we weren't going fast enough 5 seconds after i almost killed us both going too fast
> How tf do you wear a whole ass collar and then be that idk, brave?[/i][/color][/indent]
Aaron made a face at the message, shrugging to himself. He honestly didn’t know where to begin; coming to the Academy had been a culture shock above and beyond anything he expected, and even one semester in he could hardly claim to understand much about the various classes of mage and vampire that congregated there. 

[indent][color=f0d705][i]> I don’t know, maybe the collar’s just a weird fashion statement?
> I mean, collar aside, you’d have to be pretty brave to look like that in public.[/i][/color][/indent]
[color=f7976a]“And you think this is how you earn your way into the Mental program? How many times have I had to repeat myself about punctuality?”[/color]

Aaron had scarcely hit send before his Master's voice sliced through the quiet night air, snapping his head up and his back straight like he’d been zapped by a wire. That pleasant feeling of tranquility he'd been basking in flew from him like a frightened dove, and all those “other things” to worry about that he’d cast aside came rushing back to take its place—not least of which being the very fragile covenant he was supposed to be mulling over, and which he’d already managed to break. And by forgetting the most basic of Varis’ commands no less! He dared not speak, weathering Varis’ justified chastisement with his eyes respectfully averted in silence, but fortunately, he got off relatively light. Varis must not have had the time or the patience to lecture him further; no need, considering Aaron could compose a lengthy lecture on his wrongdoings all by himself, and moon only knew he was hardly worth the breath. 

He followed Varis mutely into the building, silencing his phone and stashing it away, and they’d already reached the classroom before Aaron even thought to wonder why Varis was here at all. He had his own classes to attend, didn’t he? Or had he failed so miserably in every other context that Varis felt the need to personally oversee magic as well? He had to resist a groan of shame; how humiliatingly astute. 

Aaron gave Professor Daun an apologetic look when Varis wasn’t looking, feeling ever guiltier when he saw how alarmed the Professor was by the Count’s presence. In a way, Daun’s behaviour was surprising; given the general air of indifferent respect he’d seen so many other professors use last semester, he’d been under the impression that Princess Ryner hadn’t hired any professors who were likely to grovel at the feet of her Noble students. But perhaps that was only the professors who were likely to interact with Nobles, or it was an incorrect assumption entirely. Of course, Aaron wouldn’t deny that Professor Daun’s behaviour was smart, and more appropriate in his view given Varis’ status, but he still felt bad for catching the man so off guard. It must have been embarrassing for him, too. Perhaps he should apologize another night. 

Of course, that wasn’t where Aaron’s focus should have been aimed. Varis’ mention of interest in his performance brought him back to the much more pertinent and unnerving topic at hand: not making himself out a fool in front of his Master. Again.

It was impossible for the weight of Varis’ observation not to freak him out, especially under the pressure of an impromptu evaluation. However, once Professor Daun finished fussing over Varis, the quick return to his usual, calm teaching demeanour did wonders to realign Aaron’s focus—and that little bit of praise helped too, even if he didn't deserve it. But for a mercy, it became easier to turn his mind from his Master to his task as the Professor spoke, with his demonstration so realistic it even caused Aaron to flinch. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his lips at the sight of a fully formed lion, dissolving into nothing as quickly as it came; a dramatic example of the feats he’d been looking forward to attempting himself. 

And now he had the chance. Despite the added pressure, his magic buzzed in anticipation; if anything, the extra adrenaline excited it further. Aaron was reminded once again of Salem’s analogy—perhaps the added pressure of someone to please would help him more than hurting him. Of course, his magic on its own didn’t have the all-too-relevant context of his lengthy chain of failures to temper it, but as he stepped into the hoop on the floor and closed his eyes, he tried to push those from his mind and embrace his magic’s enthusiasm. 

He took a little longer than usual to center himself, having to resist the urge to work himself up anew over Varis’ observation. Instead, he focused on his breathing, tuning in to the thrum of magic coursing through him, and aligning its will with his; only when it was as attuned to him and stable as his own heartbeat did he continue. 

Following Professor Daun’s instructions, Aaron envisioned a ball of light, no different than any other he’d formed. When it came time to choose a form for the ball, his mind’s eye saw shapes begin to jut from it, the ball turning and twisting like clay being molded by invisible hands. It was the strangest thing—he could imagine what it would feel like to shape the light, where each hill and valley had to go, but he could form no clear image in his mind of what the end result would be. Nonetheless, he felt confident in the outcome, and the jitters of stage fright melted away into the calm concentration of knowing precisely what he needed to do. 

Opening his eyes, Aaron held out his hands, easily forming a ball of golden light between them. He was careful to keep his breathing steady as he began to shape it, doing his best to keep his hands still and let his will do the forming. His eyes narrowed as the ball began to change shape, condensing into something small and elliptical; the light brightened as it shrank, adopting bumps and corners, until it became a very bright silhouette of something like a shining, golden chrysalis. 

But he wasn’t finished. His arms tensed up as he began to feel a pressure between his hands, and he clenched his jaw as he closed his hands further around the new shape, as if he was squeezing a balloon. His hands inched closer and closer together until, almost touching, there was a bright flash; suddenly, there burst from his hands a number of glowing shapes, fluttering out around him in all directions. Upon closer inspection, he’d produced about a dozen small, golden butterflies, glowing as faintly as the fairy lights as they fluttered around the room like falling confetti. 

A surprised half-smile crept onto Aaron’s face as he watched his own handiwork, each little butterfly quite convincingly shaped, albeit with a not-so-realistic golden glow. Still, as they winked out one by one, he had to admit he was satisfied with his work. Even if they didn’t quite look “real”, they felt very familiar, in a strangely nostalgic sort of way; they weren’t true to life, no, but he was content that they came out just as he intended them to. He risked a glance over to gauge Varis’ reaction, and offered his Master a respectful nod before looking wordlessly to the Professor for feedback, doing his best to temper his excitement at what he’d managed to create. 
[right][sub][@Achronum] [@Scribe of Thoth][/sub][/right]