[center][abbr=#B8041A | Alt+0248 for ø][img]https://i.ibb.co/wY7GYz8/Kaspar-Header-2.png[/img][/abbr]
[hr][color=#B8041A][b]LOCATION[/b][/color][b]:[/b] Noble Dormitories
[color=#B8041A][b]INTERACTIONS[/b][/color][b]:[/b] Ayla [@Ti]
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Kaspar left the tavern while the party was still in full swing, other competitors joining in the drinking. His head was spinning with the effect of three shots, two primes that had been purged and one shot that still lingered in his system in full, boosting his manas. He walked down the darkened streets, more of a wobble in his step than the boy was capable of recognizing. 

He got back to his dormitory, an ornery Raspberry Drake winding around his legs and nipping at his heels, waiting for the door to be opened. Kaspar pushed it open after a moment of clumsily undoing the lock, and [i]Feit-og-sint[/i] slithered in, darting under one of the cupboards. The quiet sounds of him devouring fruits he’d stashed away echoed through the front room. 

He filled a cup with water, ignoring the curious stares of his two smaller dragons nestled in beside the froabas egg. He chugged the liquid, realizing it was a mistake when it hit his stomach all at once, sending it roiling through his innards. He stood, stumbling towards the door and sinking to his knees to clutch the bucket there, dry heaving. Nothing came up, but it took several minutes for the noble to regain his composure, beads of sweat soaking into his collar. 

He sat back on his heels, and immediately a small body wrapped around his hand, sniffing at his skin. Looking up at him with eyes just a little too big for the head they were trapped in, [i]Tomsøthet[/i] seemed almost [i]concerned[/i] for his wellbeing. Gently scooping the reptile into his palm, Kaspar returned to his spot at the table, pushing away the now-empty mug. 

Tiredness was beginning to pull at him, and for a moment the boy considered simply laying his head on his arms and giving in. But his crimson eyes trailed [i]Tomsøthet[/i]’s curious expedition around the table to the other side, and for the first time since Willa had come to visit, his gaze landed on the portrait he’d created. Stretching his arm out, he caught the edge of the paper between his fingers and pulled it closer, finally taking in what he had drawn for the first time since creating it. 

When he’d finished it, awed though he was by the skill in his art, the boy had dismissed it as the musings of a lovesick fool. He knew what this was, though he [i]hadn’t[/i] at first… And none of it was productive. They were feelings he couldn’t allow to remain, at least not at the surface. So the boy had been pushing it down, restricting those emotions the same way he did all others. For days it had been like this, the noble staunchly ignoring the whole thing, yet never finding it in himself to simply burn the portrait like he thought he should. 

Now, though, with the intoxication swimming in his blood and plying his mind, he truly drank in what he’d created. It was the only true portrait he’d ever done—a few sketches from a much younger and much less talented Kaspar seemed to imitate human faces, but they could not really be counted. 

Something in his chest tugged, like it already knew that he would destroy the sketch come morning, resolve hardened by the softness of his altered state. He was already to his feet, sketch in hand, before his mind even fully caught up. [i]Tomsøthet[/i] scurried to the edge of the table, reaching out front legs to grasp Kaspar’s sleeve and swing onto it, dangling before climbing the fabric and clinging to his forearm. 

[color=#B8041A][b]“I might need your help,”[/b][/color] the boy whispered, lifting the dragon until it could slip into his vest. Snuggling in, it glanced up and chirped, the closest thing Kaspar supposed he could get to an agreement. He leaned down, snagging a stray quill, and steadied his hand to scrawl something on the corner of the page, doing his best to keep the words neat despite his drunkenness. 

His fingers turned the knob of the dormitory door and he stepped out into the streets, darker and quieter than when he arrived. 

There was only one place where the sketch could truly belong, and it wasn’t with him.

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By the time he got to her street, Kaspar could only hope he’d been walking with something resembling dignity. He’d not noticed any other wanderers, but that was far from an assurance that they hadn’t noticed him. He counted the buildings as he strolled down the street, mustering as much as he could into looking like something other than a drunken student about to do some minor breaking and entering. 

A small rush of relief coursed through him as the proper dormitory came into view. One of the windows was open, letting in the warm air of Ersand’Enise. Glancing from one end of the street to the other to be sure he wasn’t being watched, Kaspar approached the opened window. He was surprised to feel heat coming [i]out[/i] of the room as well, but only for a moment before he remembered that she had two dragon eggs to keep warm. 

It was now that he pulled the green dragon from his vest, holding the edge of the sketch up to his mouth. [i]Tomsøthet[/i] grabbed it obligingly, though it was really more of an instinct than an intelligent response. He was set on the window ledge and blinked up at the Helbahnese boy, eyes bright but devoid of thought. Pulling a few treats out of his pocket, Kaspar tossed a grape through the window. It landed on the table, but bounced and rolled down onto the seat of one of the chairs.

Nevertheless, [i]Tomsøthet[/i] was off, diving through the window and jumping onto the chair. The paper slid from his mouth and onto the surface as he devoured the grape. Kaspar cursed, and tossed another that landed and stayed on top this time. [i]Tomsøthet[/i] was quick to scamper up the table and mow it down as well, but had no interest in bringing the sketch with him. The noble was trying to figure out how to get the dragon to do what he wanted when a few soft thuds and some shuffling came from the next dormitory over. 

Panic laced like ice in his veins as Kaspar frantically pulled out another grape, getting the attention of his companion. The green creature dove back through the window, nearly taking off the tip of his master’s thumb as he chomped onto the treat, oblivious to the speed with which the boy had turned and begun walking hurriedly down the street. He glanced back only once he got to the end of the street, catching a figure in the distance who seemed to be at least as drunk as he was, wobbling into the distance with a single shoe in hand with what he guessed, from the bare skin of their back, was their shirt. 

[hider=Ayla's Sketch]
[img]https://i.ibb.co/7psYYgx/Ayla-s-Sketch.png[/img]
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