Obscene Symphony

Obscene's Scratchpad

_{@Hero @Scribe of Thoth @Achronum}

Max didn't seem all that enthralled by Aaron's demonstration (although if Aaron was right, he did look a little jealous) but he must have been impressed to some extent because he accepted the offer. His compliment, however begrudging it sounded, still made Aaron swell with pride.

"Thank you," Aaron replied, politely inclining his head. His eyes flicked to Sariel again, just for an instant, conveying another little inside joke. "I do my best."

He was about to ask Max what sorts of goals he had for his magic when they were interrupted by quiet clapping.

"That was amazing!"

A head of white hair rushed up to them and Aaron's eyes lit up, smile widening. He stood a little straighter. There she was! He'd been worrying she'd been a figment of his imagination when he couldn't find her at the beginning of orientation, but here she was, all stunning smiles and impressed by him of all things. A close observer would have noticed Aaron's ears flushing red under his hair.

Max looked unimpressed and turned away, but Aaron was anything but. "Thank you!" he replied, a little more enthusiastically this time, "Lilie, right? From the ceremony last night?" he asked, as if her face wasn't already etched in his memory.

He was smiling like an idiot, and realized he didn't have anything else to say. Reluctantly, he looked away from her face and her hair and those beautiful eyes, noticed the rapier on her hip, and had an idea.

"Hey, you're a fencer!" he noted a little too enthusiastically, pointing at the pommel of her rapier. "I'm actually here looking for a sparring partner for later tonight, would you be interested?" He turned so she could see the longsword on his hip, as if it wasn't obvious already. "I'm not a fencer myself, but I've trained against fencers - well, only one fencer, but a lot of times - so if you're willing, I am."

His mood fell a tick when he realized he had no idea of her skill level. It wasn't usually something he considered, but he'd had the same opponent for the past five years and didn't usually consider the fact that not everyone had been brought up the way he had. He'd hate to trick her into an unfair fight. "How long have you been training?"

Obscene's Scratchpad

Lucan/Aaron Collab: The Last Day

The image was vivid in Aaron’s mind, an image of moonlight streaming through tall windows onto white marble floors, of mahogany furnishings gleaming black in the near-darkness. An otherwise empty room populated only by two figures in the middle, grasping instruments.

Three soft, rhythmic taps of a foot against the floor, a quick breath in, and suddenly the room came alive. The first sections of Mozart’s Lacrimosa, deep notes harmonizing with higher ones, the occasional sweet dissonance redeemed once more by harmony. The sound reverberated through the room perfectly, washing over everything, like an elegant duet of dancers sweeping across the floor. Every vibration played its part in the chorus and the two voices had the body of twenty as they sang through the space. If the windows had been living, they would have turned to listen.

But suddenly, there was a sour note, and the tenor line stopped playing.

Aaron dropped his head and sighed in frustration. Reaching out around his cello to the pencil on his stand, he drew several dark, angry circles around that damn D flat on his music.

Eyes closed and posture straight Lucan appeared to be a statue, the only thing in motion being his bow arm as he followed along with Aaron’s deeper and darker timbre. One always played down to the lowest sound available in music and in this case, the cello kept the pace. Things seemed to be going quite well, the music in the room a cacophony of a well oiled machine. Two practiced and strong performers moving along like a river until the hiccup.

Lucan opened his eyes, and lowered the Violin from his neck, tilting his head as if considering something as he slowly placed his instrument beside him on his chair. With a calm hand he removed a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped down a bit of dust that he saw happened to find its way onto his long coat.

“What happened this time Aaron? I’ve heard you play that passage time and time again, something happen today?” It was phrased like a question, but the vampire made it sound more like a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and straightening up once more, “I’m sorry I’m just a little distracted I suppose.”

His hands went to his sleeves, rolled up to just below his elbows, absently tucking away any stray corner of fabric as his eyes settled somewhere in the distance past his stand. Within a second or two, though, he picked his bow back up and re-settled the cello between his legs, looking hopefully - almost desperately - to Lucan. “Again?”

The vampire placed his handkerchief on Aaron’s stand silently and his eyes flashed as he considered the human. “Indeed, relax and we shall continue. I expect that you will tell me what it is that troubles you?” Once again, the statement was phrased as a question, but Aaron could hear the uncertainty in it, probably one of the only ones to pick it out of the vampire’s practiced facade of emotions.

Aaron tilted his cello back onto its stand, put his bow aside and put his face in his hands, exhaling slowly as he apparently tried to rub his distractions away. It didn’t work, and his leg started bouncing instead. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fidgeted around his chair, leaning forward and back until he found his words again.

“I-” he began, only for his voice to die in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them and tried again. “They’re sending me to the Academy, Lucan.”

Silence, the room became deathly silent as Aaron went still and even a soft whisper would almost seem like screaming. For several long moments it continued until Lucan stepped forward and placed a single hand on Aaron’s shoulder, perhaps collecting himself as he apparently had been taken by surprise. A squeeze, almost comfortingly, was given, and Luc stepped closer.

“I see. I assume that you’re less than excited for that prospect.” His voice was softer than normal, another tell that he was concerned and wanting to help. Sure, maybe acceptance to a school as prestigious as the Academy would be good news to most, but Lucan knew just as well as Aaron did what it meant for the likes of him.

Aaron inhaled sharply, leaning his chin on his hand, bending to rest his elbow on his knee. “My mother told me this morning, she was so happy,” he chuckled nervously around the lump growing in his throat. “Isn’t it wonderful she told me, isn’t it wonderful they’d choose me to represent the family at the Academy.” He couldn’t stay still, all the pent-up anxiety from the day coming out as he fiddled mercilessly with his ring. He cleared his throat and blinked furiously at the stinging in his eyes, still shocked from it all. His next words were more of a strained whisper to no one in particular. “Isn’t it great.”

With purposeful steps, Lucan stepped around the chair and retrieved a third, placing it right in front of Aaron and sitting slowly. The same hand replaced itself on Aaron’s right shoulder and Luc moved his head a bit to catch his eyes. “Look at me.” He said, before breathing out needlessly. “Calm yourself Aaron, and look at me.” Luc had clearly picked up on Aaron’s situation and was trying to help him regain control. The handkerchief from earlier found its way into Aaron’s hand but Luc refused to move his eyes. “Deep breaths.”

Aaron nodded and followed Lucan’s orders - something he could do well. It took a little time, but his heart rate did slow and his throat did loosen. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, eyes flashing down to his hands, which were wringing Luc’s poor handkerchief like he was trying to dry it, “It’s all very overwhelming, that’s all.”

There was silence for a moment before Aaron added, “I guess I just thought something different was planned for me.”

Luc made no move to interrupt or insert himself as Aaron calmed himself and said his piece. He simply nodded twice, once as Aaron spoke and again at the end. “We have both been given one job upon entering this world, and a wrench was thrown in yours. But it isn’t the end, if anything this is another test for you to overcome to become the best mage possible.” His voice was quiet, soft and had none of the usual gentle hesitation. “Now straighten up, you’ve been given an opportunity, perhaps not the one we expected but an opportunity nonetheless.”

There was a hesitation, then Luc placed his other hand on Aaron’s opposite shoulder and just stared at him. Aaron could see the gears turning behind his violet eyes as Lucan looked on, until finally after a minute he nodded once more.

Aaron nodded along as Luc spoke, quickly at first and then more assuredly nearer the end. “You’re right,” he affirmed, and of course he was. His lot in life was to be at the Noilas’ beck and call, and sulking was not only unproductive, but ungrateful. After a moment of purposeful breathing, he picked his bow back up, readjusted his cello and straightened his back, looking once more to Lucan. He wasn’t entirely recovered, but he was better than he started. “One more time?” he asked, eager to move on.

Lucan removed his hands from Aaron’s shoulders and considered him once again, nodding and smiling softly. He stood and replaced the third chair and then walked purposefully back to his violin which he picked up and then prepared his bow. “On you Aaron, and remember. Regardless of what happens, you can count me on your side.” He inclined his head and prepared to once again launch himself into the world of music.

Aaron offered a ghost of a smile in response and took his playing posture. Three taps of a foot later, and a quick breath in, and the room came back to life.

Obscene's Scratchpad

Lucan/Aaron Collab: The First Day

The training room was dark, the windows that normally let in copious amounts of moonlight were closed, and the curtains drawn. Artificial light from dimmed bulbs gave the room an eerie yet relaxed feeling, and for Lucan it was a safe haven and a home, a place he truly loved to be. The vampire pureblood walked slowly but surely into the room and began moving silently to a silhouetted figured near the center. In his hands were two swords, the day’s weapon of choice.

As he approached, Lucan simply stopped some five paces behind the blond-haired youth and gave a gentle clear of his throat. And suddenly the stillness and total silence was shattered. “Aaron Starag I presume?” Came the tenor voice.

The boy turned around with a start, and promptly stood at attention, hands behind his straightened back. “Yes sir.” He exclaimed stiffly.

Lucan considered him. The boy was tall but lanky, and from how he stood one could tell he wasn’t quite comfortable with the new dimensions of his limbs. He had big blue eyes and honey-blond hair, classic features that had come to be expected from the Starags, and he stood rigid, as if he was nervous to put a muscle out of place. He was a classic example of a human youth, one who clearly felt the weight of a long and proud family history on his newly-broadened shoulders.

“Indeed…” Came the reply as critical eyes sized the boy up and down as if deciding upon whether this was truly worth his time. A few minutes later he simply nodded and held out a longsword for the boy to grab, removing a handkerchief from his front pocket right after, to wipe some dust from his own blade’s pommel. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the lad more rigid than a tree. He replaced the kerchief and rolled his eyes..

“You’ve been through some training I’ve been told, that’s good. But I’d suggest you relax your back before it breaks from strain.” He took his sword, which would appear to be slightly larger than the longsword, and with the flattened end, smacked Aaron in the back. It was gentle, like a nudge in the right direction. “You can -not- fight if your back will break by simply moving. Movement is key to gaining an advantage, rigidity will get you killed.”

The Starag took the offered sword dutifully, and a little embarrassment flashed over his features as he was corrected. He jumped a little when the blade touched his back, probably from the tension as the tap couldn’t have hurt. Finally he did relax a little, posture still good but now perhaps capable of moving.

Doing his best not to let his amusement show, Lucan nodded towards the youth and began the more boring part of the training. “You’ve been trained to slash, hack, parry, feint, advance, and retreat but I will teach you the true art of dueling. And by extension fighting as a whole, footwork.” He inclined his head to Aaron’s feet and smacked the footwear the boy was wearing. “Everything is about footwork, I will teach you how to move in circles around your opponent, how to block without utilizing too much energy and to utilize one handed parries to prepare you should you become a mage upon the awakening ceremony.”

The vampire paced around the blond, his voice even and never changing in pitch or timbre. “If you pay attention I can teach you to become a great swordsman, if you don’t.” He let the sentence hang and then shrugged, “well that won’t happen.” He knew of the Starags and of the high class they were raised with. “Now, let’s begin. Show me what you’ve learned thus far from those mages of yours.” He suddenly entered a ready stance, sword pointed down towards the ground, his fist enclosed tightly around the hilt, and his eyes changed in the gentle light to a much darker shade of violet.

His young trainee spun the sword in his hand with a flick of the wrist, eliciting a roll of the eyes from Lucan himself, as the teen twirled the blade like he was some magician enthralling a village. He had listened well at the very least, a telltale glance downward at the mention of possible failure, before moving rather easily into a ready stance reflecting Lucan’s own. He took a second and just looked forward, eyes wandering over Lucan’s body, probably looking for an opening. Suddenly, the boy inhaled sharply and sprang forward, launching off his back foot and going for a high hit.

And then everything fell apart rather quickly. Frustration quickly beginning to surface, but was aptly discarded and Lucan had to tell himself that this was not a Bordeleaux vampire he was training. Still, he executed his standard dueling mannerisms and would not take things easy on this boy.

‘1 and 2 a-.’ Ah, a quick attack. It was always a good priority to count how quickly an attack would reach you in combat, you got a better feel for tempo and it allowed for all sorts of mistiming feints and movements. As it was, Lucan had no need for such as the blond had a tell, his eyes giving away everything. The vampire let the enemy blade head towards his shoulder and then deftly blocked it at the very last second, which would no doubt unbalance the less experienced swordsman. He would then swing back around and smack Aaron on the side.

“Dead.” Came the soft tenor as the vampire lowered his blade. “Stop staring at your target location before you strike, you give away your intentions. And stop breathing.” He hesitated and an amused smirk hit his face. “By that, I mean that you should become a statue in the beginning moments of a fight, you inhaled which told me the exact second you would attack. Try again.” And with that, Lucan would enter another ready stance, eyes once more darkening.

Aaron whipped his head around to look at the spot under his arm where he’d been hit. It was honestly a little bit funny, he was clearly shocked by the pace of it all. But, to his credit, he didn’t give away any clear frustration and simply took another stance, throwing himself at the vampire once again, going low.

Lucan admired the boy’s spirit as he kept doggedly attacking the vampire time and time again. Over time the spoken ‘dead’s’ added up quite rapidly, the Bordeleaux never letting frustration enter his voice, continuing to speak at the exact same tone. It was clear the human was giving every single trick in his rather small arsenal a chance to shine against Luc but the experienced swordsman had seen it all at least once, and he deflected time and time again. “Footwork boy, what did I tell you? Move that way, not that way.” He smacked the boys thigh and pointed in a direction after a particularly bad dodge attempt.

Overall the session moved swiftly and as the blond became more and more tired his moves got exceedingly sloppy and it was no use in continuing the blade dance. “Well, once again you’re dead.” Came the tenor line and Lucan pressed his blade into Aaron’s chest, not letting the top pierce flesh but enough to get his point across. This came after a particularly strong block which took Aaron’s blade away from him and sent it clattering away. “Work on your timings, and your breathing for the next session. Perhaps we won’t have as many dead kids then.”

The boy’s skin glistened with sweat, a few locks of hair sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths, jugular thumping at a rapid clip. He kept his eyes trained on Lucan’s as he spoke, not shying away from the blade at his chest, and something burned within them that wasn’t there when they started. A certain intensity. He was clearly frustrated and visibly exhausted, but there was resolve there. He looked like he’d love nothing more than to throw himself at the vampire one more time, despite how spent he must have been.

Lucan placed his blade on the ground and flipped out his handkerchief once more, wiping off his brow and looking down at his outfit to begin adjusting it. “So, how many times did you die exactly? Did you keep count?”

A sharp inhalation was all that was heard as a response and Lucan let a smile place itself onto his face. Well now, this was interesting. The Blond lurched forward and moved to take the Vampires feet out from under him and Luc simply hopped the clumsy strike and spun, bringing his leg up after it returned to solid ground to slam into Aaron’s chest and send him flying back onto his backside. Lucan stared at him for a moment and then stepped forward, kneeling and tilting his head. “What did I tell you about breathing dead boy?”

The boy landed with a grunt and let his head fall back on the rubber floor, chest heaving, eyes staring blankly up at the vaulted ceiling. At Luc’s remark, he let a long breath out of his nose, the end of it coming out as an exasperated laugh. At once, his pent-up frustration seemed to melt away.

“I suppose I won’t need to now, will I?” he returned with a helpless chuckle, shielding his eyes with his forearm, “I died 112 times.”

“So you did keep count, interesting.” He offered his hand to the blond on the floor to help him up, his other once again brushing off some dust from his coat. “I wonder if the attendants actually dust this room.”

Aaron nodded and glanced up at the clock on the wall and practically jumped off the floor, rushing over to quickly but carefully gather what little he’d brought with him, taking a long swig from the last of a water bottle as he did so. “Maybe I won’t die as much tomorrow.” he stated hopefully, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He made it a few steps toward the door before he apparently remembered his finely-tuned manners and turned to offer Lucan a curt bow, adding, “Thank you sir.”

Luc placed his hands behind his back as Aaron stood and rapidly gathered up his belongings, and quenched his thirst. Secretly the Vampire was impressed that the lad hadn’t complained about the lack of breaks in the two hour session but would never let anyone know that. A very soft smirk graced his face again as Aaron repeated his words from earlier and then surprise would find its way onto the Vampiric visage, his control not enough to stop it as he was thanked. “How interesting you are Starag,” came the soft tenor, barely audible.

Lucan just stood there, letting the practice room once again return to a dead silence.

Of Blood and Magic

_{Interacting with: Max @Scribe of Thoth and Sariel @Achronum}

Aaron was just finishing the Arena Guild paperwork when he heard a familiar voice.

“How rude. Not even going to say hello to your old tutor Aaron?”

He smiled and turned around, loosely arranging his arms behind his back as he drew back up to his full height. "Forgive me Sariel," he replied with a light-hearted tone, "I didn't want to tear you away from your adoring fans."

Aaron's eyes then flicked to the mage accompanying her, a boy who stood almost the same height as himself, with mousey-brown hair and cold blue eyes set in a thoroughly unamused expression. If Aaron remembered correctly, he thought he'd seen this mage at the gala the night before, but he wasn't quite sure. He did, however, catch the dirty look the boy threw his way.

He introduced himself as Max, and Aaron offered his hand. However, Max just glanced distastefully toward it without taking it, and Aaron was forced to take it back. Fairly rude, but Aaron reminded himself that not everyone had been raised the way he'd been, and that lots of people were probably on edge with the whole situation and gave the mage the benefit of the doubt before attributing the gesture to malice. However, he wasn't blind to Max's examining gaze and returned one of his own, albeit much more discreet. The boy was a little skinny, and dressed like he was spending the day at home and not at a prestigious institution, but Aaron tried to look past it. Overall, he just looked annoyed. Like he was tired of it all.

"Sariel seems to believe you can give me an edge on magic control, and I'd prefer not to settle for mediocrity. Judging by where you're standing, I'm inclined to believe she isn't just recommending you out of nepotism."

"Ah," Aaron replied, shifting his weight back a little. He gave Sariel a mischievous smile. "Well I certainly hope it's not about nepotism," he laughed, reflecting Sariel's teasing tone with his own, "Or it might reflect a little poorly on you as a tutor..."

He turned his smile back to Max, friendly as ever. "Well Max, where I come from we don't exactly settle for mediocrity either-" he shot Sariel a knowing look, "-and Sariel is an excellent teacher; I'd like to think I've done pretty well with her guidance." Of course, by the sound of it, Aaron didn't think Max would take his word for it. So he had a fun idea.

"Hmm..." He looked up at the ceiling for a light source, happy to find one almost directly above his head. He held out his hands, one palm facing up and the other inward, 'caught' some of the light from the overheads in his upturned hand, and carefully turned his palms to face each other. The ring on his left middle finger began to glow yellow, and a beam of light appeared between his palms, dim at first and gradually brightening. His arms visibly tensed, as if he were squeezing something between his hands, as the light there grew ever brighter, reflecting back and forth between his palms like mirrors. He closed his eyes for a second, focusing on the uncanny feeling between his hands, and when he opened them again they shone as well, irises and pupils disappearing into a solid yellow glow. The beam between his hands grew to an uncomfortable brightness - he always expected it to be hot, but it never was - before finally disappearing with a flash as he let it go.

Aaron looked back up at Max with a satisfied smile, the glow of his eyes dissolving away after a few blinks. Magic was always fun.

"Anyway," he shrugged, "I'm happy to help if you're interested."

Some References

Aaron's ring looks pretty much like this but instead of being red it's more like this colour. Not sure why you need this detail, but there it is.

Of Blood and Magic

_{I guess kind of interacting with: Varis @Achronum}

Evening

Varis emerged from his room just as Aaron was clearing away his dishes, dressed to the nines and outlining the plan for the day. As Varis finished, Aaron glanced at his watch, making a mental note.

"Three o'clock." he confirmed, then ducked quickly into his room to grab his sword before following Varis out, securing it to his hip as he went with practiced ease. Varis locked the door behind them, and Aaron was reminded that he didn't have a key. Not only did he have to be back by three, he noted, but he probably couldn't get back any earlier. He set an alarm on his phone for 2:45am and made his way behind Varis to the main campus, where they parted ways.

Aaron fell into the middle of the mage group, absently following those in front of him as he looked around wide-eyed at the sights around the campus. The air was alive with magic and excitement for the most part, and the energy was intoxicating. Before long, Aaron found himself grinning wide in anticipation, forgetting for the moment his worries and anxieties as he watched the wonders the upper-level students performed all over the campus lawn. Of course he didn't miss the few mages in the crowd who did their best to sink into the ground, looking very self-conscious with leather straps or chains around their necks. Aaron caught the eye of one, who looked to be struggling to keep his composure, and offered a reassuring smile. For all he knew, he might be in the same position by the end of the night.

He grimaced at the rancid smell of cigarette smoke as someone walked behind him, but his spirits returned to him as a bird swooped by, its glistening form revealing it was actually made of water. Aaron watched it as it fluttered past the crowd, stifling a laugh and covering the guilty smile on his face when it drenched a girl at the head of the pack.

Soon after the group approached a building labelled Rose Hall, and started filing in. Aaron paused at the door, letting some people go past him as he looked out over their heads, hoping to see a spot of white among them. Unfortunately, he didn't see anything, and soon followed the rest inside, taking a seat one row back from the front of the stage.

He listened intently to the Headmaster's speech, eyes softening with empathy every time the old man succumbed to his coughing. It was an issue that plagued his mother; she'd come down with a crippling respiratory infection when he was about seventeen, and her lungs never quite recovered. With the Headmaster, though, Aaron was pretty confident the issue came with age.

He noted the Headmaster's counsel about vampire-mage relationships, then jumped as one of the doors behind them slammed open. But then a gentle, floral breeze washed over him and he immediately relaxed. He'd recognize that anywhere. Sure enough, when he turned to look there was Sariel, Ms. Stylish Entrance herself, striding down the aisle. When she caught sight of him she gave him a wink, and Aaron smiled warmly. He'd only known Sariel for a few years but she had played an integral part so far in what little aspect control he had, and she was an uplifting presence in what could sometimes be an otherwise dreary and stiff environment at Noila castle. She was, as could be expected, suitably decked out for the occasion in Noila colours, all golds and sapphires gleaming in the stage lights. Aaron couldn't help but inwardly chuckle.

He looked on with a knowing smile as Sariel made her presentation, and had to quietly laugh at her closing remark. He was tempted to go up and say hello to her, but he figured there might be other students with more pressing concerns and he didn't want to take time away from them. Instead, once Sariel released them he stood and made his way to where the various student clubs and societies had set up tables. A few caught his interest - one for an arcane study club, one for affinity practice, one for a student orchestra - but he made a beeline for one in particular: the Arena Guild.

The Arena Guild booth was nicely decorated with all sorts of well-made information displays including what the club did, how they operated, and several images of the club crest. It also featured a few weapons on display - an axe and a shortsword - as an example of some of the activities they offered. It was staffed by two upper-level mages (they were actually probably around Aaron's age - he knew he was a bit older than a lot of the first years), a dark-skinned bald man and a tall blonde woman, chatting excitedly to each other and other interested first-years about the various exploits of the Guild.

Aaron and the Guild representatives exchanged greetings when it was finally his turn to speak to them, introducing himself only as Aaron, a new student.

"So you're interested in swordplay are you, Aaron?" The woman asked, gesturing sarcastically to the sword on his hip.

Aaron smiled. "Call it a family tradition."

They chatted for another minute or so before Aaron finally asked, "Do you think it would be possible for you to help me find a sparring partner for later today?"

"Oh, totally!" replied the man, whose name was Joseph, sliding a piece of paper and a pen across the table. "We have lots of members who are always looking for an excuse to get into the Arena, just fill this out so we can get an idea of your skill level and match you to someone suitable."

Aaron nodded and set to work filling out the form, moving out of the way of other students and stooping over a corner of the table. It was mostly basic information and a self-declaration of skill level, and he couldn't help but grin to himself as he circled "Advanced".

Obscene's Scratchpad

_{I guess kind of interacting with: Varis @Achronum}

Evening

Varis emerged from his room just as Aaron was clearing away his dishes, dressed to the nines and outlining the plan for the day. As Varis finished, Aaron glanced at his watch, making a mental note.

"Three o'clock." he confirmed, then ducked quickly into his room to grab his sword before following Varis out, securing it to his hip as he went with practiced ease. Varis locked the door behind them, and Aaron was reminded that he didn't have a key. Not only did he have to be back by three, he noted, but he probably couldn't get back any earlier. He set an alarm on his phone for 2:45am and made his way behind Varis to the main campus, where they parted ways.

Aaron fell into the middle of the mage group, absently following those in front of him as he looked around wide-eyed at the sights around the campus. The air was alive with magic and excitement for the most part, and the energy was intoxicating. Before long, Aaron found himself grinning wide in anticipation, forgetting for the moment his worries and anxieties as he watched the wonders the upper-level students performed all over the campus lawn. Of course he didn't miss the few mages in the crowd who did their best to sink into the ground, looking very self-conscious with leather straps or chains around their necks. Aaron caught the eye of one, who looked to be struggling to keep his composure, and offered a reassuring smile. For all he knew, he might be in the same position by the end of the night.

He grimaced at the rancid smell of cigarette smoke as someone walked behind him, but his spirits returned to him as a bird swooped by, its glistening form revealing it was actually made of water. Aaron watched it as it fluttered past the crowd, stifling a laugh and covering the guilty smile on his face when it drenched a girl at the head of the pack.

Soon after the group approached a building labelled Rose Hall, and started filing in. Aaron paused at the door, letting some people go past him as he looked out over their heads, hoping to see a spot of white among them. Unfortunately, he didn't see anything, and soon followed the rest inside, taking a seat one row back from the front of the stage.

He listened intently to the Headmaster's speech, eyes softening with empathy every time the old man succumbed to his coughing. It was an issue that plagued his mother; she'd come down with a crippling respiratory infection when he was about seventeen, and her lungs never quite recovered. With the Headmaster, though, Aaron was pretty confident the issue came with age.

He noted the Headmaster's counsel about vampire-mage relationships, then jumped as one of the doors behind them slammed open. But then a gentle, floral breeze washed over him and he immediately relaxed. He'd recognize that anywhere. Sure enough, when he turned to look there was Sariel, Ms. Stylish Entrance herself, striding down the aisle. when she caught sight of him she gave him a wink, and Aaron smiled warmly. He'd only known Sariel for a few years but she had played an integral part so far in what little aspect control he had, and she was an uplifting presence in what could sometimes be an otherwise dreary and stiff environment at Noila castle. She was, as could be expected, suitably decked out for the occasion in Noila colours, all golds and sapphires gleaming in the stage lights. Aaron couldn't help but inwardly chuckle.

He looked on with a knowing smile as Sariel made her presentation, and had to quietly laugh at her closing remark. He was tempted to go up and say hello to her, but he figured there might be other students with more pressing concerns and he didn't want to take time away from them. Instead, once Sariel released them he stood and made his way to where the various student clubs and societies had set up tables. A few caught his interest - one for an arcane study club, one for affinity practice, one for a student orchestra - but he made a beeline for one in particular: the Arena Guild.

The Arena Guild booth was nicely decorated with all sorts of well-made information displays including what the club did, how they operated, and several images of the club crest. It also featured a few weapons on display - an axe and a shortsword - as an example of some of the activities they offered. It was staffed by two upper-level mages (they were actually probably around Aaron's age - he knew he was a bit older than a lot of the first years), a dark-skinned bald man and a tall blonde woman, chatting excitedly to each other and other interested first-years about the various exploits of the Guild.

Aaron and the Guild representatives exchanged greetings when it was finally his turn to speak to them, introducing himself only as Aaron, a new student.

"So you're interested in swordplay are you, Aaron?" The woman asked, gesturing sarcastically to the sword on his hip.

Aaron couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the question, putting a hand on his pommel and rubbing the smooth brass with his thumb. "Call it a family tradition."

They chatted for another minute or so before Aaron finally asked, "Do you think it would be possible for you to help me find a sparring partner for later today?"

"Oh, totally!" replied the man, whose name was Joseph, sliding a piece of paper and a pen across the table. "We have lots of members who are always looking for an excuse to get into the Arena, just fill this out so we can get an idea of your skill level and match you to someone suitable."

Aaron smiled and set to work filling out the form, moving out of the way of other students and stooping over a corner of the table. It was mostly basic information and a self-declaration of skill level, and he couldn't help but grin to himself as he circled "Advanced".

Murderworlds (Killer Slasher Horror Survival RP)

Of Blood and Magic

_{In the general vicinity of: Varis @Achronum}

The courtesy afforded to Aaron had clearly outstayed its welcome as Varis mocked him and closed the distance between them with a dangerous look in his eye. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when the Count unexpectedly weaved his fingers through his hair, pulling Aaron down to his level. He froze like a bird caught in a cat’s teeth as Varis whispered in his ear, pulse quickening nervously at the suggestion therein. As close as he was, Varis could probably smell the blood that coursed urgently through Aaron’s veins as his heart thundered in his ears in a very unwelcome combination of confusion and fear.

Then, as quickly as he had come, Varis was gone, and Aaron could breathe again. He barely heard the rest of the Count’s commands but immediately set about fulfilling them anyway, eager to do something, anything, other than standing at attention. Only when he could no longer hear Varis’ footsteps down the hall did he allow himself a moment to center himself, leaning on the desk and letting his head drop, briefly consumed in a combination of confused anger and relief. He ran his other hand through his hair, rearranging it where the Count had tousled it, and rubbed his ear as if to scrub away the feeling of Varis' lips. What the hell was that?

Only when he finally relaxed did he notice how tense he had been throughout their exchange; he could feel the tightness in his chest begin to loosen and the muscles in his neck complained as he stretched them. Was this how his life would be from now on, a constant state of nervous uncertainty? Varis was unpredictable and seemed to delight in Aaron’s discomfort. He hesitated to make judgements after barely a day of knowing the vampire, but at that point, what other conclusions could he draw?

He scooped up the letters on Varis’ desk with near-trembling hands, taking a few long breaths to steady them. Speculation like that would do nothing but drive him crazy, Aaron knew, and he did his best to focus on the task at hand. Organizing the letters into a neat pile, he set out down the hall and out the door to deliver them.

The cool night air was welcome on his flushed cheeks and he was thankful for the darkness as he strode out with long steps into the night, depositing the letters to the groundskeeper and to Lady Sinnenodel into their own mailbox and tilting up the indicator. Then it was straight to the other noble dorms’ boxes, each one getting a letter with the appropriate name.

When the last box was closed and the indicator adjusted, it was time for Aaron to go back to his new home, to his new master. He took his time going back, his meandering steps a stark contrast to his former urgency, and turned his eyes skyward. His favourite constellation, Orion, hung massive and bright in the sky, and Aaron used his walk to admire it. The cool air and the majesty of the night sky did wonders to calm him down, even as he neared the stone wall surrounding the property. For all the stress he’d just gone through, he never once considered leaving. Regardless of the fact he’d be easily found if he did, the idea never even crossed his mind. To Aaron, servitude was a way of life - the only way of life, in fact, he could imagine for himself. In his mind there simply was no alternative; running away for him seemed as impossible and pointless an idea as taking to the sky by flapping his arms.

When he finally did return, locking the door behind him, Aaron made for his room. He relaxed even more once the door was closed, and he went about his morning routine more or less automatically, mulling over the night’s events in his mind. If he was going to do well - and indeed, even be happy - as Varis’ attendant, he had to learn not to let his discomfort get the better of him - or preferably, learn not to be uncomfortable in the first place. Of course that was easier said than done when the man who essentially owned him was whispering lewd suggestions in his ear, but he hoped that had been an unusual tactic to try and get a rise out of him. He would have to learn to handle the way the Count spoke circles around him. Perhaps, he thought, he’d get used to it. Perhaps for now Varis was just trying his boundaries, and would back off as they got accustomed to each other. Surely the up-and-coming protege of Lady Sinnenodel had better things to do than constantly toy with his mage.

The thought brought Aaron a strange comfort, that he might be left alone in favour of more pressing matters. Nonetheless, his profession to Varis had been true; he truly did want to live up to the Count’s expectations. He wanted to impress him. Despite the way he’d been toyed with and treated so far, Aaron was a devoted man; devoted to his service, and devoted to his master. Serving and serving well was what Aaron thought to be his calling in life. To him, there was honour in service. A certain dignity. Those values had been instilled into him from childhood, and into his family from the earliest days of the Treaty. Indeed, if he were suddenly free, as the humans were or even the vampires, he probably wouldn’t know what to do.

It was those values that were at the core of the conflict raging inside him as he slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, opting to stay shirtless, picked a journal and a pen off his bookshelf and made his way to his remarkably large bed. He wanted to be a good attendant, but the human inside him bristled at the disrespect. He knew it was a ridiculous gripe; he would be justified in his annoyance if it were a human or a fellow mage to treat him like that, but he knew he had no real claim to any standard of treatment when it came to vampires. Whatever respect or consideration he got was a kindness on the vampire’s part. He’d been raised around exceptionally kind vampires, but he knew he should know better than to expect the same treatment from the rest of the world.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he considered writing his usual nightly entry in his journal, but ultimately decided against it for now and put the journal and pen on the bedside table. His mind had been running around in circles all night, and the very thought of putting those thoughts to paper right then was exhausting on its own. It was earlier than normal for him to be going to bed, but the night’s events had taken a toll on him.

He turned off the lamp to his side, letting the room plunge into darkness, setting an alarm on his phone to 7:15pm before putting it away as well. When he rolled onto his back, staring up at the total darkness, a different thought entirely came to mind. A thought of long white hair and pretty sapphire eyes looking up at him without malice, of a soft pale hand in his and a gentle voice he could still hear in his head saying a name he couldn’t seem to forget. Lilie.

He just tried not to think of the vampire’s hand that had weaved its way through her hair like a snake in the grass. He would have preferred it if that hand had been his.

~ / / / ~

The day eventually passed, sound sleep turning fitful throughout the day as Aaron tossed and turned, not really sleeping but not really awake. He didn't dream, but he was restless nonetheless until his 7:15 alarm finally pulled him all the way into the real world once again. Not one to stay in bed after waking up, he got up and immediately went about his evening routine, showering, brushing his teeth, and the like. He didn't need to shave tonight, which gave him some extra time to look over the contents of the envelope on his vanity. As he pulled on his clothes (a pair of khakis and a rust-red cardigan over a white button-up) he skimmed over the letter and focused on the schedule, taking a picture of it with his phone once he was done in case he needed a reference later.

It was about 7:45 when he left his room, noticing immediately that streams of deep orange sunlight lit up the hallway from the living room. With sudden urgency Aaron rushed to the living room, quickly securing the heavy velvet curtains over the windows. Varis must have forgotten to close them before he went to bed, or maybe he'd expected Aaron to do it. He made a mental note to make sure they'd been taken care of at the end of the night; the last thing he needed was Varis bursting into flame on account of an oversight.

He did hold open the last curtain for a second to admire the orange and red splash of the sunset over the trees. If he was one for visual arts, it was a scene he would have gladly painted. But he'd never been much good at that, and he didn't want to keep the curtain open much longer in case Varis emerged early from his room and got a face full of ambient sunlight. It definitely wouldn't reflect well on him.

The sunlight seemed to be caught in his eyes for a second in the form of a faint yellow glow as he turned them away from the sunset, disappearing after a few blinks. Once he'd secured the last curtain the room fell back into blackness, and Aaron had to use his phone flashlight to find the light switch. When he flicked it on, the room gradually brightened with soft off-white light, which he recognized immediately to be from full-spectrum bulbs. A nice touch, considering there would be mages living in these dorms who needed some replacement for daylight, both for their physical health and their mental well-being. It was also nice to know Aaron wouldn't need to set up his own lights, which was always a pain. He guessed that the regular student dorms had them as well.

He took the time with the house empty to explore a little more. He was familiar with the study, but he looked around the dining room, the sitting room, and the kitchen, finding everything lovely. He particularly liked the light colour scheme of soft whites and golds. The house wasn't overly large; a good size for two people but snug enough to be comfortable. Overall, he quite liked it, and some of the excitement he'd felt the night before about living on his own was starting to creep back.

After he'd finished exploring the house, he heard a deep rumble outside followed shortly after by a sharp knock on the front door. Brow furrowed, Aaron checked his watch as he walked to the door. It was eight o'clock on the dot, and the memory suddenly returned to him about the food delivery he was supposed to be expecting. Sure enough, when Aaron opened the door he was met with a middle-aged woman in a leather jacket holding an insulated delivery bag in one hand and a clipboard with the other.

"Sign there please." she stated flatly.

"Oh yeah, of course," Aaron replied as he scrawled his signature where the woman indicated.

The woman made an affirmative noise somewhere in the back of her throat and opened the delivery bag, carefully pulling out a warm paper box that smelled of strawberries and a metallic pouch of coffee and thrusting them into Aaron's arms.

She turned and left, mounting a motorcycle at the curb, as Aaron arranged the box and pouch on one arm. "Thank you!" he called after her, just before her motorcycle roared to life.

He went back inside, closing the door behind him carefully so as not to drop his packages, and made his way to the kitchen where he set the box down on the counter and went about getting the coffee machine running, skimming over the instructions on the pouch as he did so. Once he had the coffee machine bubbling away, he opened the box on the counter, greeted as promised by the sweet aroma of strawberry danishes. There were two of them, fairly large, golden and overflowing with cream cheese and syrupy strawberries. The smell filled the kitchen and Aaron felt a flutter of excitement; he didn't normally get to eat decadent foods like these.

The coffee machine beeped softly and he rushed over to it, pulling a mug and a small plate from a cupboard and taking a seat at the kitchen island once he had his coffee in hand. He pulled over the danish box, put one on the plate and started eating the other. Much to his delight, it tasted as good as it looked; a pleased little smile curled the corners of his lips as he chewed, careful not to get any crumbs on the counter.

As he ate he pulled out his phone, skimming over the morning news. There wasn't anything special, mostly headlines about the current Council negotiations and some gossip about the new Academy students. Apparently word had already gotten out that one noble from each house would be there this year, and there were some rumours that the royal family had made a "contribution" as well that Aaron wasn't particularly fond of. He didn't let it get to him; gossip would fly no matter what. The articles were mostly speculation and the mage tired of them quickly, but there wasn't much else to look at.

Obscene's Scratchpad

The procession from the castle was a lovely display of royal wealth and a source of joy and gossip for the citizenry of Allamanthe. All but one, who did her best to smile, and broke down into tears the minute the city gates closed behind them.

From that point the journey dragged on without incident, most of Aurelia's time spent chatting distantly with her chief handmaiden Willa, discussing everything under the sun with the Firthian emissary for some reason and staring longingly out at the countryside, drinking in every peaceful, sun-soaked detail. She had an image in her mind of Sommerfirth as a scorched and barren wasteland beset at all times by tornadoes and dust storms, and she wanted to savour every green blade of grass and every golden field and every calm little town while she could.

Of course, like everything else, Aurelia quickly grew tired of the inside of her gilded carriage, and grew tired of sleeping in a different bed every night like some kind of common whore without the company. She grew tired of the Firthian emissary's incessant prattling, tired of the clopping of his horse's hooves alongside her carriage, tired of the gold tooth that glinted between his shifty lips. Of course she humoured him, not wanting to insult her future kingdom, but her answers to his endless questions soon became short and curt, and she rarely spared him a glance.

Eventually, on their approach to the port city of Wickport, the emissary got on her very last nerve, clopping alongside her carriage rattling on about something, his horse's side blocking her view of possibly the last piece of Bastolle she'd ever lay eyes on again.

Tired and sore from travel and tongue worn raw from talking about nothing, finally the princess leaned out her window and stared daggers at the emissary.

"Dear Ambassador," she began with a voice like poisoned honey, "We are on the approach to Wickport. Wickport is the last Bastollion city before Sommerfirth begins on the other side of the Rebus Sea. Now I am ecstatic to join the ranks of your fine rulers but I would also like to steal a glance at the last part of the country I very well may never see again." Her former smile darkened into a scowl. "So, for the love of all that is holy and light get your damn horse away from my window before I send the poor beast bolting with you tied by your ankles to the reins!"

A look of shock crossed the poor emissary's face and he promptly slowed his horse to let the carriage pass. Meanwhile, Willa giggled behind her hand.

Aurelia looked back at her, doing her best to keep up her firmness, but failing. "Now what ever is so funny?"

Willa laughed openly then, and Aurelia couldn't help but crack a smile. When the thought re-entered her mind that today would be the last she'd see of Willa, Aurelia pulled the girl into a hug. As nasty as the princess' reputation was among the servants, Willa had been with her since they were both children, and saw through her like glass. Gods, she would miss her.

When the caravan finally stopped in Wickport, Aurelia and Willa were promptly ushered to an inn overlooking the harbour and were situated in a common room with a sunny balcony where they could watch the ship as it was loaded. A small bastion of knights, mostly Bastollion but some Firthian as well, stood guard around them, but the presence that was notably missing was that of the half-breed champion. The ladies could see him giving orders on the docks from their perch, unmistakable what with his shining silver-and-blue cuirass and the vast wings folded on his back.

"They look rather like mail, don't they?" Asked Willa, apparently reading Aurelia's mind.

Aurelia shrugged, peering down at him with a sort of bored interest. "I suppose so," she replied, "But I don't think many well-to-do knights would wear them."

Willa chuckled, more in affirmation than anything. "He's really quite something, isn't he?"

Aurelia frowned. "Certainly something..." she offered distantly, swirling her drink before turning back to Willa with a mischievous grin, "But we've yet to find out exactly what."

Willa rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean," she gently chastised - perhaps the only person aside from the princess' immediate family who could get away with it - "Coming to all this trouble to escort you, and all."

Aurelia scoffed. "He is obeying my father, nothing more," she asserted, "That we do have in common."

Willa shrugged, changing the subject. "I wonder if they'll get that horse on board?"

Ah yes, the horse. They both knew which one Willa was talking about. The dragonling's horse, a monster in its own right, easily six hands higher than every other mount in the company. Aurelia wasn't sure if there was another beast in the country that would readily carry such a creature. Maybe in Sommerfirth, she mused, they could find him some kind of giant reptile.

Obscene's Scratchpad

_{In the general vicinity of: Varis @Achronum}

The courtesy afforded to Aaron had clearly outstayed its welcome as Varis mocked him and closed the distance between them with a dangerous look in his eye. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when the Count unexpectedly weaved his fingers through his hair, pulling Aaron down to his level. He froze like a bird caught in a cat’s teeth as Varis whispered in his ear, pulse quickening nervously at the suggestion therein. As close as he was, Varis could probably smell the blood that coursed urgently through Aaron’s veins as his heart thundered in his ears in a very unwelcome combination of confusion and fear.

Then, as quickly as he had come, Varis was gone, and Aaron could breathe again. He barely heard the rest of the Count’s commands but immediately set about fulfilling them anyway, eager to do something, anything, other than standing at attention. Only when he could no longer hear Varis’ footsteps down the hall did he allow himself a moment to center himself, leaning on the desk and letting his head drop, briefly consumed in a combination of confused anger and relief. He ran his other hand through his hair, rearranging it where the Count had tousled it, and rubbed his ear as if to scrub away the feeling of Varis' lips. What the hell was that?

Only when he finally relaxed did he notice how tense he had been throughout their exchange; he could feel the tightness in his chest begin to loosen and the muscles in his neck complained as he stretched them. Was this how his life would be from now on, a constant state of nervous uncertainty? Varis was unpredictable and seemed to delight in Aaron’s discomfort. He hesitated to make judgements after barely a day of knowing the vampire, but at that point, what other conclusions could he draw?

He scooped up the letters on Varis’ desk with near-trembling hands, taking a few long breaths to steady them. Speculation like that would do nothing but drive him crazy, Aaron knew, and he did his best to focus on the task at hand. Organizing the letters into a neat pile, he set out down the hall and out the door to deliver them.

The cool night air was welcome on his flushed cheeks and he was thankful for the darkness as he strode out with long steps into the night, depositing the letters to the groundskeeper and to Lady Sinnenodel into their own mailbox and tilting up the indicator. Then it was straight to the other noble dorms’ boxes, each one getting a letter with the appropriate name.

When the last box was closed and the indicator adjusted, it was time for Aaron to go back to his new home, to his new master. He took his time going back, his meandering steps a stark contrast to his former urgency, and turned his eyes skyward. His favourite constellation, Orion, hung massive and bright in the sky, and Aaron used his walk to admire it. The cool air and the majesty of the night sky did wonders to calm him down, even as he neared the stone wall surrounding the property. For all the stress he’d just gone through, he never once considered leaving. Regardless of the fact he’d be easily found if he did, the idea never even crossed his mind. To Aaron, servitude was a way of life - the only way of life, in fact, he could imagine for himself. In his mind there simply was no alternative; running away for him seemed as impossible and pointless an idea as taking to the sky by flapping his arms.

When he finally did return, locking the door behind him, Aaron made for his room. He relaxed even more once the door was closed, and he went about his morning routine more or less automatically, mulling over the night’s events in his mind. If he was going to do well - and indeed, even be happy - as Varis’ attendant, he had to learn not to let his discomfort get the better of him - or preferably, learn not to be uncomfortable in the first place. Of course that was easier said than done when the man who essentially owned him was whispering lewd suggestions in his ear, but he hoped that had been an unusual tactic to try and get a rise out of him. He would have to learn to handle the way the Count spoke circles around him. Perhaps, he thought, he’d get used to it. Perhaps for now Varis was just trying his boundaries, and would back off as they got accustomed to each other. Surely the up-and-coming protege of Lady Sinnenodel had better things to do than constantly toy with his mage.

The thought brought Aaron a strange comfort, that he might be left alone in favour of more pressing matters. Nonetheless, his profession to Varis had been true; he truly did want to live up to the Count’s expectations. He wanted to impress him. Despite the way he’d been toyed with and treated so far, Aaron was a devoted man; devoted to his service, and devoted to his master. Serving and serving well was what Aaron thought to be his calling in life. To him, there was honour in service. A certain dignity. Those values had been instilled into him from childhood, and into his family from the earliest days of the Treaty. Indeed, if he were suddenly free, as the humans were or even the vampires, he probably wouldn’t know what to do.

It was those values that were at the core of the conflict raging inside him as he slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, opting to stay shirtless, picked a journal and a pen off his bookshelf and made his way to his remarkably large bed. He wanted to be a good attendant, but the human inside him bristled at the disrespect. He knew it was a ridiculous gripe; he would be justified in his annoyance if it were a human or a fellow mage to treat him like that, but he knew he had no real claim to any standard of treatment when it came to vampires. Whatever respect or consideration he got was a kindness on the vampire’s part. He’d been raised around exceptionally kind vampires, but he knew he should know better than to expect the same treatment from the rest of the world.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he considered writing his usual nightly entry in his journal, but ultimately decided against it for now and put the journal and pen on the bedside table. His mind had been running around in circles all night, and the very thought of putting those thoughts to paper right then was exhausting on its own. It was earlier than normal for him to be going to bed, but the night’s events had taken a toll on him.

He turned off the lamp to his side, letting the room plunge into darkness, setting an alarm on his phone to 7:15pm before putting it away as well. When he rolled onto his back, staring up at the total darkness, a different thought entirely came to mind. A thought of long white hair and pretty sapphire eyes looking up at him without malice, of a soft pale hand in his and a gentle voice he could still hear in his head saying a name he couldn’t seem to forget. Lilie.

He just tried not to think of the vampire’s hand that had weaved its way through her hair like a snake in the grass. He would have preferred it if that hand had been his.

~ / / / ~

The day eventually passed, sound sleep turning fitful throughout the day as Aaron tossed and turned, not really sleeping but not really awake. He didn't dream, but he was restless nonetheless until his 7:15 alarm finally pulled him all the way into the real world once again. Not one to stay in bed after waking up, he got up and immediately went about his evening routine, showering, brushing his teeth, and the like. He didn't need to shave tonight, which gave him some extra time to look over the contents of the envelope on his vanity. As he pulled on his clothes (a pair of khakis and a rust-red cardigan over a white button-up) he skimmed over the letter and focused on the schedule, taking a picture of it with his phone once he was done in case he needed a reference later.

It was about 7:45 when he left his room, noticing immediately that streams of deep orange sunlight lit up the hallway from the living room. With sudden urgency Aaron rushed to the living room, quickly securing the heavy velvet curtains over the windows. Varis must have forgotten to close them before he went to bed, or maybe he'd expected Aaron to do it. He made a mental note to make sure they'd been taken care of at the end of the night; the last thing he needed was Varis bursting into flame on account of an oversight.

He did hold open the last curtain for a second to admire the orange and red splash of the sunset over the trees. If he was one for visual arts, it was a scene he would have gladly painted. But he'd never been much good at that, and he didn't want to keep the curtain open much longer in case Varis emerged early from his room and got a face full of ambient sunlight. It definitely wouldn't reflect well on him.

The sunlight seemed to be caught in his eyes for a second in the form of a faint yellow glow as he turned them away from the sunset, disappearing after a few blinks. Once he'd secured the last curtain the room fell back into blackness, and Aaron had to use his phone flashlight to find the light switch. When he flicked it on, the room gradually brightened with soft off-white light, which he recognized immediately to be from full-spectrum bulbs. A nice touch, considering there would be mages living in these dorms who needed some replacement for daylight, both for their physical health and their mental well-being. It was also nice to know Aaron wouldn't need to set up his own lights, which was always a pain. He guessed that the regular student dorms had them as well.

He took the time with the house empty to explore a little more. He was familiar with the study, but he looked around the dining room, the sitting room, and the kitchen, finding everything lovely. He particularly liked the light colour scheme of soft whites and golds. The house wasn't overly large; a good size for two people but snug enough to be comfortable. Overall, he quite liked it, and some of the excitement he'd felt the night before about living on his own was starting to creep back.

After he'd finished exploring the house, he heard a deep rumble outside followed shortly after by a sharp knock on the front door. Brow furrowed, Aaron checked his watch as he walked to the door. It was eight o'clock on the dot, and the memory suddenly returned to him about the food delivery he was supposed to be expecting. Sure enough, when Aaron opened the door he was met with a middle-aged woman in a leather jacket holding an insulated delivery bag in one hand and a clipboard with the other.

"Sign there please." she stated flatly.

"Oh yeah, of course," Aaron replied as he scrawled his signature where the woman indicated.

The woman made an affirmative noise somewhere in the back of her throat and opened the delivery bag, carefully pulling out a warm paper box that smelled of strawberries and a metallic pouch of coffee and thrusting them into Aaron's arms.

She turned and left, mounting a motorcycle at the curb, as Aaron arranged the box and pouch on one arm. "Thank you!" he called after her, just before her motorcycle roared to life.

He went back inside, closing the door behind him carefully so as not to drop his packages, and made his way to the kitchen where he set the box down on the counter and went about getting the coffee machine running, skimming over the instructions on the pouch as he did so. Once he had the coffee machine bubbling away, he opened the box on the counter, greeted as promised by the sweet aroma of strawberry Danishes. There were two of them, fairly large, golden and overflowing with cream cheese and syrupy strawberries. The smell filled the kitchen and Aaron felt a flutter of excitement; he didn't normally get to eat decadent foods like these.

The coffee machine beeped softly and he rushed over to it, pulling a mug and a small plate from a cupboard and taking a seat at the kitchen island once he had his coffee in hand. He pulled over the danish box, put one on the plate and started eating the other one. Much to his delight, it tasted as good as it looked; a pleased little smile curled the corners of his lips as he chewed, careful not to get any crumbs on the counter.

As he ate he pulled out his phone, skimming over the morning news. There wasn't anything special, mostly headlines about the current Council negotiations and some gossip about the new Academy students. Apparently word had already gotten out that one noble from each house would be there this year, and there were some rumours that the royal family had made a "contribution" as well that Aaron wasn't particularly fond of. He didn't let it get to him; gossip would fly no matter what. The articles were mostly speculation and the mage tired of them quickly, but there wasn't much else to look at.