Bethas 4th, 2718
"Perhaps you're too focused on what isn't happening instead of thinking about what is, Ronav. A push spell is simply that," The tall red head made a shoving motion with his hand as he continued to take long strides down the hall, eager to escape his fifth form students and make his way to the library, even though what he could have really gone for was a nap in some abandoned corner of the teacher's lounge for fifteen minutes. He was exhausted. Thank the gods the welts from last night's duel had faded, his pale, freckled skin making any remnants much less noticeable, "a push. When you're forming the semantics of levitation, you're not requesting to act directly against gravity as an opponent, you're asking the mona to bend gravity entirely to your will, to ignore it as if it never existed in the first place. Just around your target. That's often why you simply must be clear in your conversation, else you run the risk of levitating unintended objects. Focus is key."
"Oh." The boy nodded, already as tall as the unusually tall Anaxi professor at just fifteen, making the older man feel strange when he was used to standing slightly above his peers, "I think I understand. Would you be available to spend some time on the Field to—"
"No." Nauleth answered quickly, too quickly, unconcerned about the sharpness to his tone until he saw Ronav blink at him, clearly resisting the urge to cringe. He sighed and ran fingers through his hair, adding with a tone of reluctant apology, "I mean, not today, I'm afraid. I have some research for my thesis that I need to spend time on, but if you'd like to get together tomorrow on the Field for some comparison experiments, I'd be happy to make time for you."
"Yes, please, Professor."
The tall red-head smiled, awkward and lopsided, suddenly flustered by the realization that he was more eager to meet Athrym in the library than he was to at all work on his thesis. Even if her promises had not at all been the innuendo they had felt like after too much to drink and the thrill of magic duelling, he didn't mind her company so far and he was just curious enough to learn more about the Giorian Ambassador for more than shallow personal reasons. His student didn't clocking need to know that, and neither did his housemates for that matter, Naul careful to contain his excitement,
"Alright, Ronav. Let's plan to meet tomorrow afternoon—around the 21st hour? That should give us some time before dinner to work out some of your questions."
"Thank you."
"Of course. Have a good afternoon." Nauleth wiggled his way out of conversation with all the pleasantries he could manage, slipping from their shared path in the main hallway to take a side door and cut outside into the sunshine, the rains of last night forgotten in the blustery brightness of spring. There was still a chill in the early Bethas air now that the afternoon was winding down, but it wasn't unpleasant. The junior professor adjusted his bag over his shoulder and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, desperate not to appear too much in a hurry despite his brisk walk in the direction of the library, smiling wistfully to himself in his anticipation.
It was, he told himself, a purely intellectual curiosity.
Even if he found Athrym more than a little attractive, even if there had perhaps been the smallest hint of flirtation in their conversation on the way home the night before, a pleasant enough exchange of good nights once they'd reached her residence at Bluebell Manor, Naul was aware his chances of relationship success were relatively slim, considering he was now in his last year of post-graduate study and hadn't courted a single soul. Sure, Mateo enjoyed setting him up on dates and dragging him to taverns in attempts to snag his ginger friend a one night stand or two, but inevitably, he was outed as that Siordanti and quickly disengaged from further pursuit.
He wondered if he could live that down eventually or if it even mattered—his siblings would have to find some way to be successful in carrying on family affairs and Nauleth could simply disappear into experimentation and magical exploration unfettered and unconcerned. That was a little thrill, honestly, for the young professor was interested in the somewhat mythical, rigorous discovery of his true name, the promises of power very enticing to his insatiably hungry mind.
But occasionally attractive distractions weren't so bad. He'd just had few in his lifetime thus far.
Very. Few.
Hence the flutter of excitement once he made his way up the stairs and passed under the red stone archway and went through the ornate double doors of the library, pausing in the foyer to take in the impressive structure. While the University Library was quite the sanctuary of scholarly and magical knowledge, it wasn't the only source in Brunnhold. The young Siordanti was aware it was, for the most part, the safer choice, and, besides, he'd been invited. It wasn't as though Athrym had any clocking clue about the Crypts—she'd hardly slept in her bed since her arrival in Anaxas.
Chuckling to himself, the reluctant professor set about attempting not to look too much like an idiot, wandering the stacks and looking for wherever the petite blonde Ambassador may have been waiting for his eventual arrival.
Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.
