I Promised You Some Magic

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Bethas 7th, 2718 - Afternoon

The heels of Athrym’s black ankle boots echoed with each step she took through the vast hallways of the Physical Wing, her summer green gaze focused and a small printed map in her hand. Occasionally, she would stop at a doorway and raise up on tiptoe to look through a door portcullis, her lips pouting slightly each time as she stepped back.

“Fifth forms, last class of the day, hall six and classroom F.” She muttered to herself, reading the parchment in her hand for the seemingly thousandth time. She’d chosen today the black dress in her wardrobe, decently proper according to Anaxi fashion with a high neckline and long sleeves, cinched again at the waist this time with a jacquard print corset that ran through the petty coated skirts of the dress. It was elegant, it was poised…and it was really clocking uncomfortable. Smoothing the strands of hair that hung loosely around her face, the Gioran Ambassador looked up at the signs on the wall. She was definitely in the right hall, at the right time. She just needed to find...

Classroom F ->

Following the arrow, the blonde galdor found herself at the very end of the hall. Tiptoe-ing, she looked into the room and finally saw what she’d been after with a slow smile.

Professor Nauleth Siordanti.

Grasping the handle of the door, Athrym quietly turned the knob and opened it slowly, trying to avoid disturbing the lesson too much. She had asked specifically for his classroom, completely for her research purposes of course to see one of the school’s classroom environments. Or so she told herself. Of course she could have gone to Hulles Living lesson, but what value was that? Maybe even to Moore’s theoretical exploration of the mona. That probably was more appropriate.

But it wasn’t anywhere near as enjoyable as dropping in on the red-haired Anaxi.

She had promised to give the man a demonstration of the less stinging, burning side of Living conversation, and unfortunately their library escapades the few days prior had not gone quite to plan. Therefore, with no hard and fast plans made, the Gioran took it up on herself to find him.

Still smiling, cheeks dimpled slightly, the blonde quietly made her way to one of the vacant seats to watch the tall professor as he spoke to his class. It was interesting to note how he commanded the room, but not in a stern dictatorship kind of approach. The students clearly respected the young professor. Her entrance of course, was not completely unnoticed, causing a minor kerfuffle in the room. At the front of the class, a set of young girls watched her with suspicion, whilst a few of the other students began to whisper between themselves.

What was the tow-headed ambassador doing here?

From the front, the gaggle of girls hid whispers behind their hands, glancing back at the woman with giggles. Athrym fixed them with a cold hard stare, even if her smile remained. The head of the group, a pretty flame haired girl quickly turned away to face the front. It was painfully clear that Nauleth had a rather devout following within the little clique. Amused, Athrym focused her attention back on the Professor, crossing her legs under her skirts and listening carefully.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

Bethas 7th, 2718

Nauleth had been warned he'd have a classroom observer sometime today, and while he was aware that teacher evaluations were around the corner, he'd simply waited every class for someone to interrupt. By his final class of the afternoon, his longest lecture of the day, he'd given up on anyone and assumed they'd just show up tomorrow. This final house of his day consisted of his brightest students. He almost considered it his favorite class, if he had to choose, because most of the fifteen year old galdori who sat in their chairs and gave him their attention were actually interested in the Physical conversation instead of just enduring his lectures to meet their curriculum requirements.

It just so happened that at least a few of his more focused, enthusiastic students also seemed to give him far too much attention. Ignoring the somewhat fluttery glances from said eager, front-row red-head, the young Siordanti stood at the blackboard that dominated the small, comfortable classroom. He'd rolled up his sleeves and tucked his cravat in his desk almost an hour and a half ago at their mid-class break, the house-long class usually involving a Field Practicum had there not been a quiz tomorrow he was reviewing with them for. Even though the sun had decided to come out sometime after lunch and the breeze was brisk but comfortable, the lot of them were all restlessly stuck inside instead.

Chalk clung to the sleeve of his dark coat, but the junior professor could care less,

"Light, as you should all remember from your science classes by now, is a unique experience. From our current understanding, it can both be treated as a substance like an element as well as a wave like sound. Strangely enough, this is also true when crafting spells, and if you'll look back into your notes at our discussion of bending light ..."

He had begun to write out Monite across the board, breaking down various syllables and intonations, illustrating the differences with rather clever drawings of light and how to affect it through casting. The door opened and he ignored it, clocking over the anticipation of being watched by this hour of the afternoon. He continued to write and speak as he did so, but there were giggles behind him and the brush of a field as the door shut quietly that was most definitely familiar.

Nauleth stuttered over the last syllables as he pronounced them, dropping his chalk and cursing under his breath, bending to pick up the shattered pieces and smudging his shoulder across the board. The class erupted in chuckles even before the tall professor turned and stood, dusting himself off and smiling lopsidedly at the petit blonde who'd settled herself into one of the unoccupied seats of his classroom.

Oh, gods, clocking save him from being any more of an idiot in front of her smile.

"Quiet." The young Siordanti's hand signed persuasively and Perception mona moved to his will, quelling the noise and filling the small space with a lovely calm. He needed it, too, stilling his nervous, flustered heart, "Class, Miss Bruthgrave is the Gioran Ambassador. Please remember to show respect to a guest to our Kingdom, especially here at Brunnhold."

Nods and mumbles of yes, sir and yes, professor filled the room, but Nauleth let his gold-rimmed seaglass gaze linger on Athrym for a few moments longer than was probably polite. Swallowing the warmth that rose in his chest and tickled the back of his throat like butterflies under her cool, stony stare, he cleared his throat and turned back to the blackboard, suddenly noticing the smudge and cursing a few more inappropriate swears under his breath.

The front row girls all giggled.

Ignoring them and glad his back was turned again to hide his blush, the color rising to hide his freckles with the hyperawareness of being watched by someone unexpected and welcome, Naul did his best not to rush his way through the last few minutes of his lecture,

"... Now, as I was saying, when we are seeking to bend light that is already present, there are some keen differences between creating light from where there is none and simply manipulating the light that is already present. Here you will see that—"

"Excuse me?" A voice chirped from the front row, the dark-haired friend of the red head smiling deviously, "Can we have another example, professor?"

"Oh, yes, please." Came another voice, this time from next to Athrym, the boy looking up from his writing with obvious interest.

"Our notes are quite thorough, but for the quiz tomorrow, you said you'd like to see us each craft our own interpretation and—"

"—Yes, that's fine. If you really must see this all again. This time, I suggest you clocking pay attention." The junior professor smirked, aware that his students were both wasting time and perhaps taunting him to show off in front of their guest, "Lights, please, Julia."

The girl in question grinned and flew from her desk to dim the room, speaking in monite and moving her hands as she did so to lower the blinds over the small windows that graced one side of the classroom in a neat little row. The room became mostly dark, though not completely so, sunlight peeking from behind the blinds and bleeding from the small window in the door to the hallway.

"Thank you. Now, I want you to listen closely and tell me the difference here." Nauleth may have been speaking to his class, but he was looking at Athrym as he drew his field and seemed to collect all of the Physical mona that clung to the location from years of familiar, comfortable use and from the other students who carried it with them. He spoke with a clear and comfortable voice, almost casual, and as he did so the light began to grow from around the curtains and near the door, creeping into the dark spaces as if it had a life of its own. Soon, the classroom as as bright as it had been with the blinds open and the lights on. He was amplifying what already existed, asking the mona to simply build upon what was there and carry it throughout the room like one would pass buckets in a brigade to put out a fire in the Dives of Vienda.

Students furiously scribbled notes or smiled while the junior professor countered his own spell and returned the room to darkness,

"Right. Then this one." Nauleth dusted a bit more chalk off of his sleeve before speaking again, briefly looking over his class before he returned his gaze on the petite blonde, smiling as he spoke. This time, he was clearly creating light from nowhere, the mona simply bending their own will to create a brightness that radiated not from where it was but from the center of the room instead, growing outwards until it was nearly blinding in the cozy classroom. Blinking and staring, everyone wrote something down before he again ended the spell, leaning against his desk as if he wanted to sit on it and holding out his hands expectant for an answer,

"Whoever can point out three precise differences can skip tomorrow's quiz. Raise your hands. please."

Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Bethas 7th, 2718 - Afternoon

The blonde ambassador watched the poor red head as he moved in a calamity of ridiculous events. Dropping his chalk, bending to pick it up and in the same move smudging his monite and clever diagrams. She couldn’t hide the giggle that escaped her lips, composing her face into a bemused smile as the tall Anaxi met her gaze and smiled back.

She blinked as he signed to the mona, raising an eyebrow and looking around the room with surprise as the quiet fell around them, before turning back at the man with a genuinely impressed look. Signing with the mona? Clock’s, she needed to learn that. He reprimanded the students, and Athrym nodded in thanks, loathe to look away lest he did first even if she could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks. Finally, his gold rimmed gaze tore from hers, and the Gioran let out her breath in a small rush of air as she glanced to her hands clasped in her lap.

Imaan give me strength. Are you really so shallow Athrym, to have turned into one of those women?

Scalding herself, the pale galdor lifted her eyes again as the girl’s erupted into giggles again as Nauleth discovered his handiwork. Hiding her laughter behind a hand, the Gioran cleared her throat quietly and tucked her hair back with a smile, trying her best to pay attention to the lecture as opposed to how adorably useless the Professor appeared to be at present.

The monite on the board and the words continued, and Athrym couldn’t help but study the scrawl closely, tucking her fist under her chin and frowning a little as she listened to Nauleth’s speech. She knew Physical in theory, it was basic knowledge for her people, but in reality she knew basic Physical. There was never a desire to pay more than peripheral attention in those classes, far more interested in the Living conversation. There were voices, and with a slightly annoyed pout, the ambassador looked at the students as they coaxed their Professor into a practical demonstration.

As the lights were dimmed, Athrym watched Nauleth carefully, painfully aware he was looking right at her. For the moment, she was thankful for the darkness of the room, hiding the deep pink color that crept across her chest and over her face. His field came together, dragging with it the Physical mona that danced in the air, and with an almost casual ease the red head uttered the monite required to cast his spell. The light from the spaces where it bled into the room seemed to grow, seeping around the darkened space like a living being. Athrym pursed her lips, nodding and glancing around at the lit space. Quite suddenly, they were plunged back into the dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she turned back to the man.

Her eyes held his only for a moment, before they turned to look at the bright pinpoint that grew from the centre of the room, gathering in strength till it was too much to look into directly. Once again, Nauleth left them in darkness as their eyes adjusted to the change.

Oh, was it wrong if she...

Athrym fought the urge to raise her hand, green gaze fixating on the man as a slow smile crept across her face. From the class, some of the students threw their hands in the air with eager faces, excited by the prospect of skipping a quiz. The eager red head from the front row burst forth with her own answers before being called upon.

“Your first casting used the monite for ‘existing’, where as the second called on ‘create’? And you amplified the light that was already there, where as the second didn’t need amplify. It created its own amplification. And um....” She faltered, and none of the other students seemed to have another point to add, their hands slowly lowering and faces unsure. The ambassador bit her lip for a moment, before raising her hand, cheeks hot as what felt like a thousand eyes tuned on her.

“The second casting has a containment, much like the glass bulb on our phosphorus lamps, to contain and concentrate the light as the mona created it. Imagine concentrating the sun through a magnifying glass, it’s much brighter when pulled together, rather then dispersed over a large surface area. Your first casting was uncontained, a flood as it were, pouring into any darkness to be found and paint it with light particles instead. It’s rather ingenious actually, to—” Her hand paused, as she realised she was gesticulating and speaking directly to the man, as thought the students were not even there. Taking her hand to her hair, Athrym looked across the classroom before turning her eyes to her lap.

“—to build your own light bulb, it’s all very interesting and based on existing technological advances which in itself is...clever.” Her words faded into quiet muttering, blush unhidden across her face and disappearing under the neck of her black dress.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

Bethas 7th, 2718

Gods, had the lot of them not paid attention for the past two weeks? Nauleth resisted the urge to answer for them, reminding himself this was a review and curling his fingers around the edge of his desk, letting his nails dig into the wood. Perhaps he held his breath for a moment, waiting to see Athrym raise her hand and offer an answer either to shame his class or to shame him, but he refused to look at her, gold-rimmed, seaglass eyes wandering the thoughtful faces of his students instead.

Of course, that one raised her clocking hand first and Naul had no choice but to nod at her, crossing his legs at the ankles and leaning more heavily on his desk, listening to the younger red-head stammer over her answers,

"You did take notes on this, right?" He responded almost deadpan, watching her eager face fall with a bit of satisfaction before he swept the desks again, purposefully avoiding the petite blonde for a few more flutters of his anxious, ridiculously scandalous heart. She could have picked any classroom in all of Brunnhold to observe, but she'd picked his. Not Professor Hulle's or any of the other Living Conversation faculty. Not someone prestigious like Moore or Lux. His. And yet, she seemed to mostly enjoy belittling him and acting bored with such a thriving, intellectually stimulating campus full of opportunity at her disposal while in Anaxas. Naul couldn't quite grasp at how that all came together anywhere near his person, but then the Gioran would smile at him and he wasn't sure he cared.

The rest of his class stayed quiet, expectant, "I'm not going to clocking feed you the answers. Sixth form is just around the corner and the lot of you should be thinking for yourselves by now. This is fundamental Monite, my dear children. Your physics classes have all covered light and now you're here in my class to learn how to break those rules." The young Siordanti hissed, his field accentuating his educational frustration even as he raised a hand to squeeze the freckled bridge of his nose and stare at his palm for a moment, out of focus, "We've been talking about light under the direction of the mona for well over two weeks. Look," nodding in Athrym's direction, he was willing to allow her to answer, "our foreign guest who isn't even focused on the Physical conversation is going to be schooling you. Go on, Ath—Ambassador Bruthgrave, give us an answer, please."

Leaning back on his palms and keeping his casual position against his desk, he found a button to fidget with on his vest and listened, the blush that began to blossom across her pale skin amusing and far from unnoticed. The students all adjusted themselves in their desks to look at her, though Naul's front row admirers stared daggers, fields taut and expectant, especially because the way the junior professor had looked at the woman while he'd cast his examples had not slipped by the sensitive observations of any teenaged curiosity in the room. He'd probably hear about that in an essay eventually.

As Athrym spoke, Naul's impatience faded into the faintest of smiles, one side at a time. He held her verdant gaze and saw her hands move as she excitedly answered his question in far more depth than he'd even expected out of his students. Catching herself in her enthusiasm, he was perhaps a little chagrined when she finished her explanation while staring at her hands.

Clever.

He held himself back from chuckling, from enjoying the subtle compliment, aware that there was more than simple intellectual interest that fluttered between them but unsure whether it was one-sided or not. Confused, unsure as to what he had to offer the petite blonde when their magical aspirations were seemingly only vastly different paths, even if their destination felt the same. The young Siordanti had never truly tendered a long-term relationship with anyone other than his friendship with sods like Mateo. He'd never courted anyone, and while he'd found a few other women attractive enough over the years to take out a handful times, they were slippery creatures his hands felt too clumsy to hold onto. Perhaps he just didn't have the personality for such things. Perhaps he was horrible at kissing or conversation and no one had the heart to tell him. Perhaps the petite blonde could see straight through him already and was just toying with him for her own unusual form of Gioran entertainment.

Part of him may have been somewhat alright with such an arrangement, if only because she was at least an interesting opponent on the Lawn and because she was easy on the eyes, even if her words were grating. She could just keep calling him professor, if nothing else. Blinking away his distraction and swallowing fantasies, Nauleth straightened and stood, putting on his authoritative tone again as he waved a hand in Athrym's direction,

"Well, congratulations, you don't have to take the quiz tomorrow, Miss Bruthgrave. I appreciate your thoughtful answers to such rudimentary questions."

The class groaned, aware that he was insulting them in his compliment to her, "As for the rest of you—yes, you too, Julia—I hope you all have a restful evening after dinner pouring over everything I'm confident I've thoroughly explained to you children over the past two weeks for tomorrow. Now, seeing as there's only about thirty minutes left to class and the sun is shining and you all clearly need to be out on the clocking Field applying yourselves like respectable galdori," His gold-rimmed eyes flashed briefly to Athrym, as if to blame her privately for his dismissing of his class early, aware she'd requested to observe it and now denying her on purpose, "Get out there before dinner and I want to see each of your spell notes tomorrow before the quiz."

Murmurs went up and a few objections. Some students raised their hands, eager to ask questions about their review subject matter. Naul waved most of them off, reminding them of his office hours, but paused to answer a few that needed immediate attention. One or two students closed their books and fled on command without even a thank you, their fields scintillatingly eager to test what they'd learned on the Field. Julia, the troublesome red head with a not so subtle crush lingered as if she wanted to argue her need to take the quiz after her answers, but she glanced at Athrym instead, sneering with unfiltered jealousy, full of assumptions that neither of them had bothered to quell. Picking up her things, she fled the classroom.

The junior professor shoved his dusty hands into his pockets and waited a few extra moments, listening to voices and giggles fade in the hallway with teenaged footsteps while staring at the chalk on his recently shined shoes—begads, they were alone.

Nauleth waited an extra moment, looking up at the petite blonde with a lopsided smile as he quipped a few quick, simple phrases in Monite to close his classroom door quietly, arching his more functional eyebrow in questioning, quite smug with himself and his isolation of the attractive foreigner who made him feel so strange,

"Hopefully, you won't hold my early dismissal of my last students for the day against me in your observation report. I'm sure that's not at all how things are done in Gior. If I didn't think it a foolish thought on your part, I'd feel as though perhaps you were following me—of all the classrooms in Brunnhold, what are you doing in mine?"

Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Bethas 7th, 2718 - Afternoon

Blushing furiously under their glares, Athrym lifted her chin to meet the Professors gaze, daring him to challenge her answer with an almost defensive sort of flare to her field. The students bristled, she could feel it, and whilst she held her ground and refused to buckle the blonde ambassador felt her self-consciousness eating at her. If she was wrong, gods she may as well go home. Her mother would die with shame, and Imaan knew that she’d find out, ears everywhere.

He was smiling, a slowly creeping thing that left the blonde feeling vaguely confused. The Professor was an enigma for her, insulting and lovely all in the same breath. She would be lying to herself if she said that memories of their cab ride home had crept into her thoughts more than once, catching herself in a private daze and shaking herself angrily out of silly childish daydreams. It wasn’t appropriate, it really wasn’t. Maybe for a fifth form, but she was Athrym Bruthgrave, Ambassador of Gior.

And he was just infuriatingly infatuating.

The validation from Nauleth was a welcome relief, and Athrym couldn’t help but smile back at him with delight, her prior thought not helping in any way to clear the blush from her cheeks. Her green eyes glanced back over the class with a shrug, as thought to say ‘well, if you couldn’t figure it out….’, as their Professor gave them a stern dressing down. Her gaze came back to the red haired Anaxi as he dismissed them, looking up at the clock with a raised eyebrow and back again. An early mark? The blonde chuckled, not sure if it was for their behalf or his.

As the students moved past her, Athrym stood, nodding to the ones that were well mannered enough to say hello to her and putting on her sweetest most delightful smile for the ones that simply glared. That one, the red head, clearly had things to say. Oh, I dare you, the Gioran thought, her field brushing the girls lightly with a small indulgent flex.

Behave.

Reigning herself in, the pale woman glanced back at the door that the students had left open, biting her lower lip with another dimpled smile as it quietly closed. Turning back to the Professor, Athrym made her way towards the front of the room, hands clasping the paper that had guided her to the classroom in the end.

“Early dismissal, no not at all. I’m sure the students could do with the practical work. In fact, practical can be a better teacher than theoretical. Nothing like getting your hands dirty to really connect with the mona.” Moving past the taller man where he leaned so nonchalantly on his desk, the Gioran examined his chalk work critically, as though her heart wasn’t stammering in her ears with the extremely awkward realisation that they were now quite alone in the classroom.

Tocks, did that really matter Ath?

“Following you?” She said, an octave higher than she’d planned, her pale face pinker than she’d like. Scoffing, the ambassador turned and approached him with a shake of her head.

“Given your skill on the lawn, you’ve intrigued me. I’d like to pursue a further study in Physical conversation, and I deduced that your approach to Physical tutoring would be far more favourable than that of some of the other more renowned names in this place.” The blonde almost lied smoothly, her field brushing his with the warmth of her most unprofessional train of thought. Moving to lean beside the taller red head on his desk, Athrym looked up at him with a smile, her summer gaze flicking from his lopsided smile and back to his gold rimmed gaze.

Clock it. Maybe I am one of those girls.

“Would you prefer I pursue another tutor, Professor?” She asked softly, emphasising his title just a little, hoping the Anaxi wasn’t completely clueless. He’d been flirting, she was sure of it, even if he was insulting at the same time.

Hopefully, she wasn’t mistaken. If so, Imaan open the ground and swallow her whole.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

Bethas 7th, 2718

"I have a sort of reputation of spending more class time outside on the Lawn than inside my nice room here, but it's just a rumor. I try to find a balance." Nauleth replied quickly, something about her wording catching his attention in ways that were rather inappropriate for their current setting. His gold-rimmed gaze followed her to the blackboard, dusty hands still in his trouser pockets, already quite resolved to being covered in chalk for the afternoon.

It was her repeat of his question that began to give her away, and the Perceptive mona in his field ebbed curiously, eagerly mingling with the petite blonde's as if hungry to read everything she wasn't saying, a whisper of extrasensory intuition. He was grinning, lopsided and coy, by the time the Gioran turned around, blushing again. She seemed to do that a lot in his presence, despite her bristling personality and cold, stand-offish disdain of his Kingdom. His eyes traveled over her attractive taste in clothing as she approached his desk, her field thrumming like her pulse with curiosities that emboldened him.

But then she spoke and his grin faltered, one side at a time,

"Oh. Tutoring. So your interest in me is purely professional, then, Athrym? You have all of Brunnhold's rather talented Physical conversation department to ask tutelage from, but here you are with me, just a junior professor far from tenure." He looked at her almost sternly as she leaned against his desk next to him, his heart in his throat. She'd wanted to see him in the library, she'd made the Crypts interesting, and she'd purposefully chosen his class to observe. Was her interest in his person merely professional because of his lackluster performance on the Lawn? Surely not. He enjoyed her company thus far, for the most part, even when she confused him.

Well, perhaps she was being straightforward and he was the one who was being confusing, dense. He was so used to defending himself and his abilities that her compliments were flustering. Still, he reached a hand up to rub the back of his neck, speaking quieter, more coyly than before,

"Tocks! I have the strangest feeling your request may be a little more personal than professional. I—uh—well, I feel like I should clear the air here and say that don't have any objection to that sentiment."

He wasn't used to the attention and it was his turn to blush when she emphasized his title, biting his lip at the word spoken quietly—flirtatiously, this time he was very sure. While he'd told her his name just a few nights ago and he was sure she knew it, there was something about the way she said professor that made him react in a much more physical way than when his students said the same word—a little warm thrill that tingled at the back of his neck and made him feel as though he wasn't getting enough air when he breathed. He chuckled then, a nervous sound, and stood up from his desk to stand in front of her instead of next to her, a little closer than was appropriate,

"That said, I would rather you not pursue another professor, no. Is it too clocking forward of me to admit I enjoy your company? I'd be quite interested in studying magic together with you, Athrym, though I'd prefer it to be a more mutual discovery of each other's, um, capabilities." The young Siordanti was intelligent and calculating, but he also understood the timing of a good joke. Or, in this case, a decent innuendo. His uneven grin slowly became devious, sea glass-colored eyes taking in her warm smile and her dimples, the verdant green of her gaze both captivating and intimidating at the same time.

A handful of days is all they'd known each other existed, all Athrym had even been in the Kingdom, however, and so Nauleth felt very foolish for his sudden interest in kissing her. The expectant weight of her field wasn't helping, either; his senses hummed with Perceptive feedback of her most surface thoughts.

Perhaps this was the glamorous life of a professor he'd imagined. Perhaps this was a simple infatuation because she'd taken him to the Lawn. Perhaps this was something immature of him because even he was lonely sometimes. Perhaps he longed for a challenge, magically speaking. Or perhaps this was simply because she refused to say his name, something about the way her lips moved with her intonation of his title that made him think things he shouldn't, but alone in his classroom as an adult and not a student, he couldn't entirely find the harm in stepping up in an experiment, either.

So far, bold moves seemed to have an effect on the stern Gioran Ambassador, but oh how he prayed that Alioe would stop time just long enough for him to crawl away if he was making a mistake.

"I have a name—did you forget it? Not that I mind you calling me professor for some reason. You make it sound more ... interesting." For perhaps the first time in his otherwise self-maintained solitude, Naul let his words hang between them and leaned in with purposeful inappropriateness, and if—only if—the petite blonde moved to meet him somewhere in the middle or so would he even attempt to kiss her, aware that if she made no such move, he'd be the idiot hovering in no man's land with the dumbest of expressions on his lopsided, freckled face.

On the other hand, if his not so subtle motion toward her and his press of his lips, shy and gentle, were well-received, well, he'd find a way to linger, just a little, and try not to chuckle or otherwise ruin the moment in his surprise.

Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Bethas 7th, 2718 - Afternoon

Athrym watched the taller man almost squirming under her gaze, struggling to keep her smile in place even if her pulse thrummed in her ears. She’d perhaps been a little bolder than the galdor in Anaxas we’re comfortable with, and for a moment she tried to reign it back with an awkward frown.

“Is that...I mean...I can just...” Her green eyes followed the Professor stood, his face delightfully flushed and lip caught between perfect teeth. Tocks, he really ought to be aware of how casually adorable it made him look. No wonder the young red head had a following. As the Anaxi came to stand in front of her, Athrym pursed her lips and looked up at him, hands holding the paper tightly as though to keep them to herself. He was awfully close, much closer than proper would decree.

Well, proper for some.

Two could play at word games it seemed, and the Gioran ambassador couldn’t stop the slow creep of her smile, summer eyes looking over his almost roguishly lopsided grin with a slightly arched brow.

“Too forward? I uh...no, no not at all.” She said quietly, her pale cheeks flushed as she watched the man lean just a little closer, field humming in warm anticipation. Athrym hummed distractedly, as though his question hadn’t quite been heard, her smile turning into a wide grin.

“Hrm, name? Oh, no, I know your name, Nauleth Siordanti. It just seemed, until most recently, that you preferred a more...formal relationship.” Watching the Anaxi lean closer still, the blonde glanced up at his gold rimmed gaze with a chuckle.

“Why Professor, how terribly unprofessional of you.” The Gioran all but breathed, tilting her chin up to meet his gentle kiss with a soft movement, perhaps a little less experienced than Nauleth in her actions, but a lot more bold. Her summer eyes slipped shut and her field melted into his own. She lingered, sighing as her pulse thrummed in her ears and her head swam. For a moment she fluttered, perhaps even swooned, as she pulled back from the kiss and sucked her lower lip between her teeth.

“Well...” Athrym said, opening her eyes to look over his freckled face for a moment, as though gauging the situation. It was nice, his soft almost shy kiss, and awfully polite.

And definitely not how they did things in Gior.

The ambassador came from a people that were bold, proud, stoic in their actions. They carved their home from the mountain itself and were unafraid to embrace hard work without the help of humans. They danced for the rains and prayed to Imaan for the ages of galdor to impart their wisdom and knowledge on them. Their people stood tall, pale statuesque people filled with honor and duty. Her mother imposed on her every day her heritage, and shunned her father’s weakness. Athrym knew the man before her merely a handful of days, but he fascinated her. Intrigued her with his snarky attitude and fired her desire for monic knowledge in a place that so far, had left her wanting.

She was however, also the ambassador for her people. A shining example of what the Gior culture had to offer. A walking embodiment of her people.

And so she should act like it.

“Clock it.” The blonde uttered, lips curled into a smirk as she reached up to take Nauleth by the collar of his jacket and pulling him into a much firmer, much more satisfying kiss. She inhaled deeply through her nose, field flaring to match the bold defiance of the Gioran, unashamed by her actions.

Much better.

[Nauleth Siordanti]

Bethas 7th, 2718

There was a general disintegration of conversation somewhere before he leaned too close, though Nauleth was far too socially inept to entirely recognize it. Her tone of voice, her smile, and the tangible warmth of their mingling fields were all the subtle signs he needed, and he caught those, for once in his clocking life,

"I'm really not good at formal ... anything. Let alone relationships." He quipped quietly at her voicing of his full name, the fluttery feeling of excitement filling his stomach and making him feel dizzy. She didn't shy away or cringe, but instead sat up and leaned forward to meet him with a purposeful tilt of her chin. Her lips were soft and she lingered just long enough to set his pulse ablaze, smiling lopsidedly as the pale blonde leaned away.

Begads! She was totally alright with this. This! This?

Wait! What the hell was this ...?

This was the awkward tick—Naul unsure of what to do with himself after his terribly unprofessional and improper action had been so well-received that the Everine might as well have been singing in the cavity of his chest. She spoke one word—well—but her verdant gaze took him in, studying his freckled face with a wistful smile. He didn't hear her next words, so surprised by her hands reaching for him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his dress jacket, and her needful tugging on his person that if he heard anything at all above the roar of his pulse, it was the noise of satisfied shock that escaped him with her much more authoritative kiss.

This was unexpected and for another awkward tick, the young Siordanti's mind raced through every previous even remotely romantic or sexual scenario of his short life and came up with nothing at all similar to draw from in terms of even a tiny tidbit of knowledge on how to properly deal with such blatant acceptance and bold reciprocation. Nothing. Athrym Bruthgrave was completely off the books and the junior professor was left on the Lawn to improvise and experiment.

That he could clocking do, godsdamnit. That he could clocking well do.

They'd only just met this week and here they were, lips and fields tangled together, so scandalously enticing that Nauleth half expected it to all be some elaborate joke upon his person.

Still, he was interested in the petite blonde for a mix of various reasons, not all of them entirely unprofessional—she was lovely to look at as well as had the passion for pursuing deeper magical understanding that drove him as a galdor. One hand moved to rest a palm against the surface of his desk as he leaned into their shared kiss, the other brushing her face as he playfully snatched her attractively pouty lower lip between his teeth with a grin before bringing their mouths together again, stepping just a little closer so he pressed against her knees and the petticoats of her dress, their bodies touching even as their fields ebbed together with a rush of more intimate curiosity fueled by her flare of defiance.

Gods, this wasn't at all acceptable and yet it was so excitingly out of the ordinary that Naul was tempted to shove the books and papers from his desk with reckless abandon and explore what more of the Gioran Ambassador's boldness she was willing for him to see. But he didn't, breathing ragged and freckled face flushed with desire, he brought both his hands to rest on her knees as he reluctantly leaned away from her mouth to whisper in her ear,

"Well," The young professor playfully mocked her tone of voice from just mere thunderous heartbeats ago, speaking against the skin of her neck before returning to brush her lips again with his own, "I'm most pleased to see that quite a few of our common interests appear to be more compatible than I thought, both professionally and, uh, not. I would be interested in experimenting on finding a balance between the intellectual and the physical—"

Fully intending to kiss her some more if she'd let him, there was a brief moment in his distracted thought process that he realized he'd closed his door but not locked it.

"If you want to, that is."

Welcome to Brunnhold, stop-clocker, now go home.

[Edriel Rivaen]

I Promised You Some Magic

---

7th Bethas, 2718

Edriel waited a few more minutes until after the last students had left the classroom. He’d learned over the years that it was better to waste a few minutes waiting for everyone to leave than to risk getting in someone’s way and draw the ire of some bloodthirsty student, wishing to demonstrate his superiority over passives to the rest of his classmates. Having taken the advice of older passives to heart, he’d managed to get off lightly so far and he had every intention to keep it that way.

Trouble was, the teacher hadn’t come out yet.

Armed with a bucket of hot water and soap in one hand and a mop in the other, Edriel leaned against the wall, squinting his eyes at the door, which seemed to have closed on its own accord in a moment of inattention. He rubbed his eyes, maybe he just hadn’t paid close enough attention, his thoughts tended to wander when he had to wait, maybe the Professor had already left…

He pushed himself off the stone wall and shuffled toward classroom F with some trepidation, wishing there was someway he could ensure that he wouldn’t disturb one of the staff. He still remembered the last time he’d unwittingly entered a Professor’s study, accidentally stirring the man from a light sleep, oh he’d been made to remember that alright. At least he’d made a contribution to the university that day, for an explicit rule against rousing Professors from their well-deserved sleep had been added to the rulebook that day.

The rulebook was a pocket-size book containing long, long list of rules, neatly divided into alphabetically sorted sections and subsections, describing all the prohibited activities in and around Brunnhold university, yet each year students managed to find loopholes and each year the list was extended with more rules, more subsections and more clausules. Edriel was convinced no one, not even the staff bothered to read them all, though some professors seemed quite knowledgeable about the sections that warranted punishment. Over the three years he’d roamed the university grounds he’d become increasingly familiar with the written and unwritten rules that presided over student and staff alike, and one such rule demanded that the cleaning of classrooms as the end of the day should take no longer than ten minutes, half of which he’d already wasted waiting for the clocking Professor to come out.

Taking a deep breath, Edriel mustered all his courage and took the gamble. Even if the teacher was still inside he had a fifty-percent chance that he or she wouldn’t so much as look at him, about a quarter would look at him but let him do his work regardless and then there was the final quarter who would waste his remaining five minutes with a scolding.

Careful not to slosh the hot water too much, Edriel pushed the door to the classroom open with his shoulder and entered, only to nearly drop the bucket in his right hand at the sight before him.

Professor Siodanti stood out among the staff with his bright red hair and the odd affliction that rendered one half of his face slower than the other. Not that Edriel could see much of Siodanti’s face presently, as most of it was hidden behind the long, flow blonde hair of the ambassador from Gior who frankly could be accused of assaulting the poor Professor, given her vigor.

If he had been a little faster and hadn’t wasted a few precious ticks gawking at the two feverishly kissing adults, he might’ve managed to slip away and take whatever consequences his failure to clean classroom F would yield on the chin. Instead, he remained frozen to the spot, fearing for the structural integrity of the desk as it scraped loudly over the hardwood floor. Curiously, thought at the forefront of his mind was not how the two would respond to his unannounced presence, but rather if he’d come in at the start or the end of their loving making, for he very much hoped it was the former considering he’d be the one to clean it all up.

Inevitably their heads would turn toward him, inevitably they would demand an explanation. He retreated a pace and said, almost inaudibly, "I can come back later?"

[Athrym Bruthgrave]

Bethas 7th, 2718 - Afternoon

Athrym held the kiss, heart racing against her ribs, waiting for the infatuating red head to do one of two things. He would either pull away from her in shock and anger, far too proper for the bold move she’d just made. Or he would reciprocate.

Fortunately, he did the latter.

Sighing softly, the blonde loosened her grip on his jacket, letting her hands slip into the professors fiery locks as he leaned in. The tug on her lowerlip surprised the Gioran, and she couldn’t help the sound that slipped from her, before Naul so eagerly returned to her mouth. She felt him, pressed against her skirts in the most unprofessional of ways, and for a thrilling moment the ambassador thought he would move to take things further than just exhilarating kisses, right there on the desk!

Not quite that bold yet.

The pale foreigner thought suddenly, her green eyes opening and drawing back a little, hand moving to rest on his chest. There was a moment of strangely discordant relief when the Anaxi also drew back, hands resting most improperly on her knees through her skirts, her eyes fluttering shut again as warm breath tickled the snowy curve of her neck. He echoed her own commentary from before, causing the blonde to chuckle as she met the brush of his lips again.

“About clocking time Naul, I had begun to figure you Anaxi were much too precious for such..uh...experiments.” She smiled, verdant gaze opening to look into his own blue and gold.

“Well, I did promise to show you some magic, Professor.” The ambassador whispered, on the cusp of kissing the taller man again when a movement caught her eye, and the sound of a small voice. Glancing up with wide eyes, Athrym pushed Nauleth away with a blush, straightening her skirts and brushing a hand over her hair.

“I...I...does no one knock at this clocking school?!” She snapped, field buzzing with angry embarrassment, eyes looking over the child with a cool sweep before turning back on the junior professor.

“Thankyou, Professor Siordanti, for assisting me with that....uh....incantation. I didn’t realise that uh...the Physical mona were so responsive to...” The blonde floundered, trying to come up with a good excuse as to why the Gioran Ambassador was pressed so firmly against a member of Faculty. It was not going to be a good first impression, and tocks her mother would never let her hear the end of it. Fraternising with an Anaxi?

Don’t make my mistakes, Athrym.

Her hand waved, hoping Naul would pick up on the sentence and provide something resembling an answer, mood soured by her thoughts and the most untimely interruption. The professor had the forethought to shut the door, but not lock it?

Perhaps she could just threaten the passive boy into silence? That is what they did around here, wasn’t it?

“Did you need something Mister...uh...boy? Has no one taught you any manners at all in this clocking university?” Her temper flared, field flexing to bow the mona around them and back again.

Breathe. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.