Professor Keyes’ Office
The whispers of it had filtered down through the scraps, eliciting wonder, disbelief, and anticipation. This year, the Gala would include access for the lower races — not on campus, of course — not just open but encouraged. Some passives, those who had always been good, who had risen through the ranks over the years to become Matrons and Patrons wondered if the lower races included them. After all, were they not lower than the galdori but above wicks and humans having at least originated from the same divinely blessed wellspring as their magical brethren?
There had been plenty of debate among a goodly number of those in charge of the welfare of their fellow passives. Many believed that it was too presumptive of them to think that the galdori would extend such an honour to them, after all, hadn’t they been charitable enough as it was? It seemed greedy to think that they deserved something more than their generous masters already provided. That being said, the fireworks sounded as if they’d be particularly lovely and what could the harm be in that?
Why wouldn’t the passives love the fireworks? They might not be able to do magic or understand the science behind them—poor dears—but why wouldn’t they delight in the explosions of colourful lights? After all, wasn’t it expected to be a favourite with families? Those with younger children were almost certain to attend, even if at something of a distance in case it proved too exciting for the littlest ones. To them, it would be a simple pleasure as it would be for the passives on campus or the wicks and humans who clamoured for the best positions on the other side of the campus walls.
However, even the subject of fireworks caused some unease because what if the galdori didn’t approve? What if they encouraged their charges to go and then it turned out to have been the wrong action? No one wanted to present such a question to the galdori though, the notion of bothering their superiors with such a trivial thing seeming the height of cheek. With a lack of confirmation, that seemed to be the end of that. There were a small minority of the passive overseers who determined to go ahead with things anyway, informing their charges in the week before the event in question so that there would be sufficient numbers in attendance when the time came. The information was disseminated to the charges directly under the willing overseers and of course, it passed from passive to passive, far beyond its intended range, including the ears of one Fionn Madden who had already been thinking over hypothetical plans.
Some of his peers cringed at the thought of doing such a thing, even with permission from some of their overseers because what might the gollies think? Frankly, Fionn didn’t care what the gollies thought and honestly, it was a ridiculously small concern in the scheme of things; the wider galdori population in Brunnhold were hardly concerned — or even thinking — about the scraps. After all, who considered the feelings of furniture, which was always there and so necessary to rely on? Passives were people obviously but other than that, there was little difference so really, why be concerned with what happened to the furniture while you were busy enjoying yourself? So long as there were enough to lean on, who cared?
While some of the overseers were shepherding their charges along like a herd of happy hingle to watch the fireworks at an acceptable distance from others in case the passives exploded, Fionn was elsewhere and taking full advantage of the occasion.
The teenager had safely sequestered himself in Professor Keyes’ office, which while quite some distance from the Field of Practical Application where the demonstration was taking place, would afford a view of some of the pyrotechnics courtesy of having windows facing in the right direction. From what he’d been led to believe, there would be colourful explosions in the air, which were likely to be more intense and lingering than lightning flashes and so visibility shouldn’t be a problem. Most importantly, he’d have privacy and peace of mind to spend time with Aurelie.
Honestly, this whole thing had started out as a pretty little fantasy, a daydream that obviously wouldn’t—couldn’t—come through. He’d known about the Gala, he’d thought of of all the knowledge that would be demonstrated both on campus and off of it, all the educational opportunities that would be beyond his grasp. The prospect of fireworks sounded fascinating to him initially, the youth wondering how such effects and displays could be produced — assuming that all the stories he heard were true. However, he’d known that he’d never find out, that no right minded galdor would impart those secrets on a scrap. It was when he’d resigned himself to that fact and begun to look forward to simply watching the fireworks that the fantasy had begun to form.
It might turn out to be a bit wobbly where curfew was concerned but he had thought about what free time he could eke out, how he could find a period to watch proceedings without having to worry about the prospect of trouble looming over him. The fantasy had stretched to some spot away from the crowd of galdori that would surely be there with Aurelie nearby, the pair sharing a moment even if they couldn’t touch in view of witnesses. The possibility of hiding among the trees that bordered part of the Field had occurred to him as well, perhaps affording him an opportunity to hold her hand or maybe even embrace her under the shadowy protection of the leafy canopy.
Once word reached his ears that some of the passives would actually be attending the demonstration, the idea of getting away and managing to bring Aurelie along with him without getting her into trouble became more real and with it, the anxiety had come.
Hiding out in the trees was a wonderful, romantic idea but hardly practical on far too many levels. For one thing, they’d have to move far enough in to avoid discovery and they’d have to do it without the aid of a light. That opened up a whole world of hurt. What if a root had broken out above ground to grow in treacherous twists and humps that waited to snare an unsuspecting victim? What if there were hidden holes to jam one’s foot in and sprain or even break it? Branches offered the prospect of jabbing and scrapping them with their twigs, catching at them like fingers and some of those branches could have fallen to provide a particularly painful landing if one or other of them lost their footing. The last thing they needed was to finish the night looking like they’d been dragged through a bush or had a particularly nasty altercation with an furious feline.
Oh the potential catastrophes were infinite in his mind! All the possibilities and unknown variables producing new ones every time he worried about the ones he’d already considered. What was more, he wasn’t chasing down impossibilities or long shots but things that could all too conceivably occur. After all, if he could consider those trees as a potential location for clandestine affairs then why not somebody else? It seemed an ideal place for some of the students to go, allowing them to canoodle away from the watchful eyes of their elders. With that in mind, how could he consider doing anything there when it might not be safe?
And then he had realised that he had a space that he could make his own, one that others wouldn’t dare to encroach on and one where nobody—especially its owner—would have to know that he’d there. After that, well… anything seemed possible now, didn’t it?
So he had told the kitchen maid to come here after dark and to knock to be let in. He hadn’t told her much beyond that really, except that he knew a good place that they could watch the display together without having to jump at shadows. Beyond that, it was all to be a surprise.
The windows were uncovered, the soft glow of moonlight falling through the panes onto a series of cushions, blankets and various pieces of fabric that Keyes used in his compositions. The boy had arrayed them in such a way that they could sit or recline comfortably, getting a good view of the sky from that low vantage point. There was enough light to see by — once you grew accustomed to it — and visible in a little space between the piles, sitting on the wooden floor was a small wicker basket. That would be the nicest surprise of all, something that he’d managed to put together with the help of his sister: a little picnic.
Niamh didn’t entirely approve of Fionn and Aurelie having any sort of relationship but she didn’t dislike the passive girl and what was more she knew that Aurelie made his brother happy. She’d agreed to aid him in this instance because what he had planned was… Well, she thought that it was sweet. Oh good Lady, hadn’t he blushed hard at that one! He’d weathered it though, he’d put up with whatever he had to in order to guarantee her help because he couldn’t do it all by himself — he didn’t have golly privilege after all. Frankly, he didn’t know what he would have done without her. If he hadn’t had his sister’s approval and cooperation then there would have been poorer fare, the boy entirely reliant on what he could smuggle out of the kitchens, which certainly wouldn’t have been much. The teenager was excited for Aura to see it.
Excited but also nervous. There was no telling what she’d make of it all, if it was too much. It’d be awful if she became so overwhelmed that she started crying as she had with the bracelet and that had been such a small gesture by comparison. This was grander but also something he’d probably not get a chance to do ever again. It was the sort of thing that he might have been inclined to do more often, if he’d had the means. The boy had a sense of romance, not that he knew that that’s what it was.
The youth had to resist the urge to pace for fear that someone might have lingered below and might hear his steps. It made it difficult for him, unable to work off his nervous energy as he waited and wondered if she’d decided not to come or something had prevented her. He could only sit on the Professor’s desk and wring his hands, gaze sweeping over his arrangements to make sure that everything was perfect or as perfect as it could be under the circumstances.
When a knock came, he froze in place, almost forgetting to breathe as he wondered if it was her or someone else, perhaps seeking Gus. But no, it couldn’t be. It had been soft and timid, the girl’s knock for sure. Still, he slid off the desk with care and padded carefully towards the door. The familiar sensation of Aurelie’s nexus greeted him and his posture relaxed. Unlocking the door, he opened it enough to allow her inside, beckoning her in, ready to close and lock it behind her.
“Hello there, you,” he greeted cheerfully, keeping his voice low, just in case. There probably wasn’t anyone around but he didn’t want to take any chances. “Sorry, we’re going to be skulking around in the dark, I didn’t want to light a candle or anything in case someone looked up at the window and- Well, I could probably light one if I shielded it right but the moons are almost full and you’d be surprised how bright it is once you get used to it. The Lady’s providing for us.”
Only when she was safely inside and the door barred against intruders would he move to embrace her, to squeeze her briefly while he breathed in her scent. It was strange how much he missed her when he couldn’t do this. Touch was such a precious thing in here and all the more rare between the likes of them.