That was... easy. Success in the face of his anticipated failings was sweet and invigorating. He even smiled. Those curved lips fell apart like twins separated at birth when he saw what lay inside. "Woah." They had just stepped into a curious teen's recurring daydream: a place of study and work packed to the brim with immeasurable knowledge, trophies of unknowable origins, and displays of savvy and intellect incomprehensible to a layman's eyes. The lengthy pause gave him enough time to scour most of the room with greedy eyes.
"Yes, um... Professor Caxton, we..." He stumbled, realizing he hadn't planned how he would explain the series of events that led them to that moment. "Okay wwwwwe were st-- well, Drdrdrdrysi and I were ssssstudying, but then we figured out how, I mean Manon's mana is like..." He lifted his arms and held them far apart, as if he were hugging an invisible bear. And he realized he was making no sense. So he just stopped. He took a deep breath.
He tried again. "What I mean is, we were studying," he gestured to Drysi and himself, "whennnn I realized that Manon's nose, um her artifact Nose had to be a really REALLY powerful mana source. Umm, we don't have that-- obviously-- but she still has her mask, kind of." He gestured again, this time to Manon and the fragments of her mask in one hand. "And Ddddrysi ppppointed out that I have to ppppractice as well as as as as study, so we thought--" his mouth was getting away from him again, and he snorted like an angry bull mid-sentence, before brute forcing his way back in. "So we thought you might be abllllle to help her fix the maskkkk. So Drysi could help me study. Because there's no neccccromancer here but me." And no one needed reminding why.
He felt brave saying it, and the first real embers of rebellion sparked to life in his chest. He was a necromancer, and he was going to be a good necromancer. Maybe there were other, easier ways to be a good mage, but he was going to be a good necromancer.
[Safeholme] A Student Renewed
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 726
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
"Necromancer?" Manon repeated the word as if it were the first time she had heard it. "I don't think I... knew that..."
Mr. Caxton disconnected one of the pipes joining the cannon and the strange vial aperture. While Jakku and Zippo had held rapt attention to the boy's explanation, the Alchemist appeared disinterested.
"All the pieces are there, but the hypothesis falls short," judged the man, setting down a small wrench. "Mr. Krieger, you want to use her power, but you've yet to find its source."
A pair of goggled eyes looked at Manon, "Ms. Laframboise, you want to give him your power, but you've yet to grasp its depth."
"You know, the translate app on my phone doesn't do riddles, Mr
Caxton," she rebutted, feeling better with a bit of Johann's energy, the chaos giving her a spear to rattle. "Why don't you just tell us?"
"Because you do not learn if you do not think. There is power in knowing the path to knowledge, rather than its destination," Percival spoke with an energy he did not deliver in his classes. Changing course in his activity, the fae helped remove his protective gear as he approached them. A glove, an apron, a mask and a belt were ferried to different corners of the workshop. Then, with a delicate hand he lifted his goggles, revealing a pair of green eyes that glimmered unnaturally in the light. The Alchemist had an unworldly energy that could be felt through the shop.
Jakku took the goggles in her hands, and Zippo sat on his shoulder. The Alchemist waited for her to return to his other shoulder, rewarding her with a small thimble of something warm.
"Mr. Krieger," Caxton leveled his gaze at the boy, while the pixie on his shoulder drank deep. "I will help you, if you satisfy one condition. Prove to me you can think. Discern the truth of Ms. Laframboise's ability. You have the clues, you simply need the correct model. Think on what you know about Power Theory. Consider that the mundane cannot directly produce magic when given items of power. Consider that only few of the gifted are restricted to conditions in the use of their mana. Consider the purpose of Ms. Laframboise's nose, instead of what she could do with it. What is the purpose of the mask? Where does the power come from and what cost."
Mr. Caxton disconnected one of the pipes joining the cannon and the strange vial aperture. While Jakku and Zippo had held rapt attention to the boy's explanation, the Alchemist appeared disinterested.
"All the pieces are there, but the hypothesis falls short," judged the man, setting down a small wrench. "Mr. Krieger, you want to use her power, but you've yet to find its source."
A pair of goggled eyes looked at Manon, "Ms. Laframboise, you want to give him your power, but you've yet to grasp its depth."
"You know, the translate app on my phone doesn't do riddles, Mr
Caxton," she rebutted, feeling better with a bit of Johann's energy, the chaos giving her a spear to rattle. "Why don't you just tell us?"
"Because you do not learn if you do not think. There is power in knowing the path to knowledge, rather than its destination," Percival spoke with an energy he did not deliver in his classes. Changing course in his activity, the fae helped remove his protective gear as he approached them. A glove, an apron, a mask and a belt were ferried to different corners of the workshop. Then, with a delicate hand he lifted his goggles, revealing a pair of green eyes that glimmered unnaturally in the light. The Alchemist had an unworldly energy that could be felt through the shop.
Jakku took the goggles in her hands, and Zippo sat on his shoulder. The Alchemist waited for her to return to his other shoulder, rewarding her with a small thimble of something warm.
"Mr. Krieger," Caxton leveled his gaze at the boy, while the pixie on his shoulder drank deep. "I will help you, if you satisfy one condition. Prove to me you can think. Discern the truth of Ms. Laframboise's ability. You have the clues, you simply need the correct model. Think on what you know about Power Theory. Consider that the mundane cannot directly produce magic when given items of power. Consider that only few of the gifted are restricted to conditions in the use of their mana. Consider the purpose of Ms. Laframboise's nose, instead of what she could do with it. What is the purpose of the mask? Where does the power come from and what cost."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 726
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
The German's blood froze and his heart stopped when he heard Manon's surprise. What will she think? Will she still be my friend? Now, there was a funny thought. He always hated her jokes and jibes, but he still thought of her as a friend. Could they still be friends if she thought he was 'just another necromancer?'
He barely heard the rest of the conversation. He would have missed it entirely if not for his name being spoken. At that, he snapped his attention to the prestigious alchemist. "Okay. I mean, yes, profffffessor Caxton." His gaze drifted to the floor like a feather in still air as the critical thinking portion of his brain took over. Eyes traced grains of wood in the floor to preoccupy themselves in the absence of orders.
"Power Theory. Yes! That's what led us here. My spelllll, it needs... um, the spell I used to capture the-- the wight. It needs enough mana for a whole person- the, what Drysi said... Optimmmmmal Ccccontainment. But she wasn't even phased." He gesticulated with both hands toward his peer.
He tried to break apart that next piece. Mundane? Manon was clearly the opposite of mundane. No dice. Next: the Nose.
"THE NOSE!" he shouted and immediately clapped both hands over his mouth, startled by his own volume. He whispered a meek apology, and without waiting for a response, chased after his thoughts that were running off without him. "The-- I ththththought ittttt was aaaa- hrngh- it was a focus. But now I think about it, it's mana weight was strange. Wrong. I should have felt more if it could fuel that spell with jjjjjust a litlitlitlittle confetti."
The words were tripping each other trying to get out, which was hard enough without a stutter, but Johann had reached terminal velocity. He couldn't slow his words, let alone his thoughts, and so they continued to pour out of him. "But if, sssso then she can't do- without the- it's a source?" He was surprised. Not because sources were particularly rare- not really. But a source of great power should also produce a greater "mana weight," a gravitas. There's the word!
"The grrrrrravi gravvvvi-- the WEIGHT is all wrong!" he huffed. His answers were breeding questions like cartoon rabbits, and Johann was the poor rancher who already had an armful and nowhere to put them. The mask. The mask? That was a dead loss. He had only seen her wear it briefly, and it had been shattered by that dark druid. He didn't have enough data. Maybe if...
He turned his whole body toward Manon, studying her. "You can't do any magic?" There was wonder and confusion at the simple absurdity of a mage who couldn't do magic. She had a focus in her hands! "It's all tied up in your mmmm- your mmm- fuh!- Deine Quelle? In your..."
Now his brows furrowed and he turned bodily toward Mr. Caxton. "I don't... get it. I want to say it's a failure to project mana, but she has a focus right. There." He punctuated the last two words with an emphatic two-handed gesture. Then he scratched his cheek just under the edge of his turban and thought some more.
"But Mr. Caxton, if it's not a ffffocus nor a sssssssource, then..." He was struggling with the looming implications. He didn't want to acknowledge them, because it would unravel so many things he had believed to be true.
"Mr. Caxton, conduits aren't... They're not safffffe. They're not ststststable. You can't..." He sighed and glanced at Manon, and she could see in that brief moment before he looked back to the alchemist that tears were forming in his eyes. He blinked a couple times to make Percy's face a little clearer. "Who would do that to her? She won't..."
His fists were clenched, his arms quivering with the emotions surging up in him fast and grotesque as bile after a bad meal. "Mr. Caxton, she's just a kid." He sniffled. "She can't be a Font. They're not r... They can't- she can't. It's not fair."
His cup finally ran over, and the tears streamed down his face.
He barely heard the rest of the conversation. He would have missed it entirely if not for his name being spoken. At that, he snapped his attention to the prestigious alchemist. "Okay. I mean, yes, profffffessor Caxton." His gaze drifted to the floor like a feather in still air as the critical thinking portion of his brain took over. Eyes traced grains of wood in the floor to preoccupy themselves in the absence of orders.
"Power Theory. Yes! That's what led us here. My spelllll, it needs... um, the spell I used to capture the-- the wight. It needs enough mana for a whole person- the, what Drysi said... Optimmmmmal Ccccontainment. But she wasn't even phased." He gesticulated with both hands toward his peer.
He tried to break apart that next piece. Mundane? Manon was clearly the opposite of mundane. No dice. Next: the Nose.
"THE NOSE!" he shouted and immediately clapped both hands over his mouth, startled by his own volume. He whispered a meek apology, and without waiting for a response, chased after his thoughts that were running off without him. "The-- I ththththought ittttt was aaaa- hrngh- it was a focus. But now I think about it, it's mana weight was strange. Wrong. I should have felt more if it could fuel that spell with jjjjjust a litlitlitlittle confetti."
The words were tripping each other trying to get out, which was hard enough without a stutter, but Johann had reached terminal velocity. He couldn't slow his words, let alone his thoughts, and so they continued to pour out of him. "But if, sssso then she can't do- without the- it's a source?" He was surprised. Not because sources were particularly rare- not really. But a source of great power should also produce a greater "mana weight," a gravitas. There's the word!
"The grrrrrravi gravvvvi-- the WEIGHT is all wrong!" he huffed. His answers were breeding questions like cartoon rabbits, and Johann was the poor rancher who already had an armful and nowhere to put them. The mask. The mask? That was a dead loss. He had only seen her wear it briefly, and it had been shattered by that dark druid. He didn't have enough data. Maybe if...
He turned his whole body toward Manon, studying her. "You can't do any magic?" There was wonder and confusion at the simple absurdity of a mage who couldn't do magic. She had a focus in her hands! "It's all tied up in your mmmm- your mmm- fuh!- Deine Quelle? In your..."
Now his brows furrowed and he turned bodily toward Mr. Caxton. "I don't... get it. I want to say it's a failure to project mana, but she has a focus right. There." He punctuated the last two words with an emphatic two-handed gesture. Then he scratched his cheek just under the edge of his turban and thought some more.
"But Mr. Caxton, if it's not a ffffocus nor a sssssssource, then..." He was struggling with the looming implications. He didn't want to acknowledge them, because it would unravel so many things he had believed to be true.
"Mr. Caxton, conduits aren't... They're not safffffe. They're not ststststable. You can't..." He sighed and glanced at Manon, and she could see in that brief moment before he looked back to the alchemist that tears were forming in his eyes. He blinked a couple times to make Percy's face a little clearer. "Who would do that to her? She won't..."
His fists were clenched, his arms quivering with the emotions surging up in him fast and grotesque as bile after a bad meal. "Mr. Caxton, she's just a kid." He sniffled. "She can't be a Font. They're not r... They can't- she can't. It's not fair."
His cup finally ran over, and the tears streamed down his face.
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
Manon held the horn close to her chest.
"I'm... I'm a font...? Pourquoi personne ne me l'a dit? No... That can't be true... It's..."
Her eyes steadily fell on the brass, clownish clarion. "Tu savais. Tu savais. You knew and you didn't tell me. This horn is a conduit, that's why it only sings for others."
She looked at Mr. Caxton, pleading, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Mr. Caxton looked down at the two of them, a sense of satisfaction on his face, as if he delighted in the painful truth. He held his hand up, and the lights went out. The machines stopped operating, the radiant hum of the workshop died and all they could see was the dim shape of the Alchemist and Jakku's bright eyes. After a few passing seconds, the lights flickered back on, and the man held a sceptre in the outstretched hand.
"To be a font is painful knowledge to bear on your own," he said, looking at the sceptre, inspecting its intricate detail and filigree. "But you would, Ms.Laframboise. You were willing to be expelled for losing your magic, and would have done so quietly if you knew the reason."
"You don't know that," Manon rebutted.
"Oh? Are you willing to tell me the reason why you've not signed up for classes for this semester? Perhaps the situation that led tk the destruction of your mask?"
The clown pursed her lips, and evasively shifted her eyes. Despite what Johann had said, she seemed committed to saying nothing.
He whipped the wand in Johann's direction, pointing to the weeping boy, "Irrelevant now, as Mr. Krieger diagnosed something in you that has managed to elude not just the faculty of this school, but the Bureau des Affaires Mystiques. One does not become a font, they are born this way. Because of your mask, you were never identified and because of your upbringing, you were never told the truth.
"Truth and understanding are not always victorious goals, Mr. Krieger, Ms. Laframboise. Knowing this, knowing what you learned only today; only now, are you still willing to forge into unknown territory, into this pursuit? Knowing the risk full and well now?"
"I'm... I'm a font...? Pourquoi personne ne me l'a dit? No... That can't be true... It's..."
Her eyes steadily fell on the brass, clownish clarion. "Tu savais. Tu savais. You knew and you didn't tell me. This horn is a conduit, that's why it only sings for others."
She looked at Mr. Caxton, pleading, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Mr. Caxton looked down at the two of them, a sense of satisfaction on his face, as if he delighted in the painful truth. He held his hand up, and the lights went out. The machines stopped operating, the radiant hum of the workshop died and all they could see was the dim shape of the Alchemist and Jakku's bright eyes. After a few passing seconds, the lights flickered back on, and the man held a sceptre in the outstretched hand.
"To be a font is painful knowledge to bear on your own," he said, looking at the sceptre, inspecting its intricate detail and filigree. "But you would, Ms.Laframboise. You were willing to be expelled for losing your magic, and would have done so quietly if you knew the reason."
"You don't know that," Manon rebutted.
"Oh? Are you willing to tell me the reason why you've not signed up for classes for this semester? Perhaps the situation that led tk the destruction of your mask?"
The clown pursed her lips, and evasively shifted her eyes. Despite what Johann had said, she seemed committed to saying nothing.
He whipped the wand in Johann's direction, pointing to the weeping boy, "Irrelevant now, as Mr. Krieger diagnosed something in you that has managed to elude not just the faculty of this school, but the Bureau des Affaires Mystiques. One does not become a font, they are born this way. Because of your mask, you were never identified and because of your upbringing, you were never told the truth.
"Truth and understanding are not always victorious goals, Mr. Krieger, Ms. Laframboise. Knowing this, knowing what you learned only today; only now, are you still willing to forge into unknown territory, into this pursuit? Knowing the risk full and well now?"
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 726
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
Johann worked furiously to dry his face and dam up his tears. By the time Mr. Caxton returned his attention to the boy, he'd achieved relative success. His face was blotchy, but that was nigh impossible to see in the near-perfect darkness. "You're wrong, Mr. Caxton!" The anger that emerged from his throat surprised even the necromancer. "Ssorry, but you are. If she had known, she could have done something insttttead of..." He wasn't sure what exactly would be different, but he knew if someone told him that he was a font, he'd definitely act different.
"You cccccan't make the right choice unless you know all your choices!" He wasn't sure where this confidence was coming from. Chuffy was back in his room, he was staring down one of the scariest looking teachers he'd ever seen, and the only person there to support him was a girl he'd thought of as a bully until ten minutes ago. But he knew he was right, and Mr. Caxton was wrong.
"It dddddoesn't matter how sad knowing is. She deserved to know!" He reached out and took Manon's hand to reassure her, as she had done earlier to reassure herself. "And now we cannnn do something!"
"You cccccan't make the right choice unless you know all your choices!" He wasn't sure where this confidence was coming from. Chuffy was back in his room, he was staring down one of the scariest looking teachers he'd ever seen, and the only person there to support him was a girl he'd thought of as a bully until ten minutes ago. But he knew he was right, and Mr. Caxton was wrong.
"It dddddoesn't matter how sad knowing is. She deserved to know!" He reached out and took Manon's hand to reassure her, as she had done earlier to reassure herself. "And now we cannnn do something!"
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
"On peut faire quelque chose..."
Manon's hand tightened around Johann's and the anxiousness that colored her demeanour seemed to fade. The realization didn't seem to control her anymore, and her shoulders, seized since they started the walk down, were relaxed. She stared at Johann, spellbound, before realizing how her gaze lingered and looked away.
"Excuse me!" Jakku fluttered off the Alchemist's shoulder, indignant. "Mr. Caxton has done nothing but hel--..."
"Jakku."
The sprite jumped, as if the declaration had been a sharp reprimand. Mr. Caxton held out the rod to the fairy. "Return my conduit to the outlet."
The fiery sprite opened her mouth to speak, but then pinched her lips and puffed her cheeks. She gave Johann a look before she and Zippo carried the staff off to the back of the lab.
"Correct, Mr. Krieger," answered the man, finally, tucking his arm behind his back. "In trying to spare Ms. Laframboise's feelings, I did not consider her agency. If anything, I did not think she was ready for it."
There was a dangerously thoughtful glint in the man's eye, "But I see I was wrong about her... and you... Or... rather... perhaps I was right about all of you."
There was the briefest smile on his face that disappeared in another black-out. This time, when the lights came on, so did the machinery and the constant hum. Zippo called out from the back.
"Done!"
Mr. Caxton's cold coutenance was on them again in the new light.
"That aside, you had a request for my assistance. Do you still want it? And as for you, boy... Should you need a mentor... My sister specializes in a form of magic that exploits the principles of your art, although, I do not know if she takes students."
Manon's hand tightened around Johann's and the anxiousness that colored her demeanour seemed to fade. The realization didn't seem to control her anymore, and her shoulders, seized since they started the walk down, were relaxed. She stared at Johann, spellbound, before realizing how her gaze lingered and looked away.
"Excuse me!" Jakku fluttered off the Alchemist's shoulder, indignant. "Mr. Caxton has done nothing but hel--..."
"Jakku."
The sprite jumped, as if the declaration had been a sharp reprimand. Mr. Caxton held out the rod to the fairy. "Return my conduit to the outlet."
The fiery sprite opened her mouth to speak, but then pinched her lips and puffed her cheeks. She gave Johann a look before she and Zippo carried the staff off to the back of the lab.
"Correct, Mr. Krieger," answered the man, finally, tucking his arm behind his back. "In trying to spare Ms. Laframboise's feelings, I did not consider her agency. If anything, I did not think she was ready for it."
There was a dangerously thoughtful glint in the man's eye, "But I see I was wrong about her... and you... Or... rather... perhaps I was right about all of you."
There was the briefest smile on his face that disappeared in another black-out. This time, when the lights came on, so did the machinery and the constant hum. Zippo called out from the back.
"Done!"
Mr. Caxton's cold coutenance was on them again in the new light.
"That aside, you had a request for my assistance. Do you still want it? And as for you, boy... Should you need a mentor... My sister specializes in a form of magic that exploits the principles of your art, although, I do not know if she takes students."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 726
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
Johann stared back at the S-Class Alchemist with a certitude rare among children his age, but otherwise had fallen silent and still. He ignored the offer to him-- they weren't here for him. He was here to help Manon; if she wanted to help him, then that was her choice. The necromancer turned his head to the font and gently shook her hand, urging her to respond. "Well, Manon? What do yyyyyyou want to do?"
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
Laframboise blinked her eyes, as if she hadn't been paying attention.
"I'm sorry?"
She hadn't been listening, or at least feigned it.
"Do you want me to repair the mask?" asked the Alchemist. Manon lacked the severe certitude of Johann, but she had regained a certain dramatic air, which gained the shape of circumspection.
"What will it cost me?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
That question seemed to genuinely surprise the Alchemist, which she pressed further with new confidence, "Why are you devoting all of this time to me? What are you getting out of it? Why do you even know how to make these things? Hm? Hm? Hm?."
"I happen to be a foremost expert in this subject, with a small background in artificing."
"How? Are you an alchemist or fontimist?"
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so attached to labels; and, to your first question, experience and academic rigor."
"How will you even take my mask? No one has been able to take it from me."
"You will give it to me."
"Oui, if you can keep a hold of them, Mr. Caxton, then I see nothing wrong with it!"
A confident smirk bled onto Manon's face as she upturned her hand and dropped her mask's shards into Mr. Caxton's singular hand. With no ceremony, he took them, and placed them out onto a work bench. At that, Manon curled her fingers and jumped when she realized she couldn't recall the shards.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing, you gave them to me."
"You took them."
"Not from my point of view."
That was when Manon became unsure of just exactly what Mr. Caxton was. She tried to muster the words, but nothing seemed to take form. Her head turned just so to Johann, and muttered something from the left of her mouth.
"I think we should go."
"I'm sorry?"
She hadn't been listening, or at least feigned it.
"Do you want me to repair the mask?" asked the Alchemist. Manon lacked the severe certitude of Johann, but she had regained a certain dramatic air, which gained the shape of circumspection.
"What will it cost me?"
"Nothing."
"Why?"
That question seemed to genuinely surprise the Alchemist, which she pressed further with new confidence, "Why are you devoting all of this time to me? What are you getting out of it? Why do you even know how to make these things? Hm? Hm? Hm?."
"I happen to be a foremost expert in this subject, with a small background in artificing."
"How? Are you an alchemist or fontimist?"
"If I were you, I wouldn't be so attached to labels; and, to your first question, experience and academic rigor."
"How will you even take my mask? No one has been able to take it from me."
"You will give it to me."
"Oui, if you can keep a hold of them, Mr. Caxton, then I see nothing wrong with it!"
A confident smirk bled onto Manon's face as she upturned her hand and dropped her mask's shards into Mr. Caxton's singular hand. With no ceremony, he took them, and placed them out onto a work bench. At that, Manon curled her fingers and jumped when she realized she couldn't recall the shards.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing, you gave them to me."
"You took them."
"Not from my point of view."
That was when Manon became unsure of just exactly what Mr. Caxton was. She tried to muster the words, but nothing seemed to take form. Her head turned just so to Johann, and muttered something from the left of her mouth.
"I think we should go."
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Mr. Blackbird Lore
- Posts: 726
- Joined: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:48 pm
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
The exchange between professor and font put a tension in the air that made the necromancer uncomfortable. So he eagerly nodded and fled the room when Manon suggested it.
Silence dominated their retreat, each busy with their own thoughts. To Johann, though, it was a comfortable silence. He had learned so much in such a short span and there was a lot to process; he had his feelings to process too. A day ago he could have said with certitude he disliked, possibly even HATED, Manon the Clown. But now… it was was hard enough for Johann to cultivate hate. Trying to hate Manon after discovering she was a font— a REAL, living font!— hating her would be like hating a cancer patient because she had a dark sense of humor about her condition.
So he was resolved to be her good friend— maybe even her BEST friend. Chuffy had always been his and always would be, but she could be his best person-friend. If she wanted to, anyways.
They arrived at his room first. He looked at her, trying to find the right words. After a few awkward moments he hugged her. “I’ll always be your friendddd, Manon.” He was blushing when they separated. He always got embarrassed by stuttering when he was trying to be serious. “Evvvveryone needs friends. It makes the pain easier.”
It was evident in the little necromancer’s lone eye and casual tone that he was no stranger to pain.
Silence dominated their retreat, each busy with their own thoughts. To Johann, though, it was a comfortable silence. He had learned so much in such a short span and there was a lot to process; he had his feelings to process too. A day ago he could have said with certitude he disliked, possibly even HATED, Manon the Clown. But now… it was was hard enough for Johann to cultivate hate. Trying to hate Manon after discovering she was a font— a REAL, living font!— hating her would be like hating a cancer patient because she had a dark sense of humor about her condition.
So he was resolved to be her good friend— maybe even her BEST friend. Chuffy had always been his and always would be, but she could be his best person-friend. If she wanted to, anyways.
They arrived at his room first. He looked at her, trying to find the right words. After a few awkward moments he hugged her. “I’ll always be your friendddd, Manon.” He was blushing when they separated. He always got embarrassed by stuttering when he was trying to be serious. “Evvvveryone needs friends. It makes the pain easier.”
It was evident in the little necromancer’s lone eye and casual tone that he was no stranger to pain.
Re: [Safeholme] A Student Renewed
It had gotten late after their sojourn, most of the people passing by were in the pajamas or sleep-wear, finishing their nightly visits and errands before disappearing off to bed. The sconced crystals on the wall had dimmed to indicate that lights out would be soon, like bulbs withering without power. In the hard, blue light, the two students cut an almost fae like appearance in the dim.
Manon, in no appearance of a clown save for her polka-dot pajamas, considered Johann's words with a thoughtful look on her face. The soft shadows on her face cut the features in hard shapes, giving her a rather dramatic look. In most of the times Johann had seen her, she had always worn a mask or some kind of heavy, painted make-up that obscured her natural features. Moreover, her small, sweeping nose had been always obscured by a big, red nose. She had the look of a normal girl, one that leveled a focused gaze on him like few could.
Drysi had been waiting for them at her and Willow's door, but merely relegated herself to spectating while the two talks. Then her eyes went wide.
It had been quick, with a swift grace that beheld a new mindfulness for him. One moment her lips were on his, and then they were at his ear. It was easy to hear her lively heartbeat.
"J'aime les hommes courageux," she whispered.
Honk!
Manon sounded her bike horn, back-pedaling away and giggling like a fool. She danced on her toes back to her door, her unmarked face strangely red and happy as she spun about. She yanked her door open and threw herself behind it, before sticking her head out.
"Merci, Johann! I will be seeing you tomorrow!"
Her glowing red face disappeared behind the door before it closed.
Manon, in no appearance of a clown save for her polka-dot pajamas, considered Johann's words with a thoughtful look on her face. The soft shadows on her face cut the features in hard shapes, giving her a rather dramatic look. In most of the times Johann had seen her, she had always worn a mask or some kind of heavy, painted make-up that obscured her natural features. Moreover, her small, sweeping nose had been always obscured by a big, red nose. She had the look of a normal girl, one that leveled a focused gaze on him like few could.
Drysi had been waiting for them at her and Willow's door, but merely relegated herself to spectating while the two talks. Then her eyes went wide.
It had been quick, with a swift grace that beheld a new mindfulness for him. One moment her lips were on his, and then they were at his ear. It was easy to hear her lively heartbeat.
"J'aime les hommes courageux," she whispered.
Honk!
Manon sounded her bike horn, back-pedaling away and giggling like a fool. She danced on her toes back to her door, her unmarked face strangely red and happy as she spun about. She yanked her door open and threw herself behind it, before sticking her head out.
"Merci, Johann! I will be seeing you tomorrow!"
Her glowing red face disappeared behind the door before it closed.