❝The universe is full of stars. If it weren't for them, the galaxies wouldn't be bright and the night sky would be a lifeless veil of blue because one can rely on the moon only for so long. The universe wouldn't be itself if all those stars -althoug...
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"HOW COME THERE aren't potions that can make you hotter?"
Lyla stifled a chuckle as she kept on reading the labels. They were in search of healing potions against Dark Magic and Anti-God Magic. These were the simple terms she kept in mind because her brain refused to remember the actual names Hilary pronounced. Although she had a great memory, Potion Labels were one of her major flaws among the courses. She couldn't recall one without expecting her head to explode.
She thanked God for the millionth time there were descriptions of each potion's effects and side-effects, otherwise she would've stood in the corner, sheepish. Being sick, hurt or dead sounded less stressful than having to step aside due to incapacity. She loathed the mere idea of it, and promised to herself she was going to work hard for that A instead of a B minus during the upcoming exams. She almost had straight As, but Potion Labels and Spell Breaking were the drawbacks of the situation, the courses that held her back.
Spell Breaking was a nightmare. She hadn't succeeded not even once — to awaken another student from states such as Hypnosis and Mind Control. That alone was frustrating. It overwhelmed her with a sense of uselessness and despair, emotions she wasn't keen on reliving. The inner embarrassment during the classes sufficed.
Lyla blinked. She was getting carried away and grounded herself at the right moment to hear Johnny mutter a muffled string of curses.
"Too bad there isn't one to fix your ugly mug," he said through gritted teeth. His anger was still ablaze from the prank Tyson pulled on him while he was asleep.
It was a universal truth that Johnny Garcia was a heavy sleeper. No one was surprised when Tyson drew a Santa on his face under the pretense he was helping a teammate to lift his festive spirit, but the twist they couldn't had imagined was his interference with Johnny's bullets.
No one touched Johnny's bullets.
He had woken at the crack of dawn, the tension from the unfolding events of the trip pumping in his veins. For an hour he'd been staring at the ceiling, his mind going blank. He hadn't planned on overthinking everything, but the inertia had forced him into a restless state. He had to find a productive way to rid himself off the confined energy, and, there was nothing better than an all-time-classic, harmless prank.
Or, so he'd thought.
Johnny's belt of bullet cases had flared a spark of uncombative intrigue. Tyson had succumbed to his curiosity and edged closer, pulling at the belt to remove it from Johnny's black jeans. He'd studied the contents of each case, clueless. Other than the difference between the colors, there wasn't another factor that could help the distinction of their abilities.
In the end, the Lake-Blue ones had won him. He'd grasped a bullet, his fingers toying with it as he studied it from different angles. He'd shot a brief glance at Johnny's Santa face and bit a snicker.
