"Are you sure you don't want any medical attention? I would generally advise against that." Amelia urged, but the boy on the ground (who had since gotten unsteadily to his feet) just dismissed the comment.
"I told you already, I'm fine. I don't need any help!" Elmer grumbled, dusting himself off. He didn't look that badly beaten up, though it was hard to tell in the failing light and Amelia still wasn't satisfied. If that person had used a stand on him she needed to keep a close eye out. Make sure he didn't start acting strange.
There was a small cut on his cheek, a slight bruise developing underneath it, along with a scrape on the palm of his left hand. "At least let me give you a couple plasters." Amelia said, pulling the brown backpack off their shoulders and digging inside it for a small first aid kit.
"What I need is my wallet back. Besides from my money it's got all my ID in, and my uni card!" The young man explained, voice rising with frustration. Perhaps if Amelia had gone after the assailant they may have been able to retrieve Elmer's wallet. Though, their conscience told them making sure the victim was okay first was much more important. Besides, they would be long gone by now.
"I'm sure it will turn up. I will take a look around later to see if it was dumped anywhere." Amelia offered before taking the paper backing off of a plaster. "First, let me sort out these cuts."
This time Elmer didn't protest, just sat there a little impatiently as the First Year attended to his injuries in turn.
"What did they look like?" Amelia asked, Elmer inspecting the work on his hand. "Well, pretty sure they were a girl, from the tone of voice." He explained. "I didn't really get a good look though, what with her just attacking me put of the blue like that. Hm, darkish hair I suppose, and dressed in black." He made a disgusted face "Oh and they were wearing this ugly old-fashioned cloak thing."
He twinged slightly as Amelia dabbed some a small cotton ball of antiseptic on the back of his hand. "I was just minding my own business when she completely bumped into me. I apologised even though it was her fault then she just stared at me like a weirdo for a second." The student explained with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't think much of it when she suddenly ran up to me and started saying something but I have no idea what language it was and she was seriously freaking me out so I tried to get away and that was when she started wailing on me."
Amelia got up with a small sigh, a seemingly unprovoked attack? That complicated matters. Not to mention Elmer's description was as good as theirs- pretty much useless.
Apart from the gothic cloak, now that wasn't something you saw everyday. She was trying to consolidate a mental image of the attacker in her mind when something shiny caught her eye.
Sticking out from in between a cracked piece of pavement was a small object. Looking closer Amelia realised what it was. A button.
"I must've ripped that off them in the scuffle." Elmer declared as the other pawed over the item, gold and round, with some kind of engraving on it. It looked a crest of some description. "Like the ones at home." Amelia muttered to themself. It could, of course, just be a pattern of no significance, but what if it wasn't? Either way, this was Amelia's only piece of evidence to fall back on. 'Now I just need to find a black cloak that's missing a button...'
"Well..."
The blonde student quickly pocketed the item as Elmer stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm gonna go now...." the boy continued before looking away, somewhat embarrassed. "Thanks...I suppose..." he mumbled. Amelia smiled at him "You're very welcome. Are you sure you don't want me to walk you-"
"-Don't make me regret thanking you. Really I'm fine." Elmer remarked, his whole personality seemingly changing to cool and collected, completely unbothered. The other thought the change was rather amusing but she did not show it. "I'll keep an eye out for your wallet." Amelia explained, packing up their things as the other walked off with a lazy wave.
Turning a corner Elmer let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, he hadn't wanted to admit it to the other but he was glad they'd arrived when they did, something about the mystery attacker seemed so sinister- like they wouldn't have stopped no matter what. He shivered before a twinge of pain gnawed at his right shoulder, it felt like there was heat radiating off it 'I guess I must've got hurt there too...' he reasoned, trying to shake the pain off.
Amelia treaded across the grass towards her block, trying to keep an eye out for Elmer's wallet. The darkness certainly didn't help though. Just a little ways away they saw two students walking off in the direction of Riperton House; the shorter of the two was swamped in a denim jacket whilst the other was laughing loudly, jumping around in the slightly dewy grass. Amelia thought the sight was rather amusing. "Well I better just head home, maybe I can look for it tomorrow morning." They reasoned, smiling happily to themselves before the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Amelia shivered.
Someone was watching.
(Monday~ 10.45 am)
"And over here is the Arts department, or more specifically the 'Art' part of the Arts department." The student announced, looking pleased with themself, and looking like the most stereotypical tour guide person ever- bright purple t-shirt, purple hat, little purple flag, the works. The other guide supervising the back of the group looked far more interested in his phone than anything else.
"Once we've explored this area a little bit I'll take you down to the music building and finally onto performing arts. The university has recently received special funding from a certain famous foundation, which has aided the Arts department massively. I can't wait to show you all our new facilities!" They exclaimed, as if that was the most exciting thing in the world.
'I wish you would just get on with the tour so we can all go home.'
Félix was not in the best of moods.
He was tired. For one, because the students upstairs had decided to throw a freshers party in the kitchen until 2am; and two, because after Félix had finally managed to get his head down to sleep he was awoken by a terrible sound he later realised (after some half-asleep investigation) was just Arin banging something together until the most ungodly hours.
So, suffice to say, he was a little cranky.
He felt bad though, the guide was just doing his job after all. Besides, this was useful information to have, Félix certainly didn't want to spend the first two weeks of his university experience struggling to find where he was supposed to be going every hour of the day.
"Through here everyone!" The tour guide chirped, funnelling the students a narrow passageway and into a large dance studio. The vinyl floor was smooth and nice to walk on, mirrors lined each wall, adorned with polished wooden handrails- barres Félix knew they were called. It made the whole room feel light and airy.
"Is this the new studio that was opened last year?" A voice from behind Félix said. He turned around, spotting the student, a very pale boy, slightly shorter than himself (but only by a few centimetres if that), dressed in a smart grey turtleneck and dark chinos, his curly royal blue hair and sharp green eyes captivating him in an instant.
The tour guide grinned brightly. "Yes it is! Someone's been doing their research!"
Of course- the research had always been the most important task that Eliezer had to fulfil.
"We used to just have the two smaller studio upstairs and all the dance societies used to have to fight over it, not to mention karate- those guys were always sneaking up there to practice. But now we have this nice big one everyone's happy! It's used for all sorts now, ballet, classic, hip hop, salsa, plus the pole fitness society use the upstairs studio for themselves as well and-" Félix had stopped paying attention, he was too busy staring at the other student.
"-and it's got excellent acoustics, let me demonstrate!" The tour guide explained, quickly pressing the play button on his phone. The music blasted from the speakers, causing everyone to cover their ears as he sheepishly turned it down a notch. "Sorry, got a little carried away there!"
Félix listened to the now pleasant level of the music, recollection on his face in almost an instant. "Oh, I know this..." he mused "it's-"
"-Dance of the Goblets, from Swan Lake." The other boy said, voice carrying a soft, subtle accent now that Félix heard him better. He turned to the pale boy. "Oh, are you a fan?"
Eliezer's eyes showed a sort of intensity that the other could not understand. "I suppose you could say that."
The ruby curtains raised as young men and women flooded the stage, bodies moving with the elegance and majesty of a dozen swans taking flight as the orchestra's music filled the grand theatre. The young man in black took the hand of a young woman, lifting her through the air as others spun and leapt around him. The audience gasped with joy at the entrancing spectacle before them. Sergei Maximoff whispered something into his wife's ear as the dancers completed turn after turn, his seat up in the gallery provided him with the best view, as was befitting of his elite status. A flicker of silver caught on the overhead stage lights, the politician lurched forwards, drops of crimson spoiling his white suit that seemed to be barely containing his body. His hand flew to his chest where the crimson patch was growing larger, a slim silver dagger marking the spot. The music swelled as Dance of the Goblets rose to its final crescendo, the dancers continuing, completely unaware as the man fell to a crumpled heap on the floor.
"-Did you know it's been argued that Swan Lake can be viewed as a gay love story?" Félix remarked, pulling Eliezer immediately out of his reverie. "What?"
Félix nodded, pushing up his glasses a little before continuing. "It's been debated by scholars that Swan Lake is as much a fantasy-filled love story between Odette and the Prince as it is as a tragic portrayal of Tchaikovsky's
own closeted homosexuality, wherein the swan dies of heartbreak because they can never be with the Prince, just as those of the same sex could not be together at the time.
In fact Matthew Bourne wrote a reimagined ballet using this premise, my papa took me to see it in London last year. It won an Olivier Award. It was exceptionally beautiful but very sad. You know, it's just like the tragedy of the mermaid in Hans Christian Anderson's fairytale, doomed to become seafoam when she and the prince cannot be together. He wrote it whilst in a grief-stricken state after hearing that his friend Edvard Collin, who he was in love with, had gotten married and-" he stopped at the look the other was giving him.
"Well that's...quite depressing." The boy said and Félix's cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment. 'What the fuck what the fuck what the FUCK is wrong with you!!!! Why oh WHY are you like thisssss!!!!' His monologue screeched at him 'Are you planning on scaring ALL of your potential friends off?'
A friend? Well, secretly Félix hoped this guy may become a little more than a friend to him.
'Oh well good FUCKING luck with that!'
"You seem to know a lot about it." Félix was relieved to hear a voice that wasn't his own piercing one. Though it was hard to gauge the other's thoughts, his face just looked so...indifferent, bored, straightforward. Félix honestly wasn't sure if the comment was supposed to a compliment or an insult.
"Oh well I uh, like that kind of stuff- uh classical um music and things I mean, film trivia. I do Art so." He shook his head, extending his hand even though everything within himself told him just to run away as fast as possible. He took a deep breath 'Come on, be brave, like Papa taught you'. "Sorry, that was literally the worst way I could have introduced myself. Let me start again. My name is Félix."
The other stood there, almost as if studying the boy for a moment before shaking his hand, face still blank. "Eliezer Morozov, nice to meet you."
(11.30 am)
"So the rumours are true, he really is here." The man sat back in his chair, the computer screen reflected in his navy-rimmed glasses. The fountain pen perched between his thumb and index finger, always teetering but never falling. He snatched it quickly, crossing something off his list, the dark ink bleeding through the paper. He turned his head at the softest creak in the floorboards, the maroon of his eyes swiftly changing from bitter coffee to warm chocolate in an instant.
"Ah Cerys, I didn't see you there."
The girl had a certain knack for appearing out of thin air. It wasn't as though she was particularly sneaky, moreso it was the fact that people tended not to pay that much attention to her. Not that she could blame them, there was nothing remarkable about her to pay attention to anyhow.
"Croissant?" The young man asked but the girl shook her head softly, strawberry blonde braids swinging about slightly as she did so. "Flaava's asleep." She mumbled simply, her voice quiet as a mouse. To the unfamiliar it would be almost impossible to distinguish that she was, in fact, speaking words. But the black-haired man had no such troubles.
"I see." He remarked, peeling a layer of pastry off the treat and popping it in his mouth. It would be pointless to wake the sleeping girl up now. He'd just have to wait until tonight.
"I wanted to ask her something, but the beetles wouldn't let me pass." The girl muttered, perching slightly on the edge of the man's well-made bed.
His eyes turned back to the screen. The photo was grainy, but the man knew who it was. "I never thought it could be true, Morozov, here." He crossed his legs underneath the desk, placing his hand underneath his chin. "Well that certainly makes things..."
"C-complicated?" Came the tiny voice from behind him. The man turned around, a sly smile on his face. "Actually, I was going to say interesting..."
Ah, there was that glint Cerys was so used to, though it was more frequently expressed whenever Flaava made up some stupid excuse as to why she couldn't do her job properly. He switched off his computer and rose to his feet, towering over the small girl like almost everyone did, his fluffy white cat slippers a contrast to the black and red pinstripe suit he was wearing. He turned to the small girl, sticking his hands in his pocket. "Say, it's a beautiful day outside, how's about we get some gelato?"
Cerys' lilac eyes lit up as she hopped down from the bed and César let out a small chuckle, heading for the door. "Don't let Flaava know, it'll be our little secret."
((NOT me saying I wouldn't be taking so long to publish this chapter and then publishing it TO THE VERY DAY a whole-ass month later. Haha anyway it's here so I hope you enjoy.
No choices this time though some more new (and returning 👀) characters added to the roster, the mystery deepens....
Also yeah, queer art exists in classics yo, we love to see it, also extra note Matthew Bourne's swan lake is an ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE 👌🏽 if you're not a fan of ballet it's still a must, it's got a great blend of ballet and modern dance along with a updated 60sish feel to it which I really appreciate as well as MALE SWANS and the aforementioned love story. Okay okay I'll shut up about it now but yeah thanks for the continued support I love you all!! 💖💖💖))