∞
After spending the rest of my day sleeping like the dead, I woke up hours before I was expected at Richmond Hall. At exactly six p.m, a half hour before we agreed to meet up, and a half hour before Paris returned from Wyvern practice, I disappeared between the shadows and emerged from the corner of Paris' empty bedroom. I hadn't intentionally chose the corner, only dropped in where the shadows were deepest in the room. When on the other side of the veil, I could only sense darkness, not furniture or any other physical indicators. So I was thankful I didn't pop up from under his bed or some other, less dignifying location.
Upon emerging in Paris' room, I stepped out from the shadows, which had darkened and thickened to accommodate my presence, straining to keep me invisible in the bright lighting. It would be of no use to me if I could be spotted in the shadows, for they were meant to conceal me, not reveal. Stealthily, I surfaced from the shade, and if anyone were watching, they would see my floating head first, then my shoulders and the rest of my body as I emerged.
Paris room was very...Paris. It was decorated in light blue and gold, with his family crest on a lapis banner hanging from his stone wall. It was bright, and I realized I would have to keep our visits limited to after sunset, because his dorm directly faced the West. Splendid.
I began to snoop about his room, attempting to find anything was remotely useful for leverage. His room was tidy, everything in their designated spots and stored away neatly, so I had to pay extra attention to the items that I picked up. He had framed diplomas on the walls, rewarded to him for his outstanding achievements, both in the scholastic and magical field. A shelf was littered with his Wyvern Fray Relay Trophies and medallions, each from sixth year and up. I knew first hand, that the sport brought in many, many winnings for our school. As it's captain and lead rider, even more so for Paris.
The Wyvern Fray Relay istelf, or as the school nicknamed it "The Fray" , was our schools pride and joy. It was a dragon relay that the administration pumped millions of dollars into each year. Our team was undefeated, and the players took cocky pride in it, Clairmont especially. In my opinion, it was simply an overrated version of arial polo, where the riders replaced the pony's with twenty-foot, fire-breathing serpents .
The goal of the game was ultimately to make a shot in the other teams goal, the dragons trained to carry specialized, two-ton, golden balls through flaming hoops. The goal itself was a huge, golden torch that stood 100 feet in the air, waiting for a dragon to hurl the burning ball into it and light it aflame.
The catch was that the dragon could only ignite the ball while going through the final goalie hoop, seeing that if they did it any earlier, it would burn their feet (the one part of their body that wasn't covered in fire-proof, wyvern scales). They couldn't avoid it, seeing that if they curled their feet up to protect the soles, they would drop the ball. But by waiting to light the ball on the flame of the goalie hoop, the dragons would only hold it for a millisecond, before methodically throwing it up at the torch. Once the torch lit aflame, the ripple of heat, so bright that it momentary blinded you, informed the entire audience of the win.
Though the wyverns themselves were captivating to watch, their sleek bodies rippling with sheer strength and cunning speed, I held no other interest with the game. I admired wyverns, but not enough to sit through five hours of watching them tussle for a ball. The mage put them up to it, demeaning them and their intelligence, so it was unbearable for me to watch. It was practically abuse that these beautiful creatures were reduced to such mockery.
I let the Wyvern Fray medal fall back on the shelf, before moving on. I continued shuffling about Paris' room, poking at his riding leathers, skimming through his books incase he carved them out to hide items, like I did, and going through his drawers, hoping to find something useful. My efforts were fruitless, as I found nothing. Absolutely nothing. The only thing that would have been mildly interesting, was his possession of Aline's locket, but I was there when he took it so there was no mystery behind the item.
I sunk into his spinny, leather arm chair, emitting a frustrated sigh. He had to have something useful. No single person could be so transparent, so...decent. I picked up the framed image of his wyvern- a magnificent, white Windweaver from his desk. I rattled it, removing the back for a hidden compartment. Nothing. I placed it back on the desk with an annoyed inhale, observing the image.
The dragon was fully white, with kaleidoscopic eyes that shimmered in various hues. It was an expensive steed. That I knew for sure, considering the fact that It was one of the highest ranked, pureblood wyverns on the market. Windweavers were particularly skilled in their speed and capabilities of navigating through narrow spaces. They were named after the way they gracefully weaved their way through obstacles. It didn't hurt that they were also beautiful, meticulously aiding to Paris' hero complex by complimenting him perfectly.
It's iridescently-pristine, white scales added to Paris' whole "holier-than-though", saintly image. The body of the ivory dragon shimmered in the sun. And with Paris' ability to attract the sun, the same way I attracted shadows, they always flew radiantly under a ray of sunlight. Sometimes it punctured through waves and waves of grey clouds and unseemly weather, just so that it could shine down on them.
'Show off' I scoffed to myself, though I had to admit, it was a good maneuvering for his public image. I wondered if his publicist orchestrated it for him, like my publicist often did for me and my siblings. Daphne, the poor girl, was overworked with maintaining my families portrayal to the media. We really made it hard for her to do her job.
Jerking me from my thoughts, my shadows sent a warning tremor down my string of awareness. I had placed them as watch guards at the end of the hall, incase Paris' decided to show up early.
Quickly pulling the shadows to myself and my leather chair, I waited. Sat in the corner, I watched the door knob rattle. Paris threw open the door, letting in a gust of fresh air rampage the room as he ran in. The scent of the outdoors, wet grass and crisp, autumn air, fluffed up his damp curls.
Flicking the light on, the sun having set and providing us with minimal, receding light, he quickly threw his wyvern's harnesses to the floor. Turning to his mirror, his ran his fingers through his blond hair. He was out of breath, from most likely having sprinted up from the practice field.
"Come on, focus, Paris" He said, smacking his rosy cheeks, as if attempting to wake himself up. They were flushed from his workout, with his hair disheveled by the wind.
"Don't mess-up today". His complexion was a vibrant, healthy shade that I could only dream of. My face never retained any color, always wan and morbidly pale. I was not Eulalia, if I did not forever look on the brink of an unpleasant death, most likely from tuberculosis. Honestly, I was born in the wrong era. The Victorian Era would have adored me.
"You can do it" He gave himself a little pep-talk, swiping his hair up with his hand, in attempt to flatten it out. In my opinion, it looked better unruly and wild like that.
"You can do what?" I spoke up from my corner, clearing away my camouflage of shadows. Before my eyes could even process the glint of gold, his full sword was unsheathed and outreached before him. Wrath shone on his expression, his eyes glinting with deadly intent. I watched as recognition lit his chiseled features, making him drop his sword and exhaled wearily.
My heartbeat had spiked, but I didn't even have time to process panic. It was over before the thoughts could even form. I blinked at him, still as death in an attempt to remain unbothered. I didn't think I was breathing, till he let the sword morph back into his family crest ring.
"How long have you been there?" He asked, glancing around the room in a newfound suspicion, as if I was hiding my monster crony's under his bed and in his closet. I cleared my throat, attempting to calm my racing heart.
"Not long" I said vaguely, refusing to indulge in specifics, "You can do what?" I asked again. My shadows spun the arm chair slightly, rotating me slowly and ominously, but never obscuring my view to Paris.
"Nothing" He shook his head. My temper prickled with irritation. Raising an unamused eyebrow him, I left it be, for now.
"You're early" He stated, looking at the electric clock on his desk for confirmation. I was- indeed- early. I trailed my eyes up and down his figure, taking in his post-practice, rumpled appearance. He had a smear of dirt on his cheek, his hair fluffed from riding in the wind, and his clothing was athletic and warm, designed to keep him cosy at such high altitudes. Though I doubt it was of any concern for our Sun Mage, with his abnormally high body temperature. His red sweatshirt, a school provided Fray team garment, held his name embroidered above the school emblem.
"And you're sweaty" I came to a conclusion, deciding on the appropriate commentary towards his appearance. I didn't bother to point out that his tan skin was basically glowing from the exercise, or that his hair looked...better than usual blown out like that. Annoyed by my intrusive thoughts, I scowled.
"Why are you even sweaty? The dragons are the ones that do all the work" I stated bluntly, throwing my boots up onto his hardwood desk. I slipped one of my plainer daggers, a regular steel with black leather wrappings on the handle, out of my sleeve compartment and into my hands. To Paris' unknowing eyes, it would have simply appeared in my hands. One moment it was there, and one moment it was not. I twirled it under my nail, digging under it to pick out non-existent dirt.
"Well that's not really true" He contradicted, slumping down onto his blue couch, directly across from me. If he was waiting for a sign from me, to indicate that I wanted him to continue, he did not receive it. The only gesture I made was raising my eyebrow in impatience, expecting him to continue. I was not going to grovel, especially not for his self-inflated, mindless game, though I admittedly knew little about it.
"We have to use our full body strength, all our body muscles straining to shift alongside the dragons. If we sit stiff in our saddles, we'll get in the way of their flying, increasing aerodynamic resistance and slowing them down. When it comes to speed, milliseconds make a difference on who wins and looses. So we have to twist and adjust ourselves, while simultaneously steering. And that's a whole other story"
Remembering himself as he rambled, he quickly stopped and looked at me, waiting for me to interrupt. I had never spoken to him, or let alone allowed him speak for this long, without threatening him to make him shut up. I didn't give him the satisfaction of asking him to continue, only sat back as if to make myself comfortable.
If he didn't stop acting weird about this, about me not knowing about a topic, and about him being the one educating me for once, I would make sure that this was the last time I showed any interest to him. If he didn't like inquisitive Eulalia, then he could stick with bitch Eulalia, who didn't allow him to speak to her.
Paris cleared his throat, in attempt to disguise his shock,
"The problem with steering, is that the reins weigh thirty pounds. We have to regularly lift weights to maintain their weight. For the dragons to feel even the slightest twinge, the harnesses need to be considerably burdensome, even more so for us" He glanced over at me and my mildly interested expression, still carefully bordering on bored, before asking, "Isn't Clarimont Zhifeng your friend? Doesn't he tell you about this?"
Snapping me out of my benevolent state, I was reminded why we were here.
"Not that it's any of your business, but no, we don't. I don't particularly care about the disrespectful, demeaning mockery of dragons you lot call sport. I don't bother asking, and he doesn't bother indulging. So lets continue with that spirit and get down to business, because I'm not here to listen to your lecture about aerodynamics and rein weights" I said frigidly and rather rudely.
His eyebrows rose up to his hairline, probably shocked by my sudden demeanor change, before shrugging his shoulders as if to say, "Your wish is my command". His passiveness irritated me, though I know I would have hated him much more, had he been like me; relentlessly opposing by every step.
Paris quickly did a scouring charm, bringing a breeze of fresh, mountain air and geranium blossoms to the room. The dirt and sweat vanished from his body and clothing. It was peculiar that he used that particular scent, seeing that he always smelled of vanilla. I personally preferred the smell of winter wind when I did use the enchantment, but I usually just opted for a shower; boiling water somehow felt cleaner to me then magically induced sanitization.
"Now that we have our statement from Aline, we have to clear some things" I announced to him in a businesslike tone, dragging my eyes away from his now-spotless attire. I fished around the contents of my satchel, before finally finding and pulling out my notepad. It was black, the boning bound in leather with a cover that wrapped around the entirety of it, holding it rigidly upright and closed tight.
I despised weak-willed, bendable journals, lacking any boning to keep them firm. A journal reflected it's owner, and if yours was mistreated and bent, shoved inconsequentially into cluttered bags, then the owner was too. I also bought strictly hardcover books, partially because of the same philosophical viewpoint, but mostly because hardcover was simply prettier. They were nice to look at.
"Starting off with who we suspect to have summoned it" Paris inserted himself into my carefully devised speech. I rolled my eyes at him.
"I was getting there" I snapped at him, before yanking open my notebook with more force than necessary. I shot him a petty glare, before continuing, "First, tell me everything you know. All of it. We need all the insight we can get, so don't withhold any information"
He pursed his lips, obviously not pleased with having to lay down his playing cards first. Emitting a sigh, he conceded, relinquishing the information he had on the case, "The professors didn't tell me much. What bits they did tell me, was given in sympathy towards the situation and in confidence with my character. They trust me, and knew that I wasn't responsible for it. They also trusted me not to tell anyone, but here we are..." He sighed.
My journal was animatedly scribbling down his words, the words magically appearing on the page. It was enchanted to record all his facts, me having pulled a fresh, unused notebook from my collection, especially for his case. What I didn't need, was him giving me his whole life story before getting to the facts. I opened this notebook, in assumption that he would get straight to the point, besides filling my journal with useless, inconsequential rambles and superficial statements.
"Get to the point" I snapped, which also recorded into my journal. Great, my one-of-a-kind, enchanted journal was being wasted. It took me ages of my precious time and an abundance of rare ingredients, to make these journals. They were only a dozen of them in existence. I had created them specifically, so that the writing in them would disappear, if someone besides myself touched them.
It scanned their magical signature, like a machine might scan finger prints, and if it didn't match up to mine, the words would vanish. If it detected someone's magical signature repeatedly trying to open my journal, it combusted into flames, protecting my secrets and confidential information to the very last. I specifically crafted it to explode, in hopes that it would blow off the hands of the culprit. Now this gloriously crafted journal, was being used to record his trash information.
"They told me that the magic was ancient and dark. I realized it wasn't you, when the professors explained to me that, to summon such a beast, it would require an abundance of black magic. And you know how black magic takes a toll on the body. The person who summoned it, they would have had to sacrifice multiple mages to gather such an amount of mana. Not humans, not magical beasts, but mages, the top of the food chain when it came to magical supply. If you had murdered other students, we would have known"
I scoffed at him, but didn't commentate on the statement. I had enough sense to tame my ego, knowing that me denying his statement, wouldn't do me much good regarding my self-proclaimed innocence.
"The body. Tell me about the state of the body in full detail. We need all the information we can get" I stated, sounding more like a therapist than a detective. Paris inhaled a shuddering sigh.
"If you don't want to, I can drag the twins up here and have them retrieve the information" I threatened him, in an attempt to motivate his words. I was bluffing of course; I would never involve the twins, for they were notorious for their ability of NOT keeping secrets. Gossiping was their best talent, next to not minding their business.
"No!" He blurted, before hesitantly beginning, "The body. I had found it first. Something was off in the air. The night that I had caught out your demon summoning, it was like that. A feeling of dread in my stomach, anxiety in the fact that something was wrong. I couldn't shake the feeling, as I followed my way towards the feeling. It just got worse the closer I got. My sword became hotter as I descended further towards her- her body and the demonic presence"
I tucked away that bit of information for later. Knowing his sword heated at the scent of dark magic, was valuable knowledge.
"The feeling was so horrendous by the time that I reached her, that I threw up twice. Once from the magic- induced state of sickness, and once more from seeing her body. It was shredded. Nothing was left intact. Her chest clavicle was ripped straight open, what was left of her- her insides strewn about her mutilated body. Her heart, lungs, kidneys- all of it was gone. Her right arm, the elbow down, was missing too. Her face was contorted, eyes open and mouth agape. She looked as if she died screaming, frozen in place" Paris had began crying at the recollection. My notebook simply continued writing on. I peaked over It's pages to see if it was getting all the words.
"Her skull was cracked open, nearly her entire brain gone, with chunks of her skull was missing. There was nothing. Nothing of her body left untouched by the red of her blood. It was still fresh, wet. She must have been screaming when she died. But I didn't hear her. Why didn't I hear her?" His voice was miserable and wavering, thick with grief as he recollected the memories.
"So the internal organs were all gone...It eats the soft organs like a scavenging animal..." I mused, turning back to Paris to ask, "Why did you leave, Paris?" Not everyone would be so eager to abandon the murdered corpse of their childhood friend, if not lover. Paris glanced at me sharply.
"The fact that the blood was fresh and warm. It meant that whatever did that to her, was still around. I went to get help, before I went to hunt down the beast itself. But we didn't find it, no matter how hard the professors and I looked for it. We did find her arm, though" He swallowed thickly, his Adams apple straining to bob. Once he was done speaking, the writing on the journal stopped. I wanted to ask him to speak clearer and less emotional, so that my journal could record without any typos or misinterpreted words, but decided not to test my luck.
"And thats when you came to me" I concluded. Guilt flooded his features, and before he could apologize for the millionth time, I quickly added on, "Where I was studying about the creature, having found out about it earlier in the day"
I could see the question swirling on his features, so I quickly explained, "I have eyes and ears all throughout the school, Paris. Sources for information. I vaguely knew about it's existence before it attacked her. And nothing specific, only that there was a demon in the academy"
He cleared his throat, nodding solemnly, "I- when Headmistress Rowena told me the summoner had to have used black magic, through sacrifices, I instantly thought back to you. I initially suspected you because you admitted to regularly summoning demons. Especially ones as powerful as Umbra's. That's what I thought you sacrificed them for: access to black magic. But after I attacked you..." his throat constructed as he swallowed, "I realized that you did it to feed Beastly. And I realized how hypocritical it was of me to demonize you for killing demons, when Light Mages did the same all the time. I'm- I'm so sorry about your neck, Eulalia. You don't know how sorry I-"
I cut him off with a raise of my hand, shaking my head to indicate that I did not want to hear it.
"I am not here for that" I grit out, refusing to listen to his apology. He pursed his lips solemnly, but didn't go any further.
I snapped my fingers, summoning the discontinued, ancient version of the Book of Beasts. It floated in the air before gently placing itself down on the table. I had borrowed it under my professor-pseudonym, afraid that if I simply stole the book, the library would punish me.
I turned the book around, so that Paris could scan it's contents. I sharply jerked my head up at him, keeping eye contact as I pushed the book forward.
"The demon is named a Chudovische. It's native to Russia, and had an affinity for magical flesh. Only after your kind, the Light Practitioners and more specifically Sun Mages, hunted it to near extinction, did it start migrating out of it's natural territories and attacking mages. It was forced out"
Paris scanned the contents of the book, his eyes quickly skimming through the scarce information provided on the page.
"And then your patron Goddess blessed it to be practically immortal" he said conclusively. I saw red that he was blaming the patron goddess of dark magic. Of course he found someway to turn it around us.
"After your kind angered her by hunting it for sport, to the point where it could no longer simply exist. Only after they hunted it out, did it start feeding on mages" I bit back.
"So you're saying it's our fault that a blood thirsty, murderous, canibalistic demon decided to start eating people?!" He snapped at me, angered by my words.
"Yes, precisely" I ground back, "It's written in the book. Just because you refuse to believe anything but your whole, 'Light Mages can do no harm' charade, does not mean it's true. You're living proof of it. The fact that the Chudovische first attacks the right arms of light Mages, where you lot wear you crest rings, is proof of it. I'm here for factual evidence not your hysterical, rambling bias" I hissed at him, enjoying the way his jaw ticked. He had jumped up in a fit of rage, staring me down. My hands were planted firmly on the desk as I leaned forward out of my seat, staring right back. I reciprocated the flaming anger in his eyes, with my own, icy ire. My shadows roused, riling up with malicious intent.
"Sit. Down" I demanded, and he stared me down. After a moment, he finally complied, albeit a bit angrily with his movements jerky. He collapsed back into his seat on the blue couch, with a heavy huff. Oh boo-hoo, huff and puff all you want, but we would get through this.
"Now that we've established it's magical backround, we have to examine what exactly brought the creature to our school specifically. It last sighting was countries ago in Alaska. It couldn't have just randomly appeared in our school. Someone summoned it, and had enough access to black magic to throw the professors off" I told him. His eyes instantly narrowed in suspicion. He was just bitter I wouldn't accept his apology.
"Again, Paris, we've established that it isn't me. Why would I be helping you find the culprit, if I was responsible?" I sighed at him. We were going in circles.
"So that you could throw yourself off of the suspects list, while simultaneously leading me astray. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, right?" He said suspiciously, his voice low and humorless. His arms were crossed over his chest as he sat back.
"Yes, that would be a perfect move, Paris, but you're forgetting one thing: If I summoned the demon, then they would be led right to Beastly. The magical signature would have matched up. They scried the entire academy for a match in magic, to locate where the summoner was, but found nothing. The summoning magic from Beastly would have appeared, if I were the summoner. But I'm not. We've established this. Keep up" I added on, my words condescendingly sweet.
"Fine. It isn't you, but the magic was dark. It has to be a Dark Practitioner. The Light Practitioners would be signing off their death sentences if they did this to themselves. The Chudovische would target them first, before it was even properly situated into this realm" He stated, and I agreed.
"So that leaves the Naturalists and Dark Practitioners. I predict the historian tracts. Archeo's, Archivists, etc."- Paris furrowed his eyebrows at me in question-" They're such busybodies, always in everybody's business, wanting to know everything about everyone and constantly pushing their limits. They're even worse than your lot" I explained to him.
"Well then that includes the Zhifeng twins too. They give me the creeps, no offense" He said to me a bit disturbed, his mind drifting to his memory of Clair and Cera.
"The twins? They're harmless " I stated, waving a dismissive hand at his concerns. So they roughed Paris up a bit. It was hardly the end of the world.
"They're harmless? Tell that to my split lip! Tell that to Lupe Gonzales! The twins apparently showed her the memory of her boyfriend cheating, besides just quietly pulling her aside and telling her. They flashed the memory in her mind, while laughing hysterically about it. When I went to check on her, she refused to come out, claiming she was going on a hunger strike. Their 'harmlessness' is the reason she's starving herself right now" He outraged at me.
Oh please. Lupe had always been known for her flare for dramatics. She would be back in the loving embrace of her beau in no time. It's not like this was the first time their rocky relationship was reduced to shambles. I would hardly call it stable, a scandal erupting between them every other week. And I'd see how long her fast lasted too, when she'd learn of chocolate éclairs being served for desert tonight. He was blowing their harmless antics way out of proportion.
"Okay, fine" I conceded, "They're harmlessly juvenile. But their interests fall very short from evil practices or black magic. And besides, if they ever did something like this, I would be the first to know"
Paris look unbelieving, but relented on the idea after a long stare down. I could tell that he had full intentions of brining them up later. I tilted my head down and glanced up at him through my lashes, giving him a bored expression, as if asking him "really?".
I sighed, "In all genuinity, trust me when I say that the twins would not do something like this without consulting me first. Despite the way they pride themselves in their title of "secret masters", they're not very good at withholding said secrets. I know all of them, if not more, because they have a dexterity for running their mouths. Though ridiculously powerful and unnervingly intelligent, their goals are quite...short sighted"
I closed my journal, so that it would not record my next words, "The twins- they have this mindset, where they refuse to work for something they'll be given either way. They religiously believe in the concept of working smarter, not harder. Think about it. They assumed you weren't trained in mind manipulation. So when they found out your mind couldn't be breached, they gave up. They expected to get it the easy way, and when they didn't, they lost their patience.
Believe me when I say that they would not summon a demon to cleanse the school of it's Sun Mages, because they simply don't care enough to do so. Their interests are fleeting, Arobynn, and the pay off is hardly worth the effort"
"So what you're saying, is that they're shallow and lazy" Paris stated rather bluntly. I rolled my eyes at his statement, but not denying it. Yes, they were, but I refused to openly bad mouth my closest companions. Disloyalty was not a look that flattered.
I consulted my sterling watch, to see that it was already near curfew. Not that I particularly cared, seeing that I could simply shadow travel in, but I was eager to leave. The conversation was drifting into more casual topics, like my friends, and I decided that I'd rather not.
"I have to go now. It's near curfew" I tapped my pointed nail on the face of the clock.
"Oh...Okay" He simply said, before asking, "Can I borrow this?". He was holding the library book, skimming the pages. There was not much too it, but I nodded anyways, allowing him to keep it. I got up from my seat, flexing my legs as my shadows rumbled awake.
"I'll walk you to the door" Paris said courteously, making me roll my eyes into the back of my head. They would one day get stuck there by the rate I was rolling them, all thanks to Paris' insufferable presence.
I walked to the door, Paris trailing after me. He quickly stepped forth and opened it for me, ever the chivalrous gentlemen his mother raised him to be. I fought the urge to wrangle the door from him and slam it shut, all so that I could open it for myself. As we stepped out, I froze.
Across the hall, I was met with the blue eyes of Philippa St. James and Misty Buchanan, also stepping out of a room. I frantically glanced at Paris, alarmed on what to do. Him being seen with me would hardly do his reputation favors. It would bring him problems.
Paris seemed relaxed, though his jaw was slightly ticking from irritation. If I were not so close, I would have not noticed the show of annoyance either. Was he really not concerned with being seen with me? The havoc it would cause with these two vultures on the case... I internally shuddered.
"Hey, Poppy, Misty" He greeted them friendly enough, though his smile seemed a tad bit strained.
"Paris" They quipped in unison, before glancing over at me suspiciously. I didn't bother with greeting them, simply crossing my arms and eyeing them over in an unamused, judgmental manner.
"This is Eulalia" He finally spoke up as the girls and I had a stare down. I didn't know what territorial nonsense they had going on right now, but I wanted no part of it. He was all theirs. I wanted nothing to do with any of them.
"I don't think we had the pleasure of meeting" Philippa gave me a tight smile. Liar. We've shared the same classes since we were six. But who was I to point that out, seeing that I never went out of my way to talk to her either.
"Yes, well I'm still waiting for the pleasure, seeing that this interaction was particularly unpleasant ... Anyways, I'm leaving. Maybe we'll get the pleasant part right next time. It's highly unlikely, but I know how much you Light Mages loveeeeee optimism" I gave her a sickeningly-sweet smile, my eyes narrowed into slits.
Paris stood wide eyed, glancing between the girls as if we were going to claw each other in a moments second. Gods, who did he think we were? Neanderthals? I had no problem with them as individuals; I despised their type as a whole. Light Mages always got on my nerves.
"I'm leaving. Enjoy your company" I curtly informed Paris, before making my way down the hall.
"Wait!" Paris yelled from behind me, but I didn't stop walking, "Let's meet up tomorrow? To uh...study?"
I swiveled around, my silver hair swishing.
"No?" I said to him, my eyes nearly popping out of my skull, "No we shall not". I titled my head towards the girls, as if he forgot their existence. What was he playing at? Why would he want to be seen with me?
"Not even to study?" He asked innocently, fluttering his ridiculously long eyelashes at me. I glared at him, promising bloody murder in my expression.
"It is Saturday tomorrow, Paris. I'm sure our...project can wait" I ground out through clenched teeth.
He sighed at me in faux defeat, "Okay, fine. If you don't want to study, that's okay. Since you insist on it being a date, we can go out. You're right, our project can wait"
I couldn't stop the, "WHAT?!" that blurted from my mouth, or the horrified expression that mangled my face. Or the way my nose scrunched in disgust, or my mouth hung agape. I was pretty sure there was a vein popping out of my forehead too.
"Studydate, or date, Eulalia?" He asked me, giving me a cheeky smile. He was leaning on the door frame, his arms crossed across his chest in an amused manner. How dare he? How dare he use an audience against me? How dare he try to wrangle me into an ultimatum? Was it not bad enough that we had to see each other as often as we did? He was trying to torture me- cause me suffering- ridicule me.
"Oh screw you, Arobynn. Neither" I spewed at him, upset beyond articulation. He faltered, failing his little attempt at goading me into a meeting. Sick to my stomach from humiliation, I stormed off. What a prick. Trying to embarrass me like that infront of his little friends.
Right when I started believing that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as condescending and haughty as I thought. Maybe he was decent, somewhere under those layers of ego and miserable lack of self-awareness. What a prick. Trying to humiliate me infront of his giggling little friends, as they eyed me up and down like I was something they found stuck to the bottom of their designer flats.
He was mocking me. He was openly mocking me, knowing I wouldn't act with an audience watching. What a prick. If I didn't keep walking down this hall, and as far as possible from that boy, I would surely turn right back around and strangle him to death, resurrect him, and then do it again.