Happy belated birthday to Leona, our beloved King of Savanaclaw. Long Live the King!
At 2:58 am on July 20th, 2022, thirty-three young men and one woman across two worlds felt a sudden pain on certain parts of their bodies. It left as quick as it came.
Few knew what it meant.
Fewer still knew what caused it.
It was a mark felt across worlds.
—----------------------------------------
Riddle's eyes shot open with a start as he awoke. He clutched his right hand in agony. Something was burning him, and it was agonizing. It felt like his skin was burning off. He screamed into his pillow, not wanting to be unsightly and cause a scene that would wake everyone up. His mother had taught him never to do anything like that under any circumstances.
He screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
And then it all just... stopped.
Riddle panted as he cautiously raised his head up from his pillow, half expecting the pain to return. When it didn't, he fully sat up and unclutched his hand.
There, on the back of his right hand, was an unidentifiable black sigil of some kind. The only part of it he could make out in the dark was the 'M' in the middle of it. The prefect looked down at his hand with shocked and scared eyes.
Where had it come from? Why wasn't there any visible injury after all that pain? What did it mean?
Question after question fired off in the young mage's mind. Eventually, he realized he had no idea what was going on and began to feel frustrated. Not only did he have no knowledge of magical marks such as this, the mark had also been put in such an exposed location. And to make matters worse, tattoos were forbidden in Heartslabyul by rule #693 of the Queen of Hearts; 'One shall never marr oneself with tattoos or markings of any kind, save for those of the four suits.'. He was breaking the rules.
What would his students say? What would Trey and Cater say? What would his mother say?
Riddle felt himself jolt in fear and shame after he thought that.
He needed to get rid of this mark, quickly, before anyone saw it.
With a resolved nod, Riddle laid back down on his bed and attempted to go to sleep. Once more, Cassandra Mikaelson haunted his dreams. Her smiling face never left him, even with his head clouded with worries about his newly acquired mark.
—------------------------------------------------
Trey Clover had been up late, baking the last tart for the unbirthday party when he felt it. The searing pain on the back of his left hand caused him to drop the ceramic bowl full of batter he was holding onto the black and white tiled ground of the kitchen as he cried out.
"Ahhh!", he yelled out as the black and white suit patterned bowl shattered and batter splattered all over the ground. When the pain finally stopped, Trey looked around in confusion and alarm, wondering what could have caused it before he took off his left glove to access the damage. He expected blood or blackened skin. Instead, all he got was a tattoo-like crest that looked suspiciously like a coat of arms. Trey looked at it in confused intrigue.
"Vice dorm leader! We heard you yelling! What happened?!", one of the second years who slept on the ground floor asked, concerned with two of his roommates trailing behind him. Trey quickly grabbed his left hand to hide his mark and turned to face the students with a reassuring smile.
"I'm fine, I just dropped a bowl on my foot, that's all. I must be getting sleep deprived.", the green haired man said, chuckling nervously. The three students looked between themselves, not seeming convinced but choosing not to question him.
"Say, I didn't wake anyone else up, did I? I would hate to have woken up the whole dorm...", Trey asked, masking his nervousness with concern. He didn't know what that mark was or where it had come from, but he didn't want the whole school knowing about it, that was for sure. This was his business.
Thankfully, the second years shook their heads.
"No, we only heard 'cause our room is really close to the kitchen. Everyone else is way down the hall, so one else heard you."
Trey sighed, 'Good', he thought as he reassured the second years that yes, he was fine and no, he didn't need any help., 'I really don't want this to be a whole thing. I've got enough on my plate as it is.'
After all, with the Unbirthday party in just a few days, the last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself that would make it harder for him to work. Sighing, Trey got a broom, dust pan, mop and bucket from a nearby cabinet. After filling the bucket with water, the third year set about cleaning up his mess as he lamented about how long it was going to take him to make a new tart. Looks like he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.
As Trey put away the cleaning supplies, he took one long final look at his mark. He would look into what it meant after the Unbirthday party. He knew he should do it sooner, but he frowned as he recalled the reason why he couldn't.
Riddle needed everyone giving their entire focus on planning the party. If he found out Trey was avoiding preparations in order to look into something not school related, that was about him and was probably against the rules, then it would be Off With His Head.
Not even being the dorm leader's childhood friend would save him from that.
—----------------------------------------------
Cater was up late, scrolling through Magicam when he felt a burning pain on the right side of his hip. Not wanting to wake up Riddle and lose his head, he bit his lip and screamed into his pillow. He screamed until the pain finally faded out and rapidly scrambled to take off his red and black diamond patterned t-shirt and gaped at the black brand that was where unmarred skin used to be.
"O...M...G.", the redhead breathed out as he panicked internally because WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL. Magic tattoos don't just appear out of nowhere in a burst of pain! Cater felt his hands shake as hurriedly pulled his shirt back down.
"This is really freaky...", Cater said, his voice cracking as he laughed nervously. This was all of the nope, though he had to admit the mark was pretty snazzy.
As he thought this, the third year felt something run down his chin. Reaching up to touch his face, Cater pulled his fingers away and saw red blood glinting through the starlight. It seemed he had bitten through his lip.
The green eyed man sighed. It was going to be a pain to cover this up with makeup. Cater sat there for a moment, thinking about what had just happened before he realized he had dropped his phone.
Crap.
Once more, Cater scrambled around his bed in an attempt to locate his life. When he couldn't find it on his bed, he reluctantly looked over the side of the bed that wasn't against the wall, hoping he wouldn't see what he was dreading.
The long haired young man felt his blood run cold as he saw his phone. His cracked phone. Reaching down to pick it up, Cater assessed the damage. It wasn't broken, but it was pretty banged up with cracks running all around the top.
"Motherfucker.", he hissed out, feeling the need to scream again for very different reasons. Now he was going to have to get a new one, because trendy people didn't have cracked phones. Which meant calling his dad, which also meant getting the 'your so irresponsible' speech he gave him literally every time he so much as called to say 'hi'.
Cater sighed and turned on his phone. He could worry about that in the morning. Right now, he had research to do.
The redhead spent the next two hours frantically scrolling through articles and search engines, trying to get an idea of where his new involuntary tattoo came from and what it meant. He found nothing, the only thing he had to show for his troubles being dark circles around his eyes, which he knew he was also going to have to cover up with makeup.
—----------------------------------------------------
Leona roared in pain as he grabbed his right pectoral, looking around in frantic rage as he did so for whoever or whatever had caused him harm. Who dared to attack the King of Savanaclaw?
Leona, much to his displeasure, found nothing. Breathing heavily from his apparent injury, he suddenly felt glad his room was the only dorm in this tower. It wouldn't do for his lessers to hear him in a moment of weakness. Rapidly taking off his shirt to assess the damage, Leona felt his eyes widen as he saw a tattoo he damn well knew was not there before now.
"The fuck...?", he whispered to himself, wondering where the hell the mark had come from. It looked vaguely familiar; he knew he had seen something like it before, he just couldn't recall where. The prince huffed and flopped back onto the bed, too troubled to immediately fall asleep for the second night in a row.
"Troublesome...", he whispered under his breath as he turned on his side, hand clutching his marked pectoral and tail swishing about. He couldn't let people see this. He couldn't lie about the mark effectively, his guys (Ruggie) were too smart to believe that it was just a new tattoo that he happened to get in the middle of the night. On his own. Without the help of the royal tattoo artist he had hired to spite his brother, who was not a fan of the markings. Yeah, no one with half a brain would believe him if he lied.
If anyone found out about the mark, word could get back to his brother, who would start asking questions and putting his nose where it didn't belong. He would look into it on his own and get rid of it on his own.
Even if he did secretly like the design. But he had his pride to think about. It wouldn't do to have a mark put on his body he didn't consent to getting, people would think he was without any will of his own and a pushover.
He would look around the library tomorrow. If he couldn't find anything, then he would call Scarabi and ask her after he swore her to secrecy.
In the meantime, he wouldn't worry about it. He refused to let something as stupid as a mark affect his life.
And yet even as he thought this, Leona did not get to sleep for quite some time, his anxieties more apparent than he liked to pretend they were.
—------------------------------------------------
Ruggie was picking up towels left by lazy students at the pool, one of his many tasks assigned to him by Leona; who of course just had to give it to him at night, when he felt a sharp, burning pain on the left side of his hip.
"OW, FUCK!", he yelled out, quickly silencing himself because the last thing he needed was a bunch of tired, cranky beast men pissed off at him for waking them up. This pain was weird. He had lots of experience with pain, and he could tell, this pain wasn't something a wound could cause.
He had gotten pretty beaten up a few times by some not so friendly neighborhood kids before he got his magic, and he thought those bruises and broken ribs were the worst pain he would feel in his lifetime.
Somehow, this pain was ten times worse.
Ruggie growled and tried to get on the ground so he wouldn't fall and hurt himself if he lost his balance, but utterly failed as he staggered back and fell into the pool.
The hyena beast man knew how to swim, but the pain was making him disoriented and caused him to flail about uselessly instead of actually making his way above the water.
Ruggie sputtered and choked, thinking he was going to drown for a second before he felt his wits come about him as the pain left his side. Going off of survival instinct alone, the second year gasped and sputtered as his head came above the unnaturally blue water of the pool.
Ruggie then treaded water over to the pool's edge and pulled himself over the stone ledge, crawling over to the patterned carpet on the ground. He then laid on his back, still panting heavily after his near death experience as he stared up at the night sky.
Once he no longer felt like he was suffocating, the unofficial vice dorm leader slowly came to his knees and eventually his feet, before he brought himself over to one of the green pool chairs on the wooden deck.
Still breathing frantically, his heart racing, Ruggie pulled up his oversized uniform shirt and pulled down his pants just a bit to see what in the hell had caused him to lose his cool.
It was a mark. A very fancy mark. Like one of those noble house coats of arms he had read about in fairytales as a kid.
What the fuck?
This, this was the reason he nearly died?! A stupid tattoo?!
Ruggie wanted to scream. He was good at keeping his feelings under wraps, but even he had a breaking point. The hyena boy found this whole situation utterly ridiculous. Ruggie huffed as he readjusted his uniform, toweled off with a used towel and quickly finished his job before stomping off to his room.
He had no idea what the hell that tattoo was, but it wasn't sticking around. He was gonna get rid of it as soon as he could, Seven knows what the thing might do to him next.
As Ruggie changed, he spent several minutes glaring at his topless reflection with all the venom his infuriatingly cute face could muster in the mirror he shared with his dead to the world roommates. The short boy then huffed.
"You need to go. You're not going to nearly kill me again, no way in hell.", he whispered to the mark, as if it could answer him. Ruggie then jumped as he heard his roommates stir restlessly, furry ears twitching and tails swishing.
Oh the joys of sharing a room with people with hypersensitive hearing.
Taking that as a sign to be quiet and go to bed, Ruggie did just that. As he climbed into bed, he had a mental discussion with himself.
He'd look into what the mark was at a later date. If he found nothing, then he would go to a professor. If they knew nothing, then he was going to a tattoo removal guy because this stupid tattoo was not staying.
Ruggie drifted off to sleep with this plan in mind, however, it was all but forgotten as his thoughts were overtaken with red hair and golden eyes that he had never seen before, and yet, felt so familiar.
—-------------------------------------------------
Jack had no idea why he was out so late. He couldn't sleep, and usually, a quick ten minute jog fixed that.
Only, it had been half an hour, and he was still wide awake.
The wolf beast man sighed and took his phone out of his pants pocket, pausing the rock song it was playing and taking out his earbuds. After taking a few breaths to steady himself, Jack huffed in frustration and looked up at the crescent moon.
He had no idea what was up with him, it was like he was constantly on edge. Was he lonely? Was he homesick? He had no clue, which was freaking him out, because he thought he had a decent understanding of his emotions.
He had no idea why he felt so uneasy; it was like he could sense something was about to happen.
Thoroughly done with thinking about his headache inducing gut feeling for the night, Jack turned around and started jogging back to the dorm. Before he could even take three steps, however, he felt an agonizing pain on his left pectoral.
Clutching his chest, Jack was brought to his knees by the pain. A wild look in his golden eyes, he snarled and looked around for what might have done this to him, only to find nothing and no one of note. An instant after he realized this, Jack screwed his eyes shut and howled in pain not unlike how he would howl in his wolf form, the bone chilling sound echoing through the once silent night.
Jack dug his claws into the ground, wondering if the pain would ever stop when it, ironically enough, finally did.
Huffing and puffing, the first year quickly took off his shirt to assess the damage, and was surprised to find a tattoo instead of a cut or burn.
He looked at the mark in undisguised shock and confusion. How did a tattoo cause that much pain? And how did it even get there in the first place?
Jack shook his head, put his shirt back on, and got back on his feet. It was just a tattoo, it wasn't the end of the world. He would find out who or what caused this later. If it was a who, he would beat the crap out of them. If it was a what, then he would destroy it so it couldn't pull this shit again.
Before Jack started back to the dorm for the second time, he considered calling Vil to ask if he knew anything about this. When he had enrolled at NRC, he knew Vil would be there from his Magicam (Jack followed him), but he had no idea the beautiful young man would remember the silver haired little boy who used to beat up any bullies who gave him crap for his childhood acting role as a villain in a popular TV show.
The two had talked for a while after he had been sorted, before that red headed woman had showed up, and they had exchanged numbers. Vil told him they could start doing morning jogs together once he got into the swing of things and to call him if he needed anything, but he didn't need Vil's help.
Jack narrowed his eyes at the actor's name in his contacts before he pressed the home button on his phone and shut it off.
This was his problem, and he didn't need anyones help to fix it.
—--------------------------------------------------
Jade and Floyd had been sound asleep.
Ok, that was a lie. Jade had been sound asleep, Floyd on the other hand had been awake for hours, in one of his moods and squeezing Floyd Jr., a large odd eyed, seafoam green stuffed eel his mother had made for him to squeeze when he didn't have anyone else to. It had been a going away present when he and his brother had gotten into Night Raven last year. Essentially, the plush was his life sized stress ball.
Floyd growled lowly. Jade was asleep and Azul was busy, so he was alone. He didn't like being alone, it made him feel icky. Then, he grinned in a way most people referred to as 'demented' and decided to just wake Jade up. If he had to suffer, then his literal genetic clone was going to suffer with him.
But, just as the second year was about to set his brilliant plan into action, he screamed as he felt a burning pain on his back, around his right shoulder. His scream woke up Jade, who subsequently jumped up from his bed across the room and ran over to his brother. He looked genuinely concerned, which was rare for him, and like he was about to say something, but was prevented from doing so when he screamed as well.
The two brothers screamed in unison. They were on their own against whatever was causing this. They shared the vice dorm leader room, and the only other room within earshot was Azul's, and since he was working in his office...
The two brothers writhed around in agony, until eventually, the pain stopped.
Both brothers panted heavily as they collected themselves and got to their feet, eyes wide with something they hadn't genuinely felt since the two of them were small children.
Fear.
"Wh-what happened?", asked Floyd. Jade didn't answer. Instead, he took off his teal t-shirt and turned around fast enough fast enough to give Floyd whiplash.
"Floyd", said Jade, his voice dead serious, "I need you to tell me the truth, no jokes, no lies. Is there anything unusual on my back?"
Floyd, a bit taken aback by his brother's stern request, was too shocked to ask him why he was asking such an usual request, and did as he was asked.
After turning on the lamp on his bedside table, Floyd's eyes widened as he saw something on the back of his brother's left shoulder.
"Well?", asked Jade, sounding panicked. "What is it? Is it bad?"
Floyd made an uncertain noise.
"Uh... well, it's definitely unusual, but I wouldn't say it's bad."
Jade turned around to face Floyd, his eyes wide and frantic.
"What do you mean it isn't bad?", he asked, his voice confused and just as frantic as his gaze. Floyd shrugged.
"Well, I mean, it's a pretty dope tattoo. Weird way to get it, though."
Jade blinked in confusion and went over to the full length mirror the twins kept hanging on the wall beside their door, before turning his back to the mirror. Looking back at his reflection, Jade felt his eyes widen in shock at what he saw.
On the back of his left shoulder was tattooed some kind of coat of arms. It also looked completely healed, as if it hadn't caused him the worst pain he had ever felt in his life just mere minutes ago
Jade resisted the urge to scream. He could feel this mark was bad for a multitude of reasons, and it showed on his face.
Floyd, however, did not seem to feel the same, and with his infallible ability to not read a room, he took off the uniform button up he couldn't be bothered to take off when he was getting ready for bed. He did this with such a visible glee, that Jade was tempted to slap the stupid grin off his face, but ultimately decided against it. He had enough to deal with right now, and he did not want to get both of them sent to the emergency room because one of them stabbed the other in the arm with a fork. Again.
"Hey, look at that Jade we match!", Floyd said, seeming to not understand the potential seriousness of their situation.
Jade loved Floyd (not that he would ever tell him this). He had been his best friend since birth, his partner in crime, and he knew him better than anyone else and vice versa. He knew Floyd could be very smart when he wanted to be, but when he didn't want to be, which was almost all the time, he was a moron.
A tall, intimidating moron with decently powerful magic.
Needless to say, those four things were never good on their own, but throw them all together, and Jade was honestly surprised Floyd wasn't dead or in jail. And sometimes, just sometimes, he really did wonder how the bastard made it to seventeen without screwing them both over to the point where they ended up dead in a ditch.
Jade loved Floyd, but it was moments like these where he had to physically resist the urge to slap him in the face like Jade was an angry housewife and Floyd was a homewrecker.
So, with a severe frown on his usually serene, smiling face, Jade took a deep breath, and began to explain the seriousness of their situation.
"Floyd,", he said in a tone that promised suffering if he didn't pay attention. It was a tone of voice he usually only used with the Monstro Lounge's vic-customers. The use of that tone towards him alone was enough to get Floyd out of his own head and listening to his twin with rapid attention.
"I don't know if you realize this, but I didn't put these marks on us. And before you ask, no, I am not lying and no, Azul has nothing to do with this. Ergo, since I don't know where the marks came from, and I'm assuming you don't know where the marks came from, neither of us know anything about these symbols. For all we know, they could be omens of death or some kind of control spell; with how painful it was to acquire them, I wouldn't be surprised. We don't know how to get rid of them, who or what gave them to us, we don't know anything, Floyd. This puts us in a very dangerous situation. And even though he didn't put the marks there, if Azul finds out about this, he might find a way to use these marks against us. So, until we figure out what we are dealing with, we both need to keep our mouths shut and not tell a soul about these... things. Do I make myself clear?"
Floyd crossed his arms and mumbled about how he was looking forward to bragging about his awesome new tattoo dejectedly, but ultimately agreed. He knew Jade was right. They had no idea what these things meant, and until they did, it was best the knowledge of their existence stayed between the two of them.
With his brother in agreement, Jade sighed and put his shirt back on before crawling back into bed. Floyd started to do the same, but paused when he went to turn off his lamp. After a moment, he finally turned it off, but instead of getting into his own bed, he got into Jade's and wrapped his arms around him; like he did when they were kids who still thought sharks lived under their beds.
Jade wanted to protest at first, but then he noticed his brother was trembling; it seemed he was still quite unnerved by everything, more so than he let on. The vice dorm leader left it be and wrapped his hands around his brother's.
Whatever this new situation dealt them, they would face it together. Like they always did.
—--------------------------------------------------
Contrary to popular belief about his workaholic ways, Azul hated working late. He may love money and power, but he loved getting eight hours of sleep a night just as much.
Sighing, the octo-mer sat his overstated fish bone pen down (a gift from his step-father, not something that was to his usual tastes but something he didn't have the heart to turn down from the only man he had ever really considered his father), straightend the pile of papers he had been working on and stood up. As the grey haired young man put the jacket he had discarded onto the back of his chair back on, he lamented about why he was still here.
Apparently, this years batch of first years had already heard of his benevolent ways and wanted his help in getting a head start with their classes. He was, of course, happy to help, but he had unfortunately not been as prepared as he usually was for the sudden influx of contracts. He honestly hadn't expected to be this busy until midterms, so he was overwhelmed with desk work. Jade and Floyd had helped a bit (not with out complaining from the latter), but there was just so much. Nevertheless, Azul was nothing if not determined and efficient, and had finished the work in one setting.
Unfortunately, this had cost him his much needed beauty rest, and now he was going to have to show up to class tomorrow likely feeling like he was going to kneel over from exhaustion. Something he was going to have to be sure hide; it wouldn't be good for his image as the perfect student to be ruined, now would it?
Just as he was about to turn the lights off and head back to his room to get his much desired sleep, Azul felt the most agonizing pain he had ever felt in the middle of his chest, near his sternum. He screamed in agony and stumbled back onto one of the couches in his office. He layed there clutching his chest, screaming in pain in the hopes someone might hear him and come to help him. But everyone was gone for the night, asleep in their dorms. He was alone. The pain continued for a while, until eventually, thank Poseidon, it stopped.
Panting heavily, Azul rushed to take off his top layers to see what had happened to him. Why did he wear so many unnecessary pieces of clothing?!
(He knew the answer was because he wanted to look as intimidating and mobster-ish as possible, but right now being intimidating was the last thing on his mind.)
When he saw what the pain had left behind, he gasped.
It had been altered a bit, with a few added features, but the original design shone through clear as day.
It was the Mikaelson coat of arms; the mark he had seen on the back of Cassandra Mikaelson's stationary box.
Azul felt his eyes widen and the gears turning in his head. What was her mark doing on his body? Why had it been so painful? Was it something malicious? Azul didn't know the answer to any of these questions. He didn't like not knowing things.
As Azul stared at the mark in awe and a bit of fright, he came to a conclusion; whatever this thing was, Cassandra Mikaelson had caused it or at least had something to do with it. If she had caused it, and if she was truly from a different world, the library wouldn't tell him anything. He needed to ask her about it himself.
'But how to go about that?', he thought, putting his top layers back on one by one. He had seen Cassandra briefly in the halls yesterday, and from that one look alone he realized she was likely never alone. She had an entourage of people at her beck and call; if she didn't like what he was saying, she could drive him away easily without any effort on her part. He couldn't ask Jade and Floyd for help with this, Seven knows what they would do with the knowledge if they found out the mark wasn't a good thing. No, he needed to handle this on his own, which was honestly a concept that scared the hell out of him.
But he would never feel at ease if he didn't know what the hell that mark meant, which meant going against his insitincs and facing his fears.
If he died doing this, Jade and Floyd were going to laugh themselves to tears at his grave.
Feeling determined, Azul got up once more and made for the door. He couldn't go to her, so he would make her come to him. He would lure in once of her Court's weaker links with a contract, her familiar perhaps, or the child, and use them as bait. All it would take was the right circumstances, and midterms would be the most ideal ones.
With his plan in mind, Azul turned off the lights and started back to his dorm room, an unusual fire in his grey-lavender eyes.
He was going to figure out what the hell was going on, figure out what those other worlders were capable of, and most importantly, figure out Cassandra Mikaelson.
One way or the other.
—--------------------------------------------------
Jamil had been up late, staring at the stars from the sill of one of the open air arches in the hallway by his room; he couldn't sleep, he was too anxious about the possible consequences of his outburst.
Why had he made such a stupid decision? Why had he fought so hard for that girl, a girl he didn't even know? What the hell had he been thinking?
Oh, but that was the thing, he hadn't been thinking, and now, thanks to his impulsiveness, all his careful planning could be for nought. All those months, all those years of bidding his time until he could switch his and Kalim's roles, of faking mediocrity, all that precision and hard work down the drain because he felt empathy.
Jamil scoffed, 'Empathy', he thought as he gazed out at the crescent moon, 'What a useless emotion.'
Empathy wouldn't make him and Kalim equal, empathy wouldn't break his chains, and empathy sure as hell wouldn't heal the scars on his back.
The only thing empathy was good for in this world, in his world, was causing unnecessary problems.
He should have gotten rid of that emotion a long time ago, so why did he still have it? And why was it invoked on behalf of that girl?
'Because you see yourself in her.', a little voice in the back of his head said. The voice, which sounded suspiciously like his younger sister, so childish yet so wise beyond her years, continued.
'You see someone who doesn't know how things work in our world, who is blissfully ignorant. And you want to keep it that way, because you wish someone had sheltered you and stood up for you like you did for her.'
Jamil crossed his arms and breathed in the cold, desert night air. He hated to admit it, but the voice was right. He did wish someone had stood up for him, and now he was becoming that advocate for someone else, in the hopes of, in some roundabout way, giving the scared and angry little boy he once was justice.
Jamil snorted, figures that even when he felt true empathy, that the feeling would be rooted in the selfish need for closure, or the closest thing he would ever get to it.
But with this epiphany out of the way, Jamil now knew what he wanted to do. Come winter break, he would have two routes for Cassandra Mikaelson to take in his plan. The first one would be to join him and work as his partner, and the second would be as someone protected, but uninvolved.
Which road she would take would depend on how Jamil's opinion of her developed as the school year continued. If Kalim was as serious about her as he claimed, which he unfortunately was, they would likely be seeing quite a bit of each other.
He would just have to-
Jamil felt all his brain's cognitive activity come to a halt as he suddenly felt an excruciating pain on the back of his neck. Gripping it tight, Jamil bunched up the fabric of his red hoodie and bit down on it, muffling his screams. He had gotten quite good at keeping quiet through intense pain over the years.
The pain continued for a while, agonizing but not the worst he had ever felt, until it eventually stopped. Releasing his hoodie, Jamil quickly and quietly made his way to his room in silent panic.
'What the hell was that?!', he thought, feeling a nervous sweat begin to coat his brow as he made his way over to his vanity.
Most people would think it odd for a young man to have a vanity, and while looks weren't his top priority, Jamil took pride in his appearance. The piece of furniture also gave him a place to keep his many, many hair ornaments.
Sitting down on the cushion he used as a seat to the floor level vanity, Jamil twisted his head so he could see what could have caused the pain. Maybe it was a burn, or a cut of some kind-
Jamil felt his eyes widen as he finally saw what the pain had left behind, before he felt his right eye start to twitch.
It was a tattoo.
What. The. Fuck.
What the fuck?! A tattoo, how the hell did that get there?! Just... how?! Why?!
Jamil gritted his teeth and growled, irritated. Not just because there was a magic, painful tattoo on the back of his neck, but because he had no idea where the stupid thing came from. That was what really upset him.
You see, since Jamil had grown up in service to the Asim family, he had access to their home, which happened to include a vast library filled with tomes on all sorts of ancient spells. Curses, charms, powerful potions, and yes, even magical tattoos; Jamil had read books on all of these at some point, because while he as a servant didn't have personal access to the library, it was very easy to convince Kalim that they would have more fun playing games there and not be interrupted by nagging adults as children, and even easier to convince him to cover for him so Jamil could borrow the books he was interested in.
As a result of all this, Jamil knew the basics of magical tattoos. They were engraved onto the skin by a special spell, and the caster of said spell had to be able to see the part of the body they wished to place the tattoo on when they did so.
But Jamil knew he was alone, he had made sure of it, and growing up roaming about a house as grand and full of people as the Asim's, he had gotten good at knowing whether or not he was really alone. There was also the fact that, even if someone had been there, they wouldn't have been able to see the back of his neck; it was covered with his hair. Then, there was the fact that magical tattoos weren't supposed to be painful. That was the whole point of getting a tattoo magically, to avoid the pain of traditional tattoos.
So if his new mark wasn't a magic tattoo, just what the hell was it?
Jamil ran his hand down his face and sighed. This was an unknown variable he did not like. At all. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't something he wanted people knowing about, even if it did turn out to be harmless.
Making the decision to look into magic markings more in the morning, the gray eyed boy took out his magic pen, used it to undo his braids and unfasten and put away his hair ornaments, before crawling into bed.
Just as he went to turn off his lamp, however, he heard a knock at his door. Jamil groaned.
'What does someone want at-", a quick glance at his phone, '-2:53 am?'
The person knocked again. Jamil groaned once more and got out of bed, tired and thoroughly unamused.
'This better be good.'
—--------------------------------------------
Kalim sniffled and wiped his eyes on the red silk pillow he was clutching. Why, why had he snapped at Jamil?! He was his best friend, and was just looking out for him. He shouldn't have gotten mad at him like that.
Kalim felt himself frown a bit. But even if he was just looking out for him, he shouldn't have been so mean about it. Huffing, Kalim fell back onto his bed, the luxurious red and gold covers cushioning his fall.
He felt bad about getting mad at Jamil, but he wasn't sorry about defending how he felt about Cassandra. He was serious about all the things he said, and he wouldn't apologize for being honest. As the white haired boy contemplated if and/or how he should apologize to Jamil, he buried his face in the pillow he was still clutching and turned on his side. This was all so frustrating!
'Why can't everyone just-?', Kalim started to think, but he had his train of thought interrupted by the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, right in the center of his back.
Crying out in pain, Kalim clutched his pillow tighter and screamed into it. This continued for a while, until eventually it stopped. The heir breathed a sigh of relief and lifted his face from the pillow, his expression starting out relieved before turning to panic.
Quickly, Kalim rushed over to the full length mirror that hung on one of his walls, expecting the worst. Had he been poisoned? No, all his meals were made by Jamil, and he would never do that no matter how mad he was! Was it a poison dart? Was this another assassination attempt? Kalim had to force himself to take off his shirt to look at what had happened to him, and was surprised to find... it was just a mark.
No acid burns, no knife embedded in his back, no poison darts. Just a regal coat of arms with an 'M' in the middle. Kalim's brow furrowed.
'Wait a second. Coat of arms... 'M' in the middle... appeared out of nowhere...'
Kalim gasped, a large grin overtaking his features. He knew exactly what this mark was.
It was a soul mate mark.
Kalim felt giddy as he realized this, and squealed like a schoolgirl as he fell back on his bed.
Kalim had practically spent half his childhood in his family's library, despite his lack of academic prowess. Jamil liked the books there, so Kalim would let him read while he occupied himself with something else. Usually, that thing was old stories about the Great Seven and several other famous historical figures. Some of these figures were royalty, the princesses and princes of various countries to be more precise.
Not a lot of people had access to those sorts of stories, however, save for in nobles' private libraries. Afterall, they were the stories of those who opposed the Great Seven.
But in spite of peoples opinions on those stories, Kalim read them because surely, no one was truly evil. For his curiosity, he was rewarded with the knowledge of something most current historical texts tended to ignore. Soul marks.
The books didn't say where they came from or why they appeared, they just said that they were extremely rare and appeared in a flash of pain, leaving a mark representing the two mark bearer's relationship in its wake. All the princes and princesses in the stories had soulmate marks linking them to their True Love. In fact, the marks seemed to be where the term originated from.
Kalim knew that the mark was supposed to represent unconditional love and hopeless devotion. It was the symbol of a love that would never fade, that would get a Happily Ever After. Kalim also knew who his mark was linking him to. 'M' for Mikaelson, and the outline looked like the symbol on the stationary box the little boy was using at the ceremony.
Cassandra Mikaelson was his soulmate. Now, he had physical proof that his love was as real as the sun in the sky. Kalim was practically bouncing off the walls.
He had to tell Jamil! To tell everyone!
Kalim jumped up, grinning like a loon as he went to open his door and shout his good news for all to hear, only to be halted by a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his vice dorm leader.
'Soul mate marks are considered a myth. No one would believe you, and even if they did, you would be putting a target on Cassandra's back. All those assassins won't just be after you anymore. And Jamil has already started stressing about you courting Cassandra, but if he finds out about your mark, he might lose it.'
Kalim frowned as he knew what that little voice was getting at.
'Keep it hidden from those who don't need to know, for everyone's sake.'
Kalim sighed. Unfortunately, he had to agree with the voice; he should keep the mark hidden, for Cassandra's safety.
'But,', Kalim thought as he went out the door, quietly making his way towards his vice dorm leader's room down the hall, 'I still have to apologize to Jamil.'
Coming to a stop at the correct door, he knocked once and waited a while. No answer. He repeated his actions, and apparently the second time was the charm because seconds after he knocked, a slightly disheveled Jamil answered the door looking very unamused. His expression made Kalim nervous.
"Kalim, it is three in the morning. We have classes in four hours; so someone or something better be dying and/or on fire, and if this is not the case, go back to bed, it can wait until morning", Jamil said deadpanned, blinking the sleep from his eyes every few seconds. His irritation only made Kalim more nervous.
"I-uh-well, see the thing is I-", Kalim stuttered out, his voice unusually high. Jamil could be so intimidating sometimes. With a small sigh and roll of his eyes, Jamil retreated from his doorway.
"Goodnight, Kalim.", the long haired boy said in a tone that said 'we're done here'. Unfortunately for Jamil, however, Kalim was unable to read between the lines.
"I'm sorry!", Kalim yelled out just as Jamil's door was about to fully close, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise silent hallway. Jamil covered his mouth with his hand and hissed, bringing Kalim into his room.
"Keep your voice down!", he whisper yelled. Closing his bedroom door, Jamil stepped away from his master and crossed his arms.
"Sorry for what?", he asked, knowing full well what Kalim was going to apologize for. He honestly didn't care if he apologized or not, so long as he didn't contact either of their families. Kalim felt tears come to his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry I snapped. I just got so frustrated, and-and you sounded so mad I just-", Kalim took a deep breath to steady himself and continued.
"I'm not going to apologize for anything to do with Cassandra. I refuse to apologize for how I feel, but I do apologize for how I handled things with you. I'm truly sorry, Jamil."
Jamil felt his eyes widen at the heartfelt apology. He had expected something half-assed, like most of the apologies Kalim had given throughout the years, but this... he actually meant this one, huh? Jamil then remembered his original thoughts on Cassandra, that she would cause Kalim to mature some.
Somehow, in the span of less than 48 hours, she had already managed it. Jamil felt his lips upturn slightly.
Maybe her and Kalim becoming an item wouldn't be so bad.
Jamil shook himself out of his thoughts, knowing he should probably say something if he wanted to avoid the consequences for his slight lapse in judgment (ignoring that little tug in his chest at Kalim's genuine words, the mantra 'It's all an act' something he kept on repeat in head as he told himself he didn't really mean what he was about to say. Because he didn't. Really.)
"I'm sorry too. I should have reserved judgment. I just didn't want you biting off more than you could chew.", he said, 'faking' an apologetic smile and ignoring the relieved feeling in his chest that came with Kalim's bright, hopeful smile.
"Really?", he asked. Jamil nodded, and not an instant later, the man was tackled into a hug with a quiet 'oof!'.
"Thank you thank you thank you!", the heir yelled out like the giddy child he was. Jamil squirmed and hissed not unlike the creatures his Unique Magic was named for.
"Get off me! And keep your voice down, people are trying to sleep!", Jamil whisper yelled, managing to pry Kalim off him and shove him towards the door.
"Apology accepted, now go to bed!", he said, still whisper yelling as he pried his door open and pushed a bewildered Kalim through. Before Jamil could close the door, however, Kalim spoke.
"Goodnight, Jamil.", he said, his voice soft. Jamil looked him in the eye briefly and nodded.
"Goodnight to you too, Kalim.", he whispered, his voice barely heard. The door closed, and now that the two young men were separated, they breathed a sigh of relief in unknown unison. They both had managed to keep their identical secrets. Jamil slid down his door onto the ground. Kalim took a seat on one of the hallway arches. Unknowingly, the two acted in unison once more, their thoughts completely identical.
'No one can know. Not yet.'
Okay so, the various scenes of everyone getting their marks was supposed to all be one chapter, but I realized it was getting too long so this is going to be broken up into two or three parts, okay? Also, if almost everyone keeping their new 'features' a secret sounds out of character, remember this; they are all high schoolers. High schoolers who have been woken up in the middle of the night or nearly killed by what most of them consider to be the worst pain they have ever felt. Naturally, they aren't going to see the marks as a good thing until someone explains things to them. They're kinda scared, and it's hard to find people to trust with this kind of heavy knowledge at NRC for reasons I'm sure your all aware of. Next time, more marks and even more screaming!
So long and Goodnight, Thackery Binx.