#[ The prompt signals for smth sad. But for me? it's just the regular perils sophie goes through with octavinelle - ]

[madamhatter]

bigcasinc inquired:  ✎- Floyd! Send in “ ✎ “  to put our muses in this generator and write a starter (OR) drabble based off the prompt we get! | accepting | @bigcasinc​​

PROMPT: Sophie: You know, there was a time that I would have died for you.

Dilemmas like these should’ve been handled by the assigned personnel with such previous skill or misfortune to be given such a job title. Such a tale of trouble belonged to the third year. What worsens this blow to their pride was the ongoing and repeated offense that almost always occurred in Octavinelle territory, and it was almost always them that needed to be called forth. 

Maybe it was from the bloomed kinship between them and the students, most taking to them like a sibling. Considering the age differences between them and the ‘leads’ too, they were naturally designated as the eldest and, unfortunately, the shortest. 

Though, the relationships themselves were beyond conventional -- but most everything was at Night Raven College. There was an odd request or two from Mister Ashengrotto. Or by the Leech brothers, both up to mischief that could’ve broken the entire school -- had it not be for the human’s quick thinking.

Thankfully, by some sliver of a miracle, today’s incident hadn’t occurred in Monstro’s Longue. If the lounge owner was expecting them to nearly drown themselves with 2000 gallons of water being sprayed into their face from a crack in the glass, he must’ve been mad. However, there was as much splashing and water being dealt with...

Waters splashed around, aggressive whipping sounds audible over their shoulder, their patience was sound, but their concerns scaled. The student, kneeling before the shattered glass, turns immediately to the sound of thrashing. “Oi, stop it,” they click their tongue, wagging their finger to the rowdy culprit.

Submerged in a large tank of saltwater had been the true form of Floyd Leech. Speckled, dark, and mute teal arms were crossed on the edge of the tank, expression soured and mood spoiled. Unlike their restrictive and calm sibling, Floyd, as noted by the third year, never felt the need to hide their feelings and was more than comfortable with their bitey intentions. However, he holds himself well whenever he was ‘on the clock’ with his duties -- even with his eccentricities. 

The gallons of saltwater spilled and large-as-their-head scattered glass had a certain 191cm merman’s name written all over it. The victim was one of the tanks that the dormitory was known for. However, this one held a special purpose. It was one of the smaller emergency ‘transfer’ tanks used for when any of the younger and smaller Octavinelle students couldn’t control their glamor well enough or ‘dried up’ too soon.

“Mister Leech, the abrasiveness and brattish behavior aren’t going to undo anything. What would any of those trepidations accomplish for your current predicament? I won’t take it that you’re acting out as if you felt like you were in a quandary.”  Chiding the merman never had any benefits, especially whenever his emotions frayed rationality and only created a frenzy. However, as they gathered the remaining pieces and ensured that no stray shards were on the floor, the third-year couldn’t remain silent. Their usual position was to deliver reprimands. Just, however, not in this current form. 

Slowly, and ignoring the discomfort filling the gap of their kneecap, the student returned to their feet. Crossed arms stiffly over their chest, they raised their head, glowering as the merman sulked in the other larger emergency tank.

“I thought breaking the bog the first few instances would’ve taught you something. Sprinting and springing towards or into anything smaller than what can carry you means they’ll break. Be it toilet bowls or students’ backs.” The silver-haired student shakes their head, sighing out loud. They close their eyes as the expected unpleasant retorts were given by Floyd. 

Turning on their heel, the student softly opens their eyes, looking over their current ‘clean-up’ set. Asides from the perfectly stacked pile of glass and unanimated mops and buckets, there was a stepstool. They step forward, the student looks at the stepstool and places the tip of their shoe underneath the seat. They spent a moment or so adjusting their foot and its ankle, murmuring something nonsensical With a calm hum, they kick it forward.

Landing right onto its feet, right in front of the other and unbroken tank, the third-year was already was moving forward. Their scarred hand slithers into the depths of their jacket’s pocket. A sealed and compact bento box was soon in their palm and, holding their breath, the student opens it. 

And there was the sweet smell of deep-fried octopus with fresh mayo squeezed over it.

“Take it.”  A suggestion, it was not as they shoved the takoyaki into Floyd’s mouth. They closed the bento box, and if one were to peek in, there were particularly snack favorites for some notable students. It wasn’t any secret just how soft they could be. 

They click their tongue, returning to glare at the merman. 

“You know, there was a time that I would’ve died for you.” Simeon remarks. “Now, that time is used to clean up after you and your brother.”