Did I hear a request for some fluff 👀? *ahem* Since you want some fluff; how about a small oneshot with the FueLara and their children with the prompt “Is this a dream? If so, I never want to wake up.” Please 🥰?
Hiya Lyra! I took my sweet time with this, but I was in the mood for some fluff so... I finally finished this ^^ Thank you for enabling me!! ❤️🔥
Characters: Eleonora, Leonidas, Cyraleona and Fuegoleon Vermillion, Solara Equinox
Pairing: Fuegoleon x Solara
Genre: Family fluff with the Fuelara kids
Summary: The kids are playing in the garden of the Vermillion estate, Nora manages to pull the two older ones into a puddle and they are all in need of a bath to wash the mud away, the family then curls up in blankets next to a fire, and Papa Fue comes home from work to see his family bundled up
Length: ~2.6k
A few clouds floated through the sky at the Vermillion estate as a few leaves, painted with the colours of autumn, floated down from the trees, danced through the air, and landed onto the rain softened ground. The tiled paths were lined with the brown grass that was getting ready to welcome winter in some months of time, and a few puddles had collected here and there. And there were occasional gusts of wind that shifted the leaves around with a rustle that was overpowered by the sounds of laughter and yells.
“Nora!” Leon, the oldest of the three children yelled while running after the smallest.
The little girl had only recently learned to run, but it seemed that, now that the youngest of the little lion cubs had gotten her feet under her, she wasn’t about to stop and sit down any time soon. Which was only emphasized by the babbling laughter that escaped the little girl, as she was running across the garden as fast as her little legs could carry.
“Nora, you’ll trip if you keep running into the puddles,” the other girl, an older sister with ombre hair that begun as red, but shifted to a warm blond at the tips, called while running after her brother and sister. But her tone was much more gentle; as if simply a louder speaking voice, rather than a call.
And at a small distance away, overlooking at the scene, was the mother.
She was standing to the side with her hair tied up onto a French twist, and her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were to the children. The few steps here and there she took, were to keep her line of sight on the little ones, just to make sure that nothing would happen.
Sure they might stumble a little, perhaps tumble into the puddles, but there was no wrapping them into bubble wrap. The ground was soft, and they were home. There was no real danger, and the toddler needed to learn that sometimes you might trip, but then you’d get up. Which seemed to come naturally.
Though Eleonora had stumbled, she had always met it with the same bubbly laughter, and had tried again. And it was because of that trait that Solara had thought Nora to have learned to run at such a young age.
The little girl just refused to give up.
She was headstrong and determined. And she’d be sure footed once she got some practice; it wouldn’t make sense to hinder the progress.
But Leonidas and Cyraleona seemed very concerned for their baby sister. Which was understandable. After all, the twins had been there to see Nora as an infant; how small and frail she had been, just like any baby. And they hadn’t quite yet forgotten how small she was, which was why they were trying to run after the little one, to keep her from stumbling.
Nora on the other hand, had other ideas. If one hadn’t known any better, one would have thought that Nora was purposefully running away from her siblings to show them that she could make it on her own. Or maybe try and tell them to keep up with her, and to push them a little bit.
Maybe eventually she would be. But for now. She was simply intent on running into the puddles, and Leon and Cyra were running after her. While trying to persuade her into playing in the piles of leaves.
Which... when dealing with a toddler that potentially had her father’s affinity, might not be the best decision. Even if the leaves were slightly damp.
Eleonora was still too young to be showcasing her mana, or affinity, but there was always a chance that it would push forth and cause a combustion of a kind. Fue hadn’t exactly been precise about at what ages he had accidentally lit his own clothes on fire due to the abundance of mana he held, but by all logic, it wouldn’t still be for a while with Nora. But. It never hurt to keep an eye on things.
Leon and Cyra had inherited a combination of Solara’s and Fuegoleon’s affinities, which had resulted into a few fires already, which gave an added reason to be watchful. Though the two of them were already old enough to keep their magics in check, for the most part at least. Some of their spells were still volatile and uncontained, but they’d learn over time.
I wonder what affinity Nora will have... For some reason I don’t think she’ll be the same as Cyra and Leon. I just didn’t have the same feeling while expecting her than the twins. But for some reason I don’t think it’ll be the same as mine either... Though Fue tells me that it’s too early to speculate, I’m more inclined to think that she’ll have his affinity. Or something closer to his affinity. Solara thought to herself. And Nora seems more hands-on, eager to dive into new experiences and to learn, while both Cyra and Leon were a bit more ...careful, in their approach. Cyra more than Leon. Which... reminds me a little bit of myself. Not that I was exactly careful, but I was more so, I think. While Nora... she’s very much a Vermillion.
“Nora!”
Solara looked up to see both Nora and Leon sitting in a puddle. Nora was clapping her hands, and Leon looked a little bit upset with mud on his hands, while Cyra stood right by them with hands on her mouth.
Oh my, it seems that they need a bath, she thought while shaking her head with faint amusement.
Nora reached towards her sister, while stumbling up, and Cyra mirrored the movement to take a hold of Nora’s hand.
But as she did, Nora plopped onto the ground, pulling Cyra along with her. Which was followed by a yelp from Cyra and more laughter from Nora.
I see, Solara chuckled while jogging to the kids.
“You shouldn’t do that Nora,” Leon scolded with furrowed brows and sounding even more upset.
Cyra looked at her hands, and her soaked, muddy clothes, as her lips quivered a little.
“[Children,]” Lara called out while coming closer to them and kneeling down next to them.
“[Mom! Nora pulled us into the puddle!]” Leon said while standing up and away from the puddle.
“[I saw, Leon,]” she nodded, while Nora giggled. “[You shouldn’t do that Nora. You’ll upset your siblings,]” she scolded the toddler before turning her attention back to her eldest again. “[She is stronger than one would think. All toddlers are,]” there was a smile on her lips, but an apology in her eyes as she picked Nora up, and propped her against her hip to free one hand, so that she could offer it to Cyra.
The older girl took a hold of her mother’s hand, and got up, while fighting back tears in her eyes.
“[It’s okay honey. We’ll get you all into a bath, and then maybe some hot cocoa.]”
Cyra’s chin stayed lowered, but she shivered in the passing breeze, the same as Leon.
“[Hey... Cyra, sweetheart?]” Lara gave her oldest daughter a smile. “[You want to have a hug?]” She opened up her arm to welcome her in, while still keeping Nora up in her other. And Nora stayed still, behaving surprisingly well while observing the interaction.
“[I’ll get mud on your clothes mother...]” The girl sobbed while wrapping her arms around herself.
“[It’s okay honey, I can handle a little mud,]” she spoke with a gentle, hushed tone. “[Come here.]”
Cyra glanced up before diving into the embrace, and letting a few tears run down her cheeks.
“[Are you hurt?]”
Cyra shook her head.
“[Good,]” she glanced at Leon. “[What about you, Leon?]”
He also shook his head, looking a little more serious, but not as upset anymore.
Lara nodded, and let her eyes shift between the kids. “[Now. How about that bath, and some cocoa afterwards, hm?]”
Cyra and Leon nodded, and Nora let out an excited giggle, after which they began walking back inside.
Later that afternoon, all three kids were seated in front of a fireplace of the master bedroom. The older ones had their mugs, and Nora had a sippy cup, but there was a blanket wrapped around all of them.
The bedroom door opened, and a familiar figure appeared through it.
“Papa!” Cyra was the first to put down her mug and run across the room, with Leon close behind her.
Nora was the slowest this time as the blanket hindered her start the most.
“Good afternoon my precious children,” he greeted while kneeling down and opening his arms to welcome all three into his embrace. “Did you have a nice day?”
“Nora pulled us into a puddle and we got muddy and wet,” Leon declared factually while looking his father in the eye.
“Oh, I see,” he chuckled. “That wasn’t very nice of you Eleonora,” he looked at the youngest who had an impish grin on her face.
“But we took a bath and got some hot cocoa,” Cyra added.
“Hmm... How wonderful. A nice long bath can help with a lot, I have found,” he stated with a smile.
“Mhm,” the girl smiled.
Nora pulled Fue’s jacket, closer to the fire place.
“What is it dear?” He asked with a tender gaze, waiting for the youngest to try her best to tell what she meant.
Nora got up, and toddled to her sippy cup, and then back, handing it to her father.
“Thank you dear,” he said with a smile and a nod. “But I’m sure I can have my own. So, you can drink yours,” he placed a kiss onto Nora’s forehead while handing the cup back to her.
“Come father,” Cyra pulled onto his arm. “Sit with us by the fire.”
Fue chuckled while standing up. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he assured. “I’ll just take off my cape and jacket first.”
The kids nodded and returned to their seats, wrapped the blankets around themselves and took a hold of their mugs while staring into the fire. Salamander followed suit in his small form, and curled into the fireplace on top of the logs, as if a cat in a sunny spot near a windowsill.
“We missed you,” Solara greeted while walking up to her, taking her turn to welcome Fuegoleon home.
“I missed you too,” he smiled while leaning closer and pressing a tender kiss onto her lips. “All of you,” he added while glancing to the kids seated by the fire.
“How was work?”
His eyes took on a tired undertone, and a sigh left his lungs as his eyes turned back to his wife. “Tiring,” he simply replied. “But let’s... discuss it later,” there was a request in his tone, a careful wish that he might relieve some of his burdens onto her, but not yet.
This wasn’t the time for it, not with the cubs in the room.
And she understood it more than well, which is why she nodded, and placed her hand onto his cheek.
“Later,” she assured him while stroking his cheek with her thumb.
His hands moved to take off the cape, and hung it onto a coatrack by the door, only so that he might take her hand into his, and bring it to his lips. He lowered his head, as if to make a small bow to her, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss onto her skin, as his eyes closed in a slow blink before finding hers yet again. Only to linger. Only to gaze at her with adoration and need and a kind of pull that he, even after all these years, still couldn’t explain. Not that he needed to explain it. Because to him, it was enough to know that he wished to be by her side; spend the remaining days and nights he had in his life with her.
That in itself, was enough. To know that he wanted her; that being without her, would be a kind of slow death for him.
His posture straightened, and his head turned towards the kids; the three treasures in his life, gifted by life itself to him and her. And his hand kept a hold of hers, as his feet began making their way closer to the fireplace, to pull her along with her.
The evening went on by the fire place with a few cups of cocoa; stories and laughter, talk about everything and nothing in particular, until the kids fell asleep onto the floor with the pillows and blankets. Their eyes were closed, and their chests kept rising and falling next to the crackling fire as their parents just watched them.
“We should carry them to bed,” he whispered to her without taking his eyes off of them.
“We should,” she agreed with a whisper of her own, looking at the kids, just as he did.
“Do you...” he began to utter, but then shook his head, as if to shake of a thought he deemed silly.
“What?” She glanced at him with faint amusement, and a slightly quirked eyebrow.
“I was just... thinking,” he replied as the smile he had on his lips continued to linger.
“About?”
There was a kind of curiosity in her tone, one that was light and airy, but which held back a chuckle.
“About how... our journey hasn’t been without troubles...”
“It certainly hasn’t,” she mused, making his smile widen.
“But despite of it, we’re here,” his gaze was soft and gentle, as if to adore a sight he was still trying to believe to be true.
His hand lifted to find hers; as if he wanted to make sure that she really was there.
“We have... three beautiful children. All of them wonderful in their own ways. Like rare gems, and...”
There was a pause, during which he struggled to find words with which to depict what he was thinking.
She leaned a little closer, and placed her head onto his shoulder with a whisper. “About...?”
“About how... we got so lucky?”
The chuckle she has been holding back left her lips as her eyes closed in a slow blink.
“I do,” she admitted with yet another whisper. “Sometimes I wonder if this is just a wonderful dream...”
He let out a hum that was a strange mix of being pleased and amused. “If it is...” he pressed his head against hers with a rolling motion, as if to rub his head against hers. “I never want to wake up,” his voice was quiet and careful, almost as if he was apprehensive, almost like he didn’t want to be too loud out of fear of some higher being hearing the admission, and then making him do just that; wake up from the blessed dream he was having.
It was as if he was speaking out a secret for her, and only her, to hear.
Her hand kept a hold of his, telling him that she was there. That she shared the same reality along with him. That if it was a dream, it was a shared dream, perhaps one of fever.
But both of them knew, that their heartstrings, the gilded threads of fate that had spun into ropes, couldn’t have concocted such a perfect dream. That this, was far too good for either of them to have imagined. And thus, it must’ve been the reality, they were living.
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Congrats on 300 Erika!!
For the event, if I may, could I please request an OC interaction between Cyra and Dusk? Perhaps them still getting to know each other? I'm thinking about the ball where they met, or perhaps helping each other out when they were still only starting to hang out.
I certainly don't mind a collab, but if you prefer to solo this one, I don't mind that one either
Congrats again!! ❤️🔥
YYYEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Cyraleona and Dusk kasdkajsrhthrltkhjks! I was vibrating when I got this ask! And it was so much fun to work on this with you! Kyaaaaaah~! The kids were so cute and shy and kshdgalsruht!
Summary: Dusk Faust and Cyraleona Vermillion have a chance meeting where they don't quite know what to do or say but begin to learn about one another.
Genre: general
Word count: ~12,000 (um... oops?)
..........
Fancy gowns and suits. Every strand of hair in place. Hors d'oeuvres on fancy platters. Classical music. Polite conversation in gentle voices.
The typical scene of a gala where everyone was happy. Everyone but Dusk, who stood huddled in a corner as if pressed there by the sea of socialization. Because he couldn't face the crowd.
They'd stare. Whisper. Recoil in horror. There'd be disapproval, or disgust, in their eyes!
This was a mistake, Dusk thought while wringing his hands together. I still can't... I don't want...
Dusk watched the flow of people until he could make out a clear path to a door and made a beeline for it. He knew he couldn't stay. He had to be somewhere else, anywhere but the ballroom.
And with that knowledge, his eyes saw only the path laid before him; the way out of the ballroom, down which he wanted to run, but didn't quite dare. Not quite run. Haste. Walk with a quickened pace. Because surely people would stare if he ran. Judge even more.
Though they would judge anyhow, so... What would it matter if he ran?
Would it matter?
…
It would, he thought to himself, because he would have to face the people again, and have to stand there under the weight of disapproval that was far more grand than before. And it was the last thing he wanted.
So, hasted steps. Out.
Outoutoutout. Out.
Into the hallway. The empty corridors that seemed to go on and on and on… As far as the eyes could see, or at least until the next corner to turn to. Regardless, it was a place where he could breathe.
Breathe… In, and out. Just fill his lungs with air that was light, and fresh compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the ballroom that was filled with heavy, hollow words that stuck to a person like tar and dust.
But he couldn't stay standing there. People would notice. He couldn't simply stand in the doorway and breathe, because people would watch and stare some more. Which was why he'd need to walk off, away, just walk and… Just wander around.
At the other end of the ballroom, another young soul was struggling herself. A group of youth, all no older than twelve or thirteen, stood at the edge of the dancing space. Cyraleona was at the very edge of the cluster, awkwardly cradling a cup of cider.
A boy turned to Cyraleona and extended a hand. "Have you been asked to dance yet? I could accompany you."
"I'll pass," she whispered, pulling back a little. "Uh, for now at least." Just as she'd practiced: let them down easy.
"No need to be shy. Your smile is lovely after all," one of the girls remarked towards her.
"Thank you? But I'm not sure what that has to do with anything."
The conversation shifted, changing to something about the Magic Knight uniforms changing though she didn't pay attention. She let out a sigh and shuffled further away from the group. No one bid her goodbye. No one even glanced her way. And perhaps that was preferable. If she could just slip away, it would be easier on her.
At least I can say that I tried, she told herself while skirting the crowd. A few people took notice, smiling and inclining their heads politely to which she returned the gesture.
It was her duty to try. To be able to present herself proudly before society. Yet it felt like her effort barely got her anywhere. Everything seemed like so much. Big crowds. High expectations. Endless possibilities.
"Cyra?" The sound of Leonidas' voice made her pause and turn. "You're doing okay, yeah?"
"Yes. Someone even asked me to dance."
"But you didn't accept?" Leonidas smiled though his brow furrowed sadly.
Cyraleona shook her head. "For now." She glanced in the direction of her parents who seemed to sense her and smiled at her. She waved then looked at Leonidas. "Tell Mom and Dad I stepped out, please?"
"Okay." Leonidas took Cyraleona's cider when she held it out. "Don't hurry back though. Take as long as you need."
"Mhm. Thanks."
She gave him a smile, but it wasn't an exactly happy smile. It was a grateful smile, but she could feel the strain seeping through her teeth. Along, with the faintest of hints of envy. Because Leonidas made it look easy. To bear the responsibilities and expectations. Being strong and… Lord-like, when Cyra herself was supposed to be a lady. Kind and gentle and capable, and on display.
Though she did think of herself as being kind and gentle, it was… difficult, at times. Because she wasn't entirely gentle. Her affinity denied it from her. At least in her mind. Because how is Burning Sun gentle?
It suited Leonidas, just like Fire suited father, and Sun suited mother.
There it was again, a bitter feeling of envy towards mother too. A feeling she very much disliked, because it wasn't mother's fault that she had this affinity. Mother had no say in it. And there had always been the chance that she could have had mother's affinity too.
But. She hadn't. Because life was unfair. And she was supposed to be a lady, with a very un-fitting affinity. Fire and Sun.
Aunty Mereoleona had Fire affinity too, but she was a warrior. Not a lady.
Fire magic suited aunty. Too.
Everyone had something that suited them, when she just burned. Didn't know what to do with it. How to control it and be what she was expected to be.
And quite honestly, she wasn't, at times, all that sure of which she was supposed to be. All she was told was that she could take her time in becoming herself. But it did come with expectations on behaving a certain way in public; in noble and royal circles.
Parents always held expectations. And it wasn't exactly the expectations that bothered her.
She wasn't sure what bothered her. What was so difficult about it all? Why couldn't she just be... more brave, more strong, or have an affinity that was more like herself? Too many, and too much, of which she didn't know. And that was when it got overwhelming. That was when she needed to breathe, and get out of these situations.
Which she was allowed to do. She was allowed to take her time. And for that, too, she was grateful.
She could simply step into the hallway and breathe; walk around the corridors and think. Take a moment.
As Cyraleona walked, she did the little ritual that her father had taught her years before.
Inhale: one, two, three, four. Exhale: one, two, three, four. Tapping her chest on each beat, she focused on her breathing. It grounded her. It let her be in control of something small but vital.
I was fine. I am fine. I will be fine, she assured herself. Mom and Dad will understand. And I'm sure they will be glad I handled myself with care rather than forcing myself. Stronger than her envy towards her parents and the magic that suited them, Cyraleona felt blessed to be their daughter.
After a few rounds of measured breaths, Cyraleona felt at ease. Smiling to herself, she turned and started back towards the gala. Not to fully re-enter but at least linger at the door and-
Footsteps? Cyraleona looked over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. This far from the ballroom? She shuffled backwards, cautious, before making a full turn and going to investigate.
Was it three rights and then a left? Or two rights, a left, and then one more right? The fact that Dusk wasn’t certain meant that he was lost. He looked back and forth as he wandered aimlessly. Maybe if he had paid attention to where he was going, he wouldn't have been in that predicament.
Then again, there'd been so much happening at the same time. The sound of his heartbeat in his ears. The burn of tears in his eyes. The chill of sweat on his skin. Heaviness in every limb yet hollowness in his lungs. The thought of "make it stop, make it all go away" repeating endlessly. And the dread, as if death itself loomed over him.
Dusk came to a stop.
Why was he born the way he was? With his spirit ensnared by fear, like a curse. A curse like his own magic. Shadows, gloom, emptiness. Perhaps that was the source. Because Dawn had Light Magic and she had all the bravery and hope Dusk lacked. And his mother, with Emotion Magic, had a heart so warm that not even a curse could fully snuff it out.
But him?
Shadow Magic.
It was eerie and cold and few people preferred the dark to the light. Shadows weren't even real, but rather a presence made from an absence of light. No one could grasp their own shadow. It was perpetually out of reach.
Dusk's heart sank in his chest as he thought of how well it suited him. A sad shadow that loomed in the lives of others. Unable to abide with a crowd and hidden away in dark corners, to be ignored at best and shunned at worst. Even with his family and few friends, it still felt like there was an immeasurable gap between their hearts and his. He didn't want to but he didn't know what else to be other than resigned to the darkness. To the fear that eventually, he'd be alone.
Dusk would never shine like Sterling or Dawn. What was worse than being in their shadow, though, was being in his father's. Same magic. Same... everything really. But where Nacht seemed to accept being rejected by society, Dusk couldn't bear the thought. He didn't want to be his father. He never asked to be like him. He wished to be anything other than who he was in that moment.
Dusk stopped and pressed the heel of his hand to his eye, wiping away a tear.
His heart started to race again. His lungs grew tight.
Please no. Not again. Not now...
"Hello there? Are you lost?"
Dusk whirled around. Standing a few paces away was a girl with hair as red and warm as a summer day.
"I... Uh... I was just wandering, but uhh.." he stumbled on the words, because he shouldn't have said that he was wandering. He was a guest and guests shouldn't wander around the homes of other people. And even more so, saying that he was mindlessly stumbling through the halls meant that he didn't really want to be at the ball, because of which he was judged, and which was the very reason why he was wandering in the first place. Being shunned and disapproved. And by the looks of the girl's attire, she was high up in the pecking order. Although, the expression on her face didn't reflect that of her peers.
There was no peering with ill intent, no judging scowling or a glare of disappointment, but instead there was something that looked like worry and curiosity.
"I…" he tried again, as his heart was still racing within his chest, and while it occurred to him that in the dimly lit corridor, the faint flickering lights reflected from the girl's eyes. Something that his eyes wouldn't do. And thus, his head turned to the side with a quick motion.
Perhaps too quick, but it was already going downhill, and all Dusk wanted to do, was cry. Just let it out.
But he shouldn't just burst into tears in the hallway, in front of a stranger.
"But… Do you know where the bathroom is?" he asked. It was a good question. And not a lie, because it did serve the purpose of going to a place where he could try and collect himself again after allowing the tears he was holding back, from rolling down his cheeks.
"Yes I do," the girl replied, seemingly understating his behavior as the faint frown of curiosity faded away from her. "I'll show you," she continued while starting to walk with a sympathetic smile.
And Dusk followed. While his mind started racing again.
Maybe I should have just said something else… Though it seemed like a good excuse as to why he wasn't with the others, there was always the chance that this could be twisted into disappointment of him getting lost on his way to the bathroom. But... Perhaps it was the lesser evil. And the girl didn't seem like she would shun him for something like this. Maybe. Perhaps it was fair to ask for directions in such a setting.
Dusk's gaze turned to the girl as he was leading the way.
Everything about her seemed warm. She was light just like Dawn and Sterling. While he was again a shadow that followed the warm swaying flame. Always following, and never standing side by side, because even light sources could add into each other's light, but two shadows only lingered, merged. There was nothing more than less darkness when two shadows merged. So… Shadows were always doomed to be alone, when light sources could shine on each other
It was an awkward, silent walk. Whether the awkwardness was the source of the quiet or the reverse was unclear, but the result was the same.
Cyraleona felt tempted once or twice to look back to the boy to see if he was alright. However, remembering his sickly pallor and tear-filled eyes, she sensed that he would find more comfort in not being seen. At least for the time being. There was at least his mana, his footsteps, and his - rather loud - breathing letting her know he still followed her.
His mana… It was different from anyone in her immediate family. The closest comparison Cyraleona could’ve made was to Aunt Selena’s, cool and soothing. But it wasn’t the same. It made Cyraleona curious. But then wasn’t the time for an interrogation. All that mattered was helping the boy, even in a small way such as being his guide.
There too was a wish, or an instinct, to give him verbal reassurance. A “you’ll be okay” or “there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” For that was what her parents would do for her. But she didn’t know the boy and thus, it might have come across as imposing, something which Cyraleona winced at the thought of.
Eventually, they reached the door to the restroom. Cyraleona stepped aside and gestured.
“Here we are.”
The boy silently nodded and went in without question.
Cyraleona stepped away and pressed her back to the opposing wall.
He got lost on the way here so I should stay to lead him back. If he wants to go back that is… Cyraleona played with a curl of her hair as she mused. Although… It’s embarrassing to be heard in the bathroom. Should I leave and come back? Oh, but what if I come back too early? Or too late?!
Before she could think herself in anxious circles though, a strangled wail came from the restroom.
The movement of her hands ceased, but still held onto the curl of hair, as her eyes turned to watch the door, from behind which broken, muffled cries came from. Muffled by the door, and perhaps hands in front of the face, as if looking to hide from the world. There were no thoughts running through her mind, as she didn't really know what to think. But... It didn't mean that she wouldn't have felt bad for the boy.
I wonder if… I don't think he wants to go back… she thought, as she thought to have recognized the anxiety, the uneasiness of crowds. The gnawing feeling that came from not thriving in social settings, under eyes that looked to glare.
The feeling was most unsettling. And thus, she couldn't blame him. She couldn't blame the feelings that came through the door, carried by cries and sobs.
And it made her think that perhaps she and him were not that different from each other.
Maybe I should have said something to him... That it's okay... Afterall... Her fingers pinched onto the lock of hair, tugging it as she scolded herself for not offering words of comfort, even if she had a good reason to not do so.
But as she waited, and wondered what she should have said and done, the cries grew more and more silent. Up until no sound came through again.
And then the door opened, revealing the boy, who's eyes were even puffier than before.
The boy stopped, and looked at her, but she couldn't tell if he was distraught, or simply surprised from the expression he wore.
"Oh... You were.. Waiting for me?" He asked, eyes shifting to the side for a moment, after which a faint blush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks.
"I was worried you'd get lost again," she replied, trying to sound as gentle as possible, because he was clearly ashamed of her having heard him crying, while she didn't think there was anything wrong in it.
"So... You heard...?" The boy still asked, still looking away from her.
"I did. You didn't actually use the restroom, but instead cried for a while.”
Her eyes turned to the side as well, as a faint pause lingered in the air.
“Sorry..." she still continued, as she felt that she should apologize.
The boy’s eyes went wide and his face grew redder.
“N-n-no! No no no!” The boy sputtered out and wrung his hands together. “Don’t apologize to—! It’s because I—! You didn’t mean to—!” He suddenly stopped and turned his head away. “It’s fine. You’re forgiven.”
“Ah, thank you…”
“I-if anything, I should apologize for letting you hear me…” The boy, still avoiding eye contact, folded his hands together. “But also, thank you… For not judging.”
Cyraleona opened her mouth to reply but she was unsure how to. Brush aside the unnecessary apology? Accept the gratitude? Neither felt quite right…
Cyraleona stared at the boy. He stared at the floor. Then, her eyes drifted to the wall behind him.
It wasn’t common for Cyraleona to be in that sort of situation. To be with a person just as bad as her socially. Someone who didn’t hide behind a facade. Who didn’t look down on or pity her anxiety.
We surely can’t stay here all night. But to return to the gala now… Cyraleona’s heart sank at the thought. Leonidas did say to take my time. Perhaps this boy needs a similar invitation.
“Not good with crowds?” Cyraleona asked, straightforward but gentle in tone.
“Mm, terrible with them. You?”
“Not exactly my cup of tea either.”
That got the boy’s attention as he raised his head and stared at Cyraleona with what looked like curiosity.
“See I know that not all of us can… shine like an obnoxiously ornate chandelier.” Cyraleona smiled at the boy and tried to laugh, to ease the mood.
However, he averted his eyes again.Why am I surprised that she says she doesn’t like crowds either? I know I’m not the only one. Is it because… it doesn’t feel like we would be anything alike? Dusk thought, feeling his heart flutter in concern. But yeah, shining isn’t something for everyone. It explains… how she could understand…
“Apologies,” the redhead said. “That wasn’t very funny—”
“No, i-it’s not that—!” Dusk interjected. “It’s just… I should be… better. Good at talking. And stuff.”
But he wasn’t good. Because under the eyes of others, with others watching and waiting for him to mess us—and he was bound to mess up—coherent thought left his mind. He tried to ignore it all. Whispers of him being devil-touched. The instinct strangers had to draw away from him. The sneers when he flinched or cried. Every sign from society that he didn’t belong. And because he experienced it before, he knew it could happen again. Over and over, he’d be rejected for simply being born.
The girl, her eyes sparkling in a way that Dusk couldn’t help but envy, dropped her smile. Her expression wasn’t sad though. Dusk recognized a similar thoughtfulness that he’d seen in his mother.
“Me too. Father says it’s alright for me to take my time growing into it, getting better at handling events such as these.” The girl played with a lock of her hair as she spoke “But I know that he has expectations… They’re unavoidable.”
Fathers. Dusk could hear Nacht’s voice saying, “You have to try, even a little.”
“They are like that, huh? F-fathers I mean.”
Dusk nodded. And the girl nodded.
This conversation was… more than bearable.
"Parents... Are like that, I suppose. They want us to succeed," she thought out loud, while still playing with her hair.
Dusk frowned, but wanted to scoff in the far corner of his mind. Even if only a little. For though he thought of his mother fondly, he wasn't prepared to extend such a sentiment for his father. His father who seemed quite content in being gated by the people around him. Such a person was difficult to imagine in wanting someone to succeed; to have another one's best interest at heart.
"But it's... not a bad thing," Cyraleona still continued. "That they want us to succeed. The things they wish from us are just… A lot… Difficult… A lot of very difficult things," she mused with melancholy, as he gaze, in turn, had fallen sheepishly to the floor.
Dusk let out a hum, as he didn't have much to say. Though they agreed on their parents, fathers especially, having expectations, and crowds being the most unnerving of places, they still came from very different worlds, he thought.
The girl had mentioned, a couple of times already, how she was told to take her time. But him… He had been faced with Nacht's 'you have to try', which was more of a demand than an encouragement. Plus… The fact remained, that no matter how… clumsy she must've been, she still sparkled, a bit like Dawn and Sterling. She would be liked for that alone. At least more than he would be, as who they were respectively.
But… He couldn't say that he would have felt cast aside. She might have been light, something that shined brightly, but she was one that... her light was quiet. It didn't... draw one in, demand to be seen, in the same way as Dawn's or Sterling's.
He wasn't sure how to describe it really, other than it was a humble and quiet kind of light. There was understanding in that light.
The gentleness of her light, the politeness she offered to him, it invited him to stay rather than scare him off. She seemed like a light that Dusk's shadow could linger around.
Cyraleona lifted her gaze and when she looked at the boy, she caught him once again staring at her with wide eyes just before he hurriedly looked away. She found it endearing, in the sense that she'd done the same before and understood.
"P-perhaps you'd like to take your mind off of... those things," she said, glancing away as well. "And maybe find somewhere else to talk. Outside a restroom is..."
"Unrefined? Or just weird?" A weak laugh, but a laugh all the same, passed his lips.
"I was going to say smelly," Cyraleona joked in reply. She pointed down the hall. "There's a library not too far from here. Would you like to go there?"
"Mm, s-sure."
The two of them walked in silence towards the library. This time, instead of Cyraleona stepping ahead as the guide, the girl and boy were side-by-side, though there was a decent gap between their shoulders.
A few times, Cyraleona took a look at the boy. His tears had dried and his expression relaxed, mostly, as a slight tension in his brow remained. His presence had become like his mana, cool and quiet. A far cry from his earlier state. She felt odd, not quite relaxed with the boy but his presence was not a pressure like it was with other nobles she's met.
He's okay.
Dusk observed her back. At the way she kept her hands close instead of letting them swing at her sides. He couldn't make sense of how someone who was light could struggle with others; then again, he didn't really know the girl. But what he did know was that when she glanced at him, it did make his heart flutter but it didn't make it tight with fear.
She's okay.
Soon, they reached the library.
Cyraleona pushed the door open and let Dusk enter first. He stepped in, slowly. But it wasn't hesitation. It was, by the way he leaned back and let his jaw fall open, awe.
Shelves twice, maybe even thrice, the heights of the kids. A second story with more books. Nary a gap between any of the spines. Couches and armchairs as seats for casual reading. Desks and tables for studious visits.
"It's a royal library alright," Dusk remarked.
"I guess that's one way to describe it..." Cyraleona said with a hum.
"Would it be..." Dusk fidgeted with his hands again. "Do you think the royal family would be okay with me... looking around?"
At that, Cyraleona squeaked and felt herself blush. Does he not recognize me? "I, um, don't think they'd mind someone appreciating this space."
The boy glanced at her from the corner of his eye, as if to still take in what she had said; the permission, the words of affirmation that it'd be alright if he simply looked around a bit. That he could scour through the shelves for anything that interested him. But the glance was short and hesitating, because he still couldn't help but feel that, far too familiar, sense of needing to know his place. Despite the girl having told him that the royal family probably wouldn't mind, he had noticed that people did tend to mind if it was him.
But... it was just the two of them there. And she was... okay. She wouldn't have brought him there if she did mind. Or so he thought. It simply wouldn't make sense otherwise.
So, he took a step forward, then another, and another, and began making his way through the shelves that were far too tall for him. Just rows after rows that were packed with knowledge, which was perhaps out of his reach in all other instances. Despite his father being of noble birth origin. And he appreciated it. The books, the room, the knowledge. All of it.
Meanwhile Cyraleona's shoulders had hunched forth, even if only a little, because she was unsure of what to do. Should she tell him that she was royalty? Or keep it from him? Both could be considered rude, depending on how one chooses to view the situation. But then again, this was a wonderful, rare opportunity to meet and converse with someone without the burden of titles. Most people humored her, because they were, by title, below her, she knew as much. To most she was "young lady Vermillion" before she was Cyraleona, and they honored her because of her parents. They honored her family, but pitied her.
Aunty Mimosa had told her that there was no shame in being soft and gentle, but even that seemed... out of place, perhaps, because aunty Mimosa was strong. Her magic was versatile, both healing and offensive. She wasn't pitied, unlike Cyraleona herself.
Perhaps even the boy would pity her, if she told him who she was. And that, she didn't want to risk.
"Do you... think it'd be okay if I read a bit?" The boy asked, having stopped in front of one of the book cases and looking at a book. He was holding his hands in front of his middle, not quite having wrapped them around himself, but still seeming like he had withdrawn within himself.
'Timid', was a word she would have used to describe him. But only because she knew the word to be an apt depiction of her too.
"Father says that books are appreciated for what they hold within, not just their covers," she remarked, but smiled as her eyes turned to the floor with a statement that father used to add after it, and it felt almost out of place to not say it. The statement of 'just like women.'
However, that statement had been for the purpose of reassuring her, that what she was as herself was most important. And thus, didn't suit the situation, which is why Cyraleona stayed quiet.
Dusk looked at her, and the faint smile, nodding. He wasn't sure to whom he was nodding more; to her, or to himself. But it made sense, the idea that books should be appreciated more for what they held within, and not just their covers. And so, he wouldn't, perhaps, be appreciating the space enough if he didn't look through at least one book.
"Appreciated for what they hold within," Dusk mentally repeated to himself as he eyed the books within his reach. That's ideal. If only everyone thought like that. He dragged his fingers along the spines, all in a row, looking for a title that would catch his attention.
As he walked beside the shelf, Dusk's eyes wandered over to the girl. She had gone off in the opposite direction, as if she already had in mind something to read. In that situation, between himself and her, it could've been said that he had only glanced at her cover and table of contents. Kind, mild, and shy. And what he had gleaned was that she was someone whom he might get along with. If given the chance.
Dusk looked away, in case she turned back, so he wouldn't be caught so rudely staring at her. She was compassionate, yes, but since she was like him, feeling the intense gaze from a stranger might be awkwardly unpleasant at best.
How am I supposed to approach her though? At least with the Roulacases and the Adlais, our parents were there! Dusk stared at the books he was right in front of. None of the titles caught his eye. Or perhaps it was his nervous thoughts that distracted him from registering them. Parents... I was supposed to meet other friends of theirs tonight but... No! Focus on the now! He shook his head. What to say... "Let me properly introduce myself. I'm Dusk Faust. Yes, the same Fausts that practiced devil binding and was presumed killed off for several years"? No. Absolutely not.
The fact of his name - his family's history - was the reason for his outcast status in most cases. His siblings carried the weight of the same legacy but each had a strength that outshone the darkness. Meanwhile, he struggled not to be drowned by it.
Maybe it's okay if I don't say anything for now. Besides... She didn't give a name. In a way, keeping quiet keeps us as equals.
With his mind quieted, Dusk finally examined the books before he found one.
[A History of the Healing Arts].
Most would call the book useless to him.
His attribute was not kind or giving. Not one that could heal. However he didn't care if it could be applied directly to him as that wasn't the point of knowledge or strength, at least in his mother's teachings. If he could pass along the book's contents to another, that would help someone.
Dusk clutched the book in vice grip and shuffled over to one of the couches near the library's center. He noticed that the girl hadn't yet returned from the shelves. Maybe she hadn't decided what she wanted to read. Or perhaps she was searching for something specific but couldn't find it.
He continued to watch her as he sat down and opened up the book he had picked.
Despite his eyes being drawn to the pages and words he had put before himself, his thoughts wandered in other directions.
Fear. His fear of others and others' fear of him. That was what made him alone. But in this instance, there didn't seem to be any.
The library. It was the perfect sanctuary from the ball, though Dusk dreaded the knowledge that he couldn't hide away there forever.
The girl. So far, she was easy to be around. But if she knew who he was, would she pull away? She was kind but timid like him which made it hard to tell.
Mother and Father. They were smart enough not to worry too much. But he definitely felt the need to apologize once he returned to their side.
The girl... The way she had joked earlier, about a chandelier. He wondered what kind of chandeliers she saw since he only knew of one in his house and it didn't seem all that fancy in his opinion. She likely saw more ornate ones, meaning she was likely higher rank. How high though?
Dusk knew his position as a "noble" was as low as it could be. But the girl... Given her fashion and familiarity with the castle, she might've been as high as a duke's daughter. The thought of "royal" crossed his mind but he quickly pushed it aside.
Surely I'd recognize the royal family! Or she'd introduce herself as such!
Cyraleona hugged her chosen book to her chest as she made her way over to where the boy sat.
As she approached, she thought of his earlier smile, the first he had shown since they ran into each other. It was small but a relief to see. Simply because it meant he was doing better than before. Something about that made Cyraleona feel more at ease. It meant that she was not alone in feeling okay between the two of them.
She paused before the seating arrangement before opting to sit on the opposite end of the same couch rather than on a neighboring armchair.
Cyraleona gave the boy a glance and he just so happened to mirror her action. They both quickly looked away.
Neither of them were sure as to what to say next. Because something would need to be said at some point. The option of not saying anything, didn't exist. Just as the option of not returning to the ball eventually.
But, still, it wasn't exactly an uncomfortable silence. Even if it was a comfortable silence either. It was a secret third kind of silence, where they both had an underlying feeling, a kind of knowledge, that the other didn't judge the other for not being able to say anything, while simultaneously wondering what to say in fear of saying the wrong thing.
I wonder... how long is it alright to stay here, Cyraleona found herself thinking. Usually she would have been back already, and she knew that Leonidas didn't expect her to get lost. In fact, she probably knew the halls of the castle better than he did, because she spent more time wandering them while trying to calm herself, preparing herself for yet another interaction she really didn't want to have.
On one hand, she didn't want to rush the boy, especially since they had only just a moment ago sat down, because of which it'd be strange to just stand up and leave straight away. But on the other hand, they were expected back, which played back to expectations. Duty. Responsibilities.
Responsibilities she didn't mind as a whole, because it was nice to feel capable, that she was taken seriously. But some responsibilities were certainly nicer than others. And the responsibilities that existed outside of the library doors, down the hall and through the ballroom doors, were far less than pleasant to her.
And again, she found herself wishing that she was more like Leonidas. Bright like the summer sun, when she was more like... actually, she wasn't sure what kind of a sun she was, if a sun at all.
As Cyraleona pondered to herself, staring at the pages of the book without seeing them, Dusk did the same.
She can't be royalty no, even if she's so at ease here, he thought. She must be... the daughter of some high ranking official. Or perhaps a librarian, a family that's in charge of upkeeping records maybe, a family that is trusted and valued, and who are familiar with royal libraries... Something like that, he thought. Though he wasn't sure how it went, the pecking order, the endless sea of titles and occupations that he couldn't navigate, which was another point in why he was shunned. It must've been something... something like that. After all, royalty was... on display. Present. Shyness couldn't thrive in a place like that.
Though he supposed, that it simply was a whole hell to the people born into such a standing, if they were shy by nature. He supposed, but didn't know. And, none of the royals he knew held a burden such as himself, which meant that they didn't have to prove themselves in the same way. They didn't have to prove themselves to not be devil touched, like he did. Was supposed to prove. To people who didn't know him, or his family. Which brought his train of thought back to his parents, and how they were supposed to introduce him to some friends of theirs. Which friends would they have in such a ball? he asked himself, since he had told it to himself already, he was about as low of a noble as nobles can be, and the ball seemed to house the finest Clover had to offer. It wasn't, exactly, the kind of a place from which he'd expect to find friends of his parents. Does Father even have friends? He found himself thinking, even if it might've been harsh, considering how he was, at least friendly, with a lot of the Black Bulls. But it was Mother who was more of the type to have friends.
Mother was more like Dawn, and Sterling, or perhaps Dawn and Sterling were more like Mother. While he was damned to be more like Father.
It was a bitter thought.
But... not one that was untrue, in his mind at least. Instead, the thought that he considered nothing but the truth, made him clench his teeth, because it felt unfair.
It was terribly unfair. Why was he the only one who resembled Father so strongly?
Sterling may have been adopted but she learned most everything from Mother. Dawn was bright and strong, Light like their Uncle had been. Sirius took after Mother in looks and his relaxed attitude drew many to him. Merel had grim magic but she had a smile and optimism that outshone that part of her. Finally, it was recently found that Vivian was blessed with Mother's Emotion Magic.
Then there was Dusk. A dull, gloomy coward among his shining family members. He might as well have been the black sheep.
Shaking himself free of that thought—perhaps fear was a better term though—Dusk turned his attention to the girl again.
It must be hard to be a higher noble. Even if she didn’t have the same... Dusk's grip tightened. Problems as myself, being more on display must be awful. But I shouldn't bring that up if I want to befriend her. And I would. At least like to try.
Once more the question of how to reach out echoed in Dusk's mind.
Dusk stared at the book. How many times had he read the first paragraph? The girl hadn't noticed, had she? Probably not since she seemed invested in her book. Was she so absorbed in reading to ignore him though? It sent a pang through Dusk's heart to think that.
She's not obligated to befriend me, I suppose, he thought, his shoulders slumping forward a bit as he did. Then again, neither was she obligated to be so kind...
He glanced at her again.
By the looks of it, she was still on the first couple of pages in her book. Was she a slow reader? Or had they not been sitting in the library as long as he thought they had? Dusk looked around the room for a clock. Though, even when he saw the time, he realized he hadn't checked the time when they first entered so he still didn't know how long they'd been there.
Dusk read the first paragraph of his book yet again.
Perhaps she was stuck like him. On the first page because of other thoughts on her mind.
"How embarrassing..." The words passed his lips without much thought.
"Hm?" Cyraleona raised her head to look at the boy. "What would be?"
"Uhp!" His face turned pink again though his earlier panic didn't return with it. Merely surprise it seemed. "Uh..." His eyes drifted to the side before returning to her. "I hope you don't mind but I noticed..." He raised up the book in his lap. He was still on the first page of it. His smile was sheepish as he said, "We're both stuck on the first page."
Cyraleona let out a squeak. "Oh I—!" She closed her own book as she smiled and shrugged. "That's very true! I'm not usually so distracted while reading."
"Can I ask what you were trying to read?"
"Yes you can! Go ahead and ask!" Cyraleona blurted out.
There was a beat of silence. The children smiled awkwardly at each other, sharing in the knowledge of what should've been happening.
"Um... So what were you reading?"
"It's a book from the library's new section on international literature. It's a collection of folktales from across the Suit Continent and even countries like Lumi and Thea!"
The boy hummed, then muttered, "Lumi's stories are rather morose, wouldn't you say?"
"You're familiar?"
"Hah, that's putting it lightly." The boy's shoulders visibly tensed. "My siblings and I visit our aunt in Lumi every year. For as long as I've been alive."
Cyraleona's eyes went wide. "You're that close with your relatives? Even so far apart?"
"Y-yeah... It's just my family and one aunt so... W-w-well my one aunt and her family!" the boy stammered as he corrected himself.
A fluttering overtook Cyraleona's heart. The way the conversation had suddenly bloomed. It wasn't miraculous by any means but a pleasant turn from how awkward it had been earlier. Almost too easy.
Oh what if this is just a lucky fluke? she thought, the flutter in her chest becoming a shudder. No, no. I can't let the doubt get to me. I'm trying. He is trying. I must have faith. "S-since you asked... Can I know what your book is?"
The boy flushed a deeper shade of red.
“J-just a history of healing magic…” he mumbled out, adjusting his glasses as he did.
It sounded right to Cyraleona. His mana, similar but different to Aunt Selena’s, must’ve been apt for such gentle magic as healing.
Unlike hers. Which burned relentlessly and without aim. It wasn’t right for her to envy another for their magic because she couldn’t change hers. She would have Burning Sun. And the boy would have his magic.
“That’s admirable of you, to learn healing arts.”
“Erm, well, it’s less for me…” the boy admitted. His posture seemed to shrink. “My attribute is… not suited for that… that kind of thing…”
“It’s not?”
The boy shook his head.
So she had been too quick to judge. The boy didn’t seem offended though, more disappointed. A disappointment that was likely directed at himself. At least, that’s what Cyraleona might’ve felt in his position.
“Oh. Excuse me for assuming then.” She cleared her throat before continuing with a faint smile. “But you’re at least interested,” she said, tilting her head a bit.
“Y-yeah… I suppose that I admire the things I can’t do myself…”
The girl's eyes shifted to the side as a a faint shade of pink rose to her cheeks. She could very much understand the sentiment; admiring the skills and magics of others.
"I... think it's important to be able to appreciate the skills of others," she stated. "I admire many people for things they can do, while I am not able to do those things. Not everyone can be a healer, for more reasons than one." She felt like she was, again, borrowing the words of someone else. Who exactly it was this time, she wasn't quite sure, but the statement wasn't out of place. It wasn't something she would have disagreed with. The words, quite simply, just weren't her own.
"Mh," the boy uttered while nodding his head.
"Though it is... unfortunate that the attribute one bears, dictates so much, though for some more than to others," yet another statement that was merely borrowed from someone else. And though the words, as if rehearsed, aided her at times; the statements that she did agree with and thus was able to speak, they sounded much more hollow, coming from her than those who were older and wiser. Or even those who spoke with words of their own.
Dusk stayed silent, as a question came to his mind. But it was a question that... he probably shouldn't ask. It certainly was one that he wouldn't ask from a lot of people. Though, then again, he hadn't had as much of a conversation with anyone outside of family for a long time, before this... conversation, if it could be described as a proper conversation.
So, maybe... maybe he should be brave.
Or not. Because it'd risk the potential friendship he wasn't even sure he could have.
But then again, she had, kind of, asked about his affinity, so... it would be alright to reflect the question back, right?
Right?
"Umm... y-you don't need to answer if you don't want to," he stammered. "But um... uhh... Do.. Is your affinity suited for healing then?" he asked. It wasn't quite a question on which affinity she had, but it was close enough.
It was a better question to ask, actually. He thought. At least. In that moment of time.
The girl's eyes stayed to the side, and Dusk could see, could recognize the way her body tensed, even if only a little. It was such a small movement, it might have gone unnoticed by someone who wasn't familiar with it themselves.
Her hand took a hold of a lock of her hair, and fumbled with it.
"No." She said, nearly whispered. "Though... my mother can do some healing spells..." she thought out loud. "While my father cannot. One of my aunts is the healer of the family," she continued. "Oh, but I'm rambling. Apologies." She gave him a forcefully courteous smile. Although for something that she didn't really need to apologize. Not in Dusk's mind at least.
"N-no, it's okay," he tried. "My... mother's more of a— Well, I'm— It's... yeah, it's okay. I'm more like— I mean that my magic is more like my dad's too so… Uh... yeah," hhe tried again, but his eyes turned to the floor as his shoulders hunched.
Silence settled into the room, as neither knew quite what to say. Or rather, the questions that would have followed, might have been too bold. Too personal. Perhaps too much.
So, the next thing to break through the silence wasn't a question. It was a thought, spoken out loud.
"I don't think my magic is that of my father's either," she continued. "I think... that it's ... their magics layered on top of each other," her brows furrowed with the statement. Quiet simply because she wasn't sure what to make of it herself. There was so much of it that she didn't quite know. If she should go to a tower at the age of fifteen and receive her grimoire, or even if she could. Or should she wait and craft one for herself. The perks of receiving a grimoire would be that she wouldn't need to think. She could simply take whatever Fate decided to give her.
But then again, there was the chance that she wouldn't like it. The other option would give her a chance to make something she wanted, out of herself. While she didn't know what that was.
Actually, though at times, she thought that those who were fully Cloverian, or fully Theans, didn't have the options she did, and that she should be grateful of the options, there were times when she thought otherwise. She thought about how wonderful it must've been to know, what was up ahead.
Leonidas didn't seem to mind either way. He didn't seem to mind not-knowing. Or then he had quite simply decided for himself. While Cyraleona hadn't.
She didn't know what to do. And that was why, at that moment, again, she envied the person next to her. Though she hated to be, even if only at times, so filled with envy, because envy wasn't good for her.
But, as the train of her own thoughts slipped away from her, she quietly whispered under her breath, before she managed to catch herself: "I think I envy you…”
Dusk blinked a couple of times.
Did he hear her right? Surely not. There was nothing to envy about him, at least in his eyes.
His family history was dyed in wretched shades of black and red due to the magic they used and the lives they took. There was no light in him, from his seemingly insurmountable cowardice to the simple fact that his eyes couldn't even shine. And then there was his magic, which would only grow darker as time went on.
Dusk was not the person to be envied in the room. It was the girl. Her hair was red like roses and her eyes like lavender, making her look like she had bloomed underneath a summer sun. Her warm smile gave Dusk the courage to smile back, even if briefly. Her voice, as gentle as a lullaby, carried her kind words well. And the way she reached out to Dusk was a bravery he had yet to grasp.
Perhaps the only enviable thing about him was that he was unimportant and could be overlooked, unlike someone of the position she likely held.
Dusk bowed and shook his head.
"Please don't," he muttered. "You shouldn't envy the likes of me. I'm..." He bit his tongue. He wasn't going to burden the girl with his sob story. But he couldn't let her statement, what felt to him like an impossible mindset, stand as it was.
"I'm the one who ought to envy you."
Dusk knew. Or rather, he understood the fact that he didn't know the girl. Not really. They'd only just met. They hadn't exchanged names. And their conversation, while unburdened, still struggled to make sense or lose tension. They were strangers which was why Dusk couldn't fully relax around the girl. He told himself that over and over. There was sympathy and understanding over a shared shyness. But...
That wasn't friendship.
They didn't know each other.
Yet Dusk couldn't stop himself from feeling the way he did. From seeing the good she had, because it was shining right in front of his eyes. And what he saw, he wished he could have himself. How she didn't see it for herself wasn't something for Dusk to consider.
All he could really say at the moment was what he felt to be true.
"I'm the one who cried in the bathroom. And you were the one to come to my rescue," Dusk stated, his eyes still on the floor. "You might be braver than you realize. And so... there's no need to envy me."
The girl's eyes had widened for a moment, as she had realized to have spoken the words out loud, rather than having only thought about them. And she could, see the tension, the grinding of teeth, and the way the boy bowed his head. With it, came again the thought of how many didn't have the choices she did, and how, thus, she should be thankful. It was a kind of a privilege she had, even if a wasted one, because she didn't know what to do with it.
"I apologize," she finally said, as her hand found its way back into her hair, and begun fumbling with the same lock as before. "It was a careless and a... insensitive thing of me to say." She paused again, as if to let the apology to sink in, before changing the topic; before speaking another sentence that'd be only loosely tied to the last one. "You have a lot of kind things to say about me, it seems," she noted. "And I think it shows that you are a kind person. Bitter people have bitter things to say, angry people have angry things to say, soft people have soft things to say, and kind people have kind things to say."
Dusk didn't really know what to say. But he didn't necessarily disagree with the logic.
"And I know that I am... fortunate, in many ways," she admitted with a hushed tone. "But advantages are only such if you know how to use them. Or so I think. And... though I... can't be sure what you mean with 'the likes of me', I... don't think it matters. Mother says that it matters what you make of yourself. And that's why Father demands from us. Because though we have the tools that were given, we still need to make something with it. An artist is evaluated by their art, a chef by their food, and a knight by the things they use their magic for. I just don't know how to use my tools," she admitted.
And again, as Dusk didn't know which affinity the girl had, he couldn't say much. But whatever she must've had was surely better than his, along with not being burdened by a similar family background as he was.
Though... She did have struggles of her own, that much was clear. But still, it didn't make sense to him. How could someone like her, be... spoken in any other manner than admiring or kind.
He could feel warmth rising to his cheeks as he thought back to her having described him as kind. Because it wasn't something anyone, aside of mother, would say to him. And that made his heart beat in his chest yet again, but not in the way it usually raced. This time his breathing wasn't getting stuck into his throat, nor did his shoulders start slouching closer to the ground as he tried to make himself as invisible as possible.
"Still," he mumbled under his breath while keeping his eyes away. "There's no reason to envy me," he repeated. Because he truly failed to grasp how someone, anyone, could envy him.
The conversation lapsed into silence.
Both Cyraleona and Dusk felt the understanding that they were similar yet both had the sense that they lived in completely separate worlds at the same time.
Dusk stared at his lap. He considered the girl’s words. Or rather the words of her parents, regarding “making yourself” with the “tools” you had. They were unfamiliar but intriguing to Dusk. Being given tools or advantages to build up who a person was made sense. But it wasn't what Dusk had been taught.
He had learned from his parents that he should “find himself.” That was to say, he was advised to find the parts of himself he liked and improve upon them. Like muscles, his mother had used as comparison, a person had to train their strengths to make them more apparent.
Although... Putting their lessons into practice hadn't quite panned out for Dusk. He found it hard to like much about himself. He wasn't a bad person, he was certain of that, but he struggled to see himself as someone who was admired or beloved, like other people he knew. Even though he tried to be kind, that was him trying to be like his family more than him seeing that goodness in himself. It was easier to see the goodness in his father, given that he was a war hero and the man his mother married. So Nacht was good, despite being himself. Dusk saw more in his father than he saw in himself so becoming a version of himself he liked was...
Was there a version of Dusk he wanted to become?
Again, it was the inability to shine on his own that weighed down on Dusk.
Still, he wanted to believe the girl when she said he was kind. To think his efforts weren’t in vain. Dusk supposed that it was similar to how the girl didn’t know how to use her “tools” but was still figuring it all out. And the girl’s efforts to make use of what she had, because it was clear that she was trying, weren’t wasted either.
At least to Dusk. He hoped that the girl recognized that.
Cyraleona traced her finger along the edges of her book, trying to make sense of the conversation that seemed to go in circles before it went nowhere.
She was jealous of the boy.
Of his freedom from the spotlight. Of the likelihood that he was fully Cloverian and thus didn't have the complex conundrum of where his grimoire would come from. His quiet and gentle presence that didn't demand attention the way her status did. Whatever attribute he had, even if it couldn't heal, was probably gentler than hers was. A part of Cyraleona was also envious of the fact that, from the way the boy described it, his magic was just like his father's. He could learn directly from his parent while she... There were similarities between her attribute and those of her parents but it wasn't one-to-one with either and so learning from them would take more effort. What the boy had as his advantage was a likely simpler, more straightforward life that Cyraleona didn't have.
Cyraleona didn't like the bitter envy she felt but it was there in her heart.
And yet the boy reflected that sentiment right back.
He had called her brave. Then again, given that she had also slipped away from the gala, it didn't feel quite right. It also didn't sit right with her to imply that the boy was weak-willed for crying when overwhelmed. To discount his remark entirely was too rude though. So was she braver than she thought? Cyraleona wondered, and she hoped.
But what else was there to envy? If he knew that she was royalty, she doubted he would envy her place in the hierarchy, a position where there would always be eyes on her. Did he...? When he asked about her magic, was he jealous the way she'd been jealous of his possible attribute?
Cyraleona paused.
"Possible." "Likely." "Probably."
Those words had crossed her mind in her thoughts because she didn't know for certain. She was running off assumptions and what little he'd spoken of.
I can only know if I ask... If I am truly brave… Cyraleona took in a breath. "I don't want to believe that there is nothing in your life that's perhaps not 'enviable' but at least worthwhile," she said simply. "Like your family. Surely your ties to them are something you're proud of."
She would try to strike up conversation again. Not only that but... Focusing on something like envy wouldn't lead anywhere, or at least anywhere good.
Cyraleona didn't want to know if she should envy the boy at all. She simply wanted to know him. And for him to know her.
Dusk blinked and then his face turned pink.
There was no way Dusk would want anyone to envy his family but... The girl had hit the mark that he was proud to call his family his family.
"I-I suppose that..." A smile crawled to Dusk's face. "My siblings... They're my biggest inspirations. And my parents teach us a lot."
"That's lovely." Cyraleona grinned. "I feel similar. My parents and my siblings mean the world to me."
"S-so, uh, how many siblings do you have?" Dusk asked as he turned his body to face the girl better. It felt scary, being more head on in the conversation but... As much Dusk felt like it was a demand, he'd follow his father's words and try.
"Two." Cyraleona scooched a bit to match his gesture. "Older brother and younger sister. And you?"
"I'm..." The boy looked to the side and his face turned from pink to red. "One of six."
"Oh my, that's..." Cyraleona hesitated. Not out of fear for sounding judgmental but because there were too many thoughts coming to mind. Lively? Busy? Like their own knight squad?
"A lot?"
Cyraleona gave a small shrug and nod at the same time. "Yes. A lot."
"Mother says that it's to make up for her being an only child."
"Oh? My family is... the opposite I guess?" Cyraleana pinched her face in thought. "No, that'd be more like my mother came from a huge family and then only had one. It's more... My siblings and I kinda copied my mom's family set up?" She giggled a little since she hadn't actually realized it until then.
She heard the boy laughing too.
"Hm?" Her face warmed a bit. "What are you—? I wasn't trying to be funny just now..."
"Sorry," the boy said. "Nothing you said but... Your laugh. It sounded more genuine and... it's cute."
A pink shade appeared over the girl's cheeks as she turned her head to the side, and her hand again fumbled with a lock of her hair.
"O...oh..." she uttered, sounding surprised more than anything. "Thank you," she finally added.
She had been told that she was 'beautiful', 'gorgeous', 'radiant as ever' by a lot of people, but those words were always delivered with a poised stiffness that could be found only in the noble circles. They weren't spoken with ridicule or ill intent, but they always sounded like a courtesy to be given. Which they were. People were expected to be courteous to those higher up, and for that reason words, such as that, were spoken out loud, like an extension of a greeting.
But coming from the boy, the compliment had sounded genuine. Much like he had told her that her laughter had sounded genuine. However, as the girl had fallen silent, Dusk started to think about if he had crossed some sort of a line, or if he hadn't said the right thing, somehow.
"I-I'm sure you get called that a lot," he tried to brush off as his head turned to the side as well. "And it's not funny. The way you laugh and it's good cute!" He rambled, even if he wasn't sure if there was a bad cute.
Actually... as he thought about it, there was the malicious, condescending way of uttering 'cute', so such a thing did exist, but he hadn't meant it like that!
Should I have— What word should I have used? He began to think, as the train of his thoughts were on the verge of slipping off the rails.
"No, no I... didn't take it like that," the girl assured in haste. "It just... sounded so genuine, the way you said it," she continued.
Tension, that Dusk hadn't realize to be there, melted away, and he turned back to face the girl, who was now looking at him, even if slowly.
"I meant it," he whispered, feeling that he needed to clarify.
"Me too," she said, giving him a small smile. "Genuinity is ... sometimes a difficult thing to find among nobles," she said, feeling brave.
For such a thing shouldn't be said out loud, not to a stranger at least. Even if everyone knew it to be true. It wasn't something one says.
"It is," he agreed, the corner of his mouth tugging up for a fraction of a second.
And the girl nodded as a reply, giving confirmation, or to simply note that she was listening to what he had to say.
Another silence fell into the room, as neither was sure how to continue with the conversation. Or if this was, perhaps, a suitable point to which to stop this conversation, and continue on another time. Because she did, and he did, have an wish to meet again. Not yet perhaps as friends, but people who were looking to be friends.
"I wonder if my parents and brother are looking for me?" She thought out loud, looking to the door of the library.
Dusk's gaze followed the girls, as he, too, came to remember the passage of time again.
"My parents wanted me to meet some of their friends too..." he thought, similarly, out loud, noting that he was being expected as well.
The girl turned to look at him, pausing to think if she should, or if she shouldn't ask. But considering how they had bonded over not doing well in crowds, it'd be an alright thing to ask. "Do you, perhaps, not like these friends of theirs?"
"I... haven't met them, so I can't say," he only said.
"It's alright," she smiled. "Meeting people out of necessity, or simply because it's the courteous thing to do, isn't always pleasant, but it's.... One manages," she tried. Mostly because she wanted to believe in it herself, as much as she wanted him to believe in it.
"You are braver than you think," he repeated, sounding slightly like he was talking beside the topic. "Which— is why it's... why you manage," he elaborated.
"People manage in their own ways," she said, borrowing the words of her mother, or father, or someone else she couldn't pin point yet again. "And... I think that I'm... trying to be brave," she commented, looking down to the book in her hands. “But... thank you."
Dusk wasn't sure for what, exactly, the girl was thanking him, but he didn't think it necessarily mattered.
But now, he was, again, left with the question of how to introduce himself, because surely he should, if he wanted to meet her again and see if they could be friends. Or.... perhaps it'd be better for her to meet his family first. Because, surely, if she met Mother, and to a lesser extent Father, she could see that they were more than the reputation they held. So, perhaps, she'd be more willing to meet again later on, than if he simply told her who he was.
Dusk balled his hands as they rested atop his knees.
“Say… um…” His nerves grew tenfold as he realized what he was intending to do. By instinct, his gaze darted away from the girl. “I, or well both of us kinda, didn’t really introduce ourselves. A-a-and I’d like—! Or, I mean, if it’s okay with you too… Could we perhaps, maybe, if possible, meet again?”
Dusk’s request became a question, as he was still too unsure to “demand” anything of the girl. It was more an invitation if Dusk had thought about it more but his mind was already running wild on anxiety. Thus, he feared he was demanding something of her.
Cyraleona hummed in response to the boy’s remark. He spoke the truth and then he… reached out. Rather shyly. But it was his own attempt to be brave.
“I understand. I think… I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting and chatting once more,” she said and extended a smile to the boy. “So uh, would you like to start? Or I?”
“I’ll go first.” The boy’s shoulders visibly rose as he swallowed. “So, uh, I’m... My name is—”
“There you are, little bro!” a feminine voice called out.
The boy and girl looked towards the library doors. Standing in the doorway was a young women with red hair and ribbons tied to either side of her head.
"S-sis?!" the boy yelped.
The young woman walked in and over to the couch where the children were seated. At that distance, Cyraleona could see her eyes, one blue and one gray, as well as a silver circlet peeking out through her bangs. The young woman smiled and nodded at Cyraleona before looking at her brother.
"Let's get going," she said plainly and extended her hand. "C'mon."
Cyraleona looked on in confusion. While the boy fumbled on his words, he spoke with a polite, typical-of-nobility tone. But his sister reminded Cyraleona of Aunt Mereoleona, casual and coarse. Not only that but their appearances were drastically different. But they addressed each other as family so there was no point in questioning it further.
"Huh? Is it time to meet Mother and Father's friends?" the boy asked as he set aside the book in his lap.
"No," was the blunt answer as the young woman took his hand. “Vivi’s being fussy so we gotta go.”
"B-but..." He looked over at Cyraleona. "She and I were…"
The young woman looked at Cyraleona. Her gaze felt... like there was something more to it. Cyraleona didn't know how else to describe it.
The strange feeling of being perceived lasted only a couple seconds before the young woman turned to the boy again.
"You'll see each other again, bro." When she said it, the statement felt final for whatever reason. With her free hand, she patted him on the head. "C'mon now. No time to waste." She started to guide the boy towards the door. Although to Cyraleona, it almost looked like she was dragging him away. As the siblings reached the threshold, the sister turned her head over her shoulder and said, "Sorry to steal my little bro away but we really gotta head out! Good luck with the party! Hope you like flat cider!"
With that, they were gone.
Cyraleona blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what happened.
The sister's time had been a little too perfect to interrupt her and the boy introducing themselves. Although, Cyraleona's own timing of leaving the party had led to them meeting. So, in a sense, it was fair. Perfectly coincidental meeting and perfectly coincidental separation.
"I didn't even get his name," Cyraleona sighed.
Her eyes wandered to where the boy had been seated. There was only the book left. She reached over and picked it up. The boy had shown an interest in the book and since he'd only read the first page, perhaps he would return to the castle for another chance to read it. Maybe that would be their chance to meet again. That thought brought a frown to Cyraleona's face though. The boy would return for the book...
Why do I want to be the reason? Either way he comes back, right?
Cyraleona hugged the book to her chest. To hold onto it for him.
She kept the book on healing close as she returned the book she had chosen to its rightful place in the library before returning to the ballroom. It would've been more appropriate to drop off the boy's chosen book at her room so she wouldn't be carrying it around the gala. But, she argued with herself, it was more timely to simply return with the book in hand.
Cyraleona slipped back into the ballroom and wove through the crowd with smiles and curtseys along the way until she found her parents and Leonidas speaking with Randall.
"Cyra, there you are," Solara said as she reached out to greet her daughter with a hug. "Feeling refreshed after a walk?"
"Yes. Maybe a little more than refreshed even."
"Glad to hear," Leonidas remarked. "Oh. And here." He offered back Cyraleona's cup of cider.
"You really held onto it this whole time?" Cyra asked with a giggle as she took the glass. "Thanks."
"I see you've brought back a book," Randall commented while gesturing to said item. "What's it about?"
At the question, Cyraleona's bashfully looked away. Despite being familiar with Randall, even friendly with his daughter, sometimes the man's direct approach to conversation caught her off guard. Not only that, but it reminded her of the mystery boy.
"A history of healing magic."
Fuegoleon hummed. "I thought you'd determined your magic wasn't suited for healing."
"That's true but..." Cyra felt her face warm. "I-it's not really for me. For my new friend..."
“Oh?" There was curious musing in her father's tone, but he didn't pry. "We all need friends from time to time," he simply continued, merely siding the topic.
"Indeed," Randall agreed with a chuckle.
And Solara hummed with a smile on her own. It was a hum that sounded knowing, but which Cyraleona had deduced to be only Mother's way of expressing that she was listening; and that she approved.
However, Leonidas looked like he wanted to inquire further, for which Cyraleona couldn't exactly blame her brother. But the time for questions would come later. Which, however, wouldn't make answering perhaps the most important question any easier, and that was: "who is your new friend?"
To that question Cyraleona didn't know the answer, but it had seemed like the boy's sister knew more than she said while dragging the boy away.
Had Cyraleona not known any better, she would have claimed that the sister stood outside of the library for some time, only to interject at a convenient time.
For whatever reason.
But as she stared into her cup of very much flat cider, she became convinced of the girl's words about how they would meet again. Because it seemed obvious that she had known who Cyraleona was, but for what reason she had deemed best for the two of them to not introduce themselves was beyond Cyraleona.
It seemed curious. All of it.
But it seemed curious in the best of ways.
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