#not me gunning for pyromaniac Rollo/s

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

TwstOBer Day 31: Enchanted

[TwstOBer 2022 prompts]

WAHAHAH 🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEENIES 🎃

adhsbbaisdiba I wanted to write something on the thoughtful and reflective side. Less dialogue and events, and more letting the imagery illustrate the character’s inner thoughts and feelings, you know? Unfortunately, I was a bit short on time... I hope this ficlet doesn’t feel too rushed 😅

The fire cast a magic spell on him.

***NOTE: Please be warned that this piece is being released prior to the full event in which he appears, so Rollo may be characterized differently in this writing than in canon.***

Trick or Treat.

Rollo had a fondness for fire--but perhaps it was just as accurate to say that fire, too, had a fondness for him.

The moment he entered his office, he was flooded with the warmth emulating from the fireplace at the far wall. His face and fingers were still chilled from the brisk autumn air, cheeks left ruddy from the whirlwind of planning and preparations for the upcoming symposium. The fire welcomed him home like an old friend, running its heat along his coldly neutral expression, melting away his exhaustion as he swept in.

He was flanked by his vice president and the student council’s aide, both up to their necks in documents. They alternated with one another perfectly, Rollo nodding along as each rattled off their respective report.

“The tailor shop has made significant progress on the designs for the guests’ outfits,” began the vice president.

“The caterer called earlier to confirm the menu and the headcount,” the aide chimed in.

 “They will be completed in a few weeks, just in time for our event. I’ll arrange for someone to fetch our order in that time. Or would you feel better if we personally picked them up?”

“They’ve approved our request for vegetarian and gluten-free options to be served, at an additional fee. What do you think? Do we have the funds to cover it, or should we contact the caterer to renegotiate?”

Rollo lifted a hand, immediately silencing the duo.

His vice president and aide exchanged knowing glances.

“Of course, sir. We’ll leave you to it,” they said in unison, bowing their heads in deference before retreating.

The door slammed shut behind them, caging Rollo in with the roaring blaze of the kindling. A familiar scene, and an even more familiar feeling.

The sanctity of his hour of prayer.

He expelled a deep breath as he approached the fireplace, slowly lacing his fingers together as the leaping embers reached for him. Rollo whispered the words of an ancient language, casting them into the waiting inferno as an offering.

“Of my virtue, I am justly proud.”

Shadows lengthened across his face as he peered, transfixed, into the gleefully rising flames.

They were wild and free and alive, lashing the air with quick and graceful movements, the space around it warping into a hot blur. It was almost as though the fire was dancing, its sparks erasing everything irrelevant in its path.

He did not shudder or sidle away.

Like a moth to a flame, he was hypnotized and drawn to it. The fire, a secret spell, and its sparks, the traces of its magic.

The gentle, lethal beauty of it...

Enticing, entrancing, enchanting.

The warmth happily embraced him, and he sighed, leaning into its molten touch.

A weight in Rollo’s chest receded as he let himself fall.

Deeper, deeper, and yet deeper still, the fire washing over him and rendering his skin to ash, scattered to the world by the slightest breeze. Bathed in the fires of rebirth, submerged in his own fantasy, it was his one moment of solace, his salvation, from the demands of the world.

His weary soul, cleansed. His resolve, forged again in the raging blaze.

Rollo’s expression was the same, but his dark eyes had ignited, now smoldering.

A flower set aflame.

The Bell tolled in the distance, its mellow ring reverberating through the building, through Rollo’s body and to his core. In the quiet that followed, his resolution was deafening.

“Just you wait... Malleus Draconia!”