With the lord's conversation still fresh on their minds, they follow the ring-bearing old man.
Wilphrey leads the pair to a dusty meeting room that no one has used in ages. From its appearance, Cilas must not upkeep this room. But apart from its bareness and the smidge of sketchiness, it's a nice area for a class.
-School, huh...
A rectangular table stands in the room's center, and stacked chairs line the outskirts. While the two boys take their chairs, the old man wipes down a drawing board in the front. Korlin places his seat as close to the window as possible, gazing out into the yard. The glass is brimming with sheen on the outside, but not as much inside.
Clearing his throat, Wilphrey kindly asks the boy to move to the only table. After stating he wants the "main character seat," he reluctantly agrees and situates himself near Sirius in the center of the room. Then, Wilphrey begins his class on reading and writing.
"To start, would you mind writing your names in your own language? I would like to get a feel of where you're at."
With the blank sheets in front of them, the two take up inkclaws and write down their names as told. Upon witnessing their penmanship, Wilphrey is immediately intrigued.
"Fascinating... You two truly derive from a strange land. Do you always write in such a way? Horizontally?"
"Huh?" Korlin was expecting a different response. "Yeah, is that not how it works here?"
Wilphrey proceeds to explain the basic structure in which to write. Which goes as follows: Writing is done from left to right in a down-sloped fashion. Important information such as names and dates reside in the top right of a page while the main body of a document starts from the top left corner and goes until the bottom right, unless a sentence is broken off beforehand. It repeats this process again slightly below the first line and continues down until no more page remains.
Korlin attempts this way of writing.
"Is that right?"
"I believe so," Wilphrey studies the paper. "I cannot decipher your world's pen, but all looks well. Apart from the absence of date and punctuation."
"Yeah... I never really went to school so I'm not the best at punctuation. How do you do the date?"
The man explains the way dating a document works. It is fairly simple and corresponds with systems on Earth.
Day > Month > Year
Written diagonally, of course.
"What is the date today?"
"Today is the seventeenth of Oakul, year six hundred seventy-four of the Aru Era."
17/7/674
"What happened all those years ago?!"
"Ah," Wilphrey groans. "Perhaps I shall ask Cilas to give you history lessons; he is much more knowledgeable than I."
"Hmm, I doubt that, but alright."
Korlin craves more lore, and he wants it now. Without the slightest sliver of shame or restraint. It's almost admirable... almost.
Putting basic structure behind, as it is easy enough to understand, Wilphrey continues conducting the class moving into basic characters. On the drawing board he writes down the entire syllabary of Lunalir's most spoken language, Selene. It consists of twenty-nine letters, consisting of seventeen consonants and twelve vowels. The letters themselves are suited to be written diagonally and mesh well with each other, and when written correctly look like pictures.
Without a basis of where to begin, Wilphrey asks Sirius to write down his own syllabary on the board. Korlin shares the same, so it doesn't complicate anything further. Going through each letter and sounding them out, Sirius makes slight connections between the two written languages, but not many. There is, however, a slight issue...
"This is tricky... Your letters and ours sound the same to my ears."
"Really? They sound different to me."
"Hm... Well, you both can speak just fine. And you said you're not actually speaking your language now, yes? But it sounds like you are to you?"
"Right."
"Hmm... So you understand my speech and your own, but if you consciously try to imitate the sounds, it fails... Fascinating. I suppose we'll just have to skip sounding things out."
Class drags on, and as it does, Sirius feels lost in all the information being dumped on him. Rawlin's offer plagues his thoughts, inhibiting his ability to learn.
-What should I do? What happens if I decline? Do I even have a reason to decline...? I need to repay them for letting me stay here... If I don't help him won't that make me ungrateful? But my memories...
"You understanding everything?" Korlin whispers.
"Hm? Oh, not really... Are you?"
"Of course! I've been ready to understand this my whole life."
"..." Sirius doesn't respond. His thoughts are racked with questions and doubt. Not to mention the atmosphere in here is... painfully familiar...
-Do I want to keep my memories? I should, shouldn't I? Why am I so unsure?
Wilphrey hands the pair another sheet and asks them to write the sentence: "Greetings, my name is ________." He asks them to write their names as they are used to (for now), as name spelling is apparently more convoluted.
Korlin, within seconds, writes down the full diagonal sentence. He does it before Sirius can even put his pen to paper.
"This is correct!" Korlin shouts. He holds the utmost confidence in his answer.
The old man, doubting him, steps over and picks up the boy's paper.
"Indeed, it is." He is pleasantly surprised. "Well done."
"Ha," Korlin folds his arms and smirks. "'Tis mere child's play for someone like me."
"Ahem... How about you, Sirius?" The man reaches over to pick up the page, but nothing is written.
"Sorry, I'm having a hard time understanding. Would you mind... explaining it again?"
"Certainly."
In truth, he wasn't paying attention. Putting aside the lord's offer, another threat hangs over him. The interior of the room may be different, but the fact remains... this resembles a school.
Feelings stir inside him. Feelings too hard to describe, but consuming all the same.
Wilphrey's lesson continues. Sirius sits in his chair trying to pay attention, but it's fruitless. The man is saying something... but what? Korlin is jotting down everything he can onto his page. He's even practicing writing diagonally already; his adaptability is commendable.
Adaptability...
Nothing is written in front of Sirius.
This isn't due to a lack of sleep... It isn't Wilphrey's lack of teaching ability; the man is engaging and thoughtful. His teachings are well-spoken and easy to comprehend, even for something as broad as a language. He answers all of Korlin's question with care.
"This is right, right?" Korlin asks eagerly.
"Correct again. You learn quickly."
An almost... instinctive response is drawn from Sirius's mind. Simply hearing Korlin obtain praise makes him feel invalidated. An envy, of sorts. Especially considering how Korlin hasn't attended a class in years.
Scrambling, Sirius writes the little he's picked up so far.
"Is... this, correct?" His words hold hesitancy so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"Hm, not quite... Perhaps we're moving too quickly?" Wilphrey has a look in his eyes... A look that disgusts Sirius.
-Is this... pity? Why? I'm supposed to be...
"No," he swallows. "It's alright, I was just spacing off. I apologize." Sirius's response is so formal it makes Korlin turn over in confusion.
"Alright then, let me know if you want me to slow down. I am here to teach you, after all. But try not to space off, your disengagement reflects poorly."
-...
Wilphrey advances the class with stunning proficiency. But despite his teaching skills, the man can't keep hold of Sirius's attention. His words have only sunk him deeper into his hole.
Korlin understands all of it so quickly, giving Sirius a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
-Why am I so...
A blank stare drives itself into his teacher. The miniature claw in Sirius's hand trembles in his fingertips. This familiar feeling...
Chair. Table. Paper. Teacher. Another student.
School.
It all hits far too close to home. The home he hates.
Apart from the lack of a ticking clock, it's almost like he never left. Caught up in the same old routine...
Wilprhey's voice muffles into a grainy static. A static so loud it starts to ring....
It's unbearable.
.............................................................................................
"Sir Sirius?"
Cilas speaks. Since when is he here? Wilphrey is gone and only doodles sleep on the page from his class.
"Huh-? Oh, sorry, can you repeat that?"
"Certainly," the man clears his throat. "Lunalir, the kingdom of the moon, resides on the southern end of the Klephoral continent. Neighboring Alsi to the north and Mauvkin to the south, Lunalir is home to the native flower moonlids and the second largest trading hub in the world, Auretta."
"That's where we were!" Korlin punches Sirius on the shoulder.
"Ahem," Cilas silences the hyperactive boy. Korlin teleports back into his chair with a claw at the ready. "Auretta, named after the first lumalin with wings, is-"
"WOAH NOW!" Korlin immediately interrupts again.
"Y-yes, sir?"
"What's the story with that?!?"
"With all due respect, this is a history lesson, not a folklore one..."
"You had me at lore."
Cilas sighs. He acts irritated but dons a small smirk.
"It is told that the lumalins grew wings because their ancestors tried to return to the moon. They bargained with the Goddess of Potency and obtained full wings of their own to try."
"Full wings? Like big ones, and not the stubby ones?"
"Stub- er, yes. But, after the ancient lumalins grew unkind to the goddess, she shortened them so they could no longer fly. Their ascent to the moon was hindered, leaving the airborne ones to fall to an untimely demise... Now, the wings are passed down as a reminder for their race to be kind. Hence, dubbing Auretta the 'City of False Angels'."
"Whoa... Wait, so Auretta is named after the first one with wings, right?"
"Correct."
"Is Auretta the one who bargained for the wings?"
"Mm."
"Were they unkind to this goddess?"
"That much is unknown. Regardless, it is no more than a bedtime story to get children to be kind."
"I bet it's true..." Korlin writes it all in the journal he received from Sirius. "Though I don't feel like the city-folk really take this story to heart. They were awfully rude."
"Would you believe me if I told you that lumalins, and by extension Lunalir and Auretta, are known as being some of the nicest people and places in the world?"
"Bullshit! We had an old grandma almost explode from how much she hated us! And I almost got killed by a duck!"
"Well, you must remember that you are Witch Spawns. You're case is special, though I'm sure some people showed you kindness, no?"
"I suppose..." Korlin concedes. He then leans over to Sirius's ear. "Nicest, my ass, right?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah..." Sirius hasn't been paying full attention, but the tale now has a spot in his memory. It was interesting. So much more interesting than anything he's learned in a class before. So why...
-Why do I hate this?
...
The day closes, and moonlight veils the purple sky.
Sirius lies on his lavish bed, gripping his amputated hoodie. He contemplates whether or not to leave his room. A part of him says to search for Aureole, he hasn't seen her since morning. But he declines the notion, as to not come off as creepy or overbearing.
-Would she even want to see me?
There is no ceiling fan to watch spin. Only the sprawling ceiling high above. Which he stares at with no particular thoughts.
Thus passes a sleepless night.
⧗⧖⧗⧖⧗
The next day is almost identical to the one before. Apart from meeting with Pholy and Hyacinth in the morning, it's like a routine has already begun.
Breakfast. Chores. Classes.
Wilphrey, in the earlier hours, teaches the two writing and reading. Korlin is very upset that it's not magic. The latter half of the "school" day consists of Cilas's history lessons. They cover basic Lunalir history and other major historic events.
Sirius can't bring himself to listen to the lessons. Korlin is diligent and asks hundreds of questions per course. All their talk is drowned out by numbing static.
The day passes slothfully. Without a clock, the only way to tell time during class is from the sun outside. But he can't even watch that go by; it stings too much.
He conceals his inability to pay attention with a forceful smile and silence, masking his hatred and disgust behind curled lips.
Apart from the two old men and everyone in the morning, the hours are filled with loneliness. Korlin studies in his room, adamantly trying to learn everything he can. Pholy and Hyacinth do their own thing, not wanting company. Aureole studies or meets with the lord.
And so, Sirius sits alone in his room... staring at the ceiling.
Time passing ever by.
~~~
Blinding, white lights sweep his squinted vision.
The soft beeping of monitors and machines makes up a quiet ambiance.
His pupils dilate, then dart around the hospital room. Casts and tubes tangle themselves around his broken body. He can't move.
Beside his bed is a face he never thought he'd see again. The face of his brother.
Canopus stands above him, glaring down at him with unrelenting pity. He's never made this kind of expression.
Canopus leans in close to his brother's ear and whispers a haunting echo.
"You always have that stupid look on your face, like you have something to be sad about. It's always about you... What makes you so special? You're always in your own world, never paying attention to anyone else."
"..."
Sirius tries to speak, but is unable. He's choking.
"...You're bleeding through your cracks. No wonder I killed you..."
"..."
"No wonder you died alone."
All at once, it's as if the words themselves implode his chest.
A crippling pain tears through his body. His throat cascades, gouging out all of his senses. He needs to move but can't. He needs to scream but can't. He needs to breathe but can't. All he can do is feel the agonizing suffocation.
Canopus collapses into a dark mist, leaving Sirius to die once again.
Blood falls over his eyes, staining the white room a horrid red. The pain is worse than being hit by the truck. It's worse than anything. But this time, he won't black out. He won't die.
It hurts and hurts and hurts until...
He wakes up.
~~~
A violent scream saws his throat, tearing apart the still silence of the night. In a tireless sweat, he gasps for breaths that aren't there. He coughs ferociously, trapped mucus spitting out his sore throat.
Finally, air enters his functioning lungs, relaxing his bloodshot eyes. He devours excessive deep breaths, then swings his feet off the sweaty bed. He gets up and paces the room again and again, clutching his shirtless chest to confirm his heart still beats.
-What's wrong with me? Why? Why? Why-
Amidst his degradation, the door to his room flies open.
"Are you alright?!" Korlin shouts, shuffling in with a drowsy panic.
"H-Huh? M-Mm, I'm fine..."
"I heard a scream. A very loud one. What happened??"
"I just had a nightmare, that's all... Just go back to sleep." Sirius tries to motion the boy to leave.
Korlin groans and doesn't exit; instead, he waddles in further and sits on the edge of the bed.
"Come here." He tiredly beckons the boy to join him.
"What?" Sirius's frustration grows, but he follows the instructions regardless. He sits down beside Korlin.
"Are you... alright? Like, really alright?"
"I'm fine. I told you... It was just a nightmare."
"That's not what I meant. Today and yesterday, you've seemed kind of... slogged. Is something weighing on you?"
"Is that how it looked?"
"Mm."
-I wasn't acting well enough, huh...
"I'm alright, really."
"..." He doesn't believe it for a moment. Sirius prays he doesn't push further. "You kind of dodged this question before, but... What was your life like before this?"
The question hits him like a second truck. A tickling fear creeps over him.
-Why do you care? I told you- It's nothing interesting. I can't tell him... I can't tell him how I was. How I am...
"...That's none of your business."
Sirius despises his life on Earth; he doesn't even want to think about it. Let alone tell anyone of it. As such, his words come across rather blunt.
"Oh... Alright." He seems hurt, rejected. "I'll... take my leave then." The boy shuffles back towards the door and mutters a goodbye.
The door closes, and Sirius is left alone.
...
"Sorry..."
...
...
-I let myself poke through. Canopus was right... I'm bleeding through my cracks. I got too comfortable. I wasn't hiding it enough. I'll have to try a little more...
I have to be... perfect.
⧗⧖⧗⧖⧗
Smile.
Sirius, in his old, amputated hoodie, strides down the stairs with all the pep in the world. Strolling into the kitchen, an energetic "good morning" drubs the eardrums of everyone at the island. Almost all of the house members are already gathered for breakfast.
In response to his entrance, Aureole and Pholy glance at each other in confusion, their heads down in tempting slumber. Hyacinth warily glances over before turning away, and Rawlin bears his usual enigmatic expression.
"Someone's in a good mood!" Korlin says in his typically upbeat manner. It seems he didn't take anything to heart last night.
Sirius plasters on the brightest smile he can and takes a seat beside Aureole. She squints her eyes, both trying to read him and just trying to stay awake. "Hm..."
"What's up?"
"You seem awfully cheerful. I thought you weren't a morning person."
"Ah, I just slept great last night." His grin doesn't falter.
"Your eyes are pretty baggy though..."
"That's just how they are, unfortunately." Sirius shrugs in an exaggerated manner. "Can't do much about it."
Korlin's eyes are locked on Sirius, stalking his every move.
"Here you are," Cilas sets down a ceramic plate in front of Sirius.
"Thank you, it looks wonderful."
"Don't mention it..." His overly kind remark catches the cook off guard. Cilas passes out the remaining meals to all present house members. Idle chitchat between bites passes the time quickly. Sirius continues being overly positive, making everyone in the room slightly uncomfortable.
Then, with breakfast over, the day begins.
Wilphrey conducts class, the lessons of which have been moving rather quickly. Already, the two boys are learning how to properly punctuate. Commas and exclamation marks have no role in this language, only periods and question marks persist. Although, periods take the form of a tiny spiral, placed evenly between the end and beginning of a new sentence.
Question marks follow similar principles as on Earth, except their orientation is sideways to match with the sloped direction of writing. Also, there is no dot at the bottom of them.
The punctuation is easy enough to understand and practice. The struggle comes from proper spelling and the memorization of each character.
Sirius sits upright with perfect posture. His eyes glue themselves onto his teacher, his ears open just wide enough to hear. Unfortunately, he isn't listening, and that facade comes crashing down in an instant.
"Sirius, you seem to be keenly paying attention."
"Of course."
"Well then, would you mind writing down this sentence for me?"
"Certainly."
"...Ahem." He paces a moment before staring out the window into the sunny, clear sky. "The sky is cloudy today."
Sirius takes up his inkclaw and presses it down onto his page.
"Please use proper punctuation and structure."
He finishes writing down his best attempt and hands it over to Wilphrey. The teacher reads the print and ushers over a faint frown. "Your punctuation and structure is correct, but the spelling is completely wrong. You can do better than this."
sting
Sirius laughs like he's heard a hilarious joke.
"Ah, my bad, my bad. I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. I apologize. You have my full requited attention!" He brushes off his failure with a smile.
"..."
Korlin stalks Sirius, his honey eyes targeting that sinful smile.
Class ends, and he awaits his next one. Searching for someone, Sirius steps out into the garden.
A shorter-than-average girl with long, golden hair holds massive scissors. She precisely trims the edges of nearby bushes; her fiery pink eyes train themselves on her craft. The entire garden is flawlessly sculpted by Pholy's hand, even the slightest miscalculation would throw off the entire balance of perfection.
Pholy carefully raises her snippers to the edge of a bush and prepares to trim it. Carefully...quietly...and...
"Hey! What are you up to?!"
snip
The sharp blades cut through the corner chunk of the bush, ruining the perfect shape.
...
Without moving a single particle, steam explodes out of the girl's head.
"YOU..."
"Sorry, did I-"
"YES, YOU DID! ARE YOU BLIND?!? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"
The oversized clippers catch onto a pink blaze. Pholy opens the pair of scissors and sneers at Sirius.
"I'm very sorry! Please forgive me!" Sirius gets onto his knees and pleads for his life. "I didn't realize what I was doing." His swiftly shifts to one of true regret and sincerity. "I apologize for my foolish actions. Would you find it in your heart to humbly forgive my transgressions?"
Stunned and also slightly disgusted by his sincerity, Pholy's flames go out.
"Uh... Sure..." Confused, she returns to her bush, refusing to look at him. "Just get out of here already."
sting
"Of course."
...
Cilas's class goes down a similar route to Wilphrey's. A willful stare penetrates Cilas's defenses. Thankfully, he is a much kinder teacher.
But unbeknownst to the man, behind Sirius's mask is nothing but the sound of static.
...
Evening hours descend upon the mansion.
Sirius sets off into the halls with his journal in hand. He jots down remnants of class learnings and other random snippets of things he's picked up. Mainly, he scans for anyone around.
Turning the corner, he bumps into a figure with deep purple hair. Her long sleeves wrap themselves around a heavy book; she stumbles backwards.
"Sorry!" Sirius's face morphs into one of regret.
"Mm..." Looking up at him, a dash of confusion enters her expression.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to." He bows respectively.
"...Okay? It's not a big deal."
sting
She continues walking without a word.
"I'll see you around!"
Sighing, she stops. "...Question."
"Ask away!"
"What is that?" Her head tilts back, amethyst eyes gazing at the book in his palms.
"Oh, this? Nothing special. Just a little journal I keep for myself." He offers her a beaming smile.
"Hm... Okay."
She continues down the hall without another sound.
-...
...
Night falls, and Sirius stares at the ceiling, static filling his soundscape.
Flashes of himself at school barge into his mind. Flashes of his pretend friends. Flashes of his old bedroom's ceiling.
He can't sleep, just like the night before. And the one before that.
These memories that flood him beg the question. Do I want to keep my memories? These flashes are so unpleasant, why would I want to?
Despite his hatred for the past, he acts exactly as he did while in it.
Hopping down from his bed, he slides on his slippers and enters the hall. With no real goal, he wanders the moonlit corridors.
A small part of him in the back of his mind wishes to stumble upon Aureole. Their last nighttime meeting was... blissful, to say the least. Do I want more of that? No... come on, don't be crazy. You don't deserve that.
Despite his qualms with himself, his subtle wish is granted.
Veiled in moonlight, the girl with teal hair comes into view. Her eyes, with the appearance of the moon, catch his own.
"Sirius... What are you doing?" She comes off as concerned, almost... worried about him.
"Ah, I'm just soaking in the night. I'm not quite tired yet!" His energy disturbs the somber silence under the moon.
"A-alright... Anyway, how are you doing? We haven't gotten many chances to speak recently."
"I'm doing quite fine, thank you. How are you doing?"
"I'm... alright. Sirius, are you sure you're alright? You seem a little... different today."
"Different? You think so? Hmm...." he taps his chin repeatedly. "Maybe because I've finally settled down into life here! Yes, that must be it. I'm all cozy now."
"...That so? You know, you can tell me if something is wrong. I'm more than happy to listen." She smiles gently; a genuine smile. A saddened look glistens in her eyes.
"...Thank you for the offer, but really, I'm all good! Besides, I wouldn't want to bother you with my drivel."
"It really wouldn't bother me... You opened up before back in the capital, remember? I don't want you to think that was only a one time-"
"Ahh, forget about that! I was just being a baby. I wasn't being myself. I don't know what I was thinking." He tries to chuckle it off. "I was just being stupid."
"...You weren't being yourself, huh?"
"Of course not, I shouldn't cry like that in front of someone."
"...So, is this who you really are?" A straining look applies itself to her. The air grows sour and cold.
"...Uhm... Yes?" He lifts his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. Confidence doesn't exude itself.
She glares at him, as if disappointed. Slowly, her features soften, and she exhales. "I see... Well, you're very different than I thought." A poor attempt at a grin emerges.
"..."
"..."
"Oh!" He quickly reaches for his pockets and pulls out his magical wallet. "I should return the money- or, nem you left me earlier! Here!" He empties out the bag of gems, pouring all of them into his palm.
"No, that's alright... You keep it."
"What?! No way! I'm sorry it's not all of it. After I fixed up my arm, I was being stupid and spent some more-"
"It's okay, Sirius. You don't need to get so worked up."
"Worked up? What do you mean? I just need to give you-"
"Look, I don't need it back. I'm practically royalty, after all. I gave it to you for your own discretion, I didn't expect you to refund me."
"Are you sure? I can't have you dislike me-"
Suddenly, the girl freezes. Her eyes widen, as if she's seen a ghost. Swallowing, she regains her posture.
"...Goodnight, Sirius."
Sirius stands motionless, voiceless. Aureole walks past him, her scent brushing across his nose.
Who is this person standing in front of her? It isn't the Sirius she knows.
He's far too pitiable.
"...Goodnight."
⧗⧖⧗⧖⧗
He scowls in the mirror, veins bulging on his forehead. His eyes are red with unrest, the light in his irises has been scratched out and replaced with dull ambers. Anger drowns out all reasonable thought.
"What are you doing..."
He sounds pathetic.
tick
His stopwatch rests atop the bathroom counter, continuing its endless march.
tick
Umber hair hangs down in front of his vision. He drives his hands through the nest and forces a smirk up his cheeks.
He stares at his smile, analyzing it. It's toothless and straight, like always. Mindless. Disgusting.
tick tick
It feels like his eyes could spill out of their sockets. Looking at his self pisses him off.
...
-Why do you look like that? Look happy. You have nothing to be sad about. You have nothing to be angry about.
tick tick
He picks up the nearby inkclaw lying on top of his journal and holds it to the mirror. Using the bottom-end, he carves a smiley face into the glass.
Two tiny dots resembling eyes and a curved line for the smile.
He aligns his baggy eyes and chapped lips to the image in the mirror... And gives himself a happy grin.
...
tick tick ticK tiCK tICK TICK TICK
The skull-driving sound pounds on his eardrums. It mocks him endlessly.
Memories begin to flood over his negative thoughts.
Memories of himself in his old life. Times when he got too comfortable with people. Old friends from old schools, his brother in distant years, eighth grade...
Times when he pretended to be happy, pretended to be the perfect boy everyone thinks he is. When he was who he should be.
All unpleasant.
All mistakes.
It was never enough.
-Stop it. Why are you thinking about this? Why...
Recent memories. Attacking a wild bat, crying in front of her, coming to this manor, acting so casual...
-Having fun... taking risks... enjoying yourself...? What are you doing? Don't... you shouldn't...
"Don't be yourself."
"Smile."
22466141 seconds remain.