a tale by Gabs and Shila
Lovers in Madness
Kieran hummed idly to himself as he wove his way through the benches, making sure to find a seat near the front. He settled into a chair, setting down his notebook and satchel as he nestled himself into the overlarge chair. Even at fifteen, he was a tiny thing, and just as pretty as ever. Big, tufted black cat ears graced his head, and a long, twitching, and quite furry tail swayed behind him as he fished ink and quill from his bag, opening his book and craning his ears toward the podium. The best part about the ears was that no matter where he sat in lectures like this, he could hear. He supposed they might have been worth it, and then cleared his mind, patiently scribing the date and lecture title across the top of the page. He always took notes, though he never needed them again.
The rest of the class bustled in, but nobody sat around Kieran. This lecture wasn't very crowded anyway, since the spell was a low-level one, and most of those who knew the teacher in question didn't feel like sitting near the front, where they'd likely be called upon to volunteer. The lecturer had taken his podium and was clearing his throat when a bustle of black cloak and honey-brown hair appeared at Kieran's right and slid into the row with him, plunking down beside him. The boy was breathing hard, as if he'd run a long way, and his cloak was askew, the silver and moonstone triple-moon pendant that held it closed tilted at a crazy angle. He straightened it quickly and pulled his books out, smiling adorable in apology at the lecturer. He was... very attractive, but more cute than he was handsome, with full lips and a nose that quirked up at the tip and large, golden eyes. His hair was dark, lightening toward the outside, with liberal streaks of honeyed blonde, and it was clipped short on most of his head with bangs that fell over his eyes and longer locks in front of his ears. The ear Kieran could see bore a single gold earring in the shell, and his smile as he pulled out a very unusual looking spellbook - black, with a pentacle on the front in pewter - was seductively wicked, speaking of enthusiasm and impish mischeif.
Kieran spared the boy a brief, curious glance, politely shifting his satchel out of the way so as to not crowd the stranger. He paid the boy no mind, somewhat excited at the prospect of the lecture. He seemed oblivious, big black eyes fixed on the podium as one small, slender hand twitched his quill over the page, adding a twisting vine of a border to the notes that weren't there yet. He knew it was a bad habit, but he liked doodling on his notes.
The boy hurriedly flipped his book open, ragged pages in the front, pristine ones after that, attesting to which ones had already been filled with spells. He pulled out a quill and initialed the top of his page, the previous page already filled with neat, loopy writing as well as pictures of plants. These were not vines, though, but leafy ferns and diagrams that looked almost clinical. As the lecturer began to speak, he copied, eyebrows drawn together.
Kieran condensed every word the professor said, writing small and efficient and barely readable by anyone but him. His left hand was busy with a silverstick, diagramming the glyph involved with the spell on the corner of the paper. Long had he trained himself to do two things at once, and times like these were when it really came in handy.
Dwyn's handwriting was normal sized and easy to read, but he didn't bother to copy the glyph. Instead, he was taking rapid-fire bullet notes as the professor demonstrated spell after spell that one might turn up on a successful use of "Identify". At the moment, it was nothing harmful. Curses, he had said, would be attended to after class.
Kieran kept up quite easily, eyes on the tip of his quill as he scribbled down the important and key words the professor had given. If he evr read these notes again, they'd trigger the rest of them; as it was, they were already hovering in his mind as he absorbed more. The spell promised to be simple and easy, and Kieran could think of quite a few things to test it on. Yanai Lanarath, for instance.
After they had gone over and over the basic gestures for the spell, the professor finally got to the good part. He pulled a covering off a table, revealing a few weapons, a few items of jewelry, and one book. "Let's put this knowledge to practical application," he said. "Would anyone like to volunteer?"
Kieran could easily have done it by then, and he knew it. But, being his quiet, itnroverted little self, he merely peered up at the professor, eyes skimming over the items on the table as his hand again degenerated into sketching lazily, adding designs around his notes.
The boy next to him shot his hand up before anyone else could really contemplate volunteering. "I will!" he mumured, as though he had WANTED to shout it, but had stopped himself at the last minute. The professor looked amused. "All right then. What's your name, son?"
Kieran glanced over at the boy thoughtfully. Yes, he definitely seemed the type to gladly volunteer for just about anything that promised to be interesting. It reminded Kieran of Caden fleetingly.
"Dwyn O'Connaillain," the boy announced, pronouncing it "D-win". His voice was not proud, but it was steady, and he held his head high as he slipped out of the row and stepped down to the front. The proffessor offered him the usual imbibement of ground pearl and owl's feather in wine, but he waved it away. "It's all right," he said, "At least, I think so. Let me try it." He eyed the assortment of items with his arms crossed over his chest, then stepped over and lifted a necklace. His stride was purposeful - everything about him seemed to give off an air of inevitability, as though no one and nothing could stand in his way. He clasped the necklace in his hands and bowed his head, muttering under his breath. He didn't make any of the motions necessary for the spell. Once he'd finished muttering, he held the necklace in one hand, face screwed in intense concentration, as his other hand hovered over it, fingers twitching from time to time.
Kieran frowned, tilting his head. It looked almost as though the boy was using divine magic, a holy symbol of some sort. The gods had never taken special notice in him, and wizardry was enough, but he had to admit that some of the clerical magics were simply fascinating. He watched intently, now curious.
"It's for charming," Dwyn announced a moment later, holding the necklace up. "Anyone who wears it will be percieved as more beautiful... a simple glamoury effect." He settled back on his heels, his expression mostly confident but with just a HINT of anxiety as he awaited the proffessor's answer.
The man nodded. "Well done, apprentice O'Connaillain... but you didn't cast the spell the way I taught you."
Kieran bit his lip. Some professors could be horrible sticklers for having it done exactly their way. He was continually berated by such teachers to do such mundane things as 'show his work', which always irritated him, especially because any work that was usually intended by such a statement could -easily- be done in his head, without benefit of parchment or quill.
Dwyn nodded. "Sorry," he said quietly, as though he was trying to SOUND sorry when he really wasn't. "My mom taught me to do it like that. I can do it your way, if you'd rather." His head remained high, as if challenging the teacher to demand a repeat performance.
"Since most of my student's mothers aren't as adept as yours seems to be," the man said dryly, "Please demonstrate for the class the RIGHT way." Dwyn shrugged and held out a hand for the potion. Disgusting stuff, it was, and he drank it down quickly, making a face and an "EW," assertion and then stalking over to the array of weapons. His hands moved as his eyes fluttered closed and he took a deep breath, reciting the spell in a rythmic, pulsing manner as he sketched the needed sigil in the air above one of the swords.
Kieran spared a moment of pity for the other boy before looking down again, fully knowing that he could listen without watching as he turned the page in his notebook, now starting to sketch the image foremost in his mind - Dwyn triumphantly holding up the necklace. He wasn't an artist, but it was recognizable as Dwyn once he got started.
"Well, that's random," Dwyn remarked a moment later, turning to eye the professor. "Anyone who holds this sword will never get lost in the swamps."
The professor seemed both amused and a bit annoyed. "Very good," he said in a clipped down. "Take your seat." Chuckling under his breath, Dwyn did so, sliding into his seat next to Kieran with aplomb and shooting him a grin, as though they were co-conspirators.
Kieran managed a slight smile to Dwyn, suitably impressed. Doing a spell was interesting enough, but to do it in two ways was somewhat admirable. He kept drawing, eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the image in his head, the one he was sketching.
Dwyn's eyes stayed on him for a moment, then abruptly shifted away as he pulled his spellbook into his lap, leaned his seat back on two legs, and propped his feet on the table. He went to work with his quill busily, seeming to forget the professor entirely as he took volunteer after volunteer.
Kieran was in his own little world as usual, listening intently to the teacher hold demonstration after demonstration as he kept drawing. It was hard to get the smile right; it had a little crook to it that his quill refused to protray accurately.
Dwyn happily sketched away, pausing only to lean over to Kieran and mutter under his breath, "Do you have any erasing ink? I forgot mine... left home in a hurry."
Kieran glanced up, startled, and nodded slightly, making sure to drape his sleeve over his sketchbook as he dug through his satchel quietly. He offered the vial to Dwyn without a word, ears swiveling back toward the professor.
"Thank you," Dwyn told him, setting the vial between them and dipping in it as he erased, then drew again, and erased, then drew again. Or wrote, but it seemed more likely that he was drawing. He stopped suddenly and leaned back, neck craning as he seemed to be staring at Kieran's back.
If Kieran had been paying attention, he'd have surmised that Dwyn was drawing him in reciprocation, but he was quite involved with what the professor was saying as he wound them down toward their break. "You're welcome," he murmured politely, voice soft and sweet despite his lack of intent.
Dwyn smirked quickly and shifted back into his own personal space, nodding and humming quietly under his breath as he continued to sketch. Finally, he sprinkled sand over the drawing and pushed the vial back toward Kieran, resuming giving the professor his attention.
Kieran let the vial sit there, for the first time -not- listening to the professor as he shifted his quill. The tip of his tongue stuck out of his mouth and the very end of his tail curled up and twitched rapidly as he focused all his attention on getting that smile right. It kind of ruined the whole effect if he couldn't perfect the expression.
Dwyn was watching him, blatantly, not even bothering to try and sneak peeks. He had a sort of understanding, almost motherly smile on his face, not anything like the brazen one Kieran was trying to duplicate, but the general look was utterly warm.
It took a while for Kieran to feel those eyes, and when he did, he glanced up guiltity, half expecting the professor to be looming over him. But all he saw were golden eyes. He flushed as he realized that the subject of his crappy artwork was certainly aware of his attempt, and he bit his lip. How embarrasing. This was why he shouldn't draw strangers. It got him into trouble.
When Kieran looked up and met his eyes, Dwyn broke into a grin and laughed quietly, as though Kieran was easily the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. He shook his head, still laughing, and turned back to his spellbook, hand falling into the familiar rythm of writing as he resumed taking notes once the volunteering part was over.
Kieran stared at Dwyn for a long, confused moment. What the hell had that been about? Was it really so amuing to see him blush? Calliope was always teasing him that he was cute enough to make one sick. Kieran usually ignored that, but when strangers did it, it was almost insulting. He turned back to his notebook, turning to a blank page without regard for the still-damp ink on his sad sketch and starting to write something in a language that was pure gibberish to anyone but he.
Before too terribly long, the lecture broke for lunch. Dwyn didn't get up with the others, choosing instead to lounge in his seat with his head tilted back, almost as if he planned to take a nap. He had his black book clutched to his chest, the silver pentacle glimmering in the low light.
Kieran stood and stretched, tail twining around his leg as he tucked his books together. He glanced around thoughtfully, then held a hand over his things, murmuring something softly. A flicker of dark blue-violet magic swirled around the book and satchel and then faded as Kieran wandered away, satisfied that nothing would happen to his stuff. He headed outside, idly contemplating a quick kata or two. He'd been getting behind recently. So much to do, and so little time...
Kieran was headed toward an empty space beneath a tree when three rather ugly young men stepped into his path. He murmured and apology and moved to duck around them, but a hand closed on his shoulder. He looked up, startled. They were all older than he, and much larger. The one touching him wore a cold smile accompanied by equally cold, steely blue eyes. "Don't leave so fast, Aladriss," the boy crooned, chuckling evilly. Kieran jerked away, a disgusted frown on his face. "Don't you people EVER get tired of picking on me?" he demanded, sounding exasperated as he stepped back, more than ready to run or web them all to the nearest building. Their leader laughed and swung without further preamble, making Kieran dodge with a yelp. The others closed in, looking mean. Kieran spared a moment to wonder just what, precisely, made him such good bully-bait.
Even as the group of boys closed in on Kieran, as they prepared to step past that tree, there was a slight whistle and then two quick thumps. A thin line of blood opened on the bridge of the leader's nose as following the line of trajectory, two slender throwing blades had managed to implant themselves in the tree, having missed his face by a millimeter. And indeed, by LESS than a millimeter.
Kieran shot a startled glance in the direction those weapons had come from. Somebody was on his side, for once, and he grinned as he danced outof the way of another wild swing. His otousan had taught him more than how to swing a staff, and as he snapped a foot into the leader's gut, adding to the boy's wounds, he thanked his father for being such a wonderful teacher. Why waste his magic when he could kick their butts the conventional way?
As Kieran searched for his savior, he found Dwyn. The boy's head was down and his teeth showed in a grin as laughter shook his shoulders, slowly. His hands were open at his sides, and he was apparently unarmed, his cloak thrown back over his shoulders and revealing a small, tightly muscled frame. He wore a black, sleeveless tunic and pants, and his left arm was bandaged at the bicep, his right arm at the wrist. Leather wrist straps bound each wrist and he lifted his head slowly, tossing the hair from his eyes and giving the bullies a feral smile. One of the boys snarled back. "Don't interfere," he growled, "this is none of your business."
"My mother always said," Dwyn told him smoothly, his voice dangerously low, "Ever mind the rule of three. What you give out comes back at thee. What do you think? Should I hit you three times for every wound you give him?"
"Nobody's wounding me," Kieran added under his breath. He stayed out of ranger as the leader of the bullies turned on Dwyn with a snarl. "You can -try-, twiddlefingers." Kieran sighed and shook his head. People were stupid, incredibly so. It verged on painful sometimes. The third bully lunged suddenly, startling the tiny boy and grabbing him by the arm. Kieran growled and tried to pull away, but the other's grip was firm. Knowing that bruises were already forming on his pale skin, Kieran frowned. Violence was overrated, and he really would rather have simply run away, but now, that wasn't an issue. "Let go," he growled, tail flickering anxiously. The bully just laughed.
Dwyn smirked and held up his hands, beckoning. "Come on," he said. "You like to pick on the little guy. But if you've got the balls, and the brawn, why don't you try me on for size?" He sneered at them. He wasn't that big... maybe a little over five feet at the most. Taller than Kieran, but still much smaller than any of these. He stepped back, shoulders dipping almost as though he was a puppet and someone had cut his strings, and then his fists pulled back, ready. "Bring it. BITCH," he spat.
The leader, seeing that his pal had Kieran taken care of, sneered and advanced on Dwyn, hands curling into fists. He swung heartily and missed by a mile, almost hitting his friend. Kieran was busy trying to wriggle his way free, not paying any attention to what was happening elsewhere, but an excruciating slice of pain made him scream in a deafening fashion. The bully pulled on his ear harder, and Kieran snarled, vision going white as he struggled to concentrate enough. His only thought was to get -away- from the fingers that were currently yanking on his poor ear, and as he pulled one hand back, a ball of sparkling blue-black magic formed in the air.
Dwyn ignored the ones going for him. His hands were empty and then, suddenly, they weren't. A blade appeared in his hand and he flung it. The bullie's hand released Kieran's hand... he HAD to, because the blade peirced his wrist going all the way through and causing his hand to loosen out of shock.
The bully yelped and let go, tumbling over as blood poured from him rapidly. Kieran fell back, landing flat on his ass as he clutched at his throbbing ear. The globe he'd conjured swelled and launched itself at the other two, splattering over them and coating them in what quickly turned out to be corrosive acid. It was their pained screams that brought Kieran back to reality, and as he got to his feet, struggling to ignore the pain, he bit his lip. He really wished he hadn't done that, but that bully had pulled his -ear-...
The bully with the torn wrist held it, eyes glazed in shock as he watched his blood pump from the wound. Dwyn stalked toward him as the others writhed under the agony of the acid, took his wrist, and yanked the knife from it. He held it tightly, kneeling, muttering over it. "Gracious lady of the moon, grant your faithful now this boon. healing love and healing luck, I bring the power, I raise it up," he chanted quietly, hands glowing quietly. He chanted and chanted and chanted and then the wound began to slow its bleeding. He looked up, golden eyes hard, and took a deep breath before his entire demeanor seemed to become one of authority. "Go the infirmary and take your friends," he said. "Do it NOW."
The boy nodded frantically and turned, grabbing one of his friends by the sleeve with his good hand and slinging him over one shoulder, then dragging the other along by his leg. Kieran barely noticed their departure, staring at the spatters of acid on the ground, interspersed liberally with blood. Black eyes seemed distant as he rubbed his ear, tail twitching behind him. That had gotten out of hand far too quickly. What if he'd killed those boys? What if they'd hurt that other boy? He bit his lip, feeling quite guilty over the whole affair.
"What a waste," Dwyn muttered, raking a bloody hand through his hair and not seeming to care that he spread the vicious dark liquid among the honeyed strands and smeared his flawlessly pale skin with it. "Geez. You arright?" he wondered, golden eyes fixing on Kieran, holding deep and steady concern.
Kieran looked up at Dwyn and frowned. "H-hai... I mean... yes, I'm fine. Sorry... sorry you had to get involved with that. Happens a lot," he mumbled, looking down. There was blood splashed on his clothing, barely visible against the dark blue fabric, but glaring to his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, peering up at the other boy. He seemed to be okay, the only blood decorating him not his own, but Kieran still felt bad that other people had ended up hurt or even just disturbed by him. Being a bully magnet got a bit annoying after a while, and he didn't want to have anyone else suffer it too.
"Yeah, they seemed a bit too familiar with you," Dwyn told him easily, grinning and even laughing now that the danger was past. He seemed to have been invigorated by the short fight, and he had another thin blade in his right hand, on which he began to nibble absently. "But if you've got spells like that in your repetoire, I can't see how they dare to keep doing it. Then again, bullies are generally idiots. It's a fact of history," he said almost scornfully, snickering to himself as he extended his left hand to help Kieran up. "Come on," he said, his tone switching to kindness. "Let's get cleaned up before lunch break is over."
Was Dwyn -chewing- on a knife? Kieran wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he eyed the other boy for a long moment before taking his hand and rising. He weighed a pittance, slender frame nothing to help lift. Kieran noted that the other was quite talkative, and resisted protesting at the idea that he even -had- a... 'repetoire'. "Thank you," he said softly, black eyes dark even in the bright sunlight.
"My mom also said "help when you can," he said warmly, propelling Kieran with him toward the bathroom and pulling his knives free of the tree trunk on the way. "I have some trouble with the other part of that saying, but that part's never been a hardship." He squeezed Kieran's hand breifly and then let go of him.
Kieran went with Dwyn willingly enough, deep in thought as he wandered toward the bathrooms. They arrived there quickly and as he stepped through the door, he glanced up at the other boy. He'd heard him quote his mother twice now, and he smiled slightly. Apparently he wasn't the only person his his generation to respect his parents. What a nice revelation.
Dwyn made a beeline for the water pump and washed the blood from his hands, seeming enraptured by the way the red liquid splashed away. He bent his head and splashed water into his hair, then gave it a good shake, scattering droplets everywhere. "Sorry," he told Kieran, shooting him a wink and that same impish grin.
Kieran just stared up at Dwyn and nodded slowly. There was something very odd about the boy, and it made him wary to return that smile. "It's okay," he said quietly, not sure what the other was apologizing for. Water wouldn't hurt him. He set about washing the blood off his own skin, scrubbing even after it was gone. He didn't like the way it felt once it dried on his skin, overly smooth and confining, like tight leather.
Dwyn waited for him quietly, still watching him. His head was tilted like an inquisitive cat's, and he fidgited, seeming to have an overabundance of energy, like Caden did. "You don't have to be scared of me," he said finally. "I won't hurt you."
Kieran raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. "Just because I'm small doesn't mean I'm fearful," he said in a low tone. There were few things Kieran was afraid of, and no boy was on that list. Perhaps some men, like his cousin, but no boys, and certainly nothing not worth fearing.
"Okay, maybe 'afraid' isn't the right word," he admitted. "But you're uneasy. I can feel it. It's okay. I'm wierd... insane, some have said, but not dangerous." He flashed Kieran an adorable smile and let out a laugh that was almost a giggle, fingers drumming on the wall beside him as that knife hung from between his teeth, him speaking easily, naturally, around it. "It runs in the family."
"Un," Kieran said with a nod. Weird definitely described Dwyn, but, being Kieran, he knew many who were weirder. However, he still rpeferred to associate with as few people as possible. "Sorry bout all that. Good day," he said politely. Then he turned and fled, made nervous not so much by Dwyn's disregard of sanity, but by being forced to interact with people he neither knew nor wanted to know.
Dwyn watched him go. He seemed to change moods mercurially, switching from one to another almost arbitrarily. And right at this moment, he was hurt... but he sighed, shaking his head and emerging from the bathroom a bit later. He went straight back to the classroom and collected his things, moving to a different seat. He was used to people being... well, the best word to use was "freaked", by him. He was used to not fitting in anywhere, and to losing friends as soon as they got to know him at all. His mother had the same problem, he knew. It was the problem with being... what was the word? Non-linear. Yes, that really was the best description... none of his family had ever done anything in a straight line. He sat down in his new seat, but not before carefully tearing the page out of his book of shadows and leaving it in Kieran's place. Had the time been modern, it would have been described as SD - a charming drawing of neko-Kieran kneeling in a patch of very detailed plants. Catnip. His eyes were large and shimmery, curious and innocent, and his fur and hair were prettily shadowed.
When Kieran returned to his seat shortly therafter, he was surprised, to say the least, by the drawing there. He looked up, glancing around. Had that boy left this? What had he said his name was, Darren or something? Darwin? Something atypical. Kieran couldn't help but think that it fit him very well; the other had been quite atypical. ~Better strange than a carbon copy like the majority of the world,~ the boy mused, carefully settling the drawing into his notebook so it wouldn't get injured. For a moment, he regretted having left so quickly, but then he remembered just how stressful it was to try and socialize and be friends with people, and felt a bit better about it. He didn't want to subject anyone to his sad excuse for personal interaction. Family was one thing, but friends verged on painful. And the other had left, assumably sitting somewhere else. Kieran considered it a mixed blessing.
Dwyn's name was spelled out at the bottom of the drawing, thus ending any confusion. Dwyn O'Connaillain... the signature had flourish, strong like the hand that had signed it. And Dwyn huddled in his seat, quietly listening to the rest of the lecture, offering no more assistence to the professor, and calling no more attention to himself.
Kieran paid studious attention to the rest of the lecture as well, pushing Dwyn out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about than bullies and golden eyes.
end chap one
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