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Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in absentia of the elusive realm of Goodcastle, was starting to get some serious déjà vu. At least, he thought that was what this awful feeling was called.
It was the fourth time in as many days that he found himself rocking back and forth on the soles of his shoes, resisting the urge to tap his foot as the mailroom clerk looked for his letter. Once again, it wasn’t to be found in his inbox, or in any of the adjacent inboxes, but the stoic orc woman whose name tag read “Patricia” had graciously gone to look in the back, per his request.
“Perhaps it’s under ‘S,’ for ‘Sir’?” He called out helpfully with his hands cupped around his mouth, though he heard no acknowledgement of his suggestion other than a loud bout of assorted rustling noises from the backroom. “Or maybe you could look under ‘T,’ for ‘Thunderman,” patent pending.”
A low grumble rolled out from behind the swinging wooden doors, followed by what sounded like a box of some sort crashing into another box. “Uh-huh, yeah. I’ll do that.”
Fitzroy smiled to himself. “Splendid, thank you madam,” he projected, before reclasping his hands behind his back. He sat back on his heels, placated by the fact that at least somebody around here understood the urgency of his situation.
Surely, Goodcastle would have gotten word of his recent promotion to the Heroes and Villains track by now, and be impressed by his show of prowess. He should be receiving word any day now of their commendations… or perhaps Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School would be wanting to give him another chance in their program, after seeing how apt of a student he could really be.
His first semester grades were in, and they were extraordinary. They had been sent promptly to both institutions, multiple times…. surely they must have written him something by now. Anything.
He perked up as the clerk walked back out of the swinging doors, only to have his pointed ears droop when he saw her hands were empty.
“No I couldn’t find it, yes I checked everywhere,” she droned, cutting off several inquiries that were already halfway out of his mouth as she dusted her hands off on her apron. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Ah, well.” Fitzroy shook his head, only allowing himself a moment of disappointment before clearing his throat. No use crying over spilled milk for the third day in a row, after all. “Well, there’ll be something here any day now, so I suppose I’ll just have to check in again on Monday. T-G-I-F Patty, eh?”
The clerk rubbed her eyes tiredly, but instead of reciprocating his perfectly casual and light-hearted small-talk, she glanced over to the doorway, where a familiar arcane humming noise caused Fitzroy’s ears to perk up.
“Hi Patricia! How are you doing today?” It was the Lady Rainer Michelle, floating into the room on her totally radical chair. He hadn’t seen her all day, as it seemed another lucrative privilege of Heroes and Villains was that they didn’t have Friday classes. Though it was impolite to stare, a cursory glance showed his friend to be far more casually dressed than he was used to seeing her, and she even appeared to be wearing pants of yoga, of all things. Indeed, she appeared unusually disheveled, with flushed cheeks, little wisps of blonde hair escaping her ponytail, and a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead and shoulders.
Not that he stared, of course. It was impolite to stare.
She and a significantly more friendly Patricia exchanged greetings, as Fitzroy stood awkwardly off to the side of the counter, resisting the petty urge to cough for the Lady’s attention.
As Patricia ducked behind the counter to retrieve her mail, Rainer finally seemed to notice him, and as always seemed to happen when she saw any of her numerous friends, her whole face seemed to light up, starting from her warm brown eyes.
“Hi Fitz! Oh, I’d hug you, but I just had PT, and I’m all sweaty and gross.” She shrugged apologetically, though it was quite unnecessary.
“Ah, well. This is a new shirt, so. Probably for the best.” She rolled her eyes at him before he held up his flat palm, his other arm behind his back. “Shall we settle on a crisp high five, then?”
“You know what? I believe we shall.” She slapped her hand against his obligingly, and her zeal indicated that she was aiming for it to be firmer than the average high-five. Alas, she ended up giving him a look as she swore and shook her hand out after, and he merely blinked before tucking his other arm behind his back.
“Barbarian, remember?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
They both chuckled as Rainer turned her attention back to the desk, signing for the large package that Patricia had hefted up onto the counter before retreating to the back once more. Fitzroy appraised the numerous postage and semi-intelligible stickers coating it’s surface, as well as what looked to be some unfamiliar runes drawn in multicolored wax.
“Well, that’s a rather large package,” he observed, for lack of better commentary.
Rainer gave him a strange look at this, but when he returned it with a slightly befuddled stare, she simply shook her head, mumbling something to herself that sounded vaguely like too easy, before sighing.
“Yeah, well, my family tends to go a little overboard on their care packages. I’ve got lots of aunts and uncles, and everyone always wants to put something in there.” Her eyes were a little unfocused now, and she was smiling as if she was thinking of a particularly fond memory.
“Oh, well that sounds… interesting.” Fitzroy was still a little focused on squinting at those runes. He wished he knew if they said anything cursed or evil, but he couldn’t effing read them. Maybe he should get real glasses.
“Yeah, they sure are,” Rainer laughed at a joke that Fitzroy was undoubtedly not in on, but then, what else was new? She nodded back to him. “How about you? Get any mail from your family?”
“Oh, um…” And just like that, his spirits had fallen again. “No, um, they don’t-well they don’t exactly know I’m here, or what I’m doing, career-wise, sooo….can’t exactly get any… letters, from them, or um, ‘care’ packages, of the like…” he trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to describe his situation in a way that wouldn’t sound overtly bitter or self-pitying.
Coughing, he chose to soldier on, fixing his focus on the eclectic wooden crate once more. Particularly, on the fact that it looked heavy enough to crush Rainer’s lap if she were to carry it there.
(Again, not that he was staring at her legs. It was impolite to stare.)
“Might I assist you in taking this fine package to your quarters, my lady?”
To his dismay, Rainer covered her face with her hands for several moments, and he blanched at the thought that he might have offended her.
“Not that I,- I’m sure you’re quite capable, I just, um-figured I could save you the spell-slot, if you were…going that route, um- plus I’m not doing anything, at the moment, so…sorry, should I leave? I’ll just leave-”
“No! No, it’s fine, Fitz.” Fitzroy turned right back around on his heels to see that Rainer’s face was red and her voice was shaking, and he might’ve thought she was crying if she hadn’t so clearly been holding back laughter. Oh. She was laughing at him.
He frowned, a little offended himself, now. “Have I said something funny?”
“Ummm-“ she coughed loudly, clearing her throat and composing herself, although still not meeting his eyes. “No, nope. Nothing at all. Matter of fact,” she tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped a (suspicious) stray tear from her eye, before giving him a bemused smile. “I would appreciate your help, carrying this care package, Fitz. Thank you for asking.”
“Ah, certainly.” He nodded, feeling his irritation fade as he picked up the crate, hefting it carefully off of the counter. It was about the size of his writing desk, and probably just as heavy, if he had to guess. “It’s no trouble to me at all, my lady.”
Quite the opposite, in fact. His spirits had been low from the lack of encouragement from his esteemed institutions, and his pride had been a bit…wounded, since his arrival here, to say the least.
(He certainly hoped none of his peers had noticed, though. He’d been told once or twice that tact and subtlety weren’t exactly his strong suit.)
Regardless, his pride was preening at the feeling of being useful, especially to such an esteemed colleague as Rainer.
Though she was now blocked from his view, he heard Rainer’s voice call out from behind the crate:
“Okay, now just follow the sound of my footsteps!”
He hummed in acknowledgement, adjusting his grip slightly for walking. “Very well, my lady, I shall listen attentiv-“ he paused, before sighing. “Oh, ha-ha, very funny.”
“What? I can joke about it as much as I want, mister grouchy.”
He rolled his eyes, forgetting momentarily that she couldn’t see his face as he grumbled: “That’s Sir grouchy, to you.”
A rather delighted giggle indicated the direction of the exit to him, and he found himself grateful that she couldn’t see the flush on the tips of his ears.
Somehow, the pair made it to Rainer’s dormitory with minimal injury to Fitzroy’s shins. For all of her talents, Rainer was a rather spotty navigator, often getting too absorbed in a story she was telling to remember to give him much-needed directions until the very last second. At last, he followed the sound of rustling keys through the doorway and set the crate down on the middle of her floor. He stretched his shoulders with a wince, as it had been a rather long walk, and it was a bit tiring to carry that thing, even for a strapping young lad such as himself.
“Gods, what did your family send you? Rocks?”
Rainer hummed, floating over to the windowsill and dropping her keys in an odd-shaped little bowl that he really hoped wasn’t (but probably was) a skull. “Well, I did ask my mama and papa to send me some spell components, so there’s probably some rare stones in there, yeah.”
“I see,” Fitzroy crouched down by the box to get a closer look at the runes he had noticed earlier. “Is that what these symbols are for? Like, protection enchantments, or something?”
Rainer joined by his side, leaning in slightly before shaking her head with a smile. “Nah, those are scribbles. Probably my cousins practicing their ‘artwork’ again.”
Fitzroy blinked. “Huh. Could’ve sworn those were runes.”
“Fitz, they’re written in crayon.”
“Yes, well…oh, shut up.” He found it hard to focus on a suitable response when he was now in her room, of all places. He wasn’t sure where to look first, as he found more and more-so that it wasn’t nearly as morbid and threatening as he had expected it to be. The walls were the same drab, uniform beige color as all the other dorm rooms were, but she had decked the place out with soft white candles and decorative tapestries, and there were various articles of clothing thrown hastily over every chair in the room. It was very lived-in, and very unexpected, and it put him just a little bit more at ease.
Though to be fair, it was still a little morbid and threatening. There were still some like, suspect jars with suspect-substances floating around in them, which he wasn’t crazy about. But at the same time, it was a little harder to be scared of, say, the huge obsidian knife laying on her bed pillow, when she had clearly been using it to open that box of Thin Mints right there.
Though to be fair in the other direction, he was slightly uncomfortable with how disorganized everything was. For example, that jar labeled “MISC. ASH” in rainbow markers probably shouldn’t be sat right next to her coffee grounds, that was a very unfortunate cup of joe just waiting to happen…
“Fitz?”
He spun on his heels, blanching when he realized she had been watching him pick apart her room piece by piece. She was stood up now, leaning on a crutch in front of the door to what he presumed was her ensuite bathroom, given that she now had a towel over her shoulder.
“I’d love to give you the whole ‘welcome to my crib’ shpeal, but I am sweaty, and I do really have to shower, sooo…” she trailed off, and he finally picked up on the hint that he was being asked to leave. He had failed to notice her obviously getting ready to shower, what with her towel, and her de-socked feet on the carpet, and her somewhat-frizzy hair let out of its ponytail, falling down to her freckled shoulders. Goodness that was a lot of freckles. Had she been in a cutoff shirt the whole ti-
He snapped his eyes to the ceiling. Watch yourself, Maplecourt.
Ahem, yes. Highly inappropriate to be in her quarters, as she showered and such. Highly.
“Of course, then I shall take my leave,” he said as brightly as he could, his eyes still trained on the ceiling as he hoped she couldn’t hear the muffled screaming in his head. “I hope I’ve been of adequate assistance, to you, and I uh, I guess I’ll see you in class on Monday…” Trying not to sound too disappointed, he started shuffling towards the exit.
“Um, Fitz?”
He paused his shuffling. “Yes?”
“I was actually sort-of wondering if you’d wanna come back later, and just hang out?” He registered the uneven thump of her stride as she approached him, or perhaps that was simply his pulse.
“Cause like, my Tío always sends me way too many sweets in these things, and I can’t eat them all myself, soooo you could help me out?”
“Wait, really?” He forgot himself a moment, and caught a look of her amused smile before snapping his eyes back to the ceiling. Don’t look too eager, now. “Oh, well, I don’t know, I really shouldn’t…”
“C’moonn,” she said in that sing-song voice of hers. “I know you have a sweet-tooth-“
“Agh, oof, oww,” he clutched at his left arm dramatically, feigning a pained wince. “My arm, you’re-you’re twisting my arm, stop it, stop twisting it, you fiend-“
His eyes were still straining upwards, but he smiled when he heard her laugh.
“I’ll meet up with you at dinner, okay?” She took another careful step closer to the knight and used her free arm to give him a delightfully awkward, one-sided hug. “Hah! Got you sweaty anyways! Oh, and uh, thanks for the spell-slot, Fitz.”
Thankfully, Rainer had already made her way to the shower by the time Fitzroy unfroze. His pride was likely bruised enough without her bearing witness to him leaving with his eyes still on the ceiling, moving swiftly and with purpose directly into the closed door.