Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Back in this cell again. 

He preferred the isolation of the quiet room in the prison. He didn't come here often, as he’d only be put in here after a violent bout, which was always caused by another individual provoking him in some fashion. They all looked at him in a very hostile light because of the nature of his conviction, first degree murder of his wife and daughter, despite the fact that his imprisonment was all based on speculation. He always kept to himself when given time out, but he was always picked on, even though he was one of the more well-built and larger inmates in the prison. He’d get struck, someone attempted to stab him once, the prison guards would mess with him, which he did nothing about, other than the one time he just frightened them after they stole his journal, his things would get stolen… The whole nine yards.

How many times was he put in here? He always went in willingly, if it meant being away from the mob out there. He opened his journal, flipping through the pages until he found the one where he’d been making marks for each time he’d been put in an isolation room.

180. Nearly one-tenth of his time in the prison was spent in this room. He quite liked it. It was nice and quiet, and he could be left with his thoughts without anyone there to harass him for it.

“So… Day one-thousand, eight hundred and seventy nine, hm…” He spoke out loud as he titled today’s page in the journal. “Over five years in this place, and however long my body survives left…”

He was the imaginative sort. He frequently bantered with himself, and had quite a few versions of himself within his imagination, all of which played a different role with a different viewpoint, all of which helped formulate his well-constructed worldview.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll be let out by some miracle.” The optimist in him spoke out, but he shook his head. “No… It’s been five years, I assume my case has been closed for some time.”

“But I didn't set the house on fire…” His pessimistic thoughts intruded, and he leaned back, looking up at the white ceiling. “I wasn't even there when the place was on fire…”

He was sent back as he said that. He’d just been returning home from a conference, when he caught sight that his home was ablaze. Being some distance into the countryside made it hard for firefighters to come through, but he called for them and police and went into the blaze to try to pull his wife and daughter out to safety.

Even with the evidence showing that he’d been there and tried to locate them… He was arrested on suspicion, and sentenced with little evidence.

His banter with himself died down at the memory, as each version in his imagination found the event just as distressing. He decided to try to sleep…

But moments later the door opened to the cell, and an officer stepped in.

“Osvald V. Vanstein.” The man greeted him gruffly, and he stared in mild hostility and confusion. “Don't give me that look, cur. Get up, your time’s over.”

“But I was just put in here.”

“You’re leaving the prison, though if I were the ones responsible, you’d be stuck here til you rotted. Get up.”

Leaving the prison? This man… He had to be joking. Maybe he’d been poisoned and he was hallucinating. He continued to watch the man for a few more minutes, waiting for a sign that he was a hallucination, but nothing. He pulled up to his feet, towering over the other man, who placed cuffs onto his wrists and led him out. He had to duck to get through the doorways, as his seven-foot stature meant he was too large to comfortably slip through most standard doors. Oh how he missed what life used to be. The coos of the mourning doves that used to hang out by his outdoor lab… The robins, the cardinals… He didn't realize how much he missed them until all the sounds of nature were gone. Voices shouted at him from the cells, and he just ignored them, their words muted against his ears. They can't hurt him anymore…

He was finally led to the place where his clothing he’d been admitted to the prison in were held, and he was rifled over for anything he’d supposedly try to smuggle out of the prison, though he had no clue why he’d do that. As he was cleared and given a chance to wear his old clothes once more… He left the prison, given an ankle monitor since he was still on parole, not a completely free man yet. But… He was one step closer.

Despite that, and the enthusiasm his optimist felt, he overall felt nothing about the freedom he had. He didn't feel happy, sad, or angry… Nothing. Just a void where his familial care and love once was. They were gone, and nothing would ever bring them back. He followed the officer out of the building and towards a vehicle, and the man motioned for him to move. The officer unlatched his cuffs, and gruffly spoke, “Here’s your ride. Now get the hell out of here.”

The vehicle was… Small. As he stood beside it, he realized that the arching roof of the strangely round-edged car, with circular lights and a rounded hood was only up to the upper part of his chest. As he observed it, he heard the window roll down, and saw a head poke out to look up at him. “Ah, I take it this is you, Mister Osvald?”

“That’s my name,” he replies, hearing the faint banter of his anxiety wondering what this person wanted.

“Ah, wonderful! Get in on the other side, I’ll explain everything when we’re on the road.”

Osvald continued to stare at the small, rounded vehicle in mild discomfort, before he went around to the side, doing everything in his power to fit himself into the car specially designed for smaller individuals. He had the seat pushed as far back as possible, which helped some, but his legs still bent and he had to duck his head down.

“Oh dear.” He glanced over to the man, who was a white-haired individual wearing a teal and white coat. His green eyes alight with mild amusement, his mischievous smile growing ever so slightly with the rocking of the vehicle. “Perhaps I should've listened to the descriptions. I thought the mention of my client being a seven-foot, bear-like man were exaggerations. Oh- If you wish to make yourself more comfortable, there’s a handle on the side that’ll let you-” There was a sudden loud metallic groan as Osvald found the handle that changed the angle of the seat, and it was thrown back. As frustrating as the sudden jostle was, at least he could straighten himself out, even if he was now just laying back.  “Ah, you already found it.”

He grunted in annoyance as he pulled the strap over himself. He glanced at the man, giving him a glare as he finally let what his anxiety-filled imaginary version of himself wanted to ask. “Who are you?”

“Aw, this is the thanks I get? I am Temenos Mistral.” The vehicle came to life, and they started to pull away, and out of the complex. “I’m an independent investigator who started looking into your case a few years ago.”

“Looked into? My case?” He shortly and quietly asked, his cold and distant eyes warming up ever so slightly. The detective smiled and nodded, as they pulled down the frosty pathway away from the prison. 

“I’d also dug into the conduct of the prison… While the conduct of the prisoners cannot necessarily be controlled, that of the officers and guards can be.” They pulled into a ferry station to leave the island. Temenos rolled down the window to speak to the man watching the gate, handing him some paperwork. As it was handed back to him he pocketed it and rolled the window up. “And that officer who was dealing with you just added more to their shitlist.”

As the vehicle was parked on the ferry, the two of them had to seat themselves in the common area of the ship, and it turned out that they were the only ones boarding that ride. 

“It seems that we’re the only ones on this loop.” He commented, watching as the ferry started to leave the northern island’s dock, sailing to the west. He scanned Osvald over, noting the leather jacket he wore, the white undershirt, thin, silver-rimmed wire glasses… It was rather plain attire, though based on everything he’d read into the man’s past and history, it wasn’t surprising. He was a strange one, that’s for certain. The man avoided looking at him, staring out the ship’s window at the swirling sea around them, the emotion in his eyes was unreadable, though Temenos knew that was because it was missing. According to intel, the man wasn’t particularly emotional even before coming to the prison, but he was still more of a person then than the shell he is now.

“Have you…” He was mildly surprised as Osvald initiated conversation with him. He turned to the voice, seeing that the man’s brown eyes were focused on him. “Have you found anything about who caused the fire?” The question held much pain, and his eyes held even more.

“I’m afraid not. Not yet, at least.” He shook his head in response, “I was focused on proving that you weren’t capable of being the one who caused the fire, and proving perjury in your case.” A soft sigh escaped his lips. He did have a few things that he’d figured out, but the case really couldn’t be mentioned to the researcher, lest he risk the integrity of the investigation. “I tried to argue for them to drop the charges on your record, but they were only willing to put you on parole.”

Great, he has to deal with this guy for however long, Osvald griped, the pain of the lack of answers gripping his heart like an iron fist. Temenos' tone and way of speaking was grating to him, though, he had to be thankful for the efforts the detective was going through.

They suddenly heard a phone ring, the loud sound nearly made Osvald leap in his seat, which made the white-haired man smile in amusement, and he pulled his phone out. He placed the device to his ear, hearing a younger woman’s voice coming out the other end.

“Ah, Throné.” He greeted her, “Do you need something?”

“So you’re still alive.” He heard her comment, and the small smile on his face grew as he chuckled. “I assume you’re on your way back?”

“That I am. I was able to retrieve my client and leave with minimal issue. Unfortunately, it’ll still be approximately a week before I’ll be back in Wellgrove. Mighty inconvenient that the one method of transport to and from Frigit is ferry… Regardless, I’d like for you to keep watch of the firm while I’m gone as you’ve been doing. How long do you have before you’ll be enrolling in college?” He noticed Osvald perking up slightly at the mention of education, and silently took note of it.

“There’s still a month before classes start.” He heard her reply, and his smile grew. 

“Ah, excellent! Would you happen to be looking for part-time work during the year? I know you took the position over the summer, but I could use an assistant for the year. Of course, I’m more than willing to work around your schedule once you get it.”

“...Yeah, I can do that. My first semester shouldn’t be too busy.”

The phone conversation continued for a few more moments until Temenos quickly flinched as he heard a shout on the other end and pulled the phone away, and glanced over at his client, who appeared just as frazzled by the voice as he was. He slowly placed it on his ear once more. “Yes, of course. Don’t be a stranger, hmm?”

He then hung up, turning back to the uncertain man, giving him a mildly reassuring smile. “My apologies, that was my assistant. She’s moving to college in Wellgrove, see, and…” 

Osvald’s focus immediately shifted away as the investigator continued to talk, thinking about college, and how he’d be paid to conduct research for the Montwise School of Science and Mathematics, and he started to wonder what he’d do for money… As much as he’d prefer to just do research for himself, without money he wouldn’t be able to get food, and without food, there’s no life. He had some money still in the bank, but not enough to live for an extended period on without any work.

“Osvald?” He was snapped out of his thinking by Temenos speaking up, and he quickly turned to face the man. “Is something the matter?”

He paused, carefully considering his answer, trying to figure out how to describe it to the detective, figuring out where to start, but he was stopped as it felt as though Temenos read his mind.

“If you’re worried about housing and work, don’t be. Your housing has been taken care of, and I’m certain we can figure out work for you.”

After a few stunned minutes of feeling like he’d been stared straight through, Osvald finally found his words. “Where will we be going?”

“Oh, right. Unfortunately you won’t be staying in Conning Creek again for… Obvious reasons. We’re heading off to Wellgrove.”

“But…” His eyes widened with dejection, and he glanced away, folding his fingers together. “My lab…” He commented about his lab, but he didn’t care at all about the items in there, rather, he was worried about what happened to his wife and daughter, and silently questioned if they were even allowed to rest after everything. His shoulders slouched as he thought, his demeanor weakening as the grave expression in his eyes grew.

“Don’t worry, your supplies in the lab have been safely moved. Unfortunately some stuff was confiscated by police, but I managed to get access to it all once more.” His smile became more genuine and reassuring, though the glint in his eyes told Osvald that he'd been read once more. “I may need access to some of the items from your lab, however, so I would require you to not throw out anything.”

He’d want his name cleared, so obviously he agreed to the condition. He continued to silently listen to the investigator talk as they continued to cross the sea, watching as the island he spent nearly a seventh of his life on shrunk away into the distance.

“Ah, excellent! Would you happen to be looking for part-time work during the year? I know you took the position over the summer, but I could use an assistant for the year. Of course, I’m more than willing to work around your schedule once you get it.”

Another work offer? Huh. Guess the detective really is as understaffed as he said… Not complaining or anything. I do need that money, and at least I can trust him.

“...Yeah, I can do that. My first semester shouldn’t be too busy.”

The man on the other end of the phone chuckled once again, noticeably pleased. “Excellent! We’ll work out the details once I return to the office! Until then, though, was it not your move-in day? Seems a strange time to be calling little old me, don’t you think?”

“Well, I don’t see anything wrong with making sure all of my summer work didn’t go down the drain. Besides, my brothers are helping me-” Just then, a shout came from down the hall, loud enough for Temenos and even Osvald to hear it through the phone. Throné quickly covered the phone and looked back down the hallway, still loud enough for the two men on the ferry to hear clearly. “CAN IT, SCARACCI, I’M ON THE PHONE WITH MY BOSS!” After a long, drawn out moment of pure silence, the young woman picked up the phone again. “...On second thought, you might be right. We can discuss the details later.”

Another characteristic chuckle. “Yes, of course. Don’t be a stranger, hmm?”

“I won’t, I won’t. See you when you get back, Detective.” The moment she hung up her phone, her composure was washed away as well, and she scowled as she searched for her pain of a brother to figure out what in Aeber’s name he was whining about. When she turned the corner of her now-former room, she quickly identified what caused the ruckus; Scaracci had dropped a rather heavy box directly on his foot, and it just so happened he thought it was appropriate to wear sandals that day. As the larger man was too busy muttering every curse word under the sun to notice the woman, another one of Throné’s brothers with much longer, silver hair did, and smirked a bit as she entered. “Ah, Throné. There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you just decided to ditch us.”

Throné sighed, and began her apology, though without much energy in her voice. “Sorry, sorry, I had to call my boss about work next year, I-“ Once she got a better look at the scene, though, the pitch of her voice immediately rose, and she sped over to Scaracci, carefully picking up the box he dropped. “-What the hell, Scaracci, you dropped my sewing machine?! You said you’d help me move my stuff, not break it before I get there .”

The large gruff man scowled, spitting a loogie into a nearby trash can. “Gee, lil’ sis, my foot’s fine, thanks for asking.” After carefully placing the box onto the moving pile, Throné looked over her shoulder at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Remind me who wore socks with sandals for this again.” The silver-haired man would pitch in at this point, taking out his dud cigarette with an eyebrow raised. “We did warn you multiple times that it was a bad idea. In fact, I do believe you rebutted with something along the lines of ‘I don’t drop anything anyways’, yeah?” Scaracci’s head whipped around to the brother, scowl growing deeper. “You pickin’ a fight too, Pirro?”

The two brothers continued tossing jabs back and forth, and as Throné watched, she couldn’t help but smile a bit. There wasn’t much about her family she really thought she’d miss; With her father always having impossible expectations for her, and her mother seeming to have none at all, she always felt her foster home was claustrophobic, like a collar around her neck; It was one of the main reasons she decided to transfer from New Delsta to such a far-away university. However, parents aside, she always had felt a kinship with some of her siblings, such as Pirro and Scaracci; They were, after all, stuck in the same boat, and though they all coped with it in different ways, they were at least going through it together. She truly considered them her brothers, no matter how many times they’d butt heads.

A bit of time passed as they continued packing, occasionally bickering amongst themselves to pass the time. The three worked rather quickly, and soon enough, Throné’s possessions were all ready to go in her car. Scaracci wiped his brow nonchalantly, and crossed his arms. “I still don’t get why you ain’t just livin’ here. The place is huge, and you’re practically alone, ‘sides the housekeepers.” Throné took a deep breath, having prepared herself for this very question, and turned to Scaracci. “Because Mother owns it. I’m not letting her think she can still control me because I live under her roof. Besides, it’s too far from the university.” Scaracci still seemed a bit confused by the decision, but shrugged, and gracelessly slammed the trunk door shut.

Pirro, meanwhile, walked over to Throné with a soft smile, holding his arms out and giving her a hug. “We’ll miss you, Throné. I can’t speak for Mother and Father, but I’m proud of you, at least.” He looked up from the hug to Scaracci. “You are too, right, Scaracci?” Scaracci didn’t seem to expect being called on, and awkwardly glanced to the side, before moving in and hesitantly joining in the group hug. “Yeah, yeah. Good on ya for bein’ independent and all that, lil’ sis.”

Throné chuckled a bit at Scaracci’s display, squeezing the two of them with a smile. “Thanks, guys. I’ll be sure to stay in touch.” When the hug broke, she began walking to the car seat, Pirro waving goodbye at her. “We’ll try to visit for Christmas, alright? I’ll see if Donnie can come too!”

When Throné got in her car, she looked once more at the large mansion and garden she was staying in, hoping it to be the last time she’d ever have to live under the legal thumb of her mother. Then, she looked in the mirror at Pirro and Scaracci, smiling as she waved back at them before starting the car and making for her new university.

The drive to Wellgrove University was a rather peaceful one; Despite the city’s renown across Solistia as the economic heart of the west, Throné found it far more cozy of a place than the cacophonous city streets of New Delsta she grew up in. There was a sort of relaxed bustle to the picturesque town, and Throné made a mental note to try to spend more time outside than she did back home. 

The city also wasn’t exceptionally large, so it didn’t take long for her to pull up into the parking lot of her residence hall. Before deciding to bring all of her things up to her dorm, she thought it appropriate to actually find it first, sending a quick text to the roommate she had been assigned to, a girl by the name of Ori, that she arrived. Once she got up to her floor, she quickly found her dorm number, and opened the door, finding a room with one side all but empty (as she expected it to be), and the other adorned with old newspaper articles, a big fluffy comforter on the bed along with various plushies, and… is that an old-timey radio? Among the strange array of items was a brunette girl sitting at the desk, typing away on the computer. She didn’t even seem to notice Throné’s presence until the newcomer straightened her throat, immediately pulling her into reality as she whipped her head towards the door.

“…”

“…”

“…OH!”

The girl quickly scrambled out of her seat, almost tripping on the ground as she brought herself up. “Crap, I’m sorry, I forgot you were moving in today! Throné, right? This really isn’t how I wanted to make my first impression, I’ve just been really busy with this article for the school paper, and I lost track of time, and before I knew it-“ She glanced at her phone. “-Aaaah, you even texted me, I am so, so -“

Throné smiled a bit, and held her hand out at the girl in the middle of her rapid tirade, gesturing to her to slow down. “Don’t worry about it, really. Besides, I should’ve texted you earlier about it. Ori, right? It’s great to meet you.” Ori was clearly out of breath from her short-lived panic, but she was able to catch her breath, offering up her own, tired smile. “Hehe, yep, that’s me! Do you need any help bringing your stuff up? It’s the least I could do!” Throné nodded, glad that Ori managed to calm herself down. “If you’re offering, I won’t complain.”

With that agreed, Throné and Ori exited the room, the former leading the latter to her car as they made small talk along the way.

“…So, you mentioned you write for the school paper?”

“Ah, yeah, I’m studying journalism. Wanna be a reporter, you know?… Oh yeah, you’re from New Delsta, right? Tell me what that was like, I’ve always wanted to visit!”

“Ah. Well, it’s…”

Chapter Text

“And here you are.” The investigator slid the key into the lock, opening the door with ease. He flicked the light on, bathing the small apartment in a warm, yellow light. Entering the room was a chore, as Osvald had to duck down to slip through the door frame, but was able to stand to his full height once inside with a couple feet of space between the ceiling and his head. It was quite empty, with a small kitchen with a few appliances in it, an open space with a couch and coffee table in the middle of the room, and a small offshoot room off to the left, with a bed and nightstand there, along with a bathroom off of that, though Osvald was unsure if he’d even fit on the bed. He’d probably have to just lay the mattress on the ground, or perhaps he can work something out...

He scanned the room, as though anticipating someone or something to jump out at him, and soon his eyes settled on a window to the back of the main room, and quietly walked over, looking out the window to the sight of the forest surrounding the city. He unlatched it, pulling up to let the summer heat in, and the muted noises of the forest became louder. The breath in his lungs caught, and he lowered his body to comfortably rest his elbows against the window sill, listening as he heard the calls of finches, robins, woodpeckers, orioles, and more of the forest songbirds. He heard the floorboards creak as Temenos walked in closer, going to the other side of the window to observe the sights he was looking over. A tickle shot down his spine and in the back of his head as he heard the characteristic coo of a mourning dove in the nearby tree, and felt a sensation tightening in his chest, and his eyes started to become wet before he’d realized. He went to wipe his eyes, and heard the detective walking back towards the door. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Your things are in the closet in your bedroom.” He started to leave, but stopped halfway out the door. “Oh, and, you should remain in the apartment for now. I’ve heard word that your parole officer will be coming in the next few hours to meet with you and all of that. Farewell for now!”

Temenos didn’t expect an answer from the man, and walked away after shutting the door. He placed a hand to his forehead, letting out a sigh, becoming uncharacteristically serious for a brief moment.

“I promise, for both of our sakes, I will find the truth.” He climbed back into his car, driving just a block away, parking on the street right outside of his office, where he saw etched into the display glass out front Mistral Investigation Agency. A smile rose on his face once more as he read that, reminded that he was finally reaching for his overall dream. He had a firm, an employee– Oh, speaking of… He opened the door, stepping into the main area of the office, glancing over to see a woman seated at the desk by the entrance, and she looked up from her work to see Temenos standing there.

“Ah, detective, you’ve returned.” She quickly greeted him, and his smile grew slightly. 

“Throné, I hope things haven’t been trouble around here while I was out.” She rolled her eyes slightly, hand resting on her chin as a mild smile crept up her lips. 

“No, it’s as quiet as it’s been all summer here.” She pulled a few papers off of her desk, handing them to him. “A few people came through looking for you, but I just saved their numbers for you to get back to them when you get the chance.”

“Ah… I’ll get back to them tomorrow, I’m… A bit busy with a client right now.” He looked around, having expected to see the office cat, Roi, trotting up to greet him, however the cat wasn’t around. “Have you seen Roi around?”

“I let him upstairs, he was yowling at the door earlier.”

“Alright… I’ll sort through everything and give you your pay for these two weeks right now… But then I’ll need to move my luggage back in after.” He let out a soft sigh, like a bag whose air was pushed out from a small hole. “Today is a long day.”

“You could pack in first and worry about my pay after.”

“And have to pay you overtime? Why would I do that?” He glanced over at Throné’s annoyed expression with a tired laugh, and he waved her off. “I jest, I know you’re still getting settled into your dorm, I’d like to not keep you for too long.” He went over to the door to his office, unlocking it and going in to write a check and check Throné’s hours to ensure proper payment. “How was moving everything in, by the way? I heard the shouting over the phone– Startled my client, too.”

“Oh, you could hear that?” She called out in reply, thankful that with where the detective was in the building that he couldn't see her embarrassed look. “It was fine. One of my brothers just dropped a box on his foot.”

“Oh dear… I hope he didn't break anything.”

“He didn't… I think.”

Her comment made the detective laugh, and she heard him finishing up the check and he returned, passing it over to her with a smile. “Have you gotten your schedule yet?”

“Yes. Uh, let me just get it up…” She flipped through her smartphone, which has seen better days, the screen was starting to crack a little bit, and the backside was damaged. It was one of her first goals to pay for once she can afford it. She turned her phone to her boss, watching as he peered at the schedule. 

“I see, I see! I believe I can work with that. Can you perhaps send me that schedule over email so I can look at it later?” He stopped after a few moments, squinting further as he saw one class on the schedule with a rather strange comment under. “What’s with the question mark?”

“That. Right.” She scowled slightly as she leaned back in her chair. “I have to retake Calculus again this year. Some bullshit about my credits not going through properly, I don’t know. Hated that class, so I'm not looking forward to having it again.”

“Ouch. Mathematics was… never my strong suit.”

Throné nonchalantly walked back to her work desk with a deadpan expression. “It seems a lot of things aren't your strong suit, detective. Remember when-“ But she cut herself off mid-sentence, registering what Temenos actually just said. She quickly reached for the paycheck Temenos just handed her, inspecting it closely to make sure everything was in order, as she heard the detective laugh once more.

“Oh come now, Throné, have a bit more faith in me than that! Besides, humans are flawed creatures, we have many-” He paused as he realized that she’s still calling him detective. “...Didn’t I tell you that you're welcome to call me Temenos while we work together?”

“I don't believe you did.”

“I swear I did… Well if I truly didn’t, please, call me Temenos.”

“Alright, I’ll try to do that, Temenos.” She watched the smile on his face as she said his name, and couldn't help but reciprocate. “But… As I was saying, I have to take Calc again, and apparently the current professor quit really abruptly, so they don't even know if they’re going to run that class.”

A calculus professor, hm? Well, that’d be the perfect job to get his parole officer to get him into…

“Well, now that you have your paycheck and I’ve returned, I suppose there’s nothing keeping you here, mm? I’m going to close up the agency early.”

“Are you sure?” She watched him for a brief moment, but then nodded as she read his tired eyes. “Alright, at least let me help close up.”

The detective didn’t deny the help as they cleaned up the place a small bit, as Throné had been maintaining the office while he was gone as per his instructions. Doors were locked, and Temenos opened the front door, bidding his employee farewell as she entered her vehicle and pulled away. As he watched her, he noticed a car parked off to the side in the alleyway, the color and shape of which was familiar to him, but he decided to ignore it for the time being as he grabbed his luggage from his small vehicle, listening as the plastic wheels of his suitcase hit the smooth river stone sidewalk. He took in a deep breath, listening to the forest just beyond the buildings, thinking back on the drive here. 

“That ferry ride was far too quiet for my liking…” He commented to himself, dragging the suitcase and carry-on up to a door right beside his office one, opening it up to a staircase that went to the space above. Though I suppose I can’t fault my client for his silence, prisoners aren’t kind to those convicted of crimes against children and women, even though he’s innocent. His eyes closed as he stood before the door to his home, and he started to pull into his thoughts. I hope he’s faring alright.

His hand touched the doorknob, but as it did, he felt it rotate in his fingers and the door yanked open, the sunlight from the window behind streaming through and briefly blinding Temenos. “Agh, who-”

“Oh, Temenos!”

He recognized that voice, and as his vision cleared, he saw a man in the doorway, taller than him, with short, wavy hair that was as golden as the sunlight streaming through the window. The dark freckles dotting the upper side of his cheeks, under the eyes, contrasted with the paleness of his skin, and his cobalt eyes were wide with surprise. He wore a plain, white shirt with black sweatpants. Temenos scanned him over with a brief look of his own shock, though that almost immediately faded to his typical pleasant smile. 

“Aw, are you lost, little lamb?” He heard Roi meowing loudly from the other side of the door, and crouched down to lift the short-haired, black cat up, coddling it as he glanced over at the other man smugly.

“I- Temenos, we haven’t seen each other in over a year!” The man moved out of the way to let the detective into the house, and the man pulled the suitcases into the living room, right beside the couch. “Can’t you act a bit more surprised for me?”

“Aw, Crick dear, my little lamb, you know that isn’t my nature. Besides, I knew you were here. I saw your car hiding in the alleyway, and Roi was upstairs with you.” He walked over, giving the man a brief peck on the cheek. “You know I missed you.”

Crick’s face flushed briefly, a smile growing on his lips, and he released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. “I can’t believe I missed this… It’s good to be back.”

“Speaking of… Why are you back? I thought you were on training in Stormhail.” Temenos took a seat on the couch, with Crick going into the kitchen, the detective unpacking his luggage. 

“I was, it finished up recently, and they gave me a job back here.” He returned, placing two mugs of coffee on the table. 

“Oh? What’s the job?”

“I was tasked with being the parole officer for someone who was released recently.”

“And who might that be?”

Crick took a sip of his coffee, passing a newspaper over to the detective, with the headline “New Evidence in Vanstein Murder Case Points to Foul Play, Framing” displayed on the front. “I believe his entire name is Osvald Vanstein?”

“Osvald V. Vanstein, but yes.”

Crick nodded, a frown darkening his usually sunny complexion. “I can’t believe they didn’t lift the charges.”

“I’m not surprised, unfortunately. The courts are reluctant to lift such heavy charges when there isn’t evidence that points at someone else.” Temenos took a sip of his mug, his own frown mirroring his boyfriend’s. “Which is why I’m not stopping yet.” He removed his laptop from the luggage, resting it on his lap as he went to the local college’s website. He scanned over the job postings, finding the posting for the mathematics department. “I’ll have to send this to him later…”

“Mathematics? Wait- Hey, I’m the one that’s supposed to help him job hunt!”

Temenos laughed at Crick’s protest, and he went to retrieve some documents that were printed, and he waved the papers in the parole officer’s face. “Well, I’d be willing to give you the honors of delivering this info to him if you tell me additional info about him~”

Crick’s teasing protest turned to seriousness, and he narrowed his eyes, “You know I can’t do that, I have confidentiality I need to keep.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. Here, take the papers and give them to him. I’ll be coming with though.”

“Temenos, I’m not supposed to have anyone come with me…” He grimaced, “Do you think I can’t interact with him?”

“Of course you can! I just thought that we could both go over at the same time to not overwhelm him, as I have a few things I need from him as well.”

“I- You could’ve said that earlier!”

It was really quiet. Too quiet.

Was it good or bad? He couldn’t decide, all he knew was that it didn’t feel right. He’d been feeling relatively good as he was watching the window, but as the city quieted down, the quietness brought rise to anxiety. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his worry down, but his thoughts were swirling in his head, raising his heart rate and increasing the pressure he felt in his chest. The window was closed once again, and he moved from the main room into the bedroom, claiming a space on the bed. It was surprising to feel the firm but also soft mattress underneath him. The beds in the prison weren’t as nice as this, they were just box spring mattresses without any support. The pillow was nice too, he noted, as he picked it up and wrapped it in his arms. He absent-mindedly squeezed between his forearms, clasping his fists around the corners as he drew in a few deep breaths, feeling his breathing steady and heartbeat quiet. 

The small room acted like the quiet room back in the prison, giving him a space to feel more secure in. He finally completely settled down, placing the pillow back down, inching his way over to the closet. The closet’s sliding door rattled as it moved open, and the former prisoner’s eyes widened as he saw the items neatly piled in the bottom of the closet. He picked out his laptop, quickly going to plug it in, digging through his things to find a few photo frames, folders of his research, tools, notes, and even more. The mellow joy he felt was cut short as he saw a picture of his wife, Rita. It was bitterly nostalgic as he lifted the dusty photo up, carefully rubbing the dust away, a sorrowful feeling sinking in his chest. He placed a finger against her face, wishing he was able to feel her warmth again…

He stared down at it for a few minutes, reminiscing about his late wife, but eventually put the image on the bed as he kept digging through his items, his frown growing.

Some of his research was missing.

He dug through twice, thrice… Yes, it was missing. The distress he felt grew even more as he wondered where it could’ve gone, but was finding no answers.

There was a knock that came through the main area and even through the door. He cautiously opened the bedroom door, making his way over to the entrance, pulling the front door open to see both Crick and Temenos there.

“Osvald, yes? I’m-” Crick saw the look in his eyes, and almost immediately froze as he noticed it, and he tensed up. “Is something wrong?”

Osvald glanced between Crick and a confused Temenos, quietly muttering something that neither of them could hear.

“Please speak up. I can’t hear you.”

“Some of my research is missing.” The upset the tall man was feeling was prominent in his voice, the slight waver betraying the pain despite his composure on the outside other than his eyes showing calm.

“Missing? Are you certain it isn’t misplaced?” They walked in, and Crick closed the door behind them. 

“I’m certain. I know each folder, they were coded specifically for me to keep them organized.” He opened the door to his bedroom, where the folders were organized on his bed, the edges of which were covered with symbols and numbers. Temenos listened as Osvald described the missing folders, their codes, and their contents in great detail.

“You care quite a lot for your research, huh?” Crick commented, and looked up at his parolee, who slowly nodded. 

“It’s my life’s work. Anyone who wouldn’t care for something such as that would be a fool.” Saying that, however, seemed to bring more pain to Osvald’s eyes, and he turned away, softly muttering to himself. “But maybe I should’ve been a fool…”

The already stressed atmosphere grew with the ache of Osvald’s grief, and Crick, knowing the details of the situation, tried to settle the man, who, while still upset, wasn’t quite as close to being visibly so.

“I apologize, Osvald, but I need to ask a couple of questions about the circumstances of your arrest.” The detective led them out of the bedroom and back into the living space. He took a seat in a chair in the room, as Osvald seated himself on the couch. Crick quickly went around behind the seat his partner was in, leaning on the headrest. “Can you describe the event in as much detail as you can?”

Osvald leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees, curling his left arm up to rest against the hair on his chin, thinking carefully on the event requested. It wasn’t like he could forget it, that entire day was burned into his mind. The smell of smoke, the detectors in his home going off, the smell of burnt skin and hair, some of which was his own… No, he needed to focus. He shook his head, blinking absent-mindedly as his gaze hovered over the investigator. “I went in to try to get my family out from the fire, and was pulled out by the firefighters… And almost immediately I was cuffed. I ended up being taken to the hospital for my burns…” He stared down at one of his palms, where his skin was red and calloused from gripping a doorknob. “After that I was interrogated, put on trial, and then imprisoned.”

The white-haired man’s expression became serious as he paused his typing, and he looked up from his laptop. “Did they ever give you a chance to check your belongings?”

Osvald’s posture worsened and he lowered his head, gradually shaking it. “No, t’was straight from hospital to the Conning Creek station, and then court in Timberain.”

“I see, I see.” Temenos clicked away at his laptop, a frown dotting his lips. “Crick, you have some things to speak about with Osvald, yes?”

“Oh- Yes, I do.” Crick took the papers Temenos gave him out of his bag, talking about the job posting. As they conversed, Temenos started to add these notes to his investigation, pulling into his thinking. Osvald wasn’t given the chance to ensure that nothing was missing, and the police would have no way of knowing if anything was missing…

“Osvald, one more question. Did you ever talk about your research with the police? Like how many folders there were, the organization system, any of that?”

His frown grew further as the former prisoner only shook his head at the question. “Crick, I’ll need to speak with you once you’re finished.”

Crick nodded at the statement, and continued to speak with Osvald. “As your parole officer, I have a few responsibilities when it comes to you. I need to ensure that you aren’t doing drugs or drinking-”

“I don’t drink, not often, at least.”

“-Regardless, while on parole you aren’t allowed alcohol whatsoever.” Crick continued to explain the rules of Osvald’s parole to him, and he listened carefully and closely. “Well, the rules kind of just boil down to behave and you’ll be fine. I’ll come around every few days to check in on you, and I’m first on the scene if you get into any trouble.”

The ash blonde-haired man sullenly nodded at the explanation, the disconnect written on his face clearly and loudly. Temenos got up from his seat, giving the man a nod and mild smile. 

“Well, we’ll leave you to get better settled in. Let us know when you get that application in, Crick or I could go to campus to put a word in for you.” The front door opened up, and quietly clicked shut, leaving Osvald in silence once again.

“Crick, I know that you wouldn’t want to share information with me for confidentiality, however, can you provide me with the police reports from his arrest?” As they walked back to their home Temenos grimaced, left arm across his chest, right elbow against his palm, hand to his chin. “I fear that this mistrial runs even deeper than just the courts…”

Once the door closed behind Crick and Temenos, Osvald turned back to his laptop once more, staring at it in silence.

So, my research has been completely scrubbed from my files…

The only logical explanation is that someone intentionally deleted them. But how did someone get into my laptop during my incarceration?

That mystery, at least, is simple. I used my laptop’s account on the department’s PC at Montwise as well. With that in mind, it’s a simple matter of figuring out what my passcode is, and anyone with access to the PC can do whatever they want with the files.

Damn it, I can’t believe I didn’t think to back up the files…

There’s no use worrying about that now. Perhaps the physical notes can still be found?

If they’re not in the piles here, then it’s likely they’re at Montwise… Maybe someone claimed the research to take over during my absence?

…Yes, that’s a possibility. Though perhaps I should avoid contacting the chemistry or mathematics departments. If my deductions are correct, whoever deleted my files is likely to be from within the departments themselves…

The department of biology was also deeply involved in the research. That would likely be safer to contact.

In that case… Harvey it is.

Chapter Text

After Throné left work and got in her car, she didn’t take long to figure out her first priority now; Get something to eat. Typically, Throné was quite careful with food; Teaching herself how to cook was one of the first things she did as part of her plan to cut herself off from her parents, and she considered herself quite good at maintaining a balanced and healthy diet.

Unfortunately, though, she was a college student, and as such her eating schedule could be quite inconsistent. The transfer didn’t help on that front either; As much as she hated Delsta, she couldn’t deny that the absurd amounts of money that went into the school did allow them to have generally high-quality meals in the dining hall. Wellgrove, while not poor by any means, wasn’t quite as wealthy as the major universities in the east, and the campus was also merged with various trade schools which caused the resources to be spread rather thinly in comparison. She had tried eating at the campus dining halls over the past week since moving in, but found the food too greasy to eat every single day.

On that particular day, though, she hadn’t even had the time to eat that much; Aside from a granola bar from Ori’s snack basket that she had been kind enough to let Throné take from (“in moderation”, she made clear), the student hadn’t had time to sit down and have a proper meal between sorting out a few last-minute details for her transfer and getting to Temenos’ agency early enough to make sure that little bastard Roi got fed before ruining the carpet in a fuss.

Thankfully, she did know her residence hall had a kitchen, and with her paycheck just earlier, she can comfortably afford to buy a few groceries to last her at least until classes officially start. After quickly cashing out the check, she made a quick stop to the grocery store to pick up some simple ingredients and supplies she might need.

Mm… Tomatoes, bread, and some deli meat might be good if I just need a quick sandwich… Though I could probably get that at the dining hall already. Maybe pasta? Some beans and potatoes could come in handy… Eggs would be nice, but I don’t think there’s enough space in my half of the fridge.

In the end, Throné’s trip ended with her gathering less food than she admittedly would’ve liked, through a combination of her dorm mini-fridge’s size and her tight budgeting on her paycheck.

I’m… sure I can make this work.

Despite her best efforts to mentally reassure herself, the drive back to campus was not an optimistic one, and once she returned to the hall, she got so wrapped up in her thoughts on what to do with the food that she just barely caught herself before stepping on a strange furry creature laying on the floor.

“…! W-Wha…? Is…” She took a quick step back as her mind caught up to her, looking down at the animal in horror. “Is that a hyena?!”

Before Throné was able to yell and call for help, though, she’d hear a loud whistle from inside the kitchen, accompanied by a rather young-sounding voice. “Ākala! What did I tell you about sleeping in front of the door? It’s scaring people!”

Throné’s head turned in the direction of the new voice, and her eyes met with a roughly four-and-a-half foot tall girl wearing a simple yet comfortable tank top and shorts, with distinct wolf ears and a big fluffy tail. It took her a second to register the implications of what she just said, but when she did, her expression narrowed a bit. “You’re… not telling me that this animal is yours, are you?”

The tiny girl flashed Throné a big toothy grin, and nodded. “Yeeeeeeah, sorry. This little rascal is Ākala. Oh, and don’t worry, he’s a Lajackal, not any kinda hyena.” She then held out her arm and whistled again, this time more akin to a bird’s cry, and an owl that Throné hadn’t noticed until then flew onto her arm. “And just so she doesn’t spook you too, this here’s Mahina! And my name is Ochette!”

Though the effort to keep her from jumping was appreciated, it didn’t do much to alleviate Throné’s concern, and she glanced around the room with her guard still up. “Are… Are pets even allowed here?”

Ochette smiled a bit bashfully. “Um, not usually. See, I’m Toto’hahan though, I’m sure you can tell by the ears and tail, and most of us are raised with animals by birth. Managed to work a deal out with the admissions people to let me take these two along, just as long as they don’t cause trouble.”

She then looked back down at Ākala with her hands on her hips. “Which isn’t gonna work if you keep surprising random people!” Ākala looked up at Ochette, not seeming too bothered by her scolding, though he did trot over into a corner of the room to sleep instead of the entryway.

Throné still seemed a bit cautious, but decided it would be alright to drop her guard, acknowledging that Ochette’s animal companions didn’t seem to have any ill intent and were obedient to Ochette. “R-Right. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just not used to this. I’ve been friends with plenty of Toto’hahans when I lived in New Delsta, but they didn’t usually have pets like these with them.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it! I haven’t been, but some of my friends have told me New Delsta’s a lot stricter on ‘exotic pets’ or whatever they call ‘em, so you don’t see that many walking around.”

“Right, that makes sense…” Though Throné was not familiar with these laws, she didn’t need any time to believe it, knowing how cruel Delsta could be underneath the shiny coating. “Anyways, my name’s Throné. Sorry for not introducing myself before. I just came here to see if I could use the kitchen, and-“ She stopped herself, though, off once she stepped a bit further into the kitchen, catching the pleasant smell of grilled meat and vegetables on her nose.

Ochette glanced back at the kitchen countertop. “Ahhhh… Sorry, I’ve been using it for some cooking of my own! I’d say we can share, but the space is real small already, and it’s barely enough room for my supplies…”

Throné frowned a bit, but nodded, acknowledging that she was right, the kitchen was rather tiny. “That’s fine. Do you know if there are any other kitchens in the building?”

“No, sorry. Trust me, I tried looking for a nicer one, but this is all.” Ochette, feeling bad that she just had to turn Throné away like that, gestured back to her food with a smile. “But if you want, you can have some of the food I’m making! I promise it’s real tasty!”

Throné was not expecting this offer, and instinctually shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. Isn’t that your dinner?”

Ochette shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but honestly, I’m not that hungry. The real reason I’m cooking this is for homework. I go to the culinary school on campus, and I was bored, so I figured I’d get a head start on work to get my head in the game, ya know?”

Ah. That made sense. Throné was still a bit hesitant to accept the offer, but she didn’t want to be rude either, and the food did smell really good. “Well… If you’re offering, it does sound nice.”

The Toto’hahan grinned again with a thumbs up, and returned to the cooking station. “Haha, perfect! Get ready to have your socks knocked off, Néné!”

Throné raised an eyebrow. “…Néné?”

Ochette shrugged, not giving the other student a response as she went back to her cooking. Throné was still a bit confused by the nickname, but sat down on a chair in the room, watching Ochette cook. Despite the limited amount of space, she was putting on quite a show, preparing a series of vegetables as well as beef in a rather stylish way. “…You’re really good.”

Ochette’s grin grew larger, not losing focus on her cooking. “Thanks! The key to good cooking is to make sure you’re having fun while doing it!” Throné’s expression quickly went back to a confused one, though it was accompanied by a smile. 

She’s certainly interesting.

“Aaaaaaand done!”

It didn’t take long for Ochette to finish cooking, preparing a plate for Throné and sliding it in front of her.

“Voila! Tropu’hopu steak-vegetable medley skewers! I used authentic Toto’hahan-grown onions from back home!” Ochette looked awfully proud of herself, and Throné could see why. “Wow, these look and smell incredible.” She picked one of the skewers up, and took a bite. “…They taste great, too. I see how you got into culinary school.”

Ochette’s pride only grew more and more as Throné complimented her, and took a bite of one of her own skewers. “Fhankths! Ah’vuh-“ She quickly swallowed the food in her mouth. “-been learning since I was a kid.”

Throné took another bite, making sure to chew and swallow politely before responding, in sharp contrast to Ochette. “I can tell. Do you mind if I take a few of these to bring up to my roommate? I think she’d like them, and she’s been pretty busy lately.”

“Oh yeah, for sure! There are plenty of extras, feel free to take a couple!” She grabbed a small piece of leftover meat that wasn’t used for the skewers, and held it low to the ground, beckoning Ākala over to nab the treat from her hand. Mahina, meanwhile, had been perched on the back of a high chair, peacefully watching the two girls make small talk as they ate.

“Mmf… So, Néné, what’re you studying?”

Throné placed down her skewer for a moment as she began answering. “I want to be a fashion designer. Actually, I used to study architecture, but…”

“It wasn’t for you?”

Throné scowled a bit, looking off to the side. “…Yeah, you could say that. My father didn’t give me much of a choice in the matter.” Her voice had a very obvious tinge of venom to it. This bite didn’t fly over Ochette’s head, who gave Throné a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, I get it. My dad was pretty adamant that I stay back on Toto’haha before I managed to convince him to let me come here for school. Said I didn’t need to come here to learn how to cook, that I could just learn at home, that it wouldn’t be safe for me, all that. It was suuuuper annoying, but I know he was just looking out for me and my future.” Her smile then grew brighter, to reassure Throné. “I’m sure your dad was trying to do the same, even if it ended up being the wrong way of doing it.”

Throné’s bitterness in the moment was lifted by Ochette’s words of encouragement, and she looked down at her food pensively. No response came for a time, until she gave a small nod, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Ochette. I’ll… I’ll think about that. If it’s all the same, though, I’d rather not talk about my parents any more. Could we change the subject?”

Ochette’s grin returned and she nodded as the took another generous bite from her skewer. “No problem, Néné! So, what’s your schedule look like?”

The two continued their conversation as they finished their meals, and Throné wrapped a few of the extra Tropu’hopu skewers in aluminum foil and placed them inside a tupperware container Ochette provided her. As Throné was packing her things after the two of them cleaned up, she quickly pulled out a pen and a piece of paper, scribbling her phone number on it and handing it to Ochette.

“It was great meeting you, Ochette. Let’s try to meet up again sometime.”

Ochette took the number cheerfully, waving goodbye to her as she started to leave the room. “Yeah, definitely! See you around, Néné!” Throné waved back, and gave a quick wave to Ākala and Mahina as well, who yipped and cooed back respectively. 

She then made the quick trip back up to her dorm room, expecting to see Ori at her desk when she opened the door. Instead, though, she found Ori already asleep in bed, despite the fact the lights were still on. She glanced at the digital clock on her desk to see if it was simply later than she thought.

Still only eight? Huh. Maybe today was just busy and she passed out. I don’t blame her, the school paper seems to keep her busy.

She then grabbed a post-it note, writing down a quick note on it that read “A friend of mine made these for dinner, and I figured you’d like them, so I saved a few for you. Feel free to have them whenever.”

She then placed the container inside their fridge, and turned off the light so Ori would sleep well, while she moved to her desk to finish up a bit more work before going to bed herself.

Osvald’s plan to contact Harvey fell through when he realized that he no longer had his cellphone on him; It had been confiscated since his incarceration, and was one of the many effects of his that was not immediately returned. Through intent or mere negligence, he knew not, but it was troublesome regardless. Thinking for a moment, he concluded that his best bet was likely to look through some of the things Temenos himself provided him.

His intuition ended up proving trustworthy, as he found an old, battered flip phone within the pile of items. A small post-it was stuck to the back, reading ‘I figured you might want to try making some calls’. He opened up the phone, seeing that no numbers were saved on it, and spent a moment trying to recall Harvey’s number. Though it did not come easily, having not needed to remember any phone numbers in many years now, he eventually recalled the sequence, tapping it in and putting the phone to his ear.

Ring Ring Ring… Ring Ring Ring… Ring Ring-

“Hello? You’ve reached Dr. Harvey Valentino. Who am I speaking to?”

Now that was a voice Osvald hadn’t heard in many, many years. The scientist’s mouth quirked up a bit as he began to speak. “It’s been some time, Harvey. How’s the university been?”

“…”

“…Harvey? Are you still there?” Though the silence from the other end was a bit concerning to Osvald, he supposed it was reasonable; Montwise was far away, after all, and it’s likely the news simply hadn’t reached him.

“…O-Osvald? Is… that actually you?”

“Yes, it’s me. It’s good to hear your voice again.” No response came from the other end at first, seeming to have been blown away by Osvald’s mere voice. 

“…Where… Where are you calling from? I thought Frigit didn’t allow prisoners to make calls.”

“They’re re-evaluating the case. I’ve been put on parole in Wellgrove for the time being after a detective managed to prove I couldn’t have been on the scene of… the fire when…” Osvald’s voice trailed off, and the voice on the other end of the phone seemed to understand why, as he immediately cut Osvald off and began speaking himself, sounding a bit frantic and unsure.

“I see… Well, it’s… good to hear your voice as well, old friend. Did you call to catch up, or was there something you needed?”

Osvald laughed to himself a bit, and nodded. “You know me well. Yes, I was looking through my notes, and it seems I lack any trace of my research into the Tyrannodrake. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you? I’ve reason to suspect someone within my own department scrubbed my digital notes, so I thought asking you would be safer.”

“Ah, yes, I see… Well, erm, I’d love to help you, but I’m afraid our department doesn’t have them. Do you think that perhaps you just brought them home the day of the fire?”

“I considered it, but I could’ve sworn they were at the lab at the time.”

“Well, it’s been a while. Perhaps you just forgot! Regardless, l’ll keep an eye out. Perhaps one of my team members has been holding onto it.”

“I appreciate it, Harvey.”

“R-Right… Forgive me for my stuttering, it’s just… I’m sure you understand my surprise.”

Osvald smiled, despite knowing Harvey couldn’t see, and took a deep breath. “Truth be told, it’s hard for me to believe as well. Perhaps once the case progresses further and all my charges are cleared, I’ll see if I can’t return to Montwise. Pick up where we left off.”

Harvey paused once more before responding. “Yes… About that. We’ve… actually been progressing the project without you. I’m sure you understand, there’s a lot of advancement to be made from this research, it’s not something the university could just put on hold while waiting on a life sentence.”

It would be a lie to say Osvald wasn’t a bit dejected by this notion, but he also wasn’t terribly surprised; Harvey was right, the Tyrannodrake research had a lot of potential, and it didn’t make sense to wait on Osvald when he wasn’t even expecting to return in the first place. “Ah. I understand. Then perhaps you’ll be able to catch me up to speed.”

“Right, of course… Apologies, Osvald, but I need to get back to work. Busy day.”

“Very well, I’ll talk to you-“ But before he could finish his sentence, Harvey hung up, leaving Osvald a bit surprised by the abruptness. “…again? Strange. I suppose it really is a busy day.”

As Osvald closed the flip phone and placed it on the table, he considered the information he got from Harvey; it seems the university wasn’t using his research after all. A strange case, for sure, and one that he would make sure to ponder extensively over his parole period. However, it was only Osvald’s first day back, and when he absentmindedly sat on the bed, it occurred to him that he had not been on a soft bed with thick blankets since his imprisonment. Thus, he would choose to lay down and fell asleep early, at least pleased that he was finally, truly out of that frozen hell.

Chapter Text

It was hard to leave the apartment. He didn’t stay in due to not wanting to go out, rather, he stayed in out of concern. He didn’t want to be noticed, he just wanted to work in his home… Though he didn’t have anything to work on, which was especially frustrating. He’d been using the whiteboard that had been stuffed into the back of the closet to practice his work, and even started trying to rebuild his research up again from what he’d stored in his mind, though without being able to conduct his experiments again he couldn’t get farther than putting the equations down once more.

Of course, he still took care of himself, like he did in prison. He worked out with push-ups, sit-ups, core exercises, and tried to do more focused exercises, but without any weights it was a bit dangerous to try lifting. As such he just attempted to maintain himself. His hair was in a bit better condition than before, better groomed, less oily, and straighter, though it was always a bit wavy even before he went to prison. He’d just finished brushing after getting out of the shower, which was a rather frustrating ordeal, simultaneously due to the low shower curtain bar and lower shower head, with the latter being at eye-level with him.

“They always design these apartments for smaller people…” He muttered to himself as he dried his hair, pulling his shirt over his head. The scent of age and the pine drawer the clothes were hiding in for years on end struck his nostrils as he took in a deep breath, resulting in his nose curling up at the sensation, grimacing. “...I really should wash up everything so this… Unappealing scent goes away.” He stopped himself as he glanced over at a few picture frames on his nightstand, staring at the frame with an old image of Rita in it, reminded of the specific way they’d take care of all of their laundry at once. 

For a moment, he felt as though he’d been transported back in time, back to when things were much simpler. In the living room of his home, the warm and soft scent of lavender coming off of the basket of laundry, as the both worked to fold everything together, and he told her about the progress of his work. A fondness rose briefly in his chest, before it washed away, leaving hollow emptiness in its wake. “...Rita…” He softly murmured, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

So a fire had engulfed our home, and Rita and Elena were stuck inside the blaze… Harvey suggested that I’d maybe left the files in my house before the fire… But I never let my research go outside of my lab. 

Did I have that bad of a lapse of judgment?

At least not all is lost. Hopefully they’re able to find a backup of my digital ones somewhere.

And yet, there’s something I cannot shake. I was told both by prosecutors and that detective that the fire was caused intentionally, through the use of volatile chemicals, which was what nailed me in as the murderer.

The expression in his eyes softened, and he rested his hands on his knees. “But… What motivation would lead to someone committing these atrocities?”

He took a seat on the couch in his living room, glancing over at the white board sitting beside it, picking up the faint scent of the alcohol marker sitting at the base of the board, viewing the equations and chemical balances with mild scrutiny and annoyance. He really wanted to keep going and yet… As he noted earlier, he really can’t keep going without his research, and he’d have to start over. Maybe he could find a new topic to read through? …Visiting a bookstore or library may be a good-

There was a knock at the front door, and his head flew up, zeroing in on the door. It wasn’t quite the time when Crick would come to check in on him… It’s about an hour early. Perhaps something came up that caused him to come early? Even so, the knock didn’t sound like the parole officer’s. Regardless, it wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting if it was him, as such he quickly got up, going over to open it up, but he wasn’t expecting what he saw. He had to tilt his head down slightly at the visitor, who was a little more than a foot shorter than him. Her gaze hovered up to him, a pleasant curl came onto her lips as she made eye contact, though he quickly averted his eyes in discomfort.

“Can I help you?” He quietly asked, eyes hovering back to her clothing. She wore a sky blue blouse with black leggings on, with a basket hooked on her right arm with a plethora of small tupperware boxes with green herbs in them, along with different kinds of fruits and vegetables. 

She doesn’t seem to be threatening… What would she want?

“Hello.” The warm and kind expression in her eyes and the delicate nature of her tone loosened Osvald’s tension slightly as she continued, “I couldn't help but notice that you’d moved in last week. I wanted to… bring you this care basket here and say ‘welcome to the apartments’, but I hadn't seen you out very much.”

“Yes, I…” He accepted the gift hesitantly, softly thanking her, the faint traces of confusion in his eyes noticeable to her. The strong, bitter and sharp tones of the cuttings in the basket hitting his nostrils, despite the layer of protection provided by the containers, making his next question difficult to focus on. What a curse he had, such a sensitive nose has caused him trouble before, as there were things they just couldn’t have in his household before because of how much he (and Elena as well) despised the scents, but it was also a blessing, especially when he worked with dangerous chemicals. “Who are you?”

“Castti Florenz, I’m your upstairs neighbor.” She took a step back as he held the basket, clasping her hands together. He seems to be quite the quiet sort, she noted, and saw into the main living space where the whiteboard and sets of notebooks and folders were laying.

Osvald stood in the doorway awkwardly, and it felt like time was going slow as he tried to think of a response, though realized he hadn't introduced himself. “Osvald.” 

“Osvald? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her smile, which had disappeared for a second, quickly reappeared, and she noticed him eyeing the boxes in the basket. “Ah, the basket, right. Those are some herbs I like to use when cooking, along with some fruits and vegetables. I gave you some recipes and advice for how to use them if you ever want to try something new.”

“Oh.” He shortly commented, picking out a box which had fresh bay leaves in it, the herbal scent getting stronger, though he could pick up a faint, sweet flowery smell. It felt… incredibly strange that Castti didn't react in any remotely negative way to his name, considering what he’d convinced himself would happen. He eventually spoke up as he stared at the plant. “I… Don't know many recipes, I’ll be honest.”

“I understand, new recipes are hard to get into, especially if you aren't sure if what you’re making is something you’d like.” She knowingly nodded, watching as he went to set the basket against the kitchen countertop, coming out of the apartment for the first time in a while. The door clicked shut behind him, and he started to head off with her bidding him farewell, when he stopped, calling out to her.

“What is it?” She curiously asked as she walked back over, watching as he sheepishly averted his gaze again.

“I… Was hoping to stop at the bookstore, but I’m unfamiliar with the streets, and lack a phone for navigation. Do you know where it is?”

His expectations were dashed when she shook her head. “I was actually going out to take a walk, I can show you there if you’d like to join me.” 

A brief pause struck him, and he questioned his request. 

Do I really want to open myself up to a stranger?

Well, it’ll be difficult to figure out where anything is otherwise…

He excused himself for a moment, asking her to wait outside (if it was alright with her, which it was), returning to grab his journal from the apartment, leafing through to the most recent entry, noticing that it’s been two weeks since he’d last written in it. That explains his distress, at least. He clicked his pen open, going to jot down today’s date on top. 

I’m finally going out today. The weather’s tepid and not too humid, and the sun’s shining, so hopefully the day remains nice.

I met one of my neighbors this morning, her name is Castti Florenz. She seems to have an herb garden in her apartment, as she gave me some cuttings from her plants with sample recipes. It’ll be good for me to learn, as I’ll be cooking for myself more often than before. Castti seems like a caring sort, it reminds me of Rita–

Writing that name gave him a long pause, his grip tightening on his pen, and he heard the faint groan of the plastic between his fingertips, –though I’m still unsure if that is good or bad, I’ll have to test and see.

I asked her for directions to the bookstore, and she invited me to join her on her walk around the city. As much as I hate the small talk this will bring… It’ll be a nice distraction from the thoughts flooding my head at the moment.

He finished writing his current thoughts down, the sensation of the tension in his body finally loosening completely. It was foolish to stop writing for so long… Though he shouldn't be too harsh with himself, the past two weeks were stressful, and he’d upset his routine dramatically, and was still working on developing a new one.

He opened the door back up once again, slinging a laptop bag over his shoulder as he tucked his journal away. Castti was seated on the bench just outside of the apartment building, and she turned as she heard the door click shut behind him. He circled the small footpath outside of his home, joining her as she pulled herself back up.

“Are you ready?” He nodded, and they headed away from the apartment complex, at first remaining in silence as they made their way down the street. Other than the occasional glance in his direction due to his height, he wasn’t paid much mind by the others out and about. His external anxiety was completely gone, and while his grim thoughts were still whispering in his head, he wasn’t afraid of the ire of those around as much.

The awkward silence was suddenly broken by Osvald slowing to a stop as he saw a red dragonfly darting up from the grasses nearby, following it as it shot up into the sky. He hadn’t seen one in a while, and turned back to where it came from, noticing a few more sitting on some eelgrass in a small, man-made pond farther on the plot, and he delicately walked over. His form lowered to observe them, a reminiscent upturn sitting on his normally neutral expression as he recalled watching his daughter chase them around the shoreline back home.

As he stared down at the water, he observed his scruffy facial hair, almost immediately drifting off deep in his thoughts. Ah, the faint reminders of his childhood were coming back. He’d never really thought about it, but time goes far too fast.

When he was young, he often hid away in the Montwise library, finding a corner in the lower levels, curling up on a chair, finding solace in the strong scent of the aging paper of the books, the pine-like smell of the old glue holding the pages against the spine, the constant flow of fresh air through the large building. He loved the sound of pens on paper, the faint tamping of the librarian stamping books up above, the creaking of the old ladders attached to the shelves… He believed that the stories and information buried within the maze-like structure of the archives would be suitable replacements for experiencing things on his own; Alas, that was not the case. Nothing would replace the depths that personal experiences would bring. The feeling of love, the understanding of emotion, the experience of cradling the warmth of a small, helpless, young infant in his large arms… Such things couldn’t just be described through words, they’re such personal experiences, ones no one else would understand.

The grass rustled nearby as Castti joined him, and the silence resumed once more, but this time it wasn’t an awkward silence, rather, it was amicable and curious.

“I haven’t seen a dragonfly in some time.” Castti commented, crouching down to a comfortable level. “I take it you haven’t either?”

“No, not since I was still living in Conning Creek.” He replied, watching as they flew off as the wind blew through, and he straightened himself out once more.

“That’s where you’re from?” A nod was given in reply, and her eyes lit up in curiosity. “What did you do for work there?”

“I did remote research for the Montwise College of Sciences.” Recollection washed over him as he thought about the heated discussions he and Harvey would get into about their separate approaches to the same topic. “I was working on the Tyrannodrake evolution problem.”

As they started down the path again, Castti tried to match his pace, eyes alight with intrigue. “The Tyrannodrake problem? You were looking into that?”

“Yes, though I was focused more on analyzing the chemical changes in the cells and isolating, analyzing and mathematically describing the reactions that resulted in the changes. A fellow researcher was focused on the function of the changes and investigating the genes in the cells to try to isolate the ones that cause the rapid changes. Last I heard he was going to try to transplant some suspect genes into prokaryotes to see what it’d do.” He placed a hand to his chin, feeling the thick hairs on his face. “I wonder how far they’ve gotten now without me… Perhaps I should’ve asked him how progress has been before he hung up…”

Curiosity rose on Castti’s tongue, wanting to ask why he’d walked away from such a large and momentous project, but she decided that wasn’t her place to ask, and just nodded, pleased by the information. “I assume you’re looking for work, if you’re here instead of back home.”

“Indeed.” He replied, glancing over at some of the shops on the street they were passing through. “I’ve placed applications in fortunately.”

“Have you tried applying for the college in the city? I could put a word in for you if you have…”

“We… We just met.” What would possess her to be so interested in his job search?

“I know we did, but considering your experience, you’d be a good fit for the position that just opened up.”

“Do you work there?”

“I’m the campus nurse. Not exactly qualified to vouch, but I still think you’d fit well.” She looked ahead, letting out a light sigh, frowning as she thought about the situation at the school. “There’s been a bit of an upset with the last Calculus professor suddenly resigning.”

“Calculus? Oh, I think I submitted an application at the college a few days ago.” With that statement, he stopped in his tracks, resting his left hand on his right bicep, slowly rubbing the calloused surface against the skin. “I feel my chances of success are quite low, however.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m… on parole.” He admitted, looking away from her, slowly dropping his hand away. “The chances of someone in my situation getting a high-collar job like that is slim.”

Awkward silence returned between them as they resumed their walk once more, and Castti was left pondering what Osvald just admitted to her. She herself was a firm believer in second chances, especially since her employment on campus was a second chance in and of itself, she noted.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

His gaze hovered over her again, and he quietly questioned her statement.

“I mean, don’t count yourself out yet.” Something firm brushed up on the side of her closest to the buildings, and she quickly looked down, backing away and into the ex-researcher, noticing that she’d ran into a store street sign, one for the bookstore, settling down after a moment. “Oh, here’s the bookstore. You wanted to come here, yes?”

Later in the day, Crick parked in the campus’ public parking, climbing out of his car, looking up at the faculty building he was standing before, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for the conversation he was going to have. He didn’t have much hope for Osvald to get this job considering his conviction, it’s rare, if virtually impossible for someone with a record that even suggests violence towards others, to get a public service job like this. He’d gotten in contact with the dean a few days before, and was able to schedule an appointment to speak with him, in hopes of bringing up the man’s case. 

He entered the building, making his way to the upper level, seeing the dean’s secretary, Misha, a brown-haired man with a black jacket over his shoulders seated behind a desk. “Uh, hello.”

“Hello there.” Misha looked up to Crick as he stood before the desk. The room was well-furnished, with a handful of chairs dotting the walls, and a painting of an older man was hung up on one of the walls, the previous dean, he assumed. “Can I help you?”

“Oh- Sorry, I got distracted. I have an appointment with Mister Alrond.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. What’s your name?”

“Crick Wellsley, sir.”

“Wellsley, Wellsley. Ah!” Misha’s smile grew as his eyes widened as he found the name on his documents. “Yes, go on in, Mister Alrond is waiting for you, just over that way.”

The doors to the dean’s office were a dark oak color, with a natural finish that exemplified the grain passing through. He carefully pushed one of the doors open, passing through to a room with a large window on the other side of the room, brightening the room with natural light. A man in a maroon business jacket sat behind the desk, looking through a few papers in his hands. He quickly glanced up to see Crick standing in the doorway, his visible amber eye making contact with Crick’s blue ones, the other eye hidden by his silver hair, which was styled to cover part of his face.

“Ah, Officer Wellsley.” He greeted the parole officer, gesturing for him to take a seat. “How’s today treating you?”

“Oh, it’s been fine.” He replied as he took the seat, pulling closer to the desk. “A little busy getting prepared to meet with you, but it’s nice to be back home again. I missed being here.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you back in the city once more.” He set the papers down off to the side, leaning forward, threading his gloved hands together. “So, onto business. You scheduled a meeting with me? What for?”

“Right, that.” He rubbed the back of his head, sighing with a small wince. “I was stationed back here by the Solistian Guard, to act as a parole officer for someone. Said someone recently submitted an application here, and I came to speak on behalf of them.”

“Osvald V. Vanstein, yes?”

“Mmhm.”

Alrond picked the papers up once more, glancing between them and another set of papers, nodding. He set them down again and folded his hands together once more. “Tell me, Crick. How do you feel about your parolee?”

How did he feel? “Well… I think he’s a good person who was dealt a bad hand.”

Alrond raised an eyebrow, glancing between the notes and Crick once more, closing his eyes.

“You’ve seen the news, right?” Crick hesitantly continued, leaning forward.

“I have. Don't worry about making a statement for giving him a chance.” Alrond’s smile grew, and he opened his eyes once more. “Unfortunately, I tried calling the number on his resume, and it sent me to a disconnected number. Is there another number I could contact?”

“Oh- Yeah, I have one.” Crick repeated the number for the flip phone, and Alrond picked up his own phone, dialing the number in.

A handful of marks were claimed from the venture into the bookstore. He’d taken a keen interest in a few books of puzzles that were in the place, mainly crosswords and a game called sudoku. The second of which was especially appealing, considering his focus on mathematics. By the time he’d left the bookstore with his items, he’d already pulled the one out, going to the first page and starting through the puzzles, the nostalgic feeling of excitement about having a new book to look through welling up in his chest. Though, as he moved onto the second page, the flip-phone in his pocket rang, and he removed it, opening it and placing it to his ear.

“Osvald V. Vanstein, may I help you?”

“Oh! Wonderful, I’ve gotten a hold of you. This is the Dean of Students of Wellgrove College, Alrond. How are you on this day, mister Vanstein?”

Castti turned to see that Osvald had stopped at a bench beside the street, taking a seat.

“Er, I’m alright, I suppose?” He appeared annoyed at the question, knowing it was merely pleasantries. “The…” Words failed him, his brow furrowed, and he gaped, trying to find something to say. “… … The weather’s nice.”

“We’re just getting past the peak of the heat, we’re getting milder weather now. Anyways, I wanted to reach out about your application.”

Osvald swore he heard Crick in the background murmuring something, but quickly dismissed it, focusing on the statement. “And what’s the status of it?”

“I was hoping to get an interview with you sometime this week. Are you busy tomorrow?”

The wind was sucked from his lungs, the request was sudden and bewildering to him, and he scrambled to find a response, once more struggling to find words.

“Mister Vanstein?”

“...I apologize. Words are failing me… I’m, er… Free tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! Let me just see when tomorrow is available…” There was rustling around on the other side of the phone, faint humming coming through. “Ah, would tomorrow at two work?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Excellent. Come to the faculty building on campus, I can give you directions if you need.”

There was a murmur on the other side of the phone, and the phone was muffled as Alrond spoke with someone on the other end. “Well, are you able to pull up directions at all?”

“I can make directions later.”

“Good, good. In that case, I’ll see you then!”

There was a buzz as the call disconnected, and Osvald snapped the phone shut, looking up to see Castti standing beside him, watching and listening.

“You’re still here.”

“I wasn’t going to just walk away while you took a call.” She moved around to the other side, to the open space beside him, taking a seat. “Is everything alright?”

It… Strangely, was alright. He was still processing the outcome, which averted all expectations he had. “I don’t think I’ll need you to put a word in for me.”

The vagueness of his statement confused her, and she silently pondered it for a few moments, quickly piecing together the statement. “Oh! The job, you got it?”

“An interview, at least.” Despite the importance of the news, as with everything else in the recent weeks, Osvald felt nothing positive about the development. Rather, he had a hollow feeling of anxiety flaring up in his chest, which quickly became plastered on his face as his brow furrowed. Her smile faded, and she leaned forward to get a better look at Osvald’s evasive look.

“Is there an issue with that?”

Thinking about the reason for his feelings was incredibly difficult. It felt as though he were reaching into a deep box of spikes, constant pins, needles and pricks into his body as he proceeded, but he continued to dig through, for some reason having the motivation to try to reflect on himself. “I… I haven’t had to participate in an interview in thirteen years. The idea of having to do one now is a bit… Jarring.”

Sudden understanding flooded Castti’s feelings, as she was reminded of a few years prior, when she was in a similar situation to Osvald. She’d traveled across the continent to escape it, and came to Wellgrove as a last resort. Alrond was a giving man, and while the college was not as well-funded as others, he strived to use what they had to give to the community and others. The man’s comforting words came to her, the anxiety she felt briefly flourishing, but despite stumbling over her own words, and feeling as though she had ruined the interview, she was given the job.

“I understand. I can assure you, there’s nothing to be worried about.” She tapped a hand against her knee, thinking about how she could help remedy his anxiety, and smacked her palm down, a pleasant smile growing as she came to an idea. “Oh, I know. I could help you do a mock interview!”

“A… What?” 

“You know… We pretend that I’m Alrond and conduct an interview.”

Osvald let out a sigh, slowly closing his tired eyes. He wanted to just go home, try to make a coffee, and sit down with his new books, but as he pondered to himself, he heard the voices of the other versions of himself in his head talking again, and heard an important point from the most sensible version of himself. He leaned forward, resting his elbows loosely on his knees. “I really need this job…” He dejectedly murmured, the other voices still whispering that there was still a low chance he’d succeed, despite the evidence against those feelings.

“All the more reason to practice.” She watched as he pulled himself back on his feet, and he watched as she followed suit. “That is, if you-”

“I… Could use the help.” He admitted, placing his book back in the bag. The anxious arguments quieted down as he finally accepted the help, and she followed after him as they headed back to the apartments.

Chapter Text

“Osvald, you can’t say that in an interview!”

What did he say? Confusion washed over his eyes as he faced Castti, who sat in the chair beside his couch, legs crossed, lips pursed in a terse frown.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You don’t just say that you find banter to be a waste of time and pointless. Look, I understand that you hate conversations like that, but saying something like that is the perfect way to kill your chances at this job. You’re going to have to talk with others about many things, even things outside of work topics, so saying something like that is an immediate turn-off.”

They’ve been at this for nearly an hour now, and he was still struggling to socialize well, and know what to say when. He sunk himself into the couch as she talked to him, sulking ever so slightly, which she quickly picked up, and she stopped, setting the resume down, eyes narrowing with sympathy. “We can take a break, if you want.”

The window in the apartment was wide open, and there was now a birdfeeder sitting beside it, and he heard loud chirping from there, watching as a woodpecker landed on the feeder on the shepherd’s hook, digging into the seed. The couch shifted as he moved to watch over the backside, resting his arms on the top, staring out into the trees. 

“They’ve already started coming.” He softly commented, watching as the bird jumped to the other side of the feeder, and a finch landed where it once was.

“There’s a lot of birds in the forest.” She replied, tilting her head as she watched as well. “Beautiful little things.”

He quickly agreed, simply listening to the chatter they made, recalling how he’d listen to them as he worked in his lab. Silence filled the room, though, it was merely a peaceful quiet, with them both just enjoying the activity outside the window. A bird with a black head and yellow-orange belly and white stripes on its wings landed down on the feeder. He’s never seen that one before, and was almost immediately intrigued by it, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Do you know what that one is?” Fascination with the unknown was something inherent to Osvald, though he’d typically find an answer on his own, but since Castti was here already, and more local to the area, he chose to consult here. It was a good piece for conversation, anyways.

“It’s a kind of oriole, I think.” She replied, moving to get a better look at it, shrugging lightly. “The birds over here are different from what was in the east.”

“You lived across the sea?”

“Yes, I moved over here after…” Her voice faltered, and she was unable to continue, barely able to even recall what had happened, merely just that it was distressing. “I can’t talk about it.”

She has her own troubles… He silently noted, slowly nodding at the statement. “I didn’t mean to remind you of that, I apologize.”

“No, it’s not your fault, I went too far trying to recall buried memories.” He read a pained look in her eyes, but she was doing her best to keep his concern away, as she pulled herself back on her feet. “Though, I think I should probably get going. Thanks for having me over.”

He didn’t know how exactly to reply, and merely nodded, giving her a small, awkward wave as she exited, and he picked up the sudoku book he’d bought earlier, burying his nose in it as he filled the squares in and tried to wind down, though a sudden thought came to him, and he got himself to his feet, preparing a mug of coffee. As the scent of black coffee filled the living space, he watched the pot fill, and he poured himself a mug, sitting down once more, a relaxed curl rose on his lips as he resumed his puzzling, though he didn’t speak for the rest of the night, pleased to just take in the noises of nature through the window and not pollute the comfortable atmosphere with his own noise.

He didn’t sleep very well the night prior, repeatedly waking up under the covers, half the time feeling too warm to sleep with covers on, the other half of the time feeling too cold without. How aggravating, especially considering that today was an essential day for him. Climbing out of bed, he slowly slunk out of the bedroom, though in his half-awake stupor he nearly forgot that the doorways weren’t built for his height. Fortunately, he remembered before his forehead crashed into the frame, and he was jolted awake. Ah! He really needs to pay attention again… A faint, annoyed grunt came from his mouth as he ducked through, and he opened his mouth, at first planning to make a comment, but a familiar feeling tickled in his head.

Was it an unwillingness to speak? No, not really, but it just sort of felt like his voice and thoughts weren’t cooperating, and while his thoughts were well coherent, all he could manage out from his lips were bits of sound. Hums, grunts, clicks and whistles were among the cacophony of audio noise he could create, though none of it was what he’d want to make. His brow furrowed as he made his way over to the kitchen, lowering himself slightly to comfortably interact with the coffee maker on the countertop, silently waiting for the dark, warm, comforting liquid to steep out from the filter. He eventually poured a mug for himself and dropped onto his couch, drinking it as he stared down at his resume atop a pile of books on the coffee table.

This was a really bad day for him to go nonverbal. It’s been quite some time since he’d gone like this, with the last time he remembers this happening being while he was back in prison. He wasn’t even sure if he had his speech synthesizer in the apartment; if he didn’t, he’d have to use a basic text reader on his laptop, which would be exceptionally annoying considering how he had so many useful shortcuts to common phrases and words on his personal device…

He set his mug back down, getting up to quietly shuffle back into his bedroom, digging through the boxes in the closet once more, opening each and every one of them up, letting out a soft growl, cursing himself that he hadn’t thought to sort these out beforehand. Regardless, he’d have to do it once he comes back from his interview.

His interview…

Determination came back anew, not willing to just give up because of this small hiccup–If Castti was able to succeed, so could he. Rustling, clinking, folding, and crinkling rang out through the rooms, boxes were set on the floor and bed, removed from the closet so he’d actually unpack them at some point, and he eventually found it! Good, good… It’s probably dead though, he needs to recharge it. He quickly plugged it in, sitting down to boot it up again. It looked like a laptop with a decal of a flat-colored graphic of a human head with its mouth open, a few straight lines protruding from the mouth, though the structure of the speech synthesizer was because it was custom-made. He smiled slightly, dusting the device off, opening it up to what looked like a text document, and he stared down at the keyboard, wracking his brain for the shortcuts to his common pre-programmed statements, and finally recalled one. He held the control, alternate, and c keys, and the speaker flared to life, and he heard his voice ringing out. 

Though it was his voice from before the incident. It was more inquisitive, happy, and occasionally with the voice coming through, he could hear the faint babble of a child’s voice echoing in the background.

“Just give me another hour, I need to get this work done.”

The smile faded, and he rested a hand against his chin, eyes glazing over in thought. How many times did he use this sentence that he’d made it into a shortcut?

…Just one of the many things he’ll forever regret doing. Burying his face into his research was fine and all of that, but he had to wonder, did it hurt his relationship with his daughter and wife? 

His vision was blocked out by his hands shoving his glasses up off of his face, smothering his eyes with his palms as he pushed tears away. A soft sniffle came from his nose as he drew in a breath, and he reached for a tissue beside the bed, wiping it against his nose. What can he do anymore, really?

Be a better person than he was before, he supposed. Though… He couldn't really focus on that yet. He needed to make sure he could stay on his feet before he focused on other self-fix projects. He spent the rest of the morning, after preparing a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs with a medley of vegetables mixed in, going through the program on his speech synthesizer to ensure that he remembered each quick phrase before he was out the door.

He ventured down the streets of the city, using the time to take in the sights and sounds as vehicles drove past on the road mere inches away from him. There was a large building in the middle of it all that was ornate in design, with gorgeous, glossy gray stone pillars holding its front up. The interior of the building looked to be unfortunately empty. It seemed like a place that’d be wonderful for a market or business of sorts…

His absorption of the surroundings quickly and abruptly stopped as he caught sight of a sign indicating that he was crossing onto the Wellgrove college campus, and his lapse in memory became prominent.

Which of these buildings was even the faculty offices?

Now he had a moment of true, genuine panic rise in himself, and he stared at the various, similar-looking buildings as he tried to find some defining feature that would betray the identities of them to him, but was finding nothing. His pace picked up as crossed a street, referencing a none-too-helpful map of campus on the sidewalk, and flicked his head from side-to-side, looking for someone who may be able to assist him. He noticed a woman with short, black hair and a purple summer dress with a tapered skirt on one side typing on her phone as she walked past, and he lightly cleared his throat to get her attention.

Throné pulled her phone from her bag, glancing up to see a tall man staring hard at the map beside the sidewalk, looking down to see a message from Pirro.

“How’s campus life treating you?”

Her lips curled upward as she saw the message sent to her unprompted. While she frequently communicates with her brothers back home, she often was the one initiating conversation, so seeing one of them do so instead was comforting to her, and she quickly started to reply. 

Though as she passed the man she’d noticed on the sidewalk, she heard his throat clear in the obvious “trying to get your attention” way she’s known before, and she slowed in her tracks, turning to face the man, whose face was stormed with frustration. The look sent concern prickling under her skin, and she started to worry that she was interacting with a very angry man.

“Can I help you?” She icily asked, resting her hand with her phone in it on her hip, watching as his negative look lightened up, revealing that it was just a mask for his true feeling; fluster. Though, it was mild at best on his face, but in his eyes it was on clear display. The truth to his emotion caused her cold exterior to fade away, and she loosened her posture, and her eyes sparked with faint concern. “Is everything alright?”

He squinted, thinking of an answer as he momentarily opened his mouth, carefully adjusting the book bag on his side as he closed it once more. He moved his hand out to his front, tilting it from side to side in a so-so gesture. The synthesizer could be used out here, but with how bulky it was, he didn't want to pull it out, boot it up, and type his questions when motions could work just as well. He motioned to the map, scratching his face as he pointed at the building on the map labeled as “faculty offices” before turning back to Throné.

It was a complex game of charades for her, as she watched his moves with curiosity, quickly stringing together his question. “Oh, the faculty offices? They’re just down that way.” She pointed down diagonally from where they were standing, and he glanced in that direction, and then back to her incredulously. Her eyebrow raised as she watched him watching her expectantly, and she rested a hand to her hip again. “Do you… Need something else?”

Desperation glowed in his expression, but he shook his head, tracing his finger across the map in hopes that he’d understand the map well enough to follow it. He gave her a thankful nod, quickly going to write a set of steps on how to navigate the campus, and ended with a small wave farewell. She watched as he walked off, looking back down at her phone to reply to Pirro’s message, hoping that man would find his way over to the offices he was desperate to get to.

Thankfully, he found his way to the building, and quietly entered in, trying to figure out how to find his way to the dean’s office. He stopped at a sign in the building, quickly following the one that pointed in the correct direction, making his way up the steps to the office that Crick was in the day before. Scanning around the room, he approached Misha’s desk, pulling his speech synthesizer from his bag. 

“Hello, are you here for an appointment?”

He quickly nodded, going to type into the device, having it spit out a message. 

“I have an appointment with Mister Alrond at two.” The slightly rigid yet human-sounding voice came out from the machine, and Misha gave him a… Surprisingly understanding look. It was confusing at first, but the secretary nodded.

“Oh, yes of course. Can you give me a name?”

“Osvald V. Vanstein.”

“Ah, right. Please take a seat, mister Alrond will come out to get you once he’s ready.”

His stomach sank as he was told to wait. Waiting was something he was quite good at usually, but in a stressful situation like this, it was an absolute nightmare. He gathered his laptop and claimed a seat, but quickly started to fidget and twiddle his thumbs as he sat in silence.

It’s almost time… He heard one of his voices murmur out.

I'll ace this, no problem! His optimist version of himself tried to keep the stress down, but was quickly drowned out by his anxiety again.

But I did terribly practicing with Castti yesterday! How will I manage to do better here? If I screw up, I’ll lose the chance at a good job!

Can you shut up? Saying that is gonna make things worse, and it's already bad that I can't talk right now. His most crass but logical voice finally spoke up, interrupting the anxiety and stopping it in its tracks.

You’re right. He replied, straightening himself up to try to relieve some of the tension he was feeling. I can't really afford to feel anxious here.

See? Yeah, just take a deep breath, and go in and get it over with.

It felt like hours passed as he waited, doing everything in his power to not make up imaginary worst-case scenarios in his head, but was snapped from it by the door in the room opening up, and Alrond stepped out.

“Mister Vanstein? I’m ready when you are.”

He swallowed, the sensation stabbing his throat due to his nerves, but he powered through it, easing up onto his feet to follow the dean into the office. Despite his attempts to be quiet and careful, he ended up accidentally running his foot into the chair before the desk, causing it to skid loudly on the floor. It was swiftly yanked back into place, his frazzled and startled eyes meeting with Alrond’s. He tried to scramble to apologize, though without words it was difficult, though he was swiftly silenced by Alrond motioning for him to calm down.

“Don’t worry, I’ve kicked that chair a few times myself.” The dean lightly laughed, crossing his arms as he took a seat in his chair. “I should probably move it somewhere else… Regardless, take a seat! I just have a few questions for you.”

Little did Osvald know, but Alrond had already made his decision on the ex-researcher, and was just using the time to scout out his personality some more. Osvald raised a hand up to chest-level, and the dean paused as he set his speech synthesizer on the desk, pressing a few keys in to trigger one of the pre-made phrases.

“I’m currently nonverbal, please be patient with my responses.”

Very much to the opposite of Osvald’s expectations, Alrond’s pleasant smile grew, and he folded his hands together. 

“Worry not, Misha already mentioned it to me, I’ll wait however long you need to make responses. Speaking of… I could order you a smaller device for use on campus, if you wish.”

Surprise ignited in his eyes, and he glanced between his device and the other man, gobsmacked by the offer, considering how Montwise didn’t offer that. He started to type, but stopped as Alrond resumed.

“We have a few students on campus who need devices like this who couldn’t afford them, so I’ve bought some for them.” He closed his eyes, “I would be more than happy to get my hands on another one for you. I think there’s a few more still in storage, if you’d want one.”

Alrond waited patiently for his response as he watched the gears turn in his interviewee’s head. It was a rather amusing, but also bitter sight, as the dean immediately understood that such accommodations were probably not provided to him at any time in the past. He glanced at the laptop as Osvald resumed typing, noting that it was an old model, likely repurposed specifically for this use.

“No thank you. This device has special accommodations built into it for me.”

“I understand, did you build it yourself?”

“Yes.”

They continued to converse for some time, with Osvald describing the construction of the device, relaxing as the conversation progressed. The topic came to research after about fifteen minutes, and Osvald spent more time preparing a response. He was visibly passionate as he proudly hit the enter key to have the machine reply for him. There were occasional pauses as Alrond jumped in to ask questions, and was responded to quickly. An hour passed as they continued to talk, and the topic finally came to Osvald’s last research topic.

“So what happened with that one?”

His fingers stopped millimeters above the keys, trying to think of a response, slowly clacking away.

“I’m no longer part of that project. They weren’t going to wait for a life sentence, that’s what one of my co-researchers told me.”

“That makes sense. Well, we aren’t a research campus, but if there is anything interesting you want to look into, requests could be sent off to the department head.” The silver-haired man stood up, leaning forward to offer Osvald a hand, and the ex-scholar stared at the gesture, looking back up at him. “Oh… Yes, I should make it clear. You’ll be teaching at the start of this school year. I’ll send you some information for the expectations, and your department head will contact you with the course outline and expectations sometime later today. The previous professor should have outlines and materials already prepared that you can use, but I trust you to modify it if need be.”

The offered gesture was hesitantly accepted, and Osvald tapped a few more keys on the laptop.

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. You have a keen grasp on the necessary concepts, and your experience in research will be invaluable insight for our students who are considering pursuing graduate research. I know about your record, but also have kept up-to-date on your case. Unfortunately,” Alrond’s smile faded, with his arms crossed once more. “The rest of the department isn’t as keen despite the information, so you’ll need to be on your best behavior, though I don’t have any doubts that you won’t be trouble.”

He nodded, closing the laptop carefully, getting on his feet, making a ‘thank you’ gesture, before packing his bag. 

“Oh, speaking of, are you going to be alright until school starts? You’ll need to come on campus to get a feel for the layout, but I’ll ensure you’re paid for the time, but I can figure out something for the time between now and then if you need it.”

Osvald pondered the question, but quickly shook his head, replying to it with a thumbs up.

“Good, I’ll see you out, then.” The two of them left the office, heading down the staircase and through the halls. “How was it getting here? I’ve heard from students that without signs it can be difficult to navigate, especially as a new student.”

Osvald bit his lip for a moment, and nodded at the statement, placing a finger to his palm and traced a path on the surface, shrugging as he finished.

“I see. That’ll be the next thing I bring up to the board then… Better maps, or at least street signs to point people in the correct direction.” They soon exited the building, and Alrond held the door open to let him out.

“We can worry about giving you a complete tour when your voice returns. I’ll be sending you an email with your faculty email account details, just let me know when you’re doing better, and we can go from- Ah, miss Florenz! Your shift’s over?”

Osvald didn’t get a moment to react before Castti walked past him and turned to the dean. “Oh- Yes, it is.” She warmly greeted Osvald, who gave a weak and barely noticeable wave in reply. He felt a deep rush of embarrassment as he saw the confusion on her face, and he started to walk away, and the dean bade him farewell once more. He wasn’t alone for long, as Castti quickly caught up to him as he waited for a chance to cross the busy street.

“Is everything okay? You haven’t said anything.” Her concern was reduced by him shaking his head to deny the concern, and motioned to his head and mouth, leading to her eyes widening. “Do you know signs?”

He quickly nodded, and he made a gesture, communicating his confusion.

“I do know sign language. I taught it to myself for my previous work, it was good in case I met someone who couldn’t just… Talk.” 

His expression relaxed slightly as they conversed, and he explained his situation to her. She quickly understood, walking back to their apartments together.

“Congrats on getting the job! You should drop by my office and say hi whenever you go on your tour.” They stopped outside his apartment, her warm smile returning. “If I’m not busy with a student, that is.”

People got hurt that much on campus? He asked about that, and she laughed slightly. “Oh, not usually, but the summer seems to make people believe that they’re invincible for some reason. Anyways, I’ll leave you be, have fun with your books!” She waved before climbing up the nearby staircase, letting him pull into his apartment, preparing another coffee and curling up on his couch with one of the books he’d bought, feeling a mild satisfaction in the fact that his situation seemed to be getting at least a little better.

“I– I know, it’s late, but this was my best moment to get in contact…”

The light from the sunset was a deep orange, barely creeping through the window’s blinds. Temenos leaned on the oak desk in his office, rubbing his face with his hands, head tilted to cradle his work phone on his shoulder.

“This is extremely important-! I can’t investigate it on my own right now, you know that I have a client I’m currently–” He had to bite his tongue to keep back an agitated sigh as the voice on the other end acted dismissively to his tone. “I’d like to file a case of investigation against the Conning Creek police force for their gross mishandling of the Vanstein case.”

The voice on the other side was once more dismissive, which caused Temenos to furrow his brow with frustration. These are the people Crick works with? Obviously he needed to hold his tongue this time around, otherwise he’d sully his work with them again. Again because he’d once acted harshly and it made the previous case he’d been working on that much harder. It was bitter, it was stressful, it was anger-inducing, but he needed to play their game if he wanted to get anything done in a reasonable amount of time. As much as he wanted to work alone, this case was far too large for him to tackle on his own.

“I’ve already done the paperwork and attached the documents to my email, I know you all just need these cases also submitted verbally, so that’s why I contacted you. It’s been sent. …Alright, thank you.”

He set the landline down, letting out a low sigh as he sunk into his chair, shaking his head. “Those crows need to learn to give the respect they get–” Before he had a chance to bemoan the exchange, the phone almost immediately started to ring and he bolted upright, snatching it off of its base.

“Mistral Detective Agency, Detective Temenos Mistral at your service.”

“How’s everything going?”

Temenos froze, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. It was an individual he’d been in contact with frequently after he’d picked up this case, but it’s been some time since he’d heard it last. He almost instantly perked up, leaning on the desk as he pulled a notepad out from a drawer. 

“Ah, Lady Clarissa! Everything’s going quite well. I assume you’ve heard the news?”

“Yes. Well… Elena was the first to hear, I learned about it from her. She’s quite excited to know that her father’s a… Relatively free man now.”

Temenos’ smile faded out, and he tapped his pen against the paper, thinking on a way to denounce Clarissa delicately. “I know what you’re hoping to ask, and unfortunately, I believe a visit is out of the question for the time being.”

The silence on the other end was well-pronounced, and he could hear another voice in the background, and he let out a soft sigh. “Lady Clarissa, can you put the phone on speaker? I need to speak with Elena.”

“You’re on speaker.”

“Hello, mister Mistral?” The quiet, anxious voice on the other end softly spoke up, the tone twinged at his heart as he listened in.

“Hello Elena. I hope you’re doing well. Or–well–perhaps well isn’t the correct term. I hope you’re managing.”

“I… I am. I heard that Papa’s out of prison?”

“Yes, he is. Though… As you may know, Frigit Isle didn’t allow phone calls.” He shifted so that he could sit more comfortably with the landline in his hand, and he propped his feet up on the desk, twirling the coiled cord in his free hand. “I’m afraid he doesn’t know that you’re… …Healthy.”

“But–”

“As much as I’d love to have you two come and visit him here, it isn’t good for his health right now. He hasn’t handled being out of prison too well yet, but we’re working on it.”

His twinging heart soon after broke as he heard Elena sniffling on the other end. He leaned forward once more, hands against the phone, eyes focused on the notepad in the desk, lips pursed tight, keeping his composure despite the situation. “I apologize, but it’s for the best–”

The audio crackled for a moment as it was swapped back to private call. 

“Elena, go back upstairs, I need to talk to Temenos.” There was a pause as she presumably left the room, and Clarissa’s voice became more terse and annoyed. “If he doesn’t know that his daughter’s alive, how can you know he’ll handle it worse now as opposed to later?”

Temenos thought for a few moments, gathering his words carefully, but they weren’t careful enough. “Tell me this, Lady Clarissa. Say that you and your husband had a daughter–”

The air became more tense as he could hear her take in a sharp breath. “–And you were led to believe that they both passed away in some accident, and bottled the grief up for years before finally getting a chance to let it go. If so soon after you started grieving you were supposedly shown your daughter after however many years, would you believe that it were her?”

Silence.

“Your silence speaks volumes more than an answer could, Lady Clarissa. There’s... One more detail I need to mention. As per the agreement of his release, I’m not allowed to mention details of the case with him, and that means that I cannot mention Elena to him. This doesn’t mean you cannot, but… Let’s approach this conversation again in a moon, alright?”

“A… Alright. Thank you.”

“Please, have a good night, and allow me to take care of this.” The phone was set down on the receiver, and he sunk down once more, this time letting out a more audible groan.

“Busy day?”

He scrambled back up again as he heard the voice at the doorway, eyes wide with terror for a brief moment as his head flew up to the entrance, seeing Castti standing in the doorway. “Castti… You can’t just barge in like– How did you even get in?”

“Crick let me in.” She walked into the room, taking a seat in the client’s chair. “I came over and he told me you were still working, and that he wasn’t able to get through your thoughts.”

Crick came to check on him earlier? He sat forward on the desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he yawned. “He came in? How long ago?” Looking out the window, the setting sun had started to disappear, and he grimaced. “When did the sun disappear?”

“You should really go upstairs…” Castti commented with a frown, arms crossed. “I came to talk with you, but if you’re tired, I can come back later.”

“No, no. I’ll survive… What did you want to talk with me about? Oh– Wait, Osvald mentioned to me that you came to visit him. How… How was that? I know he’d stayed in his apartment for the past week or so, I was a bit concerned he’d hide away forever.”

“It was fun.” She smiled ever so slightly, gazing off to the side. “He’s certainly the sort who prefers his own company over others.”

“Oh, yes. I could gather that much from the week I had to drive him over here.” The detective let out a light chuckle, getting up from his chair. “Would you like some coffee, Castti?”

“It’s way too late for coffee, you shouldn’t even be having any at this time!”

He let out a light-hearted laugh at her protest, and he closed up the agency for the night. “I don’t drink coffee this late… Not normally, at least.”

“Temenos…” She grimaced and shook her head, moving to let the detective leave the room, following after him.

Chapter Text

The bell on the agency’s door jingled as Throné swung the door open as she walked in. The first thing she saw was Tenemos hunched over a table with a bunch of papers scattered about. She could hear him faintly muttering to himself as he picked up a paper, which was snatched by Roi.

“Ack- Roi, give that back!”

The troublemaker feline quickly hopped off of the table, leaping over to the half-wall of the desk Throné works at, trotting up to her with a purr, seemingly presenting the paper to her. She grimaced as she nabbed it, ignoring the crinkle of the paper as the holes were yanked off the cat’s teeth. She shook it to straighten it up, noticing the title of the paper, one of the cases Temenos has been focused on. Her eyes glanced upward, seeing that he approached her, a pleasant smile on his face. 

“May I have that back?” She immediately passed it over to him, and he thanked her, going back to his table, which had stacks upon stacks of files and papers on it. Trailing behind Temenos, she circled around to the other side of the table as he asked her to help him gather everything together.

“Things are really picking up, aren’t they?” 

“Oh, certainly. It’s starting to become a bit much for me to handle on my own.” He thanked his assistant for helping him, letting out a loose, slightly pleased sigh. “But we’re currently in the middle of figuring out how exactly the- Ah, but I shouldn’t speak about it with you, should I?”

Throné had been absentmindedly flipping through some of the documents Temenos had left on her desk, and smirked. “What, can’t tell me? Afraid the prosecution will pay me out to tell them all of your info?” She knew the truth was nothing of the sort and that the case he was working on simply wasn’t part of her job, but Temenos never ran the most strict place of business, and it was about time she got him back for all of the teasing he loved to direct at her.

Temenos narrowed his eyes with a smile, and quickly bit back. “Why of course, Throné! I don’t pay you nearly enough to trust you not to leak all of my valuable secrets out into the world. However am I supposed to know you aren’t some spy from a more prestigious office?”

“Good point. You know, maybe if you gave me a raise, I’d be willing to turn sides.”

Temenos chuckled at this, and went back to looking over his papers. Throné, internally considering the interaction a win for her, turned back to her computer again, but she didn’t get much work done before Temenos spoke up again, this time sounding far more serious.

“…Say, what would you say if I did go ahead and give you that raise? Well, more a promotion of sorts in this case.”

Throné certainly hadn’t expected what Temenos just said, and took a moment to process it before responding. “…Really?”

Temenos nodded, gesturing down to the documents he was going through. “Yes, you see, the Vanstein Case is getting… bigger. I had hoped that the worst had passed after he was given parole, but the prosecution won’t back down quietly, and they’re making quite a fuss about putting him back behind bars.”

Throné carefully followed, and raised an eyebrow. “Right… So you want me to help more with the Vanstein Case. Are you sure, though? You know I’ve never done this kind of proper legal work.”

“I am. Though you lack direct experience, I’ve noticed you’ve got quite an eye for details. That’s important when sorting through legal documents. Ah, but if you’re too busy with classes, that’s fine as well.”

Throné stopped to consider the offer. It was true classes were starting in only a few days and her schedule would become more busy; That being said, none of her classes seemed terribly difficult, and even though she found out that calculus class she signed up for found some replacement professor, the workload was still far less than what she was used to at her old university.

“…No, I think I can make it work. I could use the extra money, anyway.”

Temenos smiled, and grabbed a stack of the papers he had been looking at. “Wonderful! In that case, your first assignment will be to read through these papers. Can’t very well help with the Vanstein Case without understanding it, can you?”

Throné nodded, and grabbed the papers, beginning to read through them attentively. Temenos, meanwhile, went back to his desk to work, glancing over at her with a satisfied smile.

With her help, this case should close soon enough.

He then, however, looked back down at the files he was reviewing, and narrowed his eyes inquisitively.

 The prosecution has been acting strangely, though… I’ll need to make sure there’s no foul play involved.

Everything felt like a dream to Osvald. Not exactly a nightmare anymore, he gets those enough while he’s asleep, but life feels like a dream. Castti came over to visit, and despite his preference to stay in his own company during his free time, he appreciated the company. Regardless, a lot of his free time was swallowed by his preparations, annoyed with the pacing of the course, feeling that certain important topics weren’t covered for long enough, but then expected to be emphasized on the exams. With that, he had to adjust almost the entire course and get the department’s approval. Thankfully, he didn’t have trouble getting said approval.

“You have to go to campus today, don’t you?” She curiously inquired, holding a cup of tea in her hands. On other days coffee would be the go-to, but Castti had brought some strawberry and lemon tea with her to have Osvald try out, and unfortunately he wasn’t a fan. She was happy that he was at least willing to give it a shot.

“Mmhm.” He set the mug to the side, flipping through his piles of binders and notebooks, grimacing as he did so, lamenting to himself mentally about the extensive, repetitive work he had to do. His eyes hovered over to her, his pen held above the paper he was about to revise. “Do you work today?”

“I don’t.” She replied, watching as he scrawled on the document, eyes narrowing with a friendly lilt to her voice. “I take it you can get over to the offices on your own this time around?”

“Of course I can, I’m not a child. My primary issue last time was that I couldn’t speak, so trying to ask questions of someone on the street was a nuisance. Besides, this time my hubris will not get the better of me– I wrote the directions.” He picked up his journal from his side, and the nurse watched him with a smile and silent amusement in her eyes. 

The two of them continued to talk until it got closer to the time he needed to leave, and she hoped he’d have fun. Of course, he doubted he’d have fun, though he wouldn’t be exactly bored, either. As she left, he prepared himself, changing into a more professional set of clothing, wearing a brown dress shirt and a set of khaki colored dress pants. A handful of folders slipped into his bag, and he pulled it up on his back. He left the apartment, noticing the sun sitting high in the sky. It’s a hot day, right at the end of the summer, and he almost immediately started regretting his choice of clothing. He’ll manage.

He was not quite used to the way the weather works over in the Leaflands part of Solistia, as with how he lived in the Harborlands, right off the coast, though atop a cliff. Regardless, due to the proximity to the water, it was oft very mild summers, and even on the hotter days, the sea spray cooled things down.

Alas, there was no cool sea spray here in Wellgrove, there was a river just outside the city, but the water spraying from the arguably shallow waters couldn’t reach far enough to cool things down this far away. It did mean that the weather was far milder compared to how it could be by the water due to the effect of large bodies of water on the amount of snowfall in the area, but it wasn’t pleasant in the summers.

He’d barely noticed that the crosswalk was open for him to travel to the other side, but heard a voice across the way which pulled him out of his deep thought about the climate.

“Hey, yer gonna miss the light if ya keep standin’ there!” His head flicked up from the street in front of him, and he saw a man dressed in a white dress shirt with a yellow leather jacket hanging off of his shoulders waving at him. His eyes widened as he jogged his way across before the light changed once more, and he felt the rustle of the vehicles on the street causing a draft. He thanked the man, who grinned in reply.

“No problem! You looked like you were off in yer own little world there.” He commented, tilting his white cloth trilby with a yellow band around the middle upward to unshield his eyes and look up at Osvald.

Osvald didn’t reply at first, at first annoyed with the comment, but he decided to entertain the conversation. Not to mention that one of the voices of his other selves encouraged engagement. “Oh, I was thinking about how different the summer climate is here compared to where I’m from.”

“Ah! Yer not from ‘round here, either?” He nodded, “Where are you from, if ya don’t mind me askin’?”

“The Harborlands.” He responded, “It was far cooler around there than it is here.”

“Heh, that’s the humidity for you. I lived in Oresrush over by that area too. Was always hot, but it was dry enough it wasn’t all that bad.” He wiped his forehead, “Hoo-ey, it’s real sticky out here today…”

“Indeed.” He sighed, once more regretting his choice of dress as they approached the offices. 

“Yer taking a tour, too?” Another nod, “Heh, so am I!” 

The black-haired man with tanned skin turned back to him as they got to the door of the building, pulling it open so Osvald could step through. “My name’s Partitio Yellowil, how ‘bout you?”

I remember that name on my roster… Must be one of my students.

“Osvald V. Vanstein.” He never really had to say the middle initial, but he’s done it for so long that it’s just strange to not do it.

“Ah! You’re my calc professor this year!” His grin grew as he entered the cool building as well. “Phew! Oh, howdy Agnea!”

“Partitio!” A girl dressed in an orange summer dress with a red rose headband was standing behind the welcome desk with another man. She grinned and waved as he jogged over, going to chat with them. The other man was dressed in a red, short-sleeved shirt and black shorts, with long, black hair tied up in a high ponytail. The three of them were talking about something or other, matching up their schedules from what Osvald could pick up, and he lingered awkwardly to the side.

“Ah, Hikari! Howdy!” He grinned back in kind, tilting his hat up to reveal his eyes, which glimmered with an eager sunshine. “Y’all all settled in?”

“About as settled in as I can be. I came with Agnea.” The black-haired man let out a faint huff, shaking his head. “I just arrived in Cropdale a few days ago, I still haven’t unpacked everything.”

The three of them continued to chat as Osvald took a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby, listening to them as he pulled a book from his bag, flipping it open as he waited for his guide to arrive. However, he soon caught a presence in his peripheral vision, and his eyes moved up to the girl from before standing in front of him. From process of elimination, it was clear that this was Agnea. Their eyes met for a brief second, and the girl’s smile grew as she put her hands behind her back. 

“Are you here for a tour, too?” 

“Yes. I’m waiting for my guide.” He calmly replied, closing the book as he tried to mentally prepare himself for conversation.

“Ooh, I think-” She glanced at her clipboard, “You might be with me-”

“Aggie, Hikarin, Parti!”

Osvald turned to face the source of the voice as he watched a short, tanned-skin, fox-like, girl run up to the other three. She grinned, balling her fists up, elbows tucked in, knees bent slightly. “Hehe, I’m looking forward to the tour!”

“Oh, Ochette!” Agnea’s smile grew even more, her hands clasping together. “I think that’s everyone! Uh… Partitio, Hikari, Ochette… And Mister Osvald here- Oh! Is it okay if I call you that?”

He nodded. As much as he was a professional, he wasn’t really one for the tight formalities, at least outside of the classroom. He pulled himself up onto his feet, sliding his book back in his bag. “Are we ready?”

“Oh, yes!” Agnea immediately started to walk away, showing them around the building, having a conversation with Hikari most specifically, though also talking with Ochette and Partitio as well. Osvald listened in carefully to her words, but still drifted off into his own thoughts partway through. Despite this, he noticed something down and to his left, and watched as Ochette bounced alongside him. He watched her as she slowed to a steady pace, her attention focused on him. 

“Can I help you?”

“Pops, you look a bit old to be going to school here…” She commented, and his eyes widened as he choked on his breath for a moment, clearing his throat to dismiss the reaction.

“W-Well, anyone can go to college at any time.” He replied, crossing his arms. “No, I’m… A new professor.”

“Ooh!” Her ears perked up, and she grinned, eyes shut. “What do you teach?”

“...A number of things, but this semester I teach calculus.”

“Ah, calculus…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I’m… Not really good at calculus.”

Osvald’s passion slowly crept out, and he gave her a small nod. “It was certainly confusing for myself when I first started learning quite some years ago. I… Could always try tutoring if need be.”

She quickly nodded, hopping eagerly at the offer. “Hehe, thanks, but I’m a culinary student, I’m not taking any math classes.”

“Ah, I understand. I’d need to figure out schedules and the lot anyways.”

As they kept the tour ongoing, they returned to the faculty offices, and Agnea eagerly greeted someone walking past. 

“Papa!”

Instantaneously, as though he’d been struck by a spear of ice straight to his heart, his body froze. The eager greeting sent the painful trickle of memory sparking up in his mind. Elena… She used to refer to him as that as well. Oh, what he wouldn't give up to see her face again…

He continued to ponder to himself for a few moments until the man the red-brown haired girl greeted approached him. He had a brown, leather hat atop his head, with a similar colored coat on, a bit thick for the weather. They made brief eye contact for a moment but simultaneously averted from one another, the other man lowering his hat to shield his eyes. After the moment of aversion went away, the man looked back at him.

“You’re the new professor?” He asked, looking Osvald over as he nodded. “I see. I’ll take care of him from here, Agnea.”

“Oh, okay! Have fun!” She waved them farewell, continuing her tour with the others.

The air between them was silent for a few minutes as they both tried to find words to say, and Osvald finally found his.

“I’m-”

“Osvald, correct?”

He hesitantly nodded as the other man started to walk, gesturing for him to follow.

“Garud Bristarni, but you can just call me Garud.” There was another pause for a few moments, before he continued. “…You probably realize, but the girl giving you the tour was my daughter.” They passed door after door, each the same uniform brown color with a placard out front with a name on it. 

A pattern started to develop, where certain segments of the building housed specific practices. Firstly, the chemistry phDs, then history, psychology, engineering, trades, and eventually he caught sight of mathematics. Does he have an office here?

The question was soon answered by Garud stopping by one of the rooms, the placard beside it was empty, though it had a slip of paper which had Osvald’s name written on it.

“Here’s your office.” The man passed him a key, and he turned to face the door, staring it down with fierce determination, far more than he probably should for such a menial task, but he went to slide the key in, pushing the door open.

The room was understandably dark, the blinds were closed, and the empty bookshelves and desk were covered in a thin layer of dust. He brushed the desk off to lay his bag down, unpacking his binders of lecture prep, regretfully noting that he probably should’ve arranged to get more stuff over here. At least he’ll have enough for the first day of lecture. He felt a presence at the doorway, and noticed that Garud was still there, and he turned fully to face him once more. The air remained heavy with both the dust and Osvald’s personal pain until he finally spoke up once more.

“Er, what do you teach?” Osvald questioned, attempting to maintain good relations with the other professors. Garud glanced away, thinking on the answer for a moment before looking back up to the tall man once more.

“Fashion design.” He shortly replied, the response bringing intrigue into the other man’s eyes.

“I take it you worked in the field for some time before settling down to teach.”

“I take it you did as well.”

Osvald tilted his head at the statement, replying with a so-so gesture, grimacing.

“I suppose I’d refer to it as forced retirement, as opposed to anything willing. If I had it my way I’d return to my research.” He grumbled softly, crossing his arms after unloading his binders on the desk.

Garud harrumphed, leaving the room after a moment, and Osvald thought that was it. He opened the drawers to the desks, sneezing loudly as dust kicked up as he did that, grimacing. If only he had a duster, then he could actually deal with the dust. Digging through his bag for something he could use, he didn’t notice Garud returning, and was quickly startled by a tickly sensation brushing against his ear, and he pulled back, eyes wide, but he almost instantly settled when he realized it was the other professor, armed with a feathery stick, clean and primed for dust collection. He placed a hand against his chest, letting out a long sigh before taking the offered duster so he could clean up. They both silently scoured all of the surfaces, coughing and sneezing as the dust was lifted, until the room was spotless.

The loud thoughts in his head quieted down as he rhythmically dusted the shelves, reaching the tops of them, feeling catharsis as he kept working, marveling his work at the end. He sighed with satisfaction. He watched Garud finish up as well, and they made eye contact and the new professor swore he saw a hint of a smile on the man’s face. In that moment, Osvald felt a new feeling in him. Perhaps it wasn’t new per se, but it wasn’t something he’s felt in a long time.

Despite having only shared about an hour of interaction with the other man, and only one short conversation, he felt a connection. He wondered if he somehow managed to make a companion for once.

Of course, something like that was very easy to make assumptions with, and very easy to destroy what was already built by going too fast. This was something he’d learned as a child. Considering his awkward nature and introverted attitude, Osvald has made mistakes, and he frequently hesitates to consider anyone his companion.

“Now that we’ve cleaned up a bit…” Garud turned back to him, and gave him a curt nod. “I should let you get settled in. That key’s yours.” He started to walk out as Osvald called a goodbye. He raised a hand up, fingers spread out in a wave, but he quickly lowered it, contemplating returning to his apartment to grab everything since he had more time than anticipated.

I wish this class wasn’t so early…

Throné’s scowl as she walked along the campus’ paths was barely hidden, making it clear to any other early risers not to bother the girl as she figured out where her calculus class was. She had seriously considered just skipping the lecture and doing the work online, but she wanted to at least go to the first lecture to see what the attendance policy would be to make sure she didn’t accidentally fail. Before setting out to even find the class, she grabbed herself a quick cup of coffee from one of the various campus cafés, knowing that she’d definitely need it to get her through the lecture.

It didn’t take her long to find the building that the class was in, but getting to the lecture hall itself was a whole other ordeal.

Why does this building have so many damn rooms in it…?

After peeking into a few incorrect classrooms, she finally found the room that seemed to be the one she was looking for. Seems she was one of the first there, as only a few other students were littered around the room. Her eyes quickly met a male and female pair sitting in the front row, the man wearing a rather heavy looking jacket over his shoulders paired with a bright yellow hat while the woman wore a much more simple t-shirt and long skirt, with her hair tied in a braid. The two quickly noticed her gaze, and both waved at her with bright smiles. Throné wasn’t exactly sure how to react, so gave a confused, less-than-cheery wave back before turning away and making for the back of the lecture hall before even waiting to see if the pair followed up on their greeting.

Once she sat down, she pulled out her laptop and pulled out her phone, mindlessly scrolling as she waited for class to start. A few minutes passed, and the lazy cycle was broken by a text from Ochette, which she quickly opened up.

“How’s the early morning treating you”

“Terribly, I don’t get how you do it”

“Haha well lucky for you I’ve got something to cheer you up”

Throné was a bit confused by what Ochette meant, until a few seconds later she followed the text up with a photo of Ākala sitting in one of the chairs in her dorm in a humorously human-like manner.

“Ākala thinks he’s people lol”

Despite Throné’s sour mood, this did elicit a stifled laugh out of her, and she quickly saved the photo with a smile.

“That is perfect, thank you”

“Any time, now pay attention!!!”

“Ffffffffine”

With that lifting her spirits, Throné decided to stow away her phone, though she quickly went to the laptop to look at the lecture materials for the class. It didn’t take long for the class itself to start; Throné didn’t bother looking down at the professor as he began his introduction, and foolishly took a sip of her coffee as he began.

“Good morning, everyone, I’ll be replacing the previous professor for your calculus class this semester. You can call me Professor Vanstein, and-“

But before he could continue, Throné started hacking up the coffee she just drank, the reaction being loud enough that the entire class could hear despite her being in the back row of the room. Osvald paused his introduction to allow her to collect herself, and then called out to her with a dull voice. “Are you alright, miss?”

Though some people might have interpreted this tone as him either being bothered by her disruption or mocking her for the display (and a few students did indeed laugh after the remark), Throné considered herself good at reading people, and she could tell from his expression that it was, in fact, asked out of genuine concern. “I- Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, please continue.” Osvald rose an eyebrow as if asking her once again, but upon seeing no protest, nodded.

“Very well. As I was saying, you may call me Professor Vanstein. As I’m sure most of you are aware, the previous professor for this class abruptly quit his position, and I only took this position a few weeks ago, so I’ll mostly be following the syllabus they had outlined. That being said, I will be making a few changes as I familiarize myself more with his plan. Now, I’ve gotten a lot of emails from some of you asking about my attendance policy, and I’d like to explain it now so you’re all aware. Attendance will not be mandatory outside of exam days, as I know you are all adults with your own lives, but I will be keeping track of it, and extra credit points will go out to people with consistent attendance to class. If you’re worried about your grade at all, I highly suggest trying to come to as many lectures as possible. Any questions so far?”

Throné was still rather frazzled by the reveal of who her professor actually was, but she did manage to process the information on attendance.

At least it’s not mandatory…

Osvald looked around the room, not seeing any hands raised, and nodded, turning on his laptop and displaying his lecture materials. “Excellent. Feel free to ask any questions after class if one comes to you. With that said, I’m going to cover the basics of the syllabus, and what I’ll be expecting from you all this semester…”

At this point, Throné began drowning out the lecture, being far more invested in the professor than the class itself, and pulled out her phone, opening Temenos’ contact.

“DETECTIVE THERE IS AN ISSUE”

A few anxious moments passed before she noticed Temenos begin typing.

“Ah, you must be in calculus then.”

Initially, Throné was perplexed by this response. How would he have known she was talking about calculus? She didn’t mention-

…

…

…Ah.

Throné quickly went into writing a long, very strongly worded reply to Temenos after her revelation, but Temenos was quicker on the keyboard, sending another message to ease her a bit.

“We can talk about it later, alright? I think you ought to be paying attention on your first day of classes!”

Throné stared at the message for a moment, and let out a deep exhale, stuffing her phone back in her pocket while she hesitantly turned back to Osvald’s lesson.

Chapter Text

The clock in Temenos’ office softly chimed as the minute hand hit the top of the hour, but the peaceful atmosphere was quickly interrupted by the door to the agency swinging open as the bell on the door loudly rang.

“Temenos!”

The detective lifted the mug of coffee on his desk to his lips as his lips raised into a sly smile. Well, if it gets her to use my name, I call this a victory. “I’m in my office!” He called out, hearing the rhythmic thump of his assistant’s footsteps storming towards him as she slowed to a stop on the client side of his desk.

“ Why didn’t you tell me that your client was going to be my professor?!” She demanded to know, leaning forward on the table, palms on the surface. 

“I thought it would be a fun surprise.” He replied, offering her a mug of coffee as he motioned for her to take a seat, but then his mischief faded out, and he rested his folded hands against his face. “In all seriousness, I have rules and regulations to follow. There was only so much information I could share with you as just a secretary, and the thought of explaining more was forgotten for a time.”

Hearing that the lack of information wasn’t completely caused by mischief, the student relaxed slightly, taking a seat in the chair across from him, accepting the coffee with a deadpan expression. “That’s… fair. Still though, go to hell.” Temenos chuckled at her jab as she took a sip of the coffee, glancing down at the cup. “Do you have any creamer or anything?”

“Not in the office, unfortunately. I could get some from upstairs if you like.”

“No, that’s fine. I usually don’t use that much anyways.” She took another sip, glancing down at the ground with an uneasy expression. Temenos quickly noticed the frown, and tilted his head to the side inquisitively. “Penny for your thoughts?”

She looked up, and sighed, setting the mug down on the table. “Well… You promoted me to investigative assistant, right? I already read the files on the Vanstein case like you asked me to. If he’s my professor, though, won’t that make me unfairly biased? I already can’t stand calculus on principle. How do you know I won’t mess something up because of blind judgement?”

Temenos’ eyebrows raised as Throné presented her concerns. Hmm. I didn’t expect her to be so concerned about this. The detective closed his eyes, considering his options as Throné waited nervously. After what felt like hours, Temenos quietly nodded to himself, and opened his eyes seriously.

“Very well. Throné, I am afraid you are right. Therefore, it seems I’ve no choice but to let you go.”

Throné, perhaps unsurprisingly, responded to this news with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. “I- But- Hold on-“ She tried to mutter out a response before her brain caught up with her mouth, and she quickly shut her mouth to keep herself from saying something stupid. I… I guess I did literally ask for it. Without saying anything else, she stood up with a stoic expression, giving Temenos a respectful bow as she grabbed her bag. “I understand. Thank you for the past month. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Detective.”

She turned around to quickly leave the building before she showed any more extreme emotions in front of Temenos. Before she could reach the door, though, she would hear Temenos’ voice call out to her. “Now wait one minute, Throné! I never said I was done!” Throné slowly stopped walking, and glanced behind her shoulder to look at him again. Her expression quickly fell as she noticed a plastered small, familiar smile on Temenos’ face, and her eyes slowly began narrowing, suspicion growing. “…Yeah? What are you plotting this time?”

Temenos put a hand to his chest, as if offended. “Why Throné, I’ve no schemes! I simply thought you’d be interested in a new paid intern position I’ve got open.”

Throné was dead silent for a moment, confusion growing. “…What?” Temenos’ smile grew as he nodded, holding out his hand at his desk. “Yes, you see, with your position now vacant, I’ve far too much work to deal with myself, and I haven’t the time to conduct interviews for a new hire at this vital point in the investigation. So, I thought since you’re already here…”

Throné took a second to catch on to what exactly Temenos was saying, but once she connected the dots, her eyes instantly widened and her eyebrows furrowed in obvious anger. “Oh, you ASS.”

Temenos finally let himself laugh, and Throné stomped to the desk for the second time that day. “You scared me to death! I’ve got half a mind to walk out that door right now anyways!” Temenos then stopped laughing, still with a smile on his face, though now more apologetic than anything. “Ah, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He hardly seemed to mind Throné’s scowl drilling through him, and he straightened his throat, returning to a more professional expression. “In all seriousness, you aren’t wrong, you being Osvald’s student isn’t a good look. I, of course, know you of all people wouldn’t let that impact your judgment - you’re more mature than most of my clients, even - but the prosecution and police force… They could certainly use it as a weapon to make practically all my findings null as evidence. As an intern, though, you’ll be officially far less involved in the investigation, so it won’t be nearly as risky. You’ll unfortunately get a good deal less credit in the official case records, but that’s about the only difference.”

Throné’s scowl slowly softened, and she took a deep breath after Temenos’ explanation, releasing the tension she didn’t know she was building up in her body as she sat back down. “…Again, fair. Please stop scaring me like that, though, Detective.” Temenos smiled teasingly again, and shook his head. “Perhaps once you start consistently calling me Temenos like I’ve been telling you to.” Throné rolled her eyes as she started getting up again with the mug of coffee, though she had a smile on her face. “Alright, alright, I’ve got it, Temenos.”

Temenos nodded with a satisfied expression, and looked back down at the work he was in the middle of before she came in. “Now then, you ought to get to work, intern.” Throné’s head whipped back to Temenos with narrowed eyes at his remark. “DEFINITELY not calling you by your name if you start calling me intern.”

Temenos chuckled, and held his hands up in mock surrender, still absorbed in his paperwork. “Alright, alright, I concede. Now go on, Throné.”

“Tutoring requests already?” It’s barely been a week, how come requests are coming in?

Am I not teaching the material well enough? Osvald pushed himself to his feet off of the couch, pacing with his laptop, scrolling through the requests in silence. There weren’t too many, but as he observed the tutoring portal, he noted that the requestees were those in his early morning class. Agnea Bristarni, Partitio Yellowil…

No, I assume it’s due to how early the course is… None of my students seem to be morning people, thus the material probably doesn’t stick as well.

…It seems the only time that tutoring works for everyone is in the evening. That cuts into my personal time, but– I’d like to see my students succeed regardless.

I’ll have to find a place for tutoring to happen. Agnea mentioned that the library is the place tutoring typically takes place, I’ll have to reserve a room.

Timing is important too, a meeting after assignment deadlines or exams won’t be helpful for them, though if I keep my due dates consistent with every Ice, that gives the Wind, Thunder, and Fire each week free for tutoring and chances for correction. …Thunder is probably the best day for tutoring, it gives a day for them to practice on their own, but then also time after our meeting to work alone once more.

He glanced over to his flip phone on the couch still, grimacing as he observed the beat-up device, flipping it open. 

“This thing works for what I need… But I really need to get a better device.” Perhaps I’ll do that when I receive my first paycheck. I may have the leaves for this now, however I’d prefer to not dig too deep into emergency funds for something frivolous.

Reservations were made, and Osvald finally had a moment to take a seat and relax, however his definition of relax was disjointed from people’s typical perception of it. The piles of boxes of his belongings which he neglected throughout the week were scattered across the room, and he dragged one over to the couch, unfolding the lid to expose the contents. The objects were carefully organized, piled into groups based on their general characteristics. Books on one pile, notebooks on another, old journals, textbooks, electronics…

A new box was dragged over, and as he opened it up, he was introduced to an old sight for his tired eyes. It was a leather brown, rectangular and rigid camera bag, the leather lightening up in patches due to age. The flap covering the main compartment was held shut by belt buckles, one on either side, with a zipper in the center of the flap. The small, almost useless-seeming pocket was useful for storing straps that were smaller and less bulky, like wrist straps. He pulled the bag out, rotating it around to see the side pockets, which held old batteries and lens cleaning materials. The buckles slipped out silently, and he flipped the top off, exposing the sleek black DSLR camera to the sunlight once more. 

Oh how he wanted to take her out of the case, and yet, he was too anxious to. Was he afraid of dropping it and damaging it? Yes, he’d become a little more shaky with his time in prison, and he didn’t want to destroy the device. He bit his lip, reaching in carefully as the calloused, burned skin of his palms touched the cool metal of the camera’s body, and his grip tightened, lifting the device from its cradle.

Powering it on proved futile; its batteries were dead, and he hoped to Sealticge that was the only issue with it. He retrieved the batteries from the side pocket, removing the dead one from the chamber, inserting the (hopefully) charged one in its place. He pressed the power button and…

It whirred to life. His lips curled upward at the noise, and he rotated it around, carefully wiping the lens clean and blowing dust from the joints and sockets.

How did he use this thing again?

Unlike recalling a phone number, recalling how to properly use the camera was a far more invested task. He pressed a few incorrect buttons, accidentally taking a photo of the floor in his fumble, but he finally managed to open up the camera’s memory. He scrolled through the images, seeing a plethora of old photos from the time when he was still doing research. He remembered Harvey frequently calling him odd for taking pictures of his work as it progressed, but he never paid it mind. It worked well for documentation, and it gave him plenty of photos for his presentations and conferences. 

He continued to flip through, noticing photos of Elena in his lab, messing with some home-made science kits Osvald had made for her to feel like she was working “just like Papa”. Fond reminisce washed over him as he recalled Elena’s laughter as they worked with air-dry clay to create a mini volcano for an acid-base reaction. Unfortunately, he recalled that it wasn’t air-tight, and imagined the strong stench of vinegar as the clay had shot upward, sending the reaction of vinegar and baking soda flying outward at both of them.

Thankfully she had goggles on, so despite the reaction being at eye-level for her, the foamy liquid didn’t hit her face. She’d screamed and laughed at the unexpected incident, and while Osvald wanted to be irritated over the reaction staining a line of orange food coloring across his coat and shirt, he couldn’t help but smile and laugh along with her.

As the memory came back, he set the camera down, leaving for his bedroom, digging through the dresser for the old shirt, eventually removing it and unfolding it, his fond smile becoming more painfully reminiscent. He removed the shirt he was wearing, putting the stained one on, closing his eyes as he tried to grasp his old life once more.

Loud echoing rattled outside Osvald’s window, throwing him out of his circling thoughts, and he turned his head to the birdfeeder. He inched over to the source, watching as a red-headed woodpecker sat at the empty feeder, drumming against the metal interior of the feeder. Annoyance, and yet also amusement roiled up in his head as he glanced to his side where a bag of seed was seated. The window was pulled open as the woodpecker drummed again, and the bird squawked as it flew off, sending the feeder swinging, which he caught on the return. Seed clattered against the metal as he scooped it in, but slowed to a stop as he glanced to the side, seeing a mourning dove seated under the feeder, pecking at the seeds.

Feeling the bitter nostalgia return, he finished filling the feeder and retrieved his camera, going back over to the window to take a few photos of the bird. It was amusing, the small dove wasn’t caring about the seeds that started to fall on its body as it kept stabbing at the dropped food, but his amusement faded as he noticed that it wasn’t moving around like typical doves. Usually they’d sit for a few minutes and trot around, bobbing their neck as they coo and trill, but this one wasn’t.

He set the camera back down, going out the front door to circle around to the back, where the birds that had gathered flew away except the dove. He crouched over it as it sat silently, he could see its chest raising and falling with one of its dark eyes staring right at him, the fear freezing it and locking eye contact with him.

It’s so strange. Osvald felt himself hesitating as his eyes locked with the small, fragile, brown bird. He never pretended to believe the emotions of animals, but here, he could just feel the frigid terror the bird was feeling. It ached, right in his chest as he continued to watch it. He let out a soft sigh as he shook his head. 

“I feel what you’re feeling all too well.” He spoke to the dove, reaching out to it carefully, cupping his hand underneath its legs, noting that he’ll need to wash his hands once he’s done. He noticed that the bird’s dry, scaly legs, one which jutted out between two of his fingers, were red and irritated. It didn’t fly away, and he could feel it trembling in his hands.

He didn’t know if the bird was sick, and didn’t know where a vet was nearby, so he made what he thought was the best decision, and took the bird up the steps in the apartment complex. Not being able to knock normally, he kicked the door lightly with his boot.

“Castti? It’s me.”

There were soft murmurs on the other side of the door before he heard a voice on the other side.

“Just one second!”

The door opened after a few more moments, and she rubbed an eye as she stood there. She was dressed in a set of pajamas, clearly winding down for the evening. “Can I help, Osvald?”

“I, er… I know that you’re a nurse for people, but…” He presented her the quiet dove sitting in his hands, eyes glistening with worry. “Do you know what’s wrong with this bird?”

Her eyes hovered over the bird, and she let out a soft sigh, motioning for him to come inside.

“Give me a second to grab a towel and some gloves.”

He entered, looking around as she quickly made her way to her bedroom, and the bathroom attached to it.

He heard the soft whistle from the dove in his hands as he scanned the room. There was a white shelf right beside the bedroom entrance, with a bunch of blue and pink grow lights hanging around on the tops of each level of the shelf, a multitude of herbs growing in the pots on the racks. Beyond the shelf was a living room, with a navy blue sofa, which looks as though it’s rarely sat in, and a recliner with more use on the left side of the room. A hummingbird feeder hung off the windowsill, and he watched a bird going over to drink from it. He glanced back on the coffee table in the living room, seeing a few empty mugs sitting over closest to the recliner.

“Alright, I’m back. Come in the dining room, I’ll look at it there.”

He looked down at the dove, who at this point started preening the hairs on his fingers as it continued to wheek between his fingers. He joined her as she laid the towel down, and he set the bird down. As she went to investigate it, the bird kept pecking at her hands as she got close. “Osvald, can you hold its head down?”

He went to rest his hand over its head as he heard it crying loudly, trying to pull itself free, which further made his heart ache, and he raised his hand up, softly stroking its head with his left index finger, moving his body closer to the bird, softly whistling to it as it settled and let Castti check its legs and wings over.

“Oh, I see what’s going on. Here, look at its leg here.” She had him carefully pick the bird up, and she pulled its leg out, motioning to a crook in the bird’s fibula as it squealed and shook its head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry… It must’ve had a break a long time ago that healed, and it broke its leg again up here. …I don’t think it can survive on its own, it might just be a good idea to take it to a vet.”

Taking it to the vet likely meant that it’d just get put down, and the thought of that was upsetting, considering how despite the injury it seemed to be happy as it kept preening his hand after Castti let its leg go. He picked it up again, silently staring down at it after the news was broken, and he heard her sigh.

“I’ll get my first aid kit, I think I have a few things that could be used to take care of that leg.” She left and quickly returned with some popsicle sticks and gauze. “Can you hold it still so I can put this tight?” She started to cut the sticks to the proper length, wrapping the cloth around the leg. He picked the bird back up, petting its head as it cuddled into his cupped palm.

“It could have some diseases on its feathers, do you know how we clean them?”

“Hm…” She watched the bird for a few minutes, thinking to herself as she glanced over at the sink beside her. “I think we should just give it some warm water, soap and all that isn’t good for them. Just… Make sure you wash your hands when you’re done handling it.”

He went over to the kitchen sink, turning the running water and ensuring that it’s not too hot, and then offered the water to the bird, which tried to push up off his hand and started to flap around in the water. A cracked smile appeared on his lips as he watched the bird splashing and glanced over as Castti came over to watch.

“I’ll need to look up how to take care of it. It obviously needs some food, but it needs a proper setup.”

“There’s a pet store nearby.” She replied, watching as he turned the water off and set the bird in a towel to pat it dry. “You’ll want a large cage. Usually it’ll want a grated floor but you’ll need to lay some stuff down for it otherwise it’ll get stuck.”

“I understand. I’ll look for supplies this weekend.” He opened his palms as the bird hobbled back into his hands, petting its head. “Thank you for the help… Castti.”

“Of course. Let me know how it’s doing!” She smiled as she opened the door as he left, turning back around to give her a nod before heading down the steps. She reminisces on his gentleness as he comforted the bird, a faint smile raising on her lips.

The door downstairs clicked shut as Osvald returned to his room, listening as the dove went from silently quaking to cooing in his hands, rustling its wings and preening his hand. He slowly lifted his hand off of its back, and it stayed where it was, comfortably shifting and practically melting into his palm. A smile crawled up over his lips as it fell asleep, and he used his free hand to pack a box tightly with loose, old cloth he found in his other boxes, setting the dove in the makeshift nest, leaving to wash his hands and bring back a small container of seed for it to pick at. He sat beside it afterward, going back to his work as he listened to the small dove occasionally cooing in its sleep.

“You seem exasperated, Crick.” The detective didn’t bat an eye or raise his head from his work as the door swung open with slightly more force than the parole officer hoped to use. The man’s ordered, rhythmic footsteps circled the coffee table as he dropped onto the couch, causing Temenos’ side to bounce up slightly. Crick sighed, shaking his golden hair in confused irritation.

“Your client is strange, is all.”

“You’re only figuring that out now?”

“No- I- He has a dove in his apartment now.”

Temenos paused at the statement, glancing up and over at his partner, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I can’t say I was expecting that to be what you’d be confused over. Does it violate his parole?”

“No, but is the complex pet friendly? I told him that he needs to report it.”

“It is, I believe birds count.”

“You believe?” Temenos’ smile could only keep growing as he could feel Crick’s gaze hovering over him.

“Why yes, I haven’t checked the rent policy since I organized the apartment for Osvald. Haven’t had a reason to.” The detective set his laptop off to the side. “On another note, you remember what today is, yes?”

“Today?” Crick stared ahead for a brief moment until recognition smacked him blind-sided, and his eyes widened. “Oh! It’s-”

“Date night.” Temenos’ smile resumed and he nodded. “I was worried you forgot.”

“I’ll be honest, I did forget for a second.” Crick practically melted into Temenos’ shoulder as he let out another sigh, shaking his head. “This week’s been… Well, I can’t even say it was all that busy, but it felt like it was.”

“No, no, I understand.” The white haired detective patted the parole officer’s head with his small upturn softening at the edges. “It simply feels like you didn’t do as much since you were doing the same thing all week.”

“You felt it too?”

“I was trying to investigate further into the Vanstein case, but it just started to feel like I was finding the same stuff over and over.” He pulled Crick off the couch, the teasing glint in his eye sending some life to Crick’s. “And that’s why these date nights are essential. Breaks up the monotony.”

“Absolutely. So what’s the plan for tonight?”

Temenos’ amusement briefly faltered, and he widened his eyes, but the softness returned as he replied. “I forgot to plan that. How about a walk?”

“Temenos…” Crick’s tired expression came to an amused lilt, and he threw his light jacket on. “A little bit of exercise could do us good.”

“Are you calling me unathletic?”

“O-Of course not!”

The late night air hung with a slightly wetter than average smell, as the crickets in the forest grasses trilled loudly, and the fireflies danced through the park field, presenting the two partners with a light show just for themselves.

“It’s gorgeous out tonight,” Crick commented as he took a seat on the park bench, listening to the wood groan as Temenos joined him. “The fireflies are coming out in full force. I don’t think I’ve seen this many around in one place before.”

“I’m not surprised, how many insects survive in the harsh indefinite Stormhail winters?”

“A surprising amount.” Crick replied in displeasure. “Multiple times I found centipedes and spiders in the barracks I was in, was awful.”

“My little lamb is afraid of bugs?”

“N-No, of course not!” Crick didn’t get a chance to continue as he felt something tickling the back of his neck and immediately leapt off the bench, rapidly brushing the back of his neck to try to get whatever was on it off as he exclaimed. “Get off, get off!” He slowed to a stop as he could hear Temenos’ laughter off to the side, and he steadily turned back to the detective, whose hand was still hanging in the air. “Temenos…”

“Oops, my hand slipped.”

“Sure it did.” He moved back to his spot beside his partner, and he pushed the detective slightly as the man laughed. Their laughter was interrupted as Crick felt a drip of water smack the tip of his nose. “Damn… And here I was thinking we’d have a good summer date night.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone, Crick.” However, a sudden clap of thunder overhead, alongside a massive splattering of heavy downpours slammed down onto the city of Wellgrove immediately disproved Temenos’ statement, and as a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, they could see each other’s horrified exchanges. “I take that back, run!”

In rain-soaked shirts and pants, they sprinted back the way they came, though partway through Crick swept Temenos off his feet as they continued running back to the house, slipping into the staircase. Their clothing was absolutely drenched, the dripping of water off the edges of their clothing and tips of hair softly splashing into growing puddles underneath them. Crick set Temenos down, and the detective started to wring his shirt out.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to drip water all over the apartment, there’s no way around that.” He proceeded to give Crick a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you for the ride.” Temenos was quickly thrown off by watching Crick pull his shirt off his head and remove his pants and shoes as he ran up the steps, nearly slipping halfway up. “Crick-”

“I’ll get a towel!” He called out, opening the door, slipping into the apartment. The detective, smaller in stature, felt a chill roll down his spine as he waited, but he didn’t have to wait too long as a bathroom towel smacked him in the face.

“Shoot- Sorry Temenos!”

“Well, there are worse things I could be smacked in the face with.” He replied, drying his hair off before moving down to his shirt and pants, listening to the rain cascading down outside. “The weather really decided to take a turn for the worse, hm?” He quickly took his shirt and pants off too, patting his body dry with a grimace. “I wasn’t expecting it to rain that horrifically.” He picked up his and Crick’s wet clothing, climbing up the steps. “There goes our date night.”

“Ah- Wait, this doesn't mean that it’s over!”

“Well, our plans were ruined, and I assume you wouldn't want to go out in the rain again.” Temenos dropped the clothing into a laundry basket as he made his way into the bedroom to change. He swapped his boxers and threw on a new shirt and pants, leaving the room to see Crick still out in just his cold boxers, brewing some coffee and popping popcorn. “Crick, what are you-”

“-If we can’t go out for date night, I’ll bring date night to us.” He set the mugs down, and went back into the bedroom to change, coming out moments later with a pair of blue and white plaid pajamas. “We can rent a movie online.”

Midway into the movie, and Temenos was laying on the couch with his head on Crick’s lap, reaching over to the opposite side of the officer and stealing popcorn from his bowl. “Oh for the gods’ sakes, he had that clue from the very beginning, this entire issue could have been resolved much sooner!”

“Temenos, must you steal popcorn from my bowl every time we watch a movie?” Exasperation laced his tone as he watched his partner grab another handful of popcorn without hesitation.

“Your popcorn always tastes better.”

Crick placed a hand down against the detective’s shoulder. “I prepared both bowls exactly the same , you cheeky movie critic!”

“Well, I still like yours better.”

In a moment where Temenos was distracted by Roi demanding to be let into the bedroom, Crick quickly swapped the two bowls, and the detective soon returned to his rightful place. The officer watched with bated breath as Temenos grabbed popcorn from the bowl in front of him, deflating almost immediately.

“Aw come on…”

“I win, Crick.” He softly laughed, sitting up to pat the man’s shoulder. “Can’t trick me that eas-”

The tease was quickly interrupted by his phone ringing, and he lifted the remote up to pause the film. “Oh- I’ll be back, I’ve been expecting this call.” He put the device up to his ear, opening the door to the bedroom. “Hello?”

The muffled chatter of Temenos’ voice was all that could be heard through the doorway. The door creaked opened slightly as Roi trotted out.

“You landed in this godsforsaken weather? Hopefully you and your husband aren’t- Oh, you’re already on the road. Hello Rodion, I hope this weather isn’t too bad for driving.” The door clicked shut again, and Roi hopped up onto Crick’s lap, and the man picked a book up off the coffee table, which was covered by a coaster before. 

“ De-collared: The Perplexing Rise and Fall of the Blue Collars ,” Crick softly murmured, flipping the book over in his hand, “This is about that group from Orsterra that was disintegrated about four years ago…” He started flipping through the book, but was halted by Temenos leaving. 

“Oh? Interested in my current read?”

“I suppose so.” He leafed through a few pages, noticing some photos between the text. “I didn’t think you liked crime books.”

“Oh, I adore the ones that are straight to the point. The ones that like to fluff up the page count with speculation and rehashing are the ones I despise.” The book was plucked from Crick’s hands and returned to its rightful place on the table. “Besides, I really wanted to look into this because one of my… Accomplices had some hand in their downfall.”

“Accomplice? You can't just say it like that-”

“Oh, I can. And I did.” The detective’s lips took on a devious curl as he propped his feet up, his expression reverting just as fast as it changed. “Regardless, I cannot move as freely as I hoped with the turn of events in the Vanstein case, so I reached out to a contact with experience in investigations for some assistance.”

“I don't think I know about this contact, who are they?” The movie was now an afterthought, and Crick’s attention was completely turned to his partner as he pet the cat.

“His name is Cress. A former agent in the Orsterran Crime department, specializing in corruption and espionage.” A chuckle escaped his lips as he watched Crick’s confused expression. “He may be overqualified, but I prefer that over being under qualified.”

“And he landed in Solistia just now?”

“Oh, yes, he’s a day out. He and his husband will probably arrive by tomorrow.”

“ Please don't tell me that they’re staying here…” Crick brazenly scanned around the admittedly packed apartment, dreading the idea of housing two additional people.

“No, of course not! They already rented a place in town. They’ll just be stopping by tomorrow so I can speak with Cress.”

“And I take it that I’ll need to entertain his husband?”

“If you would want to, otherwise Cress says that he’ll probably just go on a walk while we talk.”

“Well, we can keep watching the movie now and worry about that tomorrow.” Crick let out a long yawn, draping an arm around Temenos’, playing the film again, unable to hide the drowsy smile on his face as his partner kept picking the scenes apart.

Chapter Text

“That concludes today’s lecture. Remember, the first homework assignment is due next Wind.” Osvald scanned over his classroom as they all started to pack. “Oh- One more piece of information. I sent an email pertaining to this before, but I set up a weekly tutoring session for every Ice in L223 in the library at 4 PM until six. I’ve received tutoring requests already, but if you need lessons, just stop by, I’ll be in that room until the end of the timeframe.”

A chorus of thanks came around, and he noticed Throné quickly slipping out of the room as Partitio and Agnea came up to the front to ask a few questions about the lecture. After a few minutes of conversation where the ex-convict was explaining the topic once more, and as they left, Agnea cheerfully greeted her father as he entered the room with a familiar box.

“Osvald, can you explain what this is?” Garud asked, setting it on the desk as Agnea came over as well.

“It’s- Erm,” He didn’t get a chance to explain before the top of the box was opened up, and the mourning dove poked its head out.

Agnea gasped, crouching down to get a good look at the bird, quietly cooing over it.

“That’s Dinah.” He plainly replied without any additional context, leading to stares from the other teacher.

“And… What exactly was Dinah doing in your office?”

“She can’t stay alone at my house.”

Garud stared Osvald down for a moment, letting out an exhausted sigh that Agnea knew well from when she was little. The sigh of someone who realized they weren’t specific enough.

“I mean, why do you have a dove in your room?”

A long pause permeated the now empty classroom as Osvald coaxed the bird onto his palm, and it immediately started to coo again. The calculus professor stared at the dove for a few more moments, and then turned back to the other professor. “I found her injured in my yard and took her in. Is… That an issue?”

“No, not at all.” He responded, slowly blinking. Osvald watched as the fashion design professor scanned the bird over, noticing a plastic band on one of its legs. “Poor thing…” His expression softened, and he reached a loosely curled finger to stroke against the dove’s neck.

“Is there a problem?”

“This band on her leg, it means she was a pet, or at the very least captive-bred.” Garud coaxed the bird onto his hand as he looked it over again. “My assumption is that she was released for a wedding and never taken care of. It happens often.”

Osvald’s brow furrowed, also going to pet the dove with his hand, glancing over as Agnea happily observed the bird and their interaction. “How do you know?”

There was a long pause, one so long that Osvald worried that he’d asked a poor question, however, he finally spoke up, seemingly struggling to find the words. “...Cuani and I used to rehabilitate doves.” 

Osvald slowly blinked in surprise, glancing down at the dove and then back to him. “You did?”

Garud nodded, “There’s a number of places around Cropdale where newlyweds like to take their wedding photos and have their receptions at. You’re probably aware, but releasing doves is a common tradition on this side of the continent. Oftentimes they end up forgetting about or abandoning the doves once the tradition is finished, and they’d make their way somewhere around our little village.” He continued to watch the dove as he continued to scratch a finger under the feathers on the back of Dinah’s head, the bird loudly cooing. “Seems this one flew the opposite way.”

“Would you be willing to give me advice on caring for this one?”

Agnea called out a goodbye to the two of them as she had to run to class, and Garud suggested pulling the conversation to his office.

Throné didn’t mean to rush out of Calculus as fast as she did, really, she didn’t. No matter how strongly she felt about the subject, she didn’t consider herself quite impolite enough to openly look so eager to get out of the room, especially when Professor Vanstein himself seemed like a good teacher.

Unfortunately, the young woman had overbooked her morning, and she couldn’t afford to worry too much about appearances. On top of the 8am class she just had to survive through, she had struggled a little bit with understanding her initial Textiles class, so she planned to visit Professor Bristarni’s 9:30 open office hours for a few clarifications; The tailor was a genius, and his work had inspired her even while she was across the ocean, but the rumors of him being a man of few words were not exaggerated, and it was clear long-winded lectures were not his forte. 

Normally, a 30 minute gap would’ve been more than comfortable for her, but she had completely forgotten she made coffee plans with Ochette a few days prior, and the period after calculus was the only time their schedules lined up before the evening. She had, perhaps foolishly, refused Ochette’s offer to simply reschedule, and so here she was, rushing to the campus café they agreed to meet at to squeeze in time for a reasonable conversation, even ordering her food online ahead of time so that it would be ready when she got there.

Thankfully, it wasn’t terribly far, and she soon arrived at the coffee shop. She quickly scanned the tables outside to locate her friend, or more accurately, one of her friend’s pets, figuring it was easier to identify a large owl than a four-foot-something girl. And indeed, she did catch sight of Mahina first, perched politely on a garden chair next to her owner. With them also sat a young man with jet-black hair tied in a ponytail and wearing a red cardigan (which also left Throné confused as to how he was not burning up in it), who was jotting down notes on a piece of paper while speaking to Ochette.

Before she could call out to the Toto’hahan, Ochette noticed Throné and waved her over with a big grin. “Hey-hey, Néné! That was fast!” Throné waved back with a comparably much tamer smile, and gestured to the café. “I’ll grab my food real quick, and then I’ll be back out, alright?” Seeing Ochette give her a big thumbs up, Throné went to grab her already-prepared breakfast and coffee, and came back outside, taking the last empty seat at Ochette, Mahina and the stranger’s table.

Ochette’s big smile hadn’t left her face, and it somehow grew wider when Throné finally sat down. “Morning, Néné! I’d ask how calculus was, but I’ve already got a pretty good idea, hehe!” Throné glanced to the side, a little embarrassed. “Hey, it’s not that bad. Professor Vanstein seems nice enough, at least.” She then turned to the man in the red cardigan, with a polite smile. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s Throné.” She held out her hand for a handshake, and the young man took the offer with a smile. “Hikari. Ochette was just telling me about you.”

Throné quickly dropped her smile as she whipped her head to Ochette with a scrutinizing look, who held her hands up in mock surrender with a laugh. “Heeeey, c’mon! It was all good things, I promise!” Throné’s glare lasted a little bit longer, before she finally cracked, chuckling a bit with a smirk. Ochette then responded with crossed arms and a pout, and turned to Hikari, who had been smiling amusedly throughout the exchange. “Don’t you listen to her, Hikarin, I forgot to mention how mean her sense of humor is!” Hikari simply chuckled himself in response, and turned back to Throné.

“So, Throné, you mentioned you were in Professor Vanstein’s calculus class? I’ve got a few friends in the same class.” Throné nodded, though she soon began absentmindedly poking at her food. “Yeah. Honestly, though, I haven’t been paying much attention to the class. I already did the course at my old university while I was in architecture, they just messed up the credits.” Hikari raised his eyebrows at this, tilting his head curiously. “Architecture, hmm? Ochette only mentioned you were pursuing fashion design.” Throné nodded, still looking at her food. “Mhm. Architecture wasn’t really for me. That’s why I transferred.” She finally looked back up at Hikari, secretly somewhat eager to change conversation topics. “How about you? What’s your major?”

Hikari’s polite smile grew, and he responded happily. “Ah, I’m a double major. Political science and psychology.” This caused Throné’s eyes to widen, clearly not having expected that answer. “Woah. That’s… impressive.” Hikari smiled back, and was about to respond, but Ochette quickly interjected before he could. “Yeah, Hikarin’s like, suuuuper smart! He’s, like, basically a prince too!” This surprised Throné even more, who turned her attention back to the apparent prince. Hikari, however, seemed to have gone red with embarrassment. “Erm… I appreciate the flattery, but please don’t go around telling people that, Ochette. Besides, royalty hardly means anything anymore.” 

He then caught notice of Throné’s bewilderment, and gave her a bashful smile. “My family is distantly related to the old ruling line of Ku. We don’t live in a palace or anything of the sort.” Throné slowly nodded as she got the picture, though the answer ended up raising more questions in her head. “Ku? That’s in Hinoeuma, right?” Hikari nodded, now with a much more genuine smile on his face. “Yes, that’s where I grew up. My father is a foreign ambassador, so my family and I have been here in the Leaflands for some time.”

“Interesting. I’ve never been, but I really love the traditional fashion from there.” This caused Hikari to perk up a little. “I’m glad to hear that. If you’d ever like to take a closer look at the designs, I’ve got a few of my kimonos that I’d be happy to let you take a look at. Here’s my contact information, if your interested.” Hikari quickly wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper and passed it over to Throné, who visibly lit up at the offer, getting rather excited in advance. “Oh, if you’re okay with it, that would be great! I promise I’ll treat them like gold!”

Throughout this conversation, Ochette had been surprisingly rather content just staying quiet; Instead, she was gleefully smiling as she was witnessing what she would describe as ‘that magical moment where two of your separate friends become friends with each other’. This was, until, she looked at the time, and glanced over at Throné. “Hey, uh, Néné? Didn’t you have something to do, like… nowish?”

Throné glanced at the time casually, almost having forgotten her tight schedule, and immediately realized how much time had passed without her realizing. “Oh Aeber, I completely forgot! I’m so sorry, I need to run!” Ochette and Hikari didn’t seem bothered by her suddenly needing to leave though, and Hikari reached into his bag. “Before you leave, Throné, I’d like to ask if you’d be interested in attending a kendo tournament I’m in next Ice. I had three tickets that I was going to give to Ochette and two other friends, but the other two have a tutoring session that day, so they can’t make it.” Ochette grinned widely, and looked at Throné with pleading puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, you should come! You wouldn’t want lil’ old me to be sitting in the stands aaaaall alone, would ya? They don’t let animals in, either, so you’re my last hope!”

Throné rolled her eyes, and took a ticket from Hikari’s hands. “You’re lucky I’m not busy that day, Ochette.” She glanced down at the tickets, and looked back at Hikari. “Hey, if you didn’t have anyone in mind for that second ticket, do you think maybe I could give it to my roommate? She writes for the school paper, so I’m sure she’d be interested in writing about it.” Hikari nodded, and offered the other ticket to her. “Of course. Sounds like it could make for good publicity for the kendo club.” Throné smiled gratefully, and put the tickets in her pocket as she finished gathering all her things. “Alright, thanks again! It was great meeting you, Hikari! I’ll see you around, Ochette!” She then sped off, hoping she could reach Professor Bristarni’s office before it filled up too much. 

“…Hm. Splint looks sturdy enough. You do this yourself?”

After Garud and Osvald retreated to the former’s office, with Osvald ensuring Dinah was well hidden enough to avoid attracting unnecessary attention, Garud inspected the bird’s injury, handling her quite carefully. Osvald, meanwhile, stood back, not wanting to crowd and overwhelm the little creature as he answered Garud’s questions. “Not quite… My neighbor Castti did most of the work putting it together.”

Garud nodded, setting the injured leg down. “Dr. Florenz. Good call.” Osvald took a step forward to get a closer look, resting a hand on his chin. “You said you could give advice on caring for it? I’ve… never done this before.” Garud stayed silent for a few moments, contemplating his next words. “…Newspaper would help for the ground.”

The two continued to discuss Garud’s suggestions for Dinah, when a knock was heard at the door. Before Garud or Osvald could say anything, though, the door was opened up, and Throné walked in. “Excuse me, Dr. Bristarni? I’m here to ask a few… questions…” Her voice began to trail off as she saw Osvald in the office as well. The room was silent for an agonizing few seconds, before Garud of all people broke the tension by straightening his voice. “Miss Anguis. I can help you in a minute.” Throné awkwardly nodded, and slowly took a seat on one of the chairs near the door.

Garud looked back at Osvald, and placed a small piece of soft-looking fabric into his hands. “Sorry, office hours are starting. Haven’t got any of the other materials on me, but this fabric’ll do for comfort.” Osvald picked up Dinah’s box, giving her a little scratch on the head. “My thanks. Have a good rest of the day, Garud.” The textiles professor went to sit behind his desk, and nodded to him. “Mm. ‘Sfine. Come back if you need any more help.” Osvald nodded back, and began to leave the room, giving a quick greeting to Throné as he went for the door. “Apologies for holding up your time.”

Before he left the room, however, Throné spoke up, standing from her chair as she did. “Um, one second, Professor Vanstein.” Though she planned to keep interaction with Osvald to a minimum to avoid developing any bias, due to the nature of her work with Temenos, she felt it would be rather rude to say absolutely nothing after running out of his class less than an hour prior, and she gulped before continuing. “I just wanted to, uh… apologize for this morning. I had a really packed morning today, and I needed to be somewhere straight after your class, so…” Osvald listened in silence for a moment, before the edge of his mouth quirked up a bit, and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Miss Anguis. I understand that sometimes we’re just in a rush. Besides, I saw you already submitted the work for this week, so it’s not as though you needed the reminder.” Throné let out a sigh of relief, but then glanced down at Osvald’s dove, with Osvald following her gaze. “…Perhaps in exchange, you could keep Dinah secret?” Throné chuckled a bit, and nodded, visibly losing the tension she was feeling from before. “Ah, it’s fine. Believe it or not, that’s not the strangest bird I’ve seen up close today.”

Osvald laughed back, and gave her a smile. “I see, I see. Well, I’ll see you next class, if you come in.” Throné smiled back, and waved him goodbye as the calculus professor walked out of the room, looking down at Dinah inside the box. Once the door shut behind him, Garud straightened his voice. “Sorry for the delay. You had questions?” Throné looked back at him, and walked up to his desk, taking a seat across from him. “Erm, yes, I did.” Garud didn’t say anything in response, simply grunting affirmatively and gesturing at her to go on, with Throné beginning her series of questions for the quiet man.

Chapter Text

With the kendo tickets in hand, Throné headed off to work, hoping to speak with Temenos about asking off for that day. The door to the office was unlocked with her key and swung open, the small bell chiming. Roi hopped up onto the half-wall by her desk to greet her, and she hesitantly stroked the cat’s fur. Her greeting of the cat and her open mouth to call out to the detective was stopped when she noticed an unfamiliar man seated in one of the waiting chairs by Temenos’ office. The two of them made eye contact, her dark brown eyes meeting direct gaze with his quiet, cold aquamarine ones. His silvery hair was slightly unkempt, with mid-back length wavy thick strands falling to the wayside, a plain white tee with navy blue jean capris adorning his relatively pale-skinned body. His face was covered by scruffy gray facial hair.

“Can I help you?” She hesitantly asked, “The office isn’t open– The door’s locked anyways, how did you get in?”

“Your boss let me in.” He gruffly replied, crossing his arms and legs. “I assume he didn’t tell you that I was going to be here?”

“I- No- I don’t even know who you are !” She shook her head, letting out a frustrated grumble. “He’s done something like this already before.”

“I’m not surprised, I was getting that sort of energy from him.” The bell rang on the door again, and Temenos stepped through with a pot of coffee and some creamer. 

“Ah, Throné. I see you’ve met my accomplice.”

The other man’s face almost immediately shifted from the cold demeanor to flaring with annoyance. “Oh for the god’s sake, I agree with your boyfriend, quit calling me that-”

“Picking sides there, mister Cress? I’m hurt, truly.” Despite his words, he had the typical coy smile on his lips as he set the coffee and creamer on the counter near the man, pouring mugs for both of them. “Anyways, this is Cress. He’s a detective from Orsterra who’s lending a hand in the Vanstein case. Cress,” He motions to Throné. “This is Throné. She’s an intern who’s assisting me in the case as well.”

He gives her a respectful nod, taking the offered mug from Temenos. “Small agency.”

“Ah, yes. It’s… Still getting off the ground, heh…” The detective rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the side as he sipped his coffee. “I’ve handled quite a few clients, however.”

“But this Vanstein case is the biggest one you have, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Temenos went back towards the door, locking it. “Now that you’re both here, I’ll summarize the large details of said case for you both.”

“Before that detective,” Throné interrupted, looking down at the ticket in her hand. “A friend of mine invited me to a kendo tournament she got tickets to next week, and I wanted to check it out.”

“It’s a little bit short notice, but I can let it go.” A more genuine smile came across Temenos’ face as he watched her. “I can handle the office by myself for a day.”

Hesitation hovered over her expression as she read his, but a small smile curled up on her face as well. Temenos may have been a tricky, sly man, but he was still very understanding and kind when the situation called for it. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. Your school and social life is far more important to me than work.” He waved his hand nonchalantly and then motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs. “Now that’s settled, take a seat. I’ll explain the case.”

Throné pulled the chair up across from Cress, sitting back with her legs crossed. She knew exactly what the details of the case were, she’s read the case files multiple times, but a refresher is always nice.

“I’ll pass the case files to you afterward, but this’ll be a good background. Osvald V. Vanstein was a professor at the Montwise Academy of Science and Mathematics, who worked remotely from his home in Conning Creek over in the Harborlands. He had a wife and daughter; Rita and Elena Vanstein. Five years ago, he was off at a conference overseas, and on his way back, a fire happened near his home, engulfing it. He arrived approximately half an hour after the fire started, and went into the burning home to try to get his family out of the fire. The police and fire department soon arrived, and yet after testimony and treating his wounds, and without solid evidence against him, convicted him of two counts of first degree murder and sent him off to spend the rest of his days on Frigit Isle.”

“Frigit Isle…” Cress leaned forward, hand on his chin, elbow to his knee. “Isn’t that the high security prison that’s under investigation?”

Temenos turned to Cress, intrigue lighting in his eyes. “An investigation? I haven’t heard of this.”

“I thought you kept up with the news, Detective Mistral.” Cress smirked coyly, leaning back as he reached for his bag, passing the other white-haired man an Orsterran newspaper.

“‘Recent investigation into Vanstein Case Raises Questions of Inmate Mistreatment, Guards Behavior Under Scrutiny’. …You Orsterrans make your newspaper titles mouthfuls, don’t you?”

“Hey, we just like to make our headlines detailed.”

“It’s amazing that the case has gotten intercontinental fame…” Temenos murmured as he skimmed through the article.

“Well, along with the rehabilitation programs we have in Orsterra, convicted felons who are deemed too dangerous for rehabilitation are often sent to Frigit, so the entire scandal is important for us.” Cress closed his eyes. “Of course, I’m no longer involved in the departments there, not since the Blue Collars case, so I don’t know what their thoughts are, nor would I even be able to share them, but I know Frigit was important.”

“I see, I see… I believe I may have had a part in spurring on that investigation.” The detective pushed the paper away, pleased with the new news he now knew. “Now, to continue my description. I was able to prove that the prosecution had made assumptions and treated Mister Vanstein improperly.” He glowered, a storm rising across his eyes. “You see, Mister Vanstein is diagnosed as semi-verbal, and occasionally goes through extended periods where he doesn’t speak, and cannot speak. The court ignored his need for aids to communicate during his trial, and so he was incapable of defending himself. I also communicated with the points of contact I could find, and through witness testimony was able to prove that he couldn’t have caused the fire.”

“And he’s now on parole.” Throné commented, glancing off to the side as she dwelled on the information. “And the prosecution is still fighting to put him back behind bars?”

“Correct on both counts.” He nodded, watching as Cress was also contemplating the information. “Throné has been helping me read through the files and pick out details I may have missed. Those papers all look the same eventually, so having a second pair of eyes is incredibly helpful.”

“And what was my job in all of this?”

“There’s some locations around both Conning Creek and Montwise I need you to investigate for me. I can’t leave the city because of Mister Vanstein’s parole, so having a mobile pair of eyes would be imperative.”

“Makes sense to me.” The older man sat up straighter, moving his neck side-to-side as the joints faintly cracked. “And what’s in it for me?”

“Isn’t the job well-done enough?” Temenos’ smile grew as Cress’ aura of annoyance increased in the same caliber. “I jest, I jest, but payments will be made for-” The door opened once more, and a gray and white husky ran in, much to the disdain of a shorter, brown-haired man with olive colored eyes holding a black cat in a harness, and Crick.

“Wain, don’t make a mess! Agh, you troublemaker…” The brown-haired man griped, adjusting his grip on the cat, hurrying his way into the main area of the office space, where Wain was trying to lick Cress’ face, though he was nudging the dog away with a faint grumble. “Go away, we’re in the middle of a discussion, ya mutt.”

The dog let out a mildly annoyed yowl, turning his attention to Throné, trotting over to her. The sound of the conversation around her dulled as she focused on the pup, who started licking her hand.

“So this is your dog?” Throné looked up and over to Cress, and he nodded.

“He’s getting to be an old man now, but he is.” The husky flopped down on the ground, tail swishing vigorously as the assistant leaned forward to stroke the dog’s belly. 

“Throné, do you know if Professor Vanstein is still at work currently?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, crossing her arms. “Considering the time I’d assume so, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Alright, well, we can save the conversations for tomorrow.” Throné was further introduced to the two visitors and Crick. The man with the older cat in his arms was Rodion, Cress’ partner. While she preferred the company of dogs like Wain, Thomas, the man’s cat was too much of a sweetheart to resist.

It was the next afternoon, and the door to Osvald’s apartment was pushed open, spilling light into the square room.

“Where do you want the aviary to go?” Castti asked as she awkwardly danced the large folded aviary around the furniture in the dining and living rooms, turning to Osvald.

The professor pointed to the right corner of the living room beside the window, and the nurse started to set it up there. She heard a clicking noise and looked up to see Osvald looking at her. He set two bags of supplies down and started to sign. 

<<”Set up?”>>

“Oh, you want to set it up?” She stopped as he nodded, going over to the table to unpack the bags as he went to set up. Dinah cooed loudly from the table as well, and Castti stroked the dove’s head. “She really seems to like you. You said that you spoke with Mister Bristarni about caring for her?”

Osvald nodded, motioning for her to wait as he climbed up onto his feet again, grabbing his speech synthesizer. He clicked away, faintly humming as he did so. “He said that it’s likely that Dinah came from a wedding ceremony over by Cropdale where domestic doves are released. People seem to either abandon them afterward, or forget about them.”

“That’s horrible…” Castti stroked Dinah again. “So he thinks she flew all the way from there?”

“Yes. He used to rehabilitate doves, so he knew all about their care. He’s the one who gave me that fabric Dinah loves so much.”

They kept conversing between each other as Osvald finished setting the aviary up.

“Garud said to wait to put her in there until she can walk on her own, otherwise she won’t move around too well. So she’ll just be sticking around out here until then.”

She smiled and nodded, looking over at the kitchen, getting distracted by her own thoughts. “Say… Have you thought about trying to bake a little bit in your free time?”

The tilt of his head was enough of an answer to her and her smile grew. “I’ll be right back.”

She slipped out of the front door, going up the staircase back to her own apartment, shuffling around in her kitchen for supplies. Flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, butter, various toppings like fruits and chocolate chips…

As she pulled her muffin tin from the small cabinet by the stovetop, she turned to place it in the cloth tote, noticing someone standing by the table. She was dressed in blue, with brown hair tied up in a loose upright ponytail, watching Castti with an expression of frustration and disappointment.

“...Malaya.” Castti’s shoulders almost immediately slumped in frustration as she avoided eye contact with the other woman. “Why are you here?”

“For the same reason I was here last time.” She responded as she moved closer. 

“You don’t need to keep coming back.” Castti’s expression darkened as she took a seat on the ground. “You’re just making it worse…”

“Castti.” Mayala rested her hand against the table, looking down at the doctor. “Why are you still holding onto everything?”

“You know why. I was the one responsible for Eir’s Medics. I was the one responsible for how everything ran there.”

Malaya let out a forced sigh. “It’s not your fault. Not yours, not mine, not Trousseau’s, not Andy, Randy, or Elma’s faults. Do you remember what the courts discovered? It was sabotage, Castti.”

“But I-”

“Castti, have you even thought about reaching out to anyone? See how we’re all doing?” 

Castti looked away, at this point just trying to ignore Malaya’s presence. It was just part of her imagination, it always was…

“You’re not doing yourself any favors by not reaching out. You’re just letting your fears fester. I-”

She was thrown from the hallucination by a knock on her door. She looked back to where Malaya once was, and there was no one there. There was another knock moments later, and she called out, “C-coming!” She messily wiped the tears from her eyes, scrambling to her feet to open the door to see Osvald staring down at her in concern. “Is everything alright?”

He pointed to the watch on his wrist and then to her stovetop, which showed half an hour passed since she first came up here.

“It’s been that long? I’m sorry, I lost track of-” Her explanation froze up as she felt Osvald delicately place his hand against her chin, and she turned back to face him, one of his thumbs lightly brushed against her tear stained cheeks. She pulled away, rubbing the tears away again. In her panic to hide the signs of her struggles, she barely noticed Osvald signing to her. 

<<”Are you alright?”>>

“I’m okay, I just-” She forced a sigh, her chest felt raw and hollow. She just had to lie through her teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have everything I wanted to get from up here, can you bring that tote down to your apartment?”

Osvald directed his attention to the box on the table and nodded, lifting it up. His eyes caught on a photo frame laying haphazardly on the otherwise organized desk of a younger Castti surrounded by other doctors and nurses in a group photo. He didn’t get a good chance to study the photo better as he quickly moved to follow Castti out of the apartment, carefully ambling down the steps, silently hoping that he wouldn't slip with one move. 

They returned to his apartment, and he started to sort through all of the supplies Castti had him bring down, and he tilted his head as he pulled some walnuts out.

“Oh, I just brought a bunch of stuff for making muffins.” Castti told him, “Pick what you’d like!”

So many things, so many choices… Osvald picked up every item, looking them over for imperfections, and blemishes. Peaches, nectarines, strawberries, cherries… Bananas… 

Ah, banana. Osvald inspected the fruit. Perfectly overripe. He hated the texture, the mushy feeling was barely palatable on his tongue, much like oatmeal or applesauce or any other less than crispy food felt. However, the smell was very mild, and the taste was the same. He set it off to the side. He turned to Castti, raising an eyebrow.

“Ooh, banana bread? I suggest walnuts to pair with. They’re a nice contrast in texture.”

He accepted the suggestion, grabbing the flour and other baking supplies, following and working alongside Castti, throwing the smashed bananas and crushed walnuts into the mix at the end. He scooped the muffins into the different tins with cupcake liners, pushing them into the oven once it was heated up. He sat by the oven, leaning forward to watch it as it baked.

He could hear Castti chuckling as she watched him. “If you just keep staring at it, it’s going to take longer to bake.” He could see her smiling at him as he turned his attention to her. He knew that she was just teasing him but… He wanted to see the muffins puff up and turn golden brown… Oh! He raised a hand up, motioning for her to wait as he went back to his bedroom, picking up his camera and dragging a chair over in front of the oven, setting the camera up for a timelapse.

He and Castti continued to converse as the muffins finished up, and as the timer went off, he quickly rose to his feet to take them out and let them cool, resisting the temptation to take a bite out of one of the piping hot treats. As they cooled, Osvald grabbed his camera and showed Castti the timelapse, watching as the domes rose and flattened out in the video.

“Huh, I’ve never actually seen how they cook up.” She commented as she watched over the professor’s shoulder. She then went over to the tray, picking out two muffins for her and Osvald, setting one in his hand. “Come on, we should try them before they get cold.”

Osvald accepted the muffin and started to unwrap it to take a bite, but he heard the sound of Dinah’s wings whistling and she landed on his wrist to start pecking at the snack. He attempted to shoo her off, but paused as he could hear the doorknob to his apartment twisting. He turned his attention to it as he saw the door open to reveal Temenos entering in.

“I hope you don’t mind us coming in right now, Osvald.” Osvald could also see a taller man with silver hair entering in behind him. “Myself and my accomplice-”

“I said stop calling us that-” The man protested

“-Cress here have a few questions for you.”

Instead of nodding or shaking his head to tell them his feelings about his living space being invaded, he returned his attention to Dinah, who’d started devouring his muffin on his hand. He didn’t mind, happy that the bird was feeling well enough to fly over to him and stand up while eating. He used his free hand to pick up two more muffins and approach the two of them, holding them out.

“Oh- Is… That for us?”

Temenos’ inquiry was met with a nod, and he and Cress politely accepted the muffins. Cress started to unwrap his muffin, taking a bite. There was an awkward silence, especially with Castti sitting in the kitchen, leaning over to see past Osvald.

“Ah, Castti. Why are you here?”

“I was spending the afternoon with Osvald. What about you?” She replied as she stood up, going beside the professor with her arms crossed.

“Oh, he’s a… Friend of mine, I came to visit.”

Osvald waved a hand to get their attention, moving over to his synthesizer, typing out a statement.

“Miss Florenz knows about my circumstances. She knows that you’re investigating my case. However, I don’t think I know this person with you.”

Cress blinked, looking between Osvald and the synthesizer, and the professor motioned to his throat. It’s easier than going on the repetitive explanation of the fact that he sometimes is unable to speak.

“Ah, yes. This is Cress, he’s a private investigator from Orsterra who’s helping me with your case. Oh- Castti, can you leave for a bit? I’m afraid this information isn’t for you.”

“I’d like for her to stay. If, well, she would like to.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Osvald.” Temenos gave the man a sympathetic smile. “Castti isn’t involved in this case, so she isn’t privy to information about it other than what you’re open to tell her.”

Osvald narrowed his eyes in annoyance, and silently shrugged, looking back over at Castti.

“Just come knock on my door when you’re finished, if you want. Also, you can keep my muffin tin if you want, I have plenty.”

She quickly left, and Osvald turned his attention to the two detectives in his apartment, setting Dinah down on the table to continue eating the muffin.

“Alright,” Cress took a seat in one of the chairs in the living room, and Temenos did the same, motioning for Osvald to follow. “I have questions for you about your home, mister Vanstein.”

“What types of questions? For what reasons?”

“Well, I want to know the layout of the place. What I should expect when I go to investigate.”

Osvald drummed his hand against his knee, thinking carefully about what he could remember, but he swiftly perked up, raising a finger and motioning once more for the two of them to wait as he stood up, going off to his bedroom.

“Is he always like that?” Cress inquired, and Temenos shook his head. 

“No, it seems we just had unfortunate timing coming over today.” Temenos shook his head. “You do recall what I told you yesterday, yes?”

“Yeah, I do. I just… I suppose this makes conversation a little more difficult.”

Osvald quickly returned with a roll of paper in hand. He handed it off to Cress, who unrolled it. There was a long pause, silence, and then… “These are the blueprints to your house, aren't they?”

The professor nodded.

“Why do you still have them?”

“If we ever needed repairs on the house I could reference the blueprints to remember how it was built and with what materials and paints.”

“Well, that makes this a lot easier. Do you mind if I ask questions?”

“Of course not.”

Cress continued to scan through the house schema, not seeing anything weird with the house’s own dimensions other than the sizes of doorways and the bathrooms, but that was obviously due to them being custom-made. However, once he reached the outdoor lab, he paused, turning his attention between the blueprints and the police report. In the police report there was only one room shown, but the blueprint indicates that there were at least three rooms to the lab. He then set the papers down on the table.

“What are these?” He inquired, pointing out the rooms as Osvald leaned over.

“Those are the different rooms to the lab.”

“Can you describe them to me?”

Osvald quickly described the different rooms. One was the flammable chemicals room where all volatile components were stored behind a fireproof door. The second room was a general work room, with a bench, biosafety cabinet, and fume hood. That was where Osvald conducted his experiments. And lastly, the third room was a fireproof storage room where Osvald stored his research and other important items for his work.

“Huh. The police report only mentions a single room, and I assume that’s the third storage room.”

Osvald picked up the report, squinting at it before shaking his head.

“There’s three rooms, as I said.”

“I believe you, I believe you.” Cress motioned for the professor to settle down. “I think this is enough information for me to get started. Do you have anything else you can tell me about the house or lab?”

Osvald thought to himself, tapping his fingers on his leg again, nodding.

“I have an unrelated question. Is it true that Orsterra has a plethora of technological careers and experience?”

“Yeah, we do. There used to be a lot of cybercrime over there. Though more opportunities has helped reduce that. Why do you ask?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to recover deleted files from a device, would you?”

Cress chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unfortunately computer stuff itself is a bit foreign to me. I know a thing or two about hardware integration, but that’s it.”

Osvald’s expression lowered as he sighed.

“Why do you ask?”

“The digital copies of my research was lost from my network, and I was hoping to recover it.”

“Yeah unfortunately I don't know about how possible it is. But…” He pulled out a notecard from his pocket, scribbling something down. “I know someone who I swear is able to do just about anything with computers, he might be able to help you.”

The paper handed to Osvald had a phone number and a name on it that was “Therion Greengrass”. That was an interesting name, he noted, he wondered if the man lived in a grasslands.

“Well, if there isn't anything else you can tell me right now, I’ll give you some space.” Cress handed him another notecard with his own number on it. “Call me if you can talk and remember anything else.”

Osvald nodded, signing a thank you as he and Temenos got up to leave.

The professor leaned back in his seat, hearing the whistle of Dinah’s wings as she flew over to him and he couldn’t help but smile as he stroked her back, the bird cooing loudly.

As the sun set, he connected his phone to his laptop through the headphone jack so he could use his synthesizer to call that one number.

“All that needs to be done to secure the server is literally just for you to change the admin password. No, I didn’t need to do any ‘hacking magic’ to fix it, you legitimately just need to change the passwords and store the new ones somewhere else. No, I’m not doing anything else for you. I’m closing the ticket, have a good night.”

A soft beep came from the smartphone as a white-haired man threw his head back in the hanging cloth chair in the room, letting out a loud groan as his hands were thrown up to his face, streaking down his cheeks, tugging his lower eyelids from his eyes. “How in the hells did a guy who can’t tell the difference between an ethernet cable and an HDMI cable get to be the CEO of a security company?”

The gripes were interrupted by a low meow to his left, and he turned the hanging seat to see a cream-colored cat sitting there, waiting. “Sorry Milo, ‘guess I gotta let you up huh?”

He picked the cat up, cradling her in his arms. “You’re getting to be an old lady now too, hm?”

The feline loudly purred in response, chin being caressed as he leaned back, however the sweet moment was stopped short by his phone ringing once more.

“Hello?”

“I do hope the weather’s been treating you well, Therion.”

A small smile cracked on Therion’s face as he heard the voice, and he let the cat rest on his chest. “You’re still kicking, Heath?”

“Well, I’d barely say that I’m close to kicking the bucket.” He could hear a faint laugh on the other side, but it was laced with grimness, something Therion was far too perceptive in hearing. “Unfortunately, I’m not here with the most pleasant of news.”

“What… What’s the news?”

“As you know, we send off high-profile criminals to a prison outside our own continent for their sentences, and…”

“Darius was sent to one.” He bitterly replied, feeling the sparks of bile creeping up in his throat just at the mention of the name.

“Indeed. Unfortunately, the prison many of our prisoners, including he, were sent to, is under investigation for gross misconduct, and we need to remove our prisoners from there for their safety, and our own.”

Therion stared ahead for what felt like minutes, the world falling into a hazy buzz, muted mutterings, nothingness.

He’ll be back here? What if he finds contacts again? What if he sends people after him? What if, what if–

His watch loudly buzzed, alerting him to his spiraling condition and almost instantaneously re-grounding him.

“Therion?”

“I’m alright.” He finally managed out, biting back the sourness that threatened to crawl up his throat. “The news was just… Upsetting.”

“I understand.” Heathcote replied, a faint sigh with worry deeply entrenched in it escaping his lips. “I value your health and safety far too much to make any decisions without your awareness, however this situation crept up onto us as well. We were unaware of the conditions in that prison, and are obligated to find other accommodations for them. Until then, I know you won’t want to remain in the limits of the continent for that time.”

“I’d… Prefer not to be.” Therion started to almost aggressively stroke Milo’s back until the cat meowed at him, and he faintly apologized, slowing down. 

“I spoke with Lady Cordelia, and we’re looking into covering expenses for you and your husband to stay outside the continent for however long it takes for us to find other incarceration conditions for your antagonist to stay in. I’ve already spoken with the hospital he works at, and they are aware of his extended leave, if you choose to take this offer.”

“I’ll… Call you back.”

He hung up the call, nearly dropping his phone to the floor as he himself sank to the floor, staring at the blank screen of his computer, at his own face. He didn’t feel this tired beforehand, but now he just wanted to curl up on his bed and hide from the world.

In fact, he’d do just that.

He pulled himself back to his feet just to log out of his computer, hugging Milo close as he climbed under the covers, pulling them over his head. The back of his skull felt as though it were pounding, his vision swimming…

He hadn’t had an episode in a long time, he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to get out of bed to grab his medication. He’d just have to suffer through it.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long, as Milo slipped out between his arms, running out of the bedroom into the entryway as the door opened up.

“Theri?” A voice called out, footsteps getting closer to the bedroom, and he heard a bag hit the ground. “Shit- I’ll get yer meds.” The footsteps moved away from the bed, the soft click of the bathroom light switch with a faint buzz, and the medicine cabinet creaking open.

A pill bottle rattled and the other individual came out of the bathroom, carefully removing the covers off Therion, as he came eye to eye with his partner, still dressed in his hospital scrubs. 

“Here, take them.” He was passed two small tablets and a glass of water, which he quickly accepted, quickly and earnestly taking them down before leaning into the other man, who wrapped his arms around him, carefully threading his fingers through Therion’s hair.

“You came at a good time, Alf,” Therion faintly murmured, “Can… You grab me my blindfold?”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course.” Alfyn, who smelled just like a hospital, like rubbing alcohol and sterilization with the faint twinge of metal, leaned over his partner to grab the plaid purple cloth by the head of their bed, carefully pulling it over his head to protect his eyes from the photosensitivity he was feeling. He was cradled in his partner’s arms, and they swayed on the bed, with Alfyn absent-mindedly humming to himself as Therion steadied his breathing and the pain in his skull slowly faded out.

“Ya feelin’ any better?”

“Physically? Yeah, I’m better, but emotionally? I’m a wreck.”

Alfyn tucked Therion in closer to his chest, resting his head against the other man’s, rocking slightly. “I got a call from Heath, I assume ya did too?”

“Mmhm, got off the phone with him a little bit ago.” Therion nuzzled in as Alfyn laid back. “I’m scared…”

“I know, I know…” Alfyn whispered to Therion, helping him slowly settle down again as his medication finally kicked in.

“I don’t want to stay here if he’s going to come back here.” Therion finally managed out. The humming continued for a few more minutes, and Alfyn’s head tilted over to look at his partner. 

“I don’t, either. D’ya got a place in mind to go?”

“No, not really…” Therion felt Alfyn shift as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, searching through transportation. “Hm… We need to find a place that’ll take pets, but Solistia is close enough by to go back home whenever-” His statement was interrupted by his phone ringing. “One sec.” He answered it, raising an eyebrow. “Hello?”

There was a pause and he raised an eyebrow, looking over at his partner, blinking in confusion. He then put the call on speaker.

“-Hello? Is there anyone there?”

The voice sounded somewhat distant and monotonous in nature. It felt both human and suspiciously inhuman.

“Hello? Can I ask who this is and why you’re calling?” Therion asked as he leaned forward on the bed.

They could hear what appeared to be the sound of clicking on the other side, and eventually the other side continued. 

“Oh, I apologize. A man named Cress provided me with your number for assistance. I’m sorry for the sound of my voice. My name is Osvald V Vanstein, and I currently cannot talk and am using a device to assist.”

Therion’s eyes widened. “Oh, Cress? Yes, I know him. I heard he’s outside the continent right now.” He rubbed his face with a sigh, “What can I help you with?”

“I was hoping for your assistance in recovering files on my computer that were deleted a few years ago.”

“A few years ago?” Therion crossed his arms as he thought about the likelihood of the files still existing. “Is your device attached to a network or anything? Or are we just talking about files on your computer?”

There was a long pause with soft clicks, and the voice soon returned.

“It’s attached to a network, where my laptop and a desktop back on campus share files. I suspect that someone deleted my files on the desktop, and they’re very important to me.”

“Okay… Okay, um… This isn’t something I can do remotely. Where are you at?”

“Wellgrove, in Solistia.”

“Well, I’m in Orsterra at the moment, but…” He looked over at Alfyn. “I’m planning to come to Solistia soon, would you be able to wait for me to come over?”

Silence, and more clicking. “If you’re certain about coming across from your home, I can wait.”

“Alright, well, I can contact you once I get into the area.” Therion then hung up, turning back to Alfyn. “I think we’ll be going to Solistia, then.”

“Got it, I’ll get some stuff packed up.” Alfyn gave Therion another kiss on the head before getting up to start packing up. Therion flopped back on the bed, stroking Milo’s head as she laid on his chest.

“Looks like we’re going to get a change of scenery now, hm, Milo?” He sighed as he threw his head back. “I wish we weren’t.”

Chapter Text

Osvald woke up in alarm at what appeared to be a loud laugh, sitting up quickly and snatching a stapler off the desk by his bed. He scanned around as he heard further trilling down on his lap.

Dinah was hobbling and attempting to strut around on his legs, pecking at the blanket and sidestepping around and bowing at him. He stared down at the dove, carefully picking her up as she started flapping her wings at him.

He snuck his way out of the house and up to Castti’s apartment, knocking on the door sheepishly. He worried that Dinah was sick, as she’d never done this before in the past few weeks he had her. His dwelling was interrupted by the door opening.

“Oh, Osvald.” Castti greeted him, rubbing an eye. “Why are you here at this hour?”

“Dinah’s been doing some strange things this morning. She made a sound like-” A loud laughing coo came from the dove again as Osvald nearly jumped out of his skin. “-Like that.”

“Bring her inside, I’ll check.” She let him in again, and he set her on the table as the dove strutted and hobbled, circling to face Osvald and bowing and cooing over and over.

“Oh, that’s what she’s doing.” Castti turned to Osvald with a smile on her face. “They just do that when they’re happy. She was probably just saying good morning to you.”

“Oh.” He stared at the bird as he offered a hand to her, picking her back up. “I thought she was sick.”

Castti stared long and hard at the dove, considering her words carefully, mouth hanging open. “Actually, I think Dinah may be a he.”

“Excuse me?”

“Those vocalizations…” Castti opened her phone and started searching things up, playing a video that made the same noises. “That’s a male one. Also he’s more pink, the females are tan, and see this little iridescent patch here?” She pointed down on the neck, “It’s larger on males.”

“Oh.” Osvald stroked Dinah’s head. “...I don’t want to have to come up with a new name for him.”

“You don’t need to. I don’t think Dinah would be upset with his name.” She watched as he kept petting the dove. “Oh! One second, I actually wanted to give you something.” She hurried off into her bedroom, coming back out with a small stuffed animal. It was a green dragon-like creature with vines draping off its body.

“Is that… A tyrannodrake?” He blinked curiously.

“Yeah, I saw it while I was out shopping, and was reminded of your research. So… I got it for you.”

Osvald stared down at the small stuffed animal, its body long enough to go from the center of his finger and down to the middle of his forearm. He accepted it with his free hand, a wry smile appearing on his face. “Thanks. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t wake me up Osvald, I promise.” She smiled as she looked at him, and he quietly made his way out of her apartment, both dove and plush in hand.

As he made his way down back to his place he glanced over at the stovetop, doing a double-take as he saw the time. It’s way past when he’d usually be on campus by, so he had to scramble to grab his supplies, stuffing the tyrannodrake into his bag. He attempted to place Dinah in his cage, but the dove wouldn’t get off of his hand, and his first few attempts were futile, until he finally managed to shake the bird off, and threw his bag on his shoulder as he left.

He felt something on his head but quickly ignored it, focused on rushing his way to campus and hopefully stealing a coffee from the campus shop too…

Wonderful, just wonderful.

Throné wasn’t moving at a full sprint, but a brisk jog as she rushed to the coffee shop on campus, in the heart of the twists and turns of buildings. She drew in deep breaths as she checked her watch, noting that class would’ve already started. Her teeth grit as she slipped in the remarkably short line to order her own drink. As she paid and waited off to the side, she looked down at her phone, scrolling through a few messages from Ochette as she heard the barista call out a name.

“Professor Vanstein!”

She nearly dropped her phone at that as she looked up to the towering man who carefully moved past her. How did she miss him? He’s a literal tree of a man, it’s not like he was completely invisible. As she watched him collect his paper cup, his eyes met hers, and hers also raised up to the sight atop his head. Dinah, happily squatting on his head, cooing softly. He walked over to her.

“You’re going to be late to class, Miss Anguis.” He commented and she merely spluttered as she stared.

“You’re going to be late, too-”

“Mmhm. I won’t mark you late.”

She scoffed quietly as she waited for her drink, and as she exited she noticed that the professor was keeping pace with her. 

“So what’s with the new headpiece?” She asked curiously as he sighed into his cup. “She was being a little shit?”

“ He was being a little shit, but yes. He didn’t want to go back into his aviary while I was in a rush, and decided to perch on my head instead. I’m just going to deal with the reprimands I’ll get for this later.” He reached up to his head as the dove started to preen his finger. “I had a few questions for Garud about dove behaviors anyways.”

The quiet of the pace, which had slowed to be a bit more steady than rushed, was interrupted with a notification coming up, one of Mahina’s hoots. At least it was a text from Ochette and not Temenos… She certainly couldn’t afford to have him knowing about her involvement in his case, even if in that sort of scenario she’d have the metaphorical upper hand. Regardless of the mental note she made, simply to mute her chat with Temenos and hide it during school hours, just to be safe, she opened the message to see Mahina staring into the camera.

“That’s… A malamowl, isn’t it?” She looked up to see him curiously glancing in her direction. “I apologize, I wasn’t trying to inspect your private matters, I noticed out of the corner of my eye.”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it anyways. Here,” She offered her phone to him, and he hesitantly retrieved it from her grasp, peering carefully at the photo. “That’s Mahina. She’s a friend’s… Er… Not pet but,”

“She’s a beastling, yes? Is she one of the culinary students?”

Throné blinked. “Yes, she is.”

“Ah, she was the rather social girl with the lajackal as well. There was a cookout fundraiser her club was running last week, I believe.”

Oh, right. The entire outdoors part of campus smelled like grilled meats and vegetables for a few hours that afternoon, and it took all of Throné’s willpower to just go over once her classes were over as opposed to as soon as she was outside. The scent was enchanting and tempting, and the taste once she finally got the chance to order something was delectable.

“I stopped over at it in the evening. The skewers were really, really good.” She couldn’t help but smile as she saw Osvald handing her phone back to her. 

“She flagged me down as they were packing up, asking if I was hungry. I… Was, but I didn’t have cash on me.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “She used what they had left to cook me a rather hefty meal. I had leftovers for a couple of days thanks to it. She even offered me the recipes! I…” His lips took on the uncertain waver of an awkward smile that he was trying to hide, “I obviously took the offer, but it baffles me.”

“What, that she gave you the recipes?”

“That and the food, and…” He couldn’t help but think about how that evening had gone. When she motioned for him to come up as some other students were hanging around, they gave him a wide berth. If it was for his size and intimidating stature or his identity, he didn’t know, but either outcome was uncomfortable for him. He shook his head. “...It’s nothing. We’re here.” He reached for the door to the classroom, shoving it open.

“I apologize for being late, it was a tough morning.” Osvald spoke up as the door to the classroom opened and both he and Throné entered. Dinah still happily sat on his head, and he could feel the eyes focused on him. “We have a guest lecturer today,” He raised a hand up to his head as Dinah stepped up, and he held the dove out. “This is Dinah, he’s a mourning dove I rescued a few weeks ago, and he decided to be stubborn and refuse to get off my head as I was rushing to get here.”

As if Osvald had cued the bird, Dinah let out his characteristic coo, a hauntingly beautiful whistle, which rang out through the lecture room and down the hallways, petering out into a ghostly whisper. Not a beat went by before Osvald started up again. 

“Now, to the lesson for the day…” He immediately started writing on the whiteboard, the lesson of the day was about derivatives, something Throné, while certainly understanding the concepts, despised. Especially multivariable derivatives. Those could go fuck themselves.

As she leaned forward to absent-mindedly listen and scroll on her phone, she heard a whisper from in front of her.

“‘Ey Throné.” Her attention snapped up to see Partitio turning around to her, whispering. “You came in with the professor, yeah?”

Whispers that were certainly not quiet enough, as the conversation caught Agnea’s attention. She set her phone down to gaze down at the other student. “Yeah, why?”

“Did he have the dove on his head out there, too?”

“Mmhm. It’s his pet.”

“Can anyone tell me what the derivative of the tangent of x is? Remember that you'll be expected to memorize these simple derivatives for the quizzes.” Osvald spoke up as he started to write an example problem up on the board. Dinah let out a loud coo once again, and he nodded. “Not quite, it’s secant squared of x. Now…”

There was a hand raised. “Professor, why do we have to memorize those equations?”

Osvald stopped, turning back to the student that asked. “When you’re working a job, be it engineering, construction, fashion design,” his eyes hovered over to Throné briefly, “Or whatever you choose to pursue, you’ll never be expected to know anything by memory. You have that small computer in your pocket, yes? The laptop on your desk, it can give you the answer in a matter of milliseconds. You’ll have access to one of those at wherever you work. Unfortunately, the education system’s comprehension of the application of technology is still leagues behind the working world, and thus they choose to bar the use of resources instead of making stipulations around their use.”

“Can’t you just make your own policies?”

Osvald paused, resting a hand on his chin. “I was following the expectations left behind by the man who quit, I didn’t have the time to create my own expectations. But… Hold me to this.” He looked at the class as a whole, writing on the board. “Give me until midnight tonight, and I’ll make my own expectations. You will be allowed a full printer-sized equation sheet for reference during the exam. Front and back side. I can assure you that, at least.”

The statement of the change in policy sent murmurs going through the hall, and Partitio turned around with a grin on his face. “Hopefully that’ll make things a lil’ easier for us.”

“Hopefully.” Throné commented, leaning forward once again. “How was tutoring last week, by the way?”

“Oh, it was good.” Agnea turned back to look at her once more, smiling a little. “Professor Vanstein brought some hot chocolate, and we all sort of just talked about what we were up to on the weekend before we really got to work.” She frowned slightly. “Or, well… Me n’ Parti talked about what we were up to, the professor didn’t really contribute much.”

“I’m not surprised, I think that whole statement he just gave was the most I’ve heard him talk outside of lecture.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.” Of course, Throné couldn’t just explain every detail. There was no reason to, the only ones who know Osvald’s conditions were her, Cress, and Temenos, and it’d be both plain rude and a violation of client confidentiality to disclose such. “I ran into him when I went to your dad’s office, neither of them are really ones of many words.”

Trace bits of laughter escaped Agnea’s lips as she gave a fond smile. “No, papa isn’t much for talking at length. I guess that’s why he and professor Vanstein stop by each other a lot.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Any time I go to his office after classes n’ he ain’t there, most of the time I’d be able to find him in- Oh!”

Whistles echoed through the room as Throné’s attention flicked upward as Dinah was flying straight for her, landing on her pencil case and immediately starting to pull pencils out. Throné extended her hand out to the dove, who immediately sidled up against the cupped fingers, and she started to pet him.

“Dinah-” Exasperated protest came from Osvald as he looked to the three of them. “I apologize, I can pick him up-”

“No, it’s alright, professor!” She called out in reply, “It seems he just wants some petting from a new person.”

Frankly, he was mildly jealous that his pet decided to abandon him during the lecture, but he turned away back to his lecture. As he asked another question, Dinah cooed back at him from the back, and he quickly turned around, pointing his marker at the dove.

“Professor Dinah, please stop answering the questions, let the rest of the class answer.”

Snickering whispered out through different parts of the hall at his callout to the bird. Dinah was, quite simply, a bird, he didn’t know what he was responding to, but it was taking an exhausting morning and making it a bit more interesting. Osvald wished that he could maintain this sort of interaction and activeness typically, but he doubted the department would just let him have a pet here…

“Oh! I know!” Partitio raised his hand as Dinah flew up onto his hat. “We uh, we gotta use the u-substitution method, yeah?”

“Correct, Partitio, you picked that up rather quickly. Do you want to come up here and show us how that’s done?”

The glee that Partitio had at the praise was almost instantly decimated by the dreaded question almost every student hates; going up and working in front of the hall. He thickly swallowed, rising from his place in the back of the room to approach the front, where Osvald passed him a marker. 

“Don’t worry about whether you get it correct or not.” Osvald quietly told him. “We don’t learn without making mistakes, after all.”

The student nodded, turning back around with a sheepish grin on his face, clearing his throat. “Ahem, hello class.”

Osvald blinked. Partitio was making a poor imitation of his voice, which garnered a few spaced chuckles around the room.

“Well, ain’t this nifty, I get to be the professor for a sec! Call me professor Yellowil!”

Agnea raised her hand and called out, “Professor Yellowil can you give us the answer to one of the exam questions?”

“Ah, yeah! Number fifteen’s gonna be forty-two!”

The quick-witted response received some more genuine laughter, and he grinned, turning back to the board, as Osvald collected Dinah off his head and watched from the sidelines. The dove cooed happily as Partitio carried on, not quite doing the problem correctly.

“Now, professor Yellowil had the correct idea, but his derivations were slightly off. Allow me to just correct this and we can move on.”

After the lecture period, Osvald sat in the dark in his office, a vacant stare settled on the Tyrannodrake plush sitting on his desk, Dinah sitting quietly on top of it. As beneficial and engaging that the lecture had been… Osvald felt absolutely drained. No energy could be placed into even working on the syllabus he promised the class. A low groan came from his lips as he placed his forehead against the papers on his desk, leading to Dinah preening his hair. 

However, he swiftly raised his head as he heard the door to his office click shut, and he squinted at it, carefully opening it to see who was there and finding no one. 

…Well that’s concerning. Who would just open the door and then leave? Was it one of his superiors coming to check on him? Was it a student?

He had no way of knowing, but he forced himself to try to stay busy, silently awaiting a phone call or email, but receiving nothing. The door to his office swung open once more, and on the other side was Garud, holding a paper cup holder with two cups in it in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other.

“...I apologize if I startled you before,” He cleared his throat, “I was… Coming to check on you, and saw you facedown on your desk.”

Osvald flushed in the dark of the room, flinching as Garud flicked the lights on and pulled a chair up on the other side of the desk. He set the cups down. “Just some water for both of us. And…” He reached into the bag, taking out two cold sandwiches, passing one to Osvald. “I don’t know if you have any preferences, so I went with turkey.”

“I don’t have any, thank you.” Osvald shooed Dinah away, and the dove quickly skipped up onto his shoulder.

“Agnea told me that you brought your dove with.”

“I tried to keep him at home but he escaped his cage while I was in a rush.” Osvald unwrapped half of the sandwich, biting into it carefully, analyzing the texture. Soft, slightly spongy wheat bread, with cold pulled turkey breast, a fresh tomato slice, and some onion and lettuce… Is that some avocado spread too? He’s not usually a fan of the texture but it’s little enough that he doesn’t notice it too much. Avocado has a nice, mild flavor though. Maybe slices would be good to go on a sandwich… 

“Seemed to catch the clamor of your class.”

“Mm?” He took another bite as Garud pulled up his phone, carefully rotating it with a single hand to pass over to Osvald. It was on the school’s social media page, with a photo and a few videos posted by an anonymous user saying, ‘So uh, my professor brought his bird to school and it started flying around and asking for pets from people’.

He tapped on the video and it started to loudly play Dinah standing on someone’s desk and strutting around and cooing at them.

“I’ll be getting in trouble for this, aren’t I?” Osvald murmured as he handed the phone back to Garud.

“I wouldn’t say so. Animals are allowed on campus.”

Osvald blinked blankly at Garud, who opened his own sandwich to bite in. He took a few moments to chew and swallow, then continued, “I have a feeling that Dinah’s presence will make you more approachable.”

Another slow blink came from Osvald, and he took another bite of his sandwich. “What do you mean?”

The feathers whistled as Dinah flew up onto Osvald’s head, trilling and preening loose hairs off his head. Garud and Osvald merely stared at one another for an uncomfortably long time, though one could wonder if either of them recognized it as odd. Garud certainly found Osvald’s lack of awareness strange, at least. 

“Nevermind that. You should decorate your office more, give it a little bit of personality.” Osvald shook his head. “Mm?”

“Decoration is pointless at this second.” Osvald responded, lowering his head as Dinah flapped frantically to stay on top of his head. 

“You’re not in prison anymore, Osvald.”

Osvald continued to avoid eye contact with Garud, even as the fashion design teacher pulled to his feet, carefully placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. As soon as he touched the math professor, Osvald’s head flew up in fright, eyes wild with fear for a moment until his vision registered the softness of Garud’s expression.

“What..?”

“You’re a part of this community now, not the prisons. I think you deserve to have a few trinkets on those shelves.”

“I don’t…” Osvald sighed, shaking his long hair. “I don’t have anything to decorate with. I lost most of my belongings in the fire.”

Silently, the two resumed eating their meals, the air of the office becoming one of solemn quiet, Garud getting up to gather his things and quietly leave after, leaving Osvald in the quiet and dark after.

Late afternoon came, and as Osvald was gathering his things to leave for the day, there was an energetic knock at his door. It creaked open after with Agnea poking her head in. “Oh! Professor! You’re still here!”

“I am, I was just getting ready to leave. Did you have some questions for me?”

The door swung open as Agnea was revealed to be carrying a box in her arms, along with Partitio behind her, grinning from ear-to-ear with an unfamiliar face off to the side, and Garud was in the back with another box.

“We come bearin’ gifts!” Partitio and Agnea set the boxes on the empty desk as Garud placed the third one on the chair, and the unfamiliar person carried in a couple of small potted plants and set them off to the side in the entrance.

“Er, what?”

“I decided to take my afternoon to find things you might like to decorate your office with.” Garud interjected. “Hikari here and Agnea lent me a hand.” At the introduction Hikari gave a nod in greeting.

“You… You didn’t need to-”

“Well, we wanted to!” Agnea announced with a bright grin on her face, popping the box open so Osvald could look into it. He pulled out an abacus and Alephan’s Cradle from the box, and he set them down, quickly unpacking the set of four marbles attached to strings and setting it against his desk, pulling one of the marbles back to send them clicking back and forth.

“I used to have one of these in my office back home…” He quietly commented, expression growing soft. A silence fell over the room momentarily as the marbles continued to click until it dwindled as well.

“So uh, professor Vanstein, yeah?” Partitio opened up the next box, unpacking a pair of bookends that were the halves of an antique bookshelf with metal chickadees hanging off the wire.

“Mmhm, that’s my name.” Osvald looked up at Partitio as he set the ends off to the side.

“Where did you live before ya came here?”

“Conning Creek.” Osvald unpacked a few books that were also in the box before turning his attention to the box Garud was holding, as the professor collected the bookends and textbooks to dust off a shelf and set them up. “I was there with my wife and daughter, before the fire.”

The room went quiet once more, with the only sound being Garud thumping books against the shelf as he slid them into place. Unfortunately Partitio and Garud at least knew the weight of those words. Osvald’s affairs were aired out to the entirety of Solistia, hell, most of the world, with the case and how interconnected the world was with the advent of internet and news. Osvald quickly moved onto the final box, opening it to see an orchid in a drainage pot, and a fern.

“Garud, you didn’t need to-”

“You’ve said that already.” Garud interrupted. “And I know that I didn’t need to, that doesn’t mean that I can’t.” He pulled a feather duster out of the box, going over to dust the top shelf off. “Agnea, Partitio, Hikari. Can you leave for a moment? I’ll be out in a bit.”

There was quick agreement, as Partitio called out a goodbye to Osvald, the door closing behind him.

“If you’re unable to take care of your office yourself, I’ll help you.” Garud added the bookends to the shelf, adding textbooks to fit between them, lips curling into a small smile as Dinah flew up onto his shoulder. “I… Don’t know everything about your situation, but from the information you’ve told me, I…” He looked away, swallowing thickly. “Your situation resonates with me in a way.”

Osvald looked up and over to Garud, heartbeat raising into his ears and throat. “...In what way?” He weakly managed out, croaking. 

Garud turned back to Dinah, petting the dove’s head as he preened the man. “A couple of years ago, I lost my wife, Cuani.”

Osvald watched Garud’s slow and hesitant movements without another word, catching his tight lips, pulled into a smile, one of someone forcing it to hide other emotions boiling under the surface. “She was my world, much like how I imagine your wife and daughter were yours.”

“Rita was… My everything.” Osvald’s voice cracked in response. “Elena too, they both were all I had. Now that they’re gone, I…” He hung his head. “I’m not sure what I’m living for. The sake of life, I suppose…”

“I felt the same.” Garud moved away from organizing the room to pull a seat around to beside Osvald’s, sitting in it. “I had Pala and Agnea to look after still, but… I can’t imagine how much harder it would’ve been without them there.” He pulled a tissue off the desk, offering it to Osvald as a faint sniffle came from the researcher’s vicinity. The professor wiped his eyes, avoiding eye contact. “That and resources I had to help me through this time.”

“I don’t think resources would help me.” Osvald bluntly responded, finally looking up at the other professor.

“There’s no reason not to try.” Garud picked up a piece of paper on the desk, starting to write down on it, passing it over to Osvald.

“These are a few individuals I reached out to in order to get help through the grieving process, and also to work through experiences I’ve had. I’d recommend at the very least establishing yourself within the Leaflands medical network just to avoid headaches in the future, even if you aren’t ready to unpack everything yet.”

Osvald scowled, pushing the paper away, continuing to avoid looking at Garud once more. The professor stood up, picking Dinah up off his shoulder and placed the dove back down on the table. 

“You… Can also just talk with me if you’d prefer. I’ll take my leave.” The textiles professor turned to leave before a faint throat clear caught his attention.

“Can you stay for a little longer? I… Have a few things I’d want to speak about.”

“Of course.” Garud quickly returned to his spot, pulling his phone out to quickly let Agnea and Hikari know that it may be a bit before he’s ready to leave. Osvald’s willingness to speak right now was far more important to him.

The train’s wheels squealed as it eased its way into the Eastern Leaflands station, coming to a lurching halt as the doors opened up, and the wave of passengers exited, a pair of a taller, blonde-haired man and short, white haired one emerged, the former holding the latter’s tight grip, dragging suitcases with his free hand, as the other man held a cat in his free arm. 

“Theri, do ya want yer muffs?” As his husband quickly nodded, the doctor retrieved a pair of noise canceling headphones off of his neck as they came to a brief halt, placing them onto Therion’s head. “There ya go. Let’s go find a car.”

The door to the Mistral Detective Agency opened up as Throné finally arrived to work. Temenos was sitting across from her desk, peering into papers, absolutely focused on the information inscribed in ink. 

“Detective.”

The attempt to greet the investigator were to no avail, and she heard a sigh as Crick came down from the apartment with a pair of coffee mugs in hand. 

“You’re not going to get through to him. Cress sent him some papers and he’s been looking through them all day.”

“I see.” She accepted a mug from him with a quiet thanks as she eased down into her own spot. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“Ah, Throné.” Temenos perked up as the coffee mug was set beside him, looking over at the student with a quaint smile. “When did you arrive?”

“Just now.”

“Ah, so I didn’t miss you for very long.”

“You missed me for a bit though…” Crick mumbled as Temenos softly laughed and Roi hopped up onto the desk, the detective stroking the feline.

“You know me well enough, Crick-” Temenos quipped back before turning fully to Throné. “You see, private investigator Cress sent me some rather interesting information. Do you know about the Harborlands toll booths?”

“I’ve heard of them… We discussed them when I was still in architectural, but I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“Tsk, tsk… You should be focusing more in your courses, Throné.” Before she could splutter out a protest, he turned the papers around. “Regardless, in order to get to Conning Creek, one has to pass through the toll booths. Even residents of the Harborlands aren’t exempt to this, as the funds are used to maintain the ferries and roads, even as they’re battered by strong waves and the smattering of high winds. Along with that, each entry and exit is tracked via the license plate, identification, and VN of the vehicle. And these…” He pushed the paper to Throné, “Are the records of who and what passed through the booths at what time, five years ago.”

“You just got your hands on these? Why couldn’t you get them before?”

“Honestly I don’t know.” Temenos leaned back with a frown as Crick rested a hand on the chair’s headrest. “I believed it was that I didn’t have legal right to the information but,”

“The toll booth records are public information. At least, in this format.” Crick filled in, leaning on the chair. “You shouldn’t have had any issue getting that information.”

“And yet, I did.” Temenos leaned forward once more, pointing out a specific line. “Here’s Osvald’s arrival time at the booth. It’s exactly forty-five minutes after the ferry records stated that he arrived at the Canalbrine ferry port, and is exactly the time it takes to go from Canalbrine to the booth.”

“So this is concrete evidence that he’s innocent?”

“Well, if the evidence I’ve presented is concrete, then this is solid rock.”

Throné remained quiet as she read the papers, quietly reading through the list. It felt like the entirety of the Solistian justice system was set against the professor, intent on keeping him down for… Whatever reason. She was uncertain of the reason, and frankly doubted that they’d ever find the actual answer. That does beg the question…

“Why weren’t you able to get that information if it’s public?”

“I’m not certain.” Temenos crossed his arms, eyes shut. “Perhaps it was because I was still a greenhorn in the legal world, perhaps it was an intentional attempt to keep information away from me, there’s many nefarious and innocuous reasons for it.” His eyes opened to a narrow slit, peering down at the papers. “...Though with my past experiences I have my doubts of it being anything other than underhanded dealings.”

The anger in his eyes vanished as quickly as it came, and he looked up as the bell on the door rang, seeing two men entering, the shorter one holding a cat.

“Hello?” Crick spoke up, standing up on his feet. “Can we help you?”

“Ah- Shit. This ain’t the apartments…” The taller man grimaced in embarrassment. “I must’ve gotten off at the wrong block. Sorry-”

“Oh, you’re new to the city?” Temenos stood with a quaint smile. “It’s no issue. You’ve certainly come to the wrong place, unless you need a detective on your case.”

“A detective?” The shorter, white haired man perked up at the words, “Are you… Temenos?”

“No, I’ve never heard of that man in my life.” Temenos flatly responded, unable to hide a grin as the man’s eyes rolled visibly.

“Oh yeah, you are him. My uncle warned me about you.” Therion responded with just about as much energy as Temenos gave.

“Uncle? Oh- You must be… The Greengrasses? Cress and Rodion’s nephews?”

Throné’s eyes followed the light conversation, leaning on her hand as she glanced over to her laptop, where an email from Osvald popped up. 

Hello all,

I apologize for the delay, but here is the updated syllabus. The main changes can be concentrated to pages 2, 4, and 8.

Some may not read the updated syllabus, so I will also add the changes here.

• There are two exams for this class, each worth 15% of the grade.

• The final exam will be worth 20% of the grade. The allocated time slot will be twice that of our standard lectures, to give you extra time to work through it.

• The homework is collectively worth 30% of the grade.

• Quizzes are worth 20%, and the lowest score is dropped.

• I will allow corrections on homework, quizzes, and exams to return up to 50% of the lost points. The point of this course is for you to learn, and failure is an opportunity to learn.

• Exams are allowed one printer page worth of notes, front and back. Quizzes are open note.

• I am willing to provide extra credit opportunities if asked.

Please attend office hours if you have any questions, and remember that we do have tutoring sessions weekly.

Osvald V. Vanstein

Ph. D. Chemistry and Mathematics

“Yes, that complex is down a block from here. Osvald lives in the lowest level apartment whenever you’ll go to see him about the files.” Temenos waved as the two stepped out once again. “Now then… I want to go through the information we’ve gathered about the case to try to slot this new information in. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure.” Throné pulled her laptop over in front of her, sitting up straight to start chronicling.

Chapter Text

It had been a long few weeks for Throné, between work and her classes picking up; the past five days, especially, had been plagued by both her first major textiles project, her first exam of the semester in her gen ed history course, and the sudden appearance of new evidence in the Vanstein Case. Despite this pile of work, though, here she stood; files all sorted, project turned in, and exam (hopefully) aced. Now, the only commitment she had left was one she was actually looking forward to, the kendo tournament that Hikari had kindly invited her to.

She was currently standing outside by one of the campus streets with Ochette, waiting for both their ride and their final member. Ochette quickly whipped out her phone to peek at her texts, and then glanced up to Throné. “Hikarin said he’ll be here in like three minutes. You sure Ori’s coming?”

Throné narrowed her eyes skeptically as she began to take out her phone as well, ready to call her roommate. “I think so? I guess it wouldn’t be the first time she changed her mind on plans at the last minute, but I really thought she was excited for this.” To some people, Ori’s tendency to skip out on prior commitments might be aggravating, but it more worried Throné than anything; It never seemed to come from a place of malice or disregard, and more just a lack of energy. When she’d ask her roommate about it, though, it wouldn’t get her very far, so she wasn’t really sure what to do aside from tell her that she was open to talking.

When she saw that Ori hadn’t sent any texts back, Throné started to send a call her way, but was quickly interrupted by a familiar cry. “Hold up! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Throné and Ochette both perked their heads up and turned in the direction of the voice, witnessing Ori sprinting in their direction, seemingly a bit frazzled.

“Sorry for being so…” Ori stopped running, inhaling deeply to catch her breath. “…so late, I just… I was caught up trying to turn in an assignment I forgot about.” Throné smiled, and shook her head. “No, don’t worry about it, that kind of stuff happens. I’m just glad you’re here before Hikari.”

Ochette, meanwhile, waved at Ori from behind Throné, with a big grin. “Hi there! I’m Ochette! Néné’s told me a lot about you!” Ori turned to Ochette, and though she flinched a bit upon hearing that last sentence, she smiled anyways, and reached to shake Ochette’s hand. 

“Yeah, me too. You’re the one who made those shish-ka-bobs at the start of the semester, right? They were really good, thanks.” Ochette’s grin grew wider, and she giggled. “Hehe, you think? I’ll have to make ‘em again!”

In the middle of the three girls’ conversation, a practical-looking red car drove up into the parking space beside them, with Hikari poking his head out the window. “I’m glad to see everyone’s here. Are we all ready to go?” The three turned their heads, with Ochette naturally being the first to say anything. “Hiya, Hikarin! We’re aaaaall good!”

As they approached the car, Ori stopped by Hikari’s window. “Hi there, I’m Ori. Here’s the money for the ticket.” She held out a small handful of leaves, which Hikari looked at with confused eyes. “Nice to you, I’m Hikari. Don’t worry about the leaves, though, I got these tickets for free since I’m dueling.”

Ori, however, kept her hand out. “Nah, I insist. This is the first time we’re meeting, so it seems right.” Hikari still seemed rather confused by the girl’s insistence, but when he turned to Throné, the  fashion student frowned and nodded, telling him to just take it. This was another habit Throné had learned about Ori in the weeks they’ve lived together; She seemed to be staunchly against just accepting gifts without some kind of repayment. Even when Throné had given her the leftover skewers that Ochette had made, Ori somehow managed to calculate the exact price of the ingredients that had been used in the skewers she ate and gave it to Throné, to pass on to Ochette as thanks for the food. Again, Throné didn’t have much luck getting answers about this behavior, and she found it easier to simply allow Ori to repay her rather than refuse and frustrate her.

Hikari still seemed a bit unsure, but upon Throné’s gesture, he nodded, and reached his hand to take the leaves. “Well, if you insist. I apologize, I didn’t mean to make you feel indebted.” Ori shook her head in response, unbothered and clearly just satisfied she paid him back. “It’s fine! Just think of it as my thanks for the invite! I’m excited to write about the tournament in the school paper!” At this, Hikari smiled, and gave her a nod. “I’m glad to hear it.” And with that, the three all stepped into the car, with Ochette and Ori in the back while Throné sat shotgun.

As the car ride progressed, the four students started to make small talk, discussing their classes and how the semester was going. “So, Throné,” Hikari started, eyes still firmly on the road, “You’re going into fashion design, if I remember correctly? I assume you’ve got classes with Professor Bristarni, yes?”

Throné looked over at him, with a nod. “Yeah, I’ve got a textiles class with him. Why, do you know him?” Hikari smiled in response. “Rather well, actually. You see, when my family moved here, we didn’t really know anyone in the area. The Bristarnis were very welcoming, though, and helped us settle in well. My family even have Thanksgiving with them, too. Wonderful people, even if Garud takes some getting used to.”

Throné snickered a bit, stifling a laugh at the comment. “Fair enough. The man’s a genius , but I thought he absolutely hated me for the first whole week of classes, before I realized that’s just how he is.” Hikari nodded again, glancing to his rear view mirror momentarily for a quick check. “Yes, he’s certainly imposing. I was honestly scared of him for a while when we first met them. Agnea and Pala certainly make up for his energy, though.”

At this point, Ochette chimed in with a big grin, leaning towards the front seats. “Haha, definitely! I don’t think anything can keep Aggie down for that long! We’ve totally gotta introduce you to her, Néné!” Throné looked up thoughtfully, a hand on her chin. “I think I actually know her? There’s a girl named Agnea in my calculus class. I don’t really know, but she talks to this one guy with a yellow fedora a lot. Didn’t know she was Professor Bristarni’s daughter.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s her for sure! The fedora guy is Parti! They’re both great!” Ochette then took a deep sigh, and lounged back in her chair, expression shifting from its typical energy to more outwardly sad quickly. “Maaaan, I wish they coulda come. Would’ve been so much fun with everyone here. Is your family at least coming, Hikarin?”

“Well, my father is busy with work, but he said he should be able to make it sometime in the latter half of the tournament. Mother is visiting family back in Hinoeuma, so she won’t be there, but Mikka should be able to come. And, of course, Ritsu will be there.” Throné turned to Hikari, about to inquire, but Hikari noticed first, and continued speaking. “Ritsu and Mikka are my siblings. Ritsu was a childhood friend of mine, and when their parents passed, my family elected to take them in. They’re both wonderful people, I’m very grateful to call them family.” He then hesitated, taking a deep sigh. “I’ve an older half-brother as well, but we… aren’t on particularly good terms. Never have been, really.”

This struck a particularly sympathetic chord in Throné, who gave Hikari a sad smile. “Hey, I get it. My foster parents are…” She paused, trying to think of a better word to use than ‘terrible’. This word never came, and she continued anyways. “…they’re terrible. My siblings are great, though, even if half of them are a pain in the ass.”

“Ooh, and I’m adopted!” Ochette leaned in, energy back, wanting to get in on the ‘dyfunctional family’ chat. “My pa’s a lion too!” Throné looked behind her at Ochette with an innocent, unknowing smile. “What, like a really big guy? My brother Scaracci is kind of like that.” Ochette’s grin immediately dropped, and she tilted her head in confusion. “Huh? No no, not that kind of lion. I mean like… ya know, a lion . Four legs, big mane of hair, sharp claws and teeth?”

The expression of bewilderment that grew on Throné’s face exceeded that of when she first met Ochette, and her two rather exotic companions. “W-what? Like… you mean like lions as in the cat kind of lion? How does- I mean, what does- I’ve seen you text him, how does he use a phone ??? And what does he-“

Throné’s rant of utter confusion was cut off by Ochette, however, who seemed to think nothing of the odd revelation and continued speaking. “Aaaaanyways, my point is, everyone’s kinda weird in some kinda way! But that just makes life taste better, I think!” Hikari smiled wistfully, and nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Ochette. My mother often told me that ultimately, family is something we choose rather than something we’re forced into. One simply needs to find the right people.”

Throné, meanwhile, had reluctantly pocketed her inquiries about Ochette’s adoptive father, promising to herself that she’d give the Toto’hahan a thorough interrogation of the logistics of the situation next time they got coffee together. Instead she focused her attention to Ori, who had been particularly quiet throughout the entirety of the family conversation. “Hey, Ori? You doing alright back there?”

Ori had been staring out the window, and it took her a second to realize she’d been called out to, turning to Throné apologetically. “Oh, nah, I’m good! Just a bit tired, you know how it is.” Throné raised an eyebrow, but nodded, turning back to the front of the car. However, the fashion design student hadn’t fully believed the journalist’s words; it had been subtle, and Ori had covered it up well,, but she noticed a hint of tears in her eyes.

“Probably not a great idea to pressure her in the car, though,” she considered. “Don’t want to make her feel like she’s trapped, and she probably doesn’t want to talk about it to begin with.” Though she did definitely want to offer some kind of consolation, Throné knew Ori well enough to know that it wouldn’t work the way she’d hope, and she simply put it aside as the car ride continued.

Knuckles rolled across the hard oak door of the apartment in the lowest level of the complex. Despite Therion’s reassurance that he’ll be fine going to his client’s place on his own, Alfyn chose to accompany him. Not particularly due to Osvald’s background, but mostly for Therion himself. While his condition compared to five years ago is significantly better, stress still can get to him, and this is an in-person client. 

The door gradually creaked open to Osvald’s frame, too tall to fit in the doorway completely, and he pulled a step back to get a glimpse down at the two people in the doorway. For Therion to look Osvald in the face required him to crane his neck a good distance back, with the two foot difference between their heights being rather significant. Even for Alfyn, who’s about a foot taller than Therion, he still needed to tilt his head back to look at Osvald as well.

“Are you… Therion?” The all-too-soft voice of a socially awkward giant managed out after a few moments. He threaded his fingers between one another as his gaze averted, and Therion nodded in response to the question.

Another awkward minute passed with the doorway open as Osvald turned back to Therion, shifting uncomfortably as the flooring creaked under his weight. “You… You can come in. Both of you.”

“Oh- sorry.” The security specialist stepped in with his husband, getting a quick glance around the apartment. It’s not… Messy, however it certainly was cluttered. Stacks of paper, trinkets, pens, markers, and notebooks were strewn over the dining room table, dishes were hanging dry in the dish drainer, and the coffee table before the couch had boxes, tissue paper, and various other tools strewn about.

Alfyn knew that Temenos had warned him the day before that Osvald’s mental health wasn’t the best, but the sight of such a situation still hurt for him to see. It’s not horrible yet, but it was clear that while Osvald was functioning well beyond his home, the effort required to do that hurt his ability to function back behind private walls.

“Alright, is this the laptop you mentioned on the phone?” Therion broke the quiet, and Osvald’s attention turned to him.

“Yes, I tried looking through the recycle bin on my laptop but I couldn’t find it.”

“Alright yeah that was what I was going to ask you about, glad we can rule that out…”

He eased himself down onto the couch beside Osvald and pulled the laptop onto his legs, jumping slightly as Dinah soared over from his aviary onto the head of the laptop.

“Oh, sorry. Come here, Dinah…” Osvald encouraged the dove onto his hand, and then to his shoulder as Therion started to poke at the device.

“Hey, boss.” Osvald perked up at the words, tilting his head in confusion, his fluffy, wavy hair swinging with his gesture, like a perplexed old dog. “How do you organize your stuff?”

That seemed to light Osvald’s face up mildly as he turned to Alfyn, explaining his meticulous organization methodology. The explanation was rather long-winded and detailed, but it gave Therion the chance to poke around without interruption, eventually traveling over to the network the laptop has access to.

“Hey, mister Vanstein. I found them.”

“You did?” Osvald’s attention whirled around to Therion, and Alfyn wandered off into the apartment.

“Yeah, so this network your laptop is on seems to have a sort of like… Backup system on it. I was able to look in it to find the files.” He pointed at the screen, drawing the files out and back onto the desktop. “Oh boy, these are huge. It’s gonna take a bit.”

“If you were able to figure that out… Could you figure out who took the files from me in the first place?”

Therion’s small smile dropped at the question and he rested his hand against his chin. “Maybe… It depends on how they were moved, or if they even were moved, but I can try.” He started to poke around in the laptop’s internal documentation. He frowned as he scrolled through, shaking his head. No significant information.

“Well, whoever did it was smart enough to not use the network to migrate the files. I assume they used a beefy flash drive or some unlabeled external hard drive to move them.”

Therion glanced up to see Alfyn lifting some papers off the dining room table, carefully sliding them into a folder. The doctor motioned for Therion to keep going.

“Anyways, uh, what was this information for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh.” Osvald perked up once again, sitting up straighter as Dinah flapped to stay steady. “You may or may not know this, but there’s a creature here in Solistia who has a rather peculiar biology. It’s called the Tyrannodrake. It’s a fascinating reptile, with the unique ability to rapidly alter its cellular structure to adapt to changes in its environment, and along with that the ability to revert back to its original biology once the environment returns to normal. We’ve observed it to be able to breathe underwater if its environment becomes flooded, to metabolize poisons that creatures it preys on secrete, even to utilize photosynthesis when starved of any other nutrient type.”

“Oh, huh. We have Tyrannodrakes in Orsterra as well, but I never heard of them being able to do stuff like that.”

“Oh that’s right. We looked into that ourselves, and the conclusion we have is that these are convergent species that evolved in different ways. Or,” Osvald rubbed his arm. “Harvey concluded that.”

“So how were you investigating that?”

“I was focused on understanding the chemical reactions that occurred within the cells of the Tyrannodrake to allow it to evolve like this. That and trying to turn those reactions into mathematical equations to potentially allow us to utilize similar pathways to produce new materials and even potentially create adaptive cells for bioremediation and environmental cleanup.”

Osvald continued to enthusiastically explain his work to Therion as Alfyn moved from cleaning up the table to packing away the tupperware and cookware in the kitchen.

“There we go.” Osvald looked up from the explanation to Alfyn, scanning around the space behind him to the empty table and dish drainer. 

“What-”

“I cleaned up a bit for ya. Don’t worry, I didn’t throw anything away. I tried to follow your storage methods to a t.”

“Oh, uh…” There was a long pang of silence as Osvald struggled to locate the correct words in his noisy mind. “Thank you.”

“It ain’t an issue.” 

“Hey Alf, I’m gonna go pick up something from the apartment for him, I’ll be right back.” Therion quickly scampered out of the apartment as Alfyn moved closer, holding his hand out for Dinah to check him out. 

“Hey, uh, have you tried getting in to see a doctor at all in these parts?”

He blinked. “No.”

“Look, I’m not normally one to make suggestions for anyone on what they should or shouldn’t do, but I’m seein’ some stuff from ya that I’ve seen from Theri back there. And, I think you should try getting in with a doctor and a therapist if the chance comes.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, just not one for Solistia.”

Osvald instinctually bit his lip. Was he really struggling? He stared down at the coffee table which was still covered in items, and he slowly blinked. How long has that box been on the table for? The past week? Two weeks? Nearly a month? He didn’t know, he didn’t-

He’s just been getting by, not really enjoying the days. He hasn’t since before his world shattered.

What really was there to enjoy now that he lost almost everything? At this point he was just living to learn what happened and why.

He’s right. I really do need to find someone. I can’t keep living like this.

“I would but… Who would take someone like me?”

The question caused Alfyn to purse his lips, and he leaned on the couch. “How’s about this, once your computer stops copying the files I can try to help you look for a local doc and therapist.”

The door opened again and Osvald quickly nodded. “That would be good, thank you.”

Although the drive from campus to the tournament had taken some time, Throné thankfully felt the time breeze by; the conversation flowed better than she had expected it to, considering she was only really close to Ochette, having only met Hikari once prior and not being able to actually spend as much time with Ori as she would’ve liked. Hikari was more than amicable, though, and despite Ori’s relative silence earlier in the ride, she eventually settled back into the conversation easily enough.

As the four arrived at the tournament in Timberain, Hikari led them through the large, complicated sports facility being used for the event, eventually coming to one of the facility’s gymnasiums. Hikari glanced around for a moment before his eyes settled on a spot in the distance. Throné followed his eyes, quickly settling on a man roughly their age and a teenage girl, sporting similarly-brown hair, waving at him, and the girl weaved through the crowd of guests towards them.

“Hikari! Hikari!” The teenage girl immediately went to give Hikari a hug when she arrived, and Hikari quickly reciprocated. “Hello, Mikka. How’s school going?” The girl, who Throné now understood as Hikari’s adoptive sister, separated from the hug. “It’s been going well! Pala’s been having some trouble with math, but I’ve been helping her out, so I think she’ll be alright.”

At this point, the older man, who Throné deduced was Ritsu, caught up to his younger sister, with a teasing smile. “Glad to see you made it, Hikari. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.” Hikari’s kind older-brother demeanor quickly shifted to one matching Ritsu’s, as a polite yet confident smirk grew on his face. “And miss my chance to break our tie? Don’t think so little of me.” The two then chuckled, and gave each other a hug, until Hikari broke it to gesture to his three guests, the two siblings particularly eying Throné and Ori.

“Let me introduce you two. Mikka, Ritsu, these are Throné and Ori. Agnea and Partitio couldn’t come, so I gave my extra tickets to them.” Mikka gave the two a shy smile and a bow, while Ritsu gave them a simple wave. Throné waved back, with a smile of her own. “Hey. Hikari told us about you two on the ride here. It’s nice to meet you both.” Ori nodded in agreement, and Ritsu’s smirk grew a bit, glancing back at Hikari. “Hope you two are ready to watch Hikari get his ass kicked.” 

Throné snickered a bit, and Ochette looked at Hikari as well. “Are you just gonna stand there and take that, Hikarin?” Hikari maintained a small and relaxed smile, and crossed his arms. “Sometimes it’s best to let him get overconfident. Helps to keep him humble once he eats his words.” Ritsu outright cackled at this response, and patted Hikari on the back. “Alright, hotshot, I see how it is. Come on, let’s go get ready so you can put your money where your mouth is.”

“Right.” The psychology student turned back to Throné, Ochette and Ori. “We should go prepare. I’ll see you all after the tournament.” Throné nodded, while Ochette instead gave him an excited wave goodbye. “Good luck, Hikarin! Go beat up all those losers!” 

As the two left, Throné again noticed Ori’s silence, and looked over to her roommate in concern again. However, she was thankful to find that Ori’s silence was not borne of any kind of discomfort, but instead due to her laser-sharp attention on her notepad, scribbling down notes furiously. “Let’s see here… ‘Epic kendo rivalry between hardened brothers reaches climax!’ Hmm, might need to work on that headline…” Throné smiled a bit, and spoke up. “You seem to be getting excited.” Ori looked up, snapping out of her journalist trance, with a huge grin on her face. “Oh yeah! Nothing catches eyes like a sibling rivalry! This’ll make the paper for sure!”

Throné chuckled a bit, before Mikka spoke up shyly. “Um, excuse me! I can take you all to your seats, if you’d like!” Ochette, being Ochette, was the first to respond, with an energetic “Aye aye, captain! Lead the way!” Mikka nodded, and began weaving through the crowds again, gesturing at the trio to follow.

The car rolled to a stop beside a graveyard in the Harborlands, the passenger side door swinging open as Cress stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. Rodion stepped out on the driver’s side after him, following him into the small gravesite. Cress scanned the headstones as he walked through, seeking a specific one from the multitude.

“There we go.” He crouched down in front of a rather plain headstone, brushing it off delicately with his hand. “Hello, Rita.” 

Rodion held his distance, slowly approaching as Cress continued. “You don’t know me, but I’m Cress. I’m here to investigate your murder to help give your husband freedom from being falsely accused.” He laid the bouquet in the flower display beside the headstone, closing his eyes. “He asked me to bring you this bouquet of flowers. He said that lilacs were your favorite flower, so I snatched these up for you.” He lowered his head. “He would’ve come if he could, but he’s stuck in the Leaflands region on parole.” He looked ahead at the afternoon sun over the water. There was a soft sigh that escaped his lips. “Even if I can talk to you through where you were buried, I wish you could just tell us what happened yourself.”

He pushed up onto his feet once more. “But since you can’t, Temenos and I will figure out, for your sake, both of your sakes.”

He got up onto his feet, patting the headstone before turning back to Rodion. “Okay, I’m ready to get back on the road.”

“You picked that up from Alfyn, didn’t you?” Rodion asked as he followed in line to Cress, and the investigator smiled wryly. 

“That boy’s got some good ideas, what can I say?”

The car doors slammed shut as they both loaded in, and the engine roared back to life as it pulled back down the road, off towards the peninsula that Osvald’s home once rested on.

Chapter Text

Driving down from the treeless cliffside graveyard brought the detective and doctor duo through a canopy of autumnal color. Brown, amber, golden, and ruby leaves spun and danced behind the car as the wheels swept through the litter, thick, graying and moss-covered trunks streaked by. Blue ocean occasionally flashed through the dark woods, scattered rays from the sun quivering and waving across the waters like the scales of a giant fish. Wailing of seagulls circling the beaches and the roar of the waves seeped in through the seals of the car, along with the crunching and scratching of the leaves beneath the wheels. The radio within the shell of metal and wiring murmured with garbled messes of poorly received music, static, and voices as it fought to receive some sort of signal. Abruptly it was silenced as Cress’ fingers pressed the power button, shutting it off.

“Damn, looks like my coverage over here is kinda poor too.” Cress clicked the power button on the side of the phone, checking the time. “Looks like we gotta do this the old fashioned way.” He grunted as he slid his fingers between the center console and passenger seat, digits struggling to grasp a thick map before it was ripped from the dusty space it was hidden in. Paper loudly creased and crinkled. “Okay, uh, watch out for a fork in the road, you’ll want to keep right on it.”

As the driver’s eyes remained focused on the road, a creased smile appeared on his lips. “It’s been quite some time since we drove like this. Quiet, focused, but serene.”

“Well, last time it was like this was when we had to take Therion to his appointment while Alf was at work.” Cress’ eyes scanned the area outside the car. “He prefers it quiet.”

“Of course he does. It’s still nice.”

The peaceful autumnal atmosphere was gradually torn away by char and the sunlight becoming drastically intensified by seared trees, incapable of protecting the floor from the rays, the roar of the water growing more intense. Juvenile oak trees with fall leaves grew between the forsaken trees; a stark reminder that life goes on even when disaster strikes. The peaceful quiet dampened into a mellow, melancholic silence, the crunch of leaves all but absent from the ambience of the reborn forest.

The core of the burnt forest soon became present as Rodion turned down a driveway, to the sight of a derelict, collapsed and scathed building, with only the skeleton just barely standing. Part of the front door was still standing on its hinges and what remained of its doorway, tall, uncontrolled grasses, mosses, vines and flowers claiming the abandoned home back into nature. The passenger door of the car opened, brushing over tall grasses as Cress climbed out.

“Be careful of ticks, Cress!” Rodion quickly commented before exiting himself.

“I’ll be careful, don’t worry-” He protested, quickly turning his attention to the house. Cracked concrete for the pathway up to the front door had grass and clover invading gaps where it could grow, poison ivy climbing up the right side of the doorframe. Half-scorched, moth-eaten fabrics could be seen poking out from piles of ashes and charcoal, splintered chairs and tables shattered by the weight of the roof falling down on top of them. 

“I think…” Cress started as he straightened himself up, “There’s probably no reason for me to poke around here right now, the suspect was unlikely to go into the house.” He moved to the left side of the house, stepping out through a gap in the wall, foot resting down onto a gravel driveway, the small stones crunching beneath his weight. Off further northwest was a cavern, mouth blackened with ash, conclusively being the laboratory that Osvald often frequented for research. His feet carried him over to the steps downward, and he carefully eased his way down the steps, carefully throwing on the half-face respirator that was a match for Rodion’s own, which the latter insisted on the two of them bringing with. He was grateful for that forced suggestion now, with the air near the opening of the lab already still smelling off. Latex gloves were snapped onto his hands. He didn’t want to burn his skin off touching something, so better safe than sorry.

He understood why the reports claimed that there was only two rooms to the lab upon setting foot into the room, clicking his flashlight on. To the right of the spot he’s in appears to be a bulge from the cave’s natural structure. There were rusted, ashen, crumpled and caved-in cabinets exclusively in that space. He made his way in, picking up a rusted piece of metal to see that the underside held a right to know symbol, one pertinent in chemistry labs and anywhere hazardous chemicals are stored.

The former wall closing off this part of the remodeled cave clearly collapsed from the extreme heat and warmth of the chemical fire. Cress removed his phone from his pocket as he scanned through Osvald’s blueprints. While gingerly tiptoeing around across rubble, broken glass and metal, there was a sudden shift as he placed his weight down, a heavy, fallen over door rocking upward from the pressure. 

That’s what he wanted to know. The chemical storage room was also fireproofed, much like the blueprints implied.

New questions are begged by this revelation as Cress lifted the door off the ground, noticing residue on both sides of the door.

“Has to have been open…” He murmured, “if it was closed, the fire would’ve eventually choked out, I think. Hey, Rodya!”

Footsteps loudly echoed down the steps as the doctor soon made his way in, adorning the respirator he’d brought with. “Yes?”

“You know chemistry pretty good, can chemical fires burn without air?”

Rodion made his way over to where Cress was, scanning over the doorway he was grasping. “Hm… Yes, there are. That’s why chemical fires are so dangerous, and lithium battery fires. They don’t need oxygen to burn, most of the time you just have to wait for them to run out of fuel or reduce their temperature to stop them.” The doctor crouched to carefully lift a piece of glass off the ground with his gloves. “And if there were hundreds of chemicals stored in here for the professor’s research purposes, that’s a noxious combination of toxins swirling around, it was probably impossible for the fire to be snuffed out.”

Cress was in the midst of starting a response when his phone started ringing. “Oh, it’s detective Mistral. Can you take the call and put it on camera mode?”

It was quickly accepted.

“Ah! Hello, Rodion. Is Cress there?”

The shy doctor awkwardly waved into the camera before flipping it around so the detective could see the investigator. 

“Oh, dear. I haven’t seen the scene in person, it’s even worse than the pictures.”

“Yeah, it’s grim.” Cress patted a hand against the door he was holding up. “We’ve found a few things out since we got here.”

“Ah! Pray tell, but give me one moment, I’d like to record this to save for examination later, if that’s alright.”

“Oh go right ahead, boss. Get all the papertrails you need.”

After a word of confirmation, Cress started, clearing his throat. “Well, the chemical storage room was up to code, with fireproof walls and doors, but a fire still spread somehow.”

“I was doing some digging on this, actually. Fireproof doors appear to work by having expanding metal in the frame which once heated to a certain temperature would expand and create an airtight seal to trap it in for a time.”

“That’s… Very important to know, thank you.”

“Cress, can you try to find the doorframe as well? It must be somewhere in here.” Rodion quickly interjected as he stepped closer, Cress laying the door back down, digging around before eventually raising up the frame. “Here it is. It’s intact.”

“If it was damaged by holding the fire back, I’d presume that it’d be melted.”

“Even if it wasn’t melted, the pressure of a huge fire in the room would have blown the door off the hinges, which it’s almost exactly where the doorframe originally was.” Rodion noted, crouching down to get a better look at it. 

“Indeed, indeed. Then I assume that whoever did this likely started the fire and ran. But how did it spread to the house from here?”

“The police got that part of the report correct at least.” Cress rested a hand on his hip. “The yard hadn’t been tended to yet and the leaf litter and sticks were able to spread the fire and raze the house. All it takes is one ember to jump out of the lab and onto a dry piece of grass or leaves to get that sucker even more out of control.”

The investigation eventually pulled away from the lab itself and to the surrounding area, with white ash and charcoal buried beneath sprigs of grass and clover taking over the forsaken land, to a point where the raging flames were incapable of spreading to thanks to a well-defined trail at the backside of the house. The trampled, litter-free dirt path worked like a burnless fireline, stopping the flames from extending beyond its expanse, sparing the cliffside flora from certain death.

There was one thing that caught Cress’ interest as soon as he set foot onto the path, a brown, textured trail camera, mounted to the trunk of a tree with a wire embedded within the bark. A small, circular camera lens was perched in the middle of the body.

“Rodya, come here.”

The guidance brought the phone-carrying doctor closer to the path, the detective on the other end turning his attention back to the call, seeing Cress lowered beside the intact camera.

“Temenos, can you get in contact with Osvald quick? This is urgent.”

The camera quality didn’t quite pick up what Cress was focused on, but the firmness and serious weight in his words made the detective pause, putting the call on hold as he sprung up from his seat, quickly jogging between blocks over to the professor’s apartment. Urgent, rapid knocks drilled against the door, leading to the door quickly being ripped open, a wide-eyed Osvald staring down at Temenos.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Cress has a question for you, and it looks to be urgent.”

The professor gave him entry into the apartment, surprisingly decluttered compared to the last time he was here. Temenos removed the hold from the phone, turning it to Osvald. “Osvald is on speaker now.”

“Osvald, did you have trail cameras around your home?”

Osvald placed his hand to his chin, peering at the video call, slowly nodding. “Yes, I did. Elena loved to see the animals that used the trail at night.”

“Okay, okay, uh,” He watched as the investigator pulled the camera off its wire, looking it over. “Did it use service or cellular data to transfer the video to you?”

“It was motion activated, but once it finished recording, it would send off the video to my computer.”

“Can I have you check your computer for the trail camera, then?”

The request almost immediately made Osvald’s heart leap into his throat, but he forced it back down with a rough swallow, closing the door as he moved around to his laptop, which had just finished recovering his research files. He navigated the file directory with bated breath.

“What’s the number on the back of that camera?”

“Zero-zero-two.”

Osvald’s mouse hesitated over the matching folder, and he squinted his eyes shut as he opened it up, scanning through the recording dates, down to the fated day of the fire…

“It’s here.”

Before Temenos or Cress get the chance to instruct Osvald, he clicks the video, pulling it up to play.

A car door closing, that’s what triggered the video.

The camera wasn’t aimed directly down the driveway, skewed off to the right and below eye-level, but it picked up a pair of legs behind the car door, circling around to the direction of the lab.

Ten minutes pass, and the car rocks as the criminal climbed through the passenger side, quickly reversing back out of the driveway, the quality of the video unable to capture a face through the tinted window, the license plate merely blobs of black on a white panel.

Soon a spark jumped out of the mouth of the lab, a horrifyingly rainbow flame sputtering out of the entrance, flashing into brush and leaves and roaring up into a orange flame, spreading across the way towards the house.

The laptop was slammed shut as Osvald struggled to breathe, his chest shuddering with the attempt, fighting to not breathe faster than necessary, palms sweating, hands trembling.

The next thing Osvald knew he was laying on the couch, Dinah preening at his nose, a blanket laid on top of him. A bleary blink followed, and his gaze shifted upward to the sight of Castti crouched in front of him.

“Oh good, you’re back.” A sigh like air escaping a sealed bag left her lips. “Temenos was frantically knocking at my door. He left a little while ago.”

“What?”

“You dissociated for thirty minutes.” The doctor pulled out her phone, unlocking it as she called for Temenos. “He’s okay now. He’s not just mumbling to himself and staring at nothing.”

Some more quiet conversation into the phone continued, and then Castti hung up the call, turning to the stovetop and carrying a couple of bowls over by the still slightly delirious professor.

“What?” He repeated as a bowl was offered to him.

“I apologize, I used your kitchen to make dinner for us.”

He silently accepted the bowl, catching the savory scent of beef stock, of which had sliced carrots, potatoes, celery, and onion in the thick sauce with cubes of simmered beef, steam rising off of the bowl like a hearty cloud. A spoon was set in to remove a bite, breath blowing over the mouthwatering bits of meat and veggies, before he placed it in his mouth. The beef was tender, easily falling apart in his mouth, the carrots soft but still holding their structure, the celery about the same. The onions were barely identifiable, as their flesh became soft and nearly gelatinous during the cooking. There was a light, peppery feeling from the broth, which Osvald presumed was thanks to thyme and bay that were allowed to steep into the sauce.

Osvald was dragged from his analysis of the meal by the door opening once more, with Temenos making his way inside. His expression was… Shockingly forlorn, hands held together with uncertainty.

“I apologize for disappearing after what happened. I was uncertain of what I would be able to do for you.” He took a seat near the professor, removing a shoulderbag from his back. “I brought some coffee back that we could all share, if you’d like.”

“It’s a bit too late for me to drink any coffee.” Osvald retorted, slowly shaking his head before taking another spoonful of stew. “I appreciate the sentiment, however.”

“Well, I’ll leave it here for you to try on your own time, then.” He opened the bag to place a small bag of coffee on the table as Castti moved to sit across from them. “If you find that you enjoy this blend let me know, and I’ll be more than happy to get more for the both of us.” His eyes then met Castti’s disapproving gaze. “...What?”

“You’ve still been drinking coffee after lunchtime, haven’t you?”

The detective spluttered at the question, staring over at her with exasperation. “I sleep just fine-”

“No you don’t, I can tell. You cannot hide the bags under your eyes from me.”

Temenos sunk on the couch slightly, muttering to himself, “Well it’s hard to sleep when I’m having to seek answers to ensure this man’s freedom…”

“You won’t be able to do that if you end up facedown in your papers now, will you?”

Their bicker was interrupted by a soft snrk from Osvald, who quickly shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth to soften the sound.

Quiet conversation continued around the living space as Temenos transferred the video off of Osvald’s laptop. The professor eventually finished the bowl as Castti washed up the remaining dishes, staring absently down at his hands, the images of the fire and the memories of driving to the flames swarming his mental imagery. His conference was dead silent, an uncomfortable shared silence that indicated that he was, absolutely, not alright.

“Osvald.” His attention slowly and hesitantly turned to her, tired and distant. “You might want to take the day off tomorrow.”

“I do not believe I can.” He responded in the smallest voice manageable for his body. “It’s a busy day tomorrow, and the review day for next week’s exam. My students need me there.”

Castti’s expression fell with slight disappointment, and she nodded. “Alright, well, just don’t push yourself too much.”

The two of them soon excused themselves, leaving Osvald staring at the blue light of his laptop’s desktop screen, a hollow pit sitting in the core of his ribcage. 

Someone deliberately went into his lab and caused the fire, and fled, like a coward.

“I swear to you, whoever took my life from me,” Osvald gripped his blanket tighter, knuckles going white. “I will find out who you are and stop at nothing to ensure that you are punished properly for your actions.”

Despite his words being saturated with venom, despite the anger he felt, he truly just felt like allowing tears to fall.

And fall they did, quietly, and without restriction.

Chapter Text

“Wait… Pause.” 

The video was set to a standstill, as the mouse hovered over the timeline of the video, a soft click sending it back a few minutes. Temenos leaned forward, setting the video software to zoom in to the rightmost edge of the screen. The sight of the unknown figure running around to the passenger side of the car came on screen as he paused, peering closely at the screen.

Whoever this is is holding something.

“Rather, some one .” He commented, “Could that be..?” Without finishing the thought, he snatched his cell phone off of the desk as the bell to his office rang.

Seconds went by without an answer, before the call finally connected. “Mmm… Hello?”

“Ah, Cress. You sound tired.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone, the scratching of stubble on his face. “Yeah, about that. Your boyfriend’s friends in Conning Creek were complete douchebags and arrested me and Rodya for ‘trespassing’ despite me showing the proper paperwork that we had permission to be at the scene.”

Temenos’ frown deepened at the statement. He knew that there were some contentions in Conning Creek’s police unit, but hadn’t fathomed that it was this bad. “I’d refuse to consider them friends of my little lamb.” He eyed Throné as her head poked into his office, and he gestured towards the seat across from him. “I assume you’re out now considering that we can talk.”

“Yup. Seemed some hotshot from Stormhail was in the area and jacked them up for it.” Temenos’ eyes lit up at the statement, a small smile growing on his lips. 

“So those crows did decide to investigate my complaints I had presented. Good, good.” He leaned back in his seat. “I wanted to ask you to go to Conning Creek’s hospital and request records for Rita Vanstein.”

“I’m already ahead of you on that, boss.” There was a sharp twinge of pain in the words. “Unfortunately you won't like the news. Her last record was about being admitted with serious burns, maybe ten minutes before Osvald would have arrived. She succumbed to her injuries at the hospital.”

He didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. Temenos silently noted, staring down at the papers in front of him. Osvald wasn't the only one to lose a loved one without being able to say goodbye. Realization of which ached at his very core.

He didn't get a chance to say his farewells, he didn't-

“Detective?”

He blinked, noticing a splash of water on one of the papers, smudging the ink. Swallowing felt monumentous, his tongue suddenly feeling like a stone in his mouth, saliva thick like honey, nose and throat aching with only the deep pain he’s felt many times before.

“I’ll call you back later. Make your way back here so we can talk face to face. Drive safely, alright?” He felt his voice break at the last words as he hung up without awaiting a response. “Could… You give me a moment, Throné?”

The concern in her frown gave Temenos some pause, but he didn’t retract his request as she stepped out, the door clicking shut to leave him in a sullen silence.

A hope for some sign that this crime was less horrendous than it seemed, wasn’t unfamiliar to him. He wished for it once before. 

His silent dwelling was interrupted by a soft mewl at his feet, Roi’s fluffy form leaping onto his lap as his attention shifted. The cat’s approach brought emotions to his forefront, tears to his eyes as he cupped his arms beneath the feline’s legs, hugging him to his chest.

“Oh Roi…” He murmured as he buried his face into the cat’s fur, purring loudly, he could feel the purring in his skull. “How I wish I was able to do more for you…”

The office was void of light or sound, Osvald’s gaze absently watching footage from his trail cameras. Watching Elena running past the camera, stopping and turning to greet him, the fire, and the scene after, hearing his desperate cries for his wife and daughter as sirens wailed in the background. 

While he was able to drag himself out of bed and to work, the same couldn’t be said for teaching. That led to him emailing his class, saying that he was unwell.

He glanced at the clock in his computer, seeing that it was half past four-o-clock. He really should have left for home, but he couldn’t get off of his seat. He could only plant his face against the table, feeling a deep emptiness in his chest, devoid of emotion, devoid of thought, of purpose.

He sat there for what felt like hours until his door clicked open and his head flew up catching sight of a form in the doorway, squinting at the light with mild fear at who might be there. His vision better adjusted to the new light to see Garud standing in the doorway.

Oh, shit.

“Osvald?”

He opened his mouth to try to respond, but he lacked the energy even to speak, closing his mouth to await Garud’s next line.

“Are you alright?” There was a pause before he continued, “I noticed that you came in, but Agnea said that you said that you were ill.”

The fear slowly started to melt away, knowing that the other professor wasn’t coming out of a place of reprimand but concern. A head shake was all that was needed to give Garud an answer. He couldn’t read the man’s expression with the shadow cast across it from the light through the doorway. 

“I see.” There was awkward silence between them for a few more minutes, with Osvald refusing to make eye contact with the other professor. “Do you need a ride back home?”

Another quiet nod. Garud stepped into the room, extending a hand to offer to help him pack his things away.

Osvald stared up at the offer with surprise, accepting after a few moments, collecting his laptop as Garud grabbed his folders, helping him put them into his bookbag. They eventually exited the campus, Garud holding Osvald’s bookbag as they walked towards the other man’s vehicle. It was a sizeable, pale beige minivan, nothing to write home about, but Osvald could feel himself relax at the sight, no longer needing to be fearful of potentially being seated in what felt like a clown car to him. He collected his bag from Garud, carefully shuffling around to sit in the passenger side front seat. Osvald went back to staring at his hands as the van pushed forth, humming to life.

It only took a few minutes to get to Osvald’s place, while it was fifteen minutes to get to campus on foot, it was significantly faster on wheels. They stopped on the side of the street, but once more Osvald couldn't get himself out of the car. He could only think of what he no longer had when he thought about going back to the apartment. He was thrown out of his spinning as he felt the vehicle rock and Garud climbed out of his side, going around to Osvald’s open window.

“What do you need from inside?”

Osvald stared vacantly down at Garud, slowly blinking in confusion.

“I’ll get your things. What do you need?”

Oh. Surprise washed over the professor once more as his eyes widened. 

Garud was offering to have him over.

He felt… Awful about being so mopey that Garud feels inclined to give him sympathy. Was he unintentionally guilting the man into doing this? He’s… Not sure.

The fashion professor reached into his pocket, pulling out a notepad and pencil, handing it to Osvald for him to write.

…Perhaps with the effort Garud was putting into communication, that it wasn't him. He was still uncertain, and it didn't help that his mind was battering him with feelings of worthlessness. He accepted the tools, writing a list of items before handing the pad along with his apartment keys to the man. As Garud went into Osvald’s apartment, he grabbed his flip phone, slowly sending a message to Crick. He grimaced. Despite his despise for some forms of technological “advancement” he hated texting on one of these phones. He had to use shorthand.

Goin 2 stay w coworker in Cropdale over wknd.

He hated shorthand so much.

He closed the phone, resting his head against the headrest with a sigh mixed with a groan. He closed his eyes until he heard a whistle from his side as Dinah flew through the open window onto his shoulder. Garud placed a suitcase into the trunk before climbing back into the driver’s seat, passing Osvald’s speech synthesizer to him, and he gratefully opened the device.

Thank you.

“‘S no issue.” Garud glanced out his window as Dinah loudly cooed while snuggling into the passenger’s hair.

You… …I don't know how to word this, but-

“You didn't make me feel obligated to invite you over.” Garud spoke up, talking over the rest of the synthesizer. “...Sorry, I didn't mean to talk over your device.”

It's alright. I assume you're not used to one of these.

“No, I haven't had a student who’s utilized one before. I know the dean recently ordered a handful of them for future students at least.” 

Osvald watched the trees flying past the window, one hand absently stroking Dinah’s feathers as the bird hopped down onto his speech synthesizer, before the bird started to peck.

Jhgskhhfdghdfhgfhkfhsgiretwquiqowvnzbrhguuht-

Osvald frantically tried to shoo the dove off of the keyboard, flushing slightly as he could hear Garud softly chuckling off to the side.

“That’s a mourning dove, alright.” He commented as Osvald finally succeeded in encouraging Dinah back onto his shoulder. “Affectionate but the most mischievous critters.”

He finally managed to shoo the bird off of his keyboard, back onto one of his fingers as he watched out the window. The forest grew thicker and darker until it brightened up with thinner foliage, eventually catching sight of a few stone-built homes, trailed with moss from generations of use, well-cared-for and left to stand for years on end. Gardens popped up into view outside of homes, lilies of the valley, tulips, roses, poppies, a whole plethora and spectrum of flowers. The sight made Osvald’s heart ache, memories of gardening with Rita and Elena coming back to him. He leaned forward as he averted his gaze from the gardens, down towards the glovebox in the vehicle. It eventually rolled to a stop as they finally arrived at Garud’s home. Garud climbed out of the car, opening the backseat to retrieve Osvald’s things. The professor climbed out of his seat as well, awkwardly grabbing his laptop with Dinah hopping onto his shoulder. 

“Here it is. Take your time.” Garud handed Osvald his bags, going towards the front door. “I’ll be going inside for a bit. Just come inside when you’re ready.”

The front door creaked open, and Osvald heard Garud calling out into the house as it clicked shut. Dinah cooed loudly as he sat on the chemist’s shoulder, preening at his hair.

The orange sunset filtered through the treetops like wisps of fire, the humid air practically dancing about. Trees extended outward for miles, a stark difference from Montwise or even Conning Creek for that matter. Osvald wasn’t quite used to trees as far as could be seen, as hardy trees in Montwise struggle to regain their footing once removed either by human hands or the landslides that often cascaded down the mountainsides after heavy storms. Conning Creek, while having many more trees than Montwise, still wasn’t as thick with them as Cropdale is. Many of the trees were still green with healthy leaves, but there were patches of orange, red, yellow, and brown, an autumnal knit blanket with just enough space between threads to let small bits of sunlight through.

Despite the sight around him, he couldn’t help but be drawn away by his thoughts. He caught sight of a swinging bench outside the house, and he sat down in it, absently staring down towards the grass.

It was time to visit the archives of his thoughts. It felt like he was stepping into a tall, marble library. The walls were alight with blue torches, the walls adorned with shelves filled with books of many sizes and colors, stacked as high up as the eye could see. Of course he couldn’t truly see these things, rather it was how he imagined that his mind was organized. In the depths of his thoughts and knowledge was a table, at which other versions of himself, bearing their own perspectives and emotions, gathered to speak.

Look, there are many people who could’ve caused the fire, One of the other versions commented, swiftly interrupted by another.

You’re right, but all that was stolen was our notes. AND took our notes from our desktop. There’s only one person who’d be interested in something so niche and specific. The work isn’t valuable monetarily. It HAS to be Harvey.

Osvald blinked back out of his thoughts, glaring at the floor. Of course it was. How could he have been so blind? He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, just about ready to dial Temenos, but stopped himself. It wasn’t his place to tell Temenos his suspicions, it was the detective’s job to come to those himself.

Not to mention he isn’t in any state to discuss this with Temenos anyways. It would be better for him to just take the time in an unfamiliar area to get his mind off things.

So maybe…

He got up from his seat, heading over to the door when he was stopped by the flowers in the flowerbed. Some white lilies of the valley, their delicate bell-shaped flowers swaying lightly in the breeze… He crouched to see the flowers, delicately raising the downward facing stem so he could see the stamen and pistil, the petals perfectly encompassing the interior.

That was something he always loved about flowers. They were a marvel of mathematics and nature. Perfectly spiraling into a beautiful pattern. His favorite flower was the tall hedge sunflower. It especially displayed this satisfying swirling pattern from the flowers to the center seeds.

Lilies of the valley were Rita’s favorites.

His head quickly popped upward as he heard the wooden door creak open.

“Agnea and Hikari have been working hard on this garden.” Garud spoke up, lowering himself beside Osvald. “Do…” He took a long pause, trying to come up with the right words. “Do you enjoy flowers?”

Osvald nodded, fighting to gather his voice again. “I… Mmn… Hnm…”

“Take your time.”

A few more minutes passed, and Osvald sat down against the stones of the flowerbed. “My wife and I used to garden around our house. Hells, my daughter’s first word was ‘pretty’ in regards to the flower arrangements outside.” He rested his head against his knees, staring at the lily he’d been caressing earlier. “Flowers have a special place in my life.”

“They’re special to us, too.” Garud turned to see Agnea poking her head out of the entryway. He waved her off, turning back to the professor. “...I should be tending to them more myself, but I still don’t have the heart to.”

The two of them quietly talked to one another before Garud helped Osvald back to his feet, going into the house as the sun started to set. 

“Are you feelin’ alright, professor?” Agnea asked as he came inside, scanning the house over. 

“I’m managing.” He admitted to her, taking a seat at the table. “It’s been a rough time.”

Her expression fell slightly as she nodded, but Pala popped out from the kitchen.

“Well, it’s nothin’ a fresh Bristarni raspberry pie can’t help, even a little bit! Aggie, d’ya have the whipped cream ready?”

“Oh, yeah! It was in the fridge! I’m gonna go get Hikari n’ Mikka quick!” 

Agnea quickly slipped out of the room, and Osvald and Garud were left alone for a few moments.

“...It is a good pie.” Garud corroborated, “You’re not allergic to anything in a raspberry pie, are you?”

“As long as your pie doesn’t have amoxicillin in it, I’ll live.”

“Aw! That’s our secret ingredient! Gives the pie some extra zing!” Pala replied from the kitchen, coming out with the steaming pie and some fresh whipped cream.

Osvald gave Garud a look that led to him quickly and frantically replying, “She’s not serious-”

“I sure hope not.” Hikari and Mikka soon arrived, the former giving the professor a light smile and nod.

The pie was cut into eight slices, two extra pieces left over. Agnea offered Osvald some of the fresh whipped cream, and he sheepishly accepted it, poking his fork down at the end of the pie, the fruit’s syrup wafting a tangy fragrance into his nose. He took a bite, not usually a fan of pie crusts, they were usually quite dry, but the syrup sweetened and moistened the crust just enough that it had a pleasant texture but not soggy nor falling apart.

“Agnea,” She looked up as he found his words, “How has the assignment gone?”

“Um, it’s… Going.” She deflated slightly. “I know you’re tryin’ really hard to make it easy for us, and it’s helpin’ but, I’m still havin’ some trouble.”

“Hm.” A hand went to his chin as he took another bite. Perhaps another classmate could be a good option for tutoring. And he knows that someone in the class has to retake the course despite having passed it once before…

“Do you feel that tutoring might be better if you have a fellow classmate to work through the material? I know my explanations might not have the best terminology or phrasing.”

“Maybe? I… Don’t think I really know.”

“If I can give my input,” Hikari spoke up, “I know that everyone learns in slightly different ways. If one strategy isn’t working, someone who can provide another option would be beneficial.”

“It does surprise me that this school doesn’t have a tutoring program.”

“Wellgrove went through a rough time and enrollment was very low for a time.” Garud added, “The city was going through an economic recession, and still is somewhat. Alrond’s remodeling efforts for the campus has helped breathe some life into the place again with the construction projects.” He took another bite of the pie, leaning on the table in thought. “I’m not sure if you know this, but along with being the dean of the college campus, Alrond is also the mayor.”

Osvald blinked. “Pardon?”

“Indeed, he’s both, at least partly due to the recession that led to a form of exodus from the town that’s now starting to gradually recover.”

“Sorry I’m late!” The door to the house swung open, Ritsu coming through. “I was on a long call.”

The statement appeared to very quickly tense up the atmosphere at the table. Pala wilting slightly while Mikka fidgeted beside her, Hikari visibly tensing as he looked down at his pie.

As Osvald’s plate was empty, Garud picked up both of their plates, quietly nudging him. “Let’s go to my office,” He instructed, “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Osvald steps into the office, closing the door behind him as Garud soon returned. “Apologies, I wanted to step out of the kitchen, the kids might want to have some chats away from us.”

As much as Osvald wished to ask, he knew he wasn’t in any position to push his way into personal affairs. As such, he let out a low hum, sitting across from Garud’s workstation, where he picked up a shirt that was almost completely sewn up.

“I’ve been thinking,” Garud continued to sew some fabric together, Dinah sitting comfortably in an old cage that was from his and Cuani’s time rescuing doves. “You should take my bed tonight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have to duck to get through the doorways, you wouldn’t fit onto the couch in the living room.”

“But- It’s your home.”

“And you’re my guest. I want you to be comfortable here. You won’t be able to sleep if you aren’t comfortable. So, I’ll get some fresh covers and blankets on the bed.”

Garud got up from the work he’d been doing, leaving Osvald be for the time being, eventually coming back in.

“Erm,” Garud’s attention perked up with Osvald’s voice, “are your sheets made from natural fibers? Or is it nylons and plastic ones?”

“I’m not a particular fan of plastic fibers for many reasons, I try to keep them out of the house.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you allergic?”

“I am.” Osvald hung his head low. “It’s extremely hard to find affordable plant fiber clothing nowadays.”

“I can’t disagree with that.” Garud picked up the shirt he’d been working on. “Plastic fibers are far less labor intensive and cheaper to make. That doesn’t help you, however.” 

He then reaches to open up one of his drawers, producing a folded piece of red and white fabric. “Hinoeuman silk is a good hypoallergenic alternative to cotton, though.”

“Hmm.” Osvald eyes the fabric, reaching out to feel the soft silk. “Is it not expensive, though? I’ve heard Hinoeuman exports are considered premium.”

Garud nods in response, passively inspecting the silk. “Typically, yes, but Hikari’s mother is a weaver, and we’ve been longtime business partners; it’s how our families met, actually. So I’ve got easier access to the material.” He paused a moment, looking back up at Osvald. “If you’re in need of better bedsheets or clothing, I could see about using this. Kura’s work is good quality.”

Osvald blinked, a strange sense of recognition hitting him. Did he know that name? Despite his attempts to recall it, nothing came to him. “Ah, um,” he stammers, refocusing on the conversation at hand, “you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You seem prone to thinking that any offer from me is imposing.” Garud returned to what he was working on, pushing the fabric through the sewing machine, the foot pedal squeaking as he pressed on it. Scissors snipped the string as it doubled back slightly from the edge of the piece, and Garud flipped the shirt inside out, its deep teal fabric slightly glistening in the setting sunlight. “Here.” He tossed the piece at Osvald, hitting him in the face, lips quirking up into a slight smile at the other teacher’s splutter. “Try that on. I think it should be the right size for you.”

He stared at the shirt unceremoniously passed to him, hovering back to Garud briefly before shuffling off to the extra room in the tailor’s workspace to swap to the shirt. His current shirt, mildly ratty and damaged as it was, was a size or two too big for him. It was hard finding something that worked. A large in one brand might be a small in another– hell, with his size, some stuff he’d like may not even be available large enough. 

This however, was an experience like none other. He pulled the shirt over his head, having to fight with his multiple foot-long hair to wrangle it through the head hole, but after managing, he stared down at the shirt. A color that he wasn't particularly used to wearing, but that wasn't the question at hand. It was a little too big, but nearly perfect on him despite that. His broad shoulders often stretched the upper portion of the shirts he wore, but this one was extra long at the arms to give leeway. He lightly toed his way out of the room as Garud watched him, standing in front of him as the other man stood.

“Mm, slightly too large. How are the shoulders? Is it alright on your skin?”

“The shoulders are better than most things I've had before. As for my skin, I probably won't know for a few more moments but I haven't had a reaction yet.”

“Good.” Garud nodded in satisfaction, going around to get a better look. “I probably could have made it fit better if I had your measurements. Unfortunately I had to estimate and round up.”

“How did you-”

“Unlike anything you’ve purchased from those big corporation chains, my work is intended to fit especially to my client’s frame.” He crossed his arms. “That’s the art of fashion, not making a glove that fits ‘well enough’ but rather something that conforms to the shape of you perfectly.” He poked at the silk a little. “And what are your thoughts on the color?”

“I… It’s much more vibrant than anything I’m used to.” He admitted, rubbing his fingers against the smooth fabric, in awe at the sensation on his skin. “I try to stick with neutral colors.”

“That’s a bit of a shame, I think a splash of color, especially this one, looks nice on you.”

“Mmmm, perhaps you’re right. I’ve always been rather… Muted with my apparel. I never cared for my looks other than being orderly.” He shrunk at Garud’s disbelieving gaze. “Well, I used to. I may… Have let that go as of late. I try, but it’s hard.”

“I understand. I know it’s hard, losing someone.” Garud returned to his seat, legs loosely crossed. “I struggled to care for myself after I lost Cuani. I still tried to keep it together and care for the girls, but my own health was something else. I thankfully never was hospitalized, but it was close.”

Osvald also returned to his spot in the extra chair, fidgeting with his hands. “Erm, what was Cuani like?”

In the first time since they met, it looked like Garud lit up slightly as he picked up another project and started to tell Osvald about her.