Chapter Text
“Yeah, I don’t get it.” You frowned at the ancient tome in front of you.
The runes and symbols were starting to blur together on the page. It could have been from frustration and exhaustion, but it also could have been the tome itself playing tricks on you with the enchantments hidden within. Either way, whatever information you were supposed to get from the magic circles was beyond you at this point. You pushed the book away.
“Are you giving up already?” Solomon inquired from across the table. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
In the dim light of his room, you couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. Though in truth, you could never quite place their color, even in broad daylight. They seemed to shift constantly. Sometimes they were a dark blue, sometimes gray, sometimes brown. And despite your attempts to try and find the source, you have yet to figure out just what causes his eyes to change so much.
If you were to guess right now, you would say they were brown.
Brown eyes seemed to be reserved for quieter moments. Not quite as mystical as gray or blue, but they were deeply warm and inviting. Deeply human. Add that to the playful way he placed his chin in his hand and that languid smirk on his face and he looked almost normal. Just a typical student helping his friend in a late night study session.
But then he leaned over to view your work. The lamplight hit his eyes and now they were gray like quicksilver, mercurial as it reflected the light and shadows. An almost shimmering quality, but still very much belonging to Solomon.
“Oh, you’re much farther than I expected.” He mused, impressed.
“Were you doubting me?”
“You? My star apprentice? Never. I just wasn’t expecting you to get through the material that quickly.”
‘Quick’ would not have been the word you chose. You two had been here for hours now, pouring over books and mugs of coffee as you tried to understand the elements of magical theory. What little coffee was left had gone cold now, and the caffeine had lost its hold. All that remained was the heavy longing for sleep that slowly crept into your limbs. It made your head feel heavy.
Across from you, Solomon stifled a yawn before pulling your book and notes to his side of the table.
“I’ll look over your work then.” He said.
“Are you sure you don’t want to call it a night? Looks like you’re getting tired, old man.” You joked, even though you yourself wanted nothing more than to bury your head in your arms and drift off.
“At the very least, I want to make sure we go over the questions they’re going to give you on the exam.” He smiled at you, his eyes shifting to blue, “Hang tight, and I’ll review them, alright?”
You relented with a shrug and leaned back in your chair. There was a small hum of satisfaction as Solomon began to review your answers.
The room was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock and the soft rustle of Solomon turning the pages of your book. You let your eyes drift around the space.
As much as you enjoyed your time in the House of Lamentation, living with seven brothers meant there was little peace, especially when each one wanted your attention. Being in Purgatory Hall, where only three people resided, offered a brief moment of silence. Most days the Hall was filled with the soft noises of Simeon’s pen scratching as he wrote, the comforting smell of Luke baking, and the subtle magic that radiated off of Solomon.
Solomon’s room was no different than the rest of Purgatory Hall, though it was more like a library or a study than it was a bedroom. The walls were filled with bookshelves, the lights were always dimmed, the wooden floors and furniture soaked up any noise. It was an almost somber silence, but it was great for studying. And now, with your work done, you were able to sit and appreciate the comfort of it all. With a small sigh, you closed your eyes.
Despite his power, everything about Solomon seemed subtle : his humor, his mischief, even his presence. You would expect a grand sorcerer to have his room full of magical oddities and extravagant tools of the craft. And yes, there was still magic, you could feel it float through the space, a warm energy amidst the silence, but it was mild, almost gentle, like a lullaby.
You faintly heard Solomon mutter something, making you slowly reopen your eyes.
“What was that?” You asked, lolling your head over to look at him.
Hovering over your book, Solomon was leaning heavily into his hand, eyes closed. You could see the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest, the pen slowly falling from his grasp. The scene made you smile.
“Guess it really is past your bedtime, huh, old man?” You muse, shifting in your seat so you could lean across the table.
He mumbled something again, too low to understand. You tilted your head, curious.
Was he responding to you in his sleep?
“Have to find something clever to say, even when you’re out cold?”
What you heard next was unexpected.
It was a short phrase, but nothing you could comprehend. You weren’t even sure it was English. The words that came out of Solomon’s mouth were guttural, yet melodic.
Furrowing your brow, you leaned in closer, close enough to see the way his eyelashes fell on his cheeks. You could feel the magic that surrounded him grow stronger as you closed the distance.
“Sol?” You whispered, unsure of whether to wake him or to just let him be. As much as you wanted to hear him speak again, you worried that waking him up would break the strange allure he had right now. Was he accidentally casting a spell in his sleep? You wouldn’t be surprised.
But then he spoke again and you realized he wasn’t chanting a spell at all. You’ve grown to recognize the incantations he uses, but this was nothing you have ever heard before. His tone sounded older, ancient, but at the same time, sweet and soft, as if he was humming an old song. The words might be slurred with sleep, but whatever he was saying danced in the air.
You stared in wonder. The pen in his hand fell completely and Solomon’s eyes started to flutter open. His eyes were a dark, dark brown, full of depth. A slow smile crept on his face as he took in the sight of you so close to him.
“I guess I fell asleep?” He yawned, meeting your gaze.
“Y-yeah.” You stuttered, still confused at what had just happened. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
“Do I?” He raised a curious eyebrow, “Did I say anything interesting?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell.”
With a carefree shrug, Solomon leaned back and stretched. You felt the magic around you lessen as he moved away. You sat back and watched the man in front of you.
“Well, it is rather late. I should take you home before the brothers start breaking down the door.”
He rose from his chair, his tall frame reaching its full height as he helped organize your things. It was only when he went to grab his coat that he realized you were still watching him.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked.
“Nothing.”
His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he considered you for a moment. But then he shrugged it off, returning his focus to putting on his coat.
You knew he was still trying to figure out what was on your mind, and you knew he would ponder it over the next time you saw him. It was the same way you were going to ponder on what he had said in his sleep. It was funny, in a way, how the two of you would quietly observe and wonder about the other, wondering what was left unsaid.
As if the both of you were endlessly puzzling the other.