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“Alright, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Shall we?” Trey asked as he checked the laces of his skates one final time and stood up from the fallen log.
“Not yet.”
He blinked. “Uh…didn't you say you wanted to be on the ice as soon as possible?”
“I did.” Trey didn't have to be looking at his face to hear the way Riddle's lip curled. “But that was before…” he trailed off, knowing Trey would follow his gaze and opting instead to let the scene explain itself.
A gray blur shot across the far side of the lake. For all of his initial floundering, Floyd had certainly picked up how to accelerate rather quickly—and ONLY how to accelerate. It was impressive, begrudging as it was to admit, even more so how he managed to perfectly thread the needle between Vil and Epel to only take out Sebek, too distracted to part like the others had.
The breath Trey sucked in between grit teeth was audible. “Well. You never know. He's so far away he probably won't even notice you.”
Riddle shook his head, the pompom on his knit toque swaying. “You'd be surprised. I'm beginning to suspect he has a sixth sense for opportunities to be an utter nuisance.”
“You jest, but it's an accurate assessment.”
Riddle's grimace soured further as he turned to find Azul and Jade approaching. Just what he needed, the rest of Octavinelle. Any fear of a pincer attack in the works faded though as he caught sight of Azul's similarly displeased expression, also watching the chaos from afar. “Who said anything about it being in jest?” Riddle answered in lieu of a greeting.
That got Azul to snort, though his eyes remained locked on Floyd’s rampaging. “There's a reason we let him go on ahead without us. Engaging with any activity on ice is a much more pleasant experience when you're not being flung across it like a pebble.” Then he turned to face Riddle, then he smiled, hooked at the edges, but something about it felt…forced? “And what of you two, hm? Is it your first time on the ice?”
“We'd be happy to give pointers, if you wish,” Jade said, his grin toothy…and yet not quite glinting in his eyes like it usually would've.
Riddle brushed it off. “For your information, it is not. Upon the announcement of this field trip I went out of my way to learn the basics of ice skating. I may have a ways to go, but I assure you, you will not see me falling out there.”
The boast, he quickly realized, was ill advised; both of their grins instantly turned sharp. “Did you, now?”
Hoping to lighten the atmosphere into something a little friendlier, Trey chimed in. “I went a few times with my family. Nothing special.” He shrugged.
Not only did it not work, but the potential prospect of inexperience only spurred Azul on. “A few times, hm? A fine foundation, but surely you’d want to improve.” His focus snapped back to Riddle like a magnet. “In which case, why not show off your experience? I'd love to see what you’re both capable of, and if there’s anything of which we may assist.”
It was bait. He knew it was. It might've worked, too, goaded handily into competition as he unfortunately so often was, had he not looked down.
Staring longer than a cursory glance at Azul's legs revealed just how hard he was struggling to keep his upper body from shaking; his muscles were rigid, knees fighting to keep from tucking in and ankles only minutely wavering from side to side. Jade seemed to have better balance, only the slightest shift here and there from foot to foot, except he stood pigeon-toed to a comical degree, incapable of further movement without surely tripping over the toe picks. The very opposite one would expect from experienced skaters.
In an instant he realized their ploy, and his agitation faded in the midday mist. A part of him even considered showing mercy. But he could not, under any circumstances, let such taunting slide. “If you’re so insistent on helping, then perhaps we could benefit from a proper demonstration before we set foot on the ice. We wouldn’t want to risk an avoidable injury.” Riddle's eyes flicked back up to meet Azul's, a challenge. “Since you so generously offered.”
As expected, Azul held his gaze, unfazed by the scrutiny. “Oh, no, no, after you. It would be much easier to give advice on where to improve if you were to demonstrate your form first.”
“I planned to wait for a more opportune moment given our…current company on the ice, so please. I insist.”
“Then we can both wait. It's no trouble.” Azul didn't budge. An immovable object to Riddle's unstoppable force. But even though he had no intention of backing down, Riddle knew from Azul's continued reluctance that he'd successfully called his bluff.
“Alright, how about—” Trey had started to de-escalate, chuckling awkwardly as he went to set his hand on Riddle's shoulder, but before he could make contact, let alone finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Jade all but chirping, “I agree with Riddle. An example is in order.”
All three of them whipped their heads to face him, Azul's expression the picture of betrayal. Jade merely stared back, nonchalant. Riddle watched the silent argument erupt between them, encapsulated entirely through a furious flurry of microexpressions and one mouthed, wordless traitor! Now THERE was the nasty glint he’d come to dread from Jade; a small mercy that it wasn’t directed at him.
“Fine!” Azul finally snapped and shuffled somewhat awkwardly up to the edge of the frozen lake. It was so much easier to tell how he struggled now. “As merfolk we have plenty of experience on the ice. Granted, it's never been with ice skates…” Was that a nervous gulp? “…or with human legs. But the principal is the same!”
Azul’s foot touched the ice. And then it was out from under him, as was his other leg somehow, as he dropped backwards with a muffled yet solid thump! Flat on his back, arms and legs sprawled every which way. There was a second where Azul laid completely still, and Riddle began to fear he’d seriously injured himself—but then Jade let out a guffaw loud enough to echo past the trees, and Azul tilted his head back to shoot an absolutely withering glare his way. “Oh, and I’m SO SURE you can do better!” he barked.
Jade fought to contain his giggling. “Why, I’m glad we both agree! But first, you must be cold after such a fall. I shall go and procure drinks for us both.” With that, he turned to leave.
“Ohhh no you don’t!” Azul snarled, whipping around with uncanny speed to lunge a hand out just as Jade began to try and stagger away on his skates. A vicious and slightly pathetic battle, but the odds were just not in Azul’s favour; his fingers caught the boot’s laces, and the tight knot rapidly came undone when Jade tugged, tripped, and took a face full of snow, but ultimately the lace slipped free before Azul could get a better grip. The eel had escaped.
Riddle was not mean enough to laugh. But he was petty enough to rub it in Azul's face.
“If you’re quite finished with this tomfoolery…” Riddle said as he approached the ice, not bothering to wait and see whether Azul had finished grieving his wounded pride to look. He always would eventually. Confident, Riddle set his first foot upon the ice.
His knee wobbled. It wasn’t a fall, but with Azul there to witness it might as well have been.
And sure enough, Azul pounced. “You’re looking a little unsteady there. Be careful, now.” Taunting, laced with sarcasm, each word a barbed simulacrum of concern.
Riddle grit his teeth to stop from rising to the bait. “I am fine. I’m still…getting the hang of…first setting foot on the ice.” He kept his skate in place as he got his bearings, running back through what he’d been taught. Hands low, square legs with shoulders, bend the knees and grab them for balance if needed.
But he never got that far. Right before he made to step with his other foot, he looked up to straighten his posture, and never before had he been so dismayed over his prediction coming to horrible, terrible fruition; only one foot down, and already Floyd was hurtling their way with the speed of a comet. A predator scenting blood.
He had to get off the ice.
He turned his skate to stop from accidentally sliding out further, and could ease himself back up the bank to safety. But doing so was slow, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn't be enough to escape grabbing range, especially if Azul had managed to reach so far from where he’d laid prone. Not without—
“Trey!” Riddle called, throwing an arm out behind him. He thankfully didn't need to elaborate; the next second hands wrapped around his wrist and arm, and he was yanked away. Both of them stumbled a little through the momentum, the skates staggering in the snow as they fled a few feet, clinging on in the hopes neither one would fall.
Behind him Azul had managed to roll over onto his hands and knees, and instead of trying to stand he began a frantic scramble up onto solid ground. He almost made it, too.
They watched with all the horror of witnessing a shark attack as Floyd crashed unceremoniously into the raised lakeshore edge where Riddle once stood, flashed them a grin (which had Riddle taking an extra step back as best he could within Trey’s steadying grasp, lest Floyd actually come up on dry land to pursue), then turned to Azul. He grabbed him by the ankle. Azul hissed, he kicked, he got about as far as spitting “Don't you dare—” before his other ankle was seized and he was dragged further into the ice, fingers clawing desperate divots into the scattered snow left from Floyd’s impact. His last word was a shrieked “NOOOOOO!” as he was spun, then flung across the ice like a curling stone directly towards an unsuspecting Kalim and Jamil. Floyd cackled, took off as a dog would after a ball, and that was that.
Neither Riddle nor Trey dared move until the puff of frost had settled upon the ice. Then, Trey released a breath, letting his shoulders drop. “I…have GOT to stop underestimating those guys.”
“You really do. Dropping your guard around them is a recipe for disaster,” Riddle chided. At that point he realized he was still clinging to Trey, and slowly withdrew to fix his sleeve, ears warming despite the chilly air.
Trey had the same idea, though one hand still lingered on Riddle's arm. “So…until Coach Vargas catches wind and kicks him off the ice, wanna go find Cater in the meantime?”
“A fine idea.”
By the time they returned the sun had long since set. Many of the skaters had left the lake to seek warmth or turn in for dinner or, the excuse they'd heard the most from passing students, get as far away from Coach Vargas’s “private lessons” as possible. Not everyone, the lake was still decently occupied, but the atmosphere had relaxed considerably from earlier.
In short, the perfect opportunity to finally spend a moment on the ice.
As they emerged along the compacted path stomped through the snowy woods, Trey slowed his stride to gaze up from the uneven ground, awed breath clouding the air. “Woah…who put all these lights up?”
“The ghosts did,” Riddle answered, eyes following Trey's up to the bright fairy lights dappling the trees. White, yellow, a light shade of blue. Bright like the streetlights lining Night Raven College’s pavement. “It was their idea. According to Coach Vargas, they said it would help the students navigate in the dark better should we happen to remain past sunset.”
“Good thing they did, it’s much easier to see where the edges are like this.” He cocked his head down towards the thick line tracing the shore of the lake, glowing across the ice from where they ducked under ridges.
They found their previous felled log and re-tied their skates, and Riddle refused to dally twice. Again his leg wobbled, but it felt easier to get his other foot onto the ice this time, hands dropping to his knees until he was steady enough to stand up straight and shift his weight from skate to skate. Comfortable, he turned back to Trey, who still hesitated at the shore. “Do you need help?”
“That’s alright, I—uwoh!” As soon as his skate touched the ice, Trey slid forward a tad, foot wobbling unsteadily as his hands shot out to fight for balance. Luckily, the foot still on land anchored him. Once he wasn’t at risk of toppling over he slowly, without looking up from the ice, reached for Riddle’s hand. “...I’m used to having an edge to hold on to,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.
“It’s daunting at first when you’ve nothing to hold,” he agreed, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Keep your hands around waist height, or you’ll pitch backwards like Azul did.”
After a moment, Trey relaxed, releasing some of his tension in an exhale. “This feels familiar. It’ll come back to me more as I get going.”
“Very well.” Just to be sure, he very gently nudged the tip of Trey’s skate with his own, the soft clack muffled further by the snow. “Remember, toes open.”
“Right.”
Starting out was a little awkward. A handful of false starts as Trey wavered and paused to stop from wiping out. Riddle let him keep possession of his hand until he felt confident enough to let go, and it didn’t take long before both fell into a walk slow enough to allow them to gaze out at the decor without much risk of losing balance. Side by side they rode along the outside of the lake in a rounded square to minimize turning, Riddle claiming the inner side to place himself between Trey and the other skaters still circling the rink. A casual stroll along the ice wasn’t exactly the intense workout that Coach Vargas clearly had in mind, but that was alright. It was what Trey was comfortable with.
“You said you’ve been skating with your family before?” Riddle eventually asked once he was sure Trey wouldn’t get distracted.
Trey nodded. “Yeah, though we only went a couple times. We’re always busy in the winter, so we’d go to an indoor rink once things calmed down. I think I was…twelve the last time we went? My little brother ran me down with a walker.”
“My goodness. Were you hurt?”
He snorted. “Nah, I was alright. It broke the hinge on my glasses though, so we decided that was enough skating for a while.”
“Hopefully we can make this trip a more enjoyable experience.” An idea occurred. Riddle stopped skating. “Say, Trey…”
But Trey didn't. It was clear by the strange sound he made and the way he slid to the side that he'd tried to do…SOMETHING, but it wasn't until he punted the toe of his skate into the ice and nearly face-planted spectacularly that he finally came to a standstill.
Brow furrowed, Riddle caught up to him. He couldn’t help but recall the way Floyd merely flung himself into everything—and everyone—in order to stop. “Do you also have trouble stopping?”
Trey’s smile was sheepish. Under the white light it was easy to catch his ears turning pink, even with how his hat tried to hide them. “A little. I know you’re supposed to push out, but they always end up waving every which way. I’m really not great at keeping balance when that happens.” He shrugged. “Anyway, what's up?”
“I could teach you how to stop properly,” Riddle suggested, the original idea promptly cast aside.
He blinked. “You don't have to.”
“It'd be a good idea to learn for your own safety. Or…” he glanced over his shoulder in search of Coach Vargas, finding him spiraling in tight circles around the center of the lake as he flexed. “We could request a private lesson if you'd—”
“No! Er, no, that's fine. If I’m going to learn, I'd much rather have you show me how it's done.”
The tiniest ember of smug satisfaction sparked in his abdomen, gone fast enough to where it didn't show on his face. Or at least, he hoped it hadn't. “Use me for balance,” Riddle instructed, and held both hands out.
There was a pause, a flicker of uncertainty where Trey glanced around at their fellow skaters before he set his hands in Riddle's. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing as Trey got his bearings.
“There are a few ways of stopping, but the snowplow stop is what most beginners learn first. The goal is to create friction in order to slow your movement. Let’s start standing still. Bend your knees, keep your ankles steady so you aren’t leaning on your inside edges too much, and push both legs out to the side.” It took a few attempts for Trey to succeed without the skates jerking on either side. A few more before the smoothness was consistent. Riddle nodded once satisfied. “Very good. Now, while moving your toes are going to end up angling in slightly as you push to stop. That's exactly what you want to do in tandem with pushing out with your heels.”
He tugged Trey's hands to urge him forward. Trey staggered in his skating, trying to come up along Riddle's side, but Riddle pushed himself back and kept pace ahead. Leading them came effortlessly. Even if he couldn’t see where he was going.
“You already know how to skate backwards?” Trey asked, amazed.
“Coach Vargas taught me how. I’ll admit, I’m by no means a professional yet, but I’ve learned the fundamentals well enough to teach others in turn.”
Trey huffed an impressed sound, eyes darting down only once to watch their feet before they rose back to meet again, lidded ever so slightly. The gesture had Riddle's breath catching in his chest, and he almost sent them both sprawling onto the shore by forgetting to lead through a turn, regaining himself at the last minute. A greedy part of him wanted to abandon the lesson for another time. To continue as they were until the field trip officially ended, hand in hand, skates synchronized in every push, Trey's face illuminated from the glow of the fairy lights reflecting off the ice. Trey seemed enraptured in the moment as well, not once tearing his attention away to cast nervous glances towards whoever else might've watched. His cheeks were pink, from the cold or from them he couldn't say for sure, but he hoped it was the latter; Riddle's own had grown similarly warm.
For a time they continued merely as that, allowed in this one, simple indulgence. After their second turn, Riddle decided he'd selfishly strayed from his duty for long enough, though even that choice wasn't without its ulterior motive: The sooner they wrapped up skating, the sooner he could have Trey all to himself behind closed doors. “Are you ready to try stopping?”
That seemed to bring Trey out of it as well, blinking as if he'd just woken from a dream. “Oh, uh. Yeah, I'm ready.”
“Alright.” He loosened their grip until their hands only hovered rather than touched. “Push your legs forward and out. Mind your heels.”
To his credit, Trey did indeed try. The skates jittered as he pushed, he began a series of unwilling, unsteady swizzles instead of stopping, and every attempt at fixing the problem made it worse. His ankles bent. His balance went with it.
“Careful! Bend your knees!” Riddle tried to instruct, but Trey had already grabbed further up his arms in a panicked bid to stay upright, pushing them both forward, and it almost seemed to be working—nope, down they both went to the side.
It wasn't a hard fall, cushioned by his layers and the instruction to collapse sideways, though they did both slide a tad from the momentum. He made certain to look quickly for any other oncoming skaters, but their little corner of the lake remained rather sparse, so he propped himself up on his arm to check on Trey.
Trey grunted as he similarly sat up, nose scrunched in a wince. “Sorry about that. Are you hurt?”
Riddle shook his head. Felt his lips squirm strangely. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah, just,” his eyes darted elsewhere, “...embarrassed. I did say I’m bad at keeping balance.”
He'd meant to reassure, but the source of the peculiar feeling worming its way through his chest made itself known the moment he opened his mouth; the giggle bubbled up out of him so suddenly it surprised him into laughing harder, slapping a glove over his mouth and waving in a desperate bid to show that he was not, by any means, laughing at Trey's failure. It was just…toppling over so suddenly like that, he couldn’t stop himself. It didn't take long before he heard Trey join him, soft yet wholly earnest. Skates tangled, laughter bouncing off the ice yet muffled from the rest of the world by the snow, the lake became theirs, and theirs alone.
Gradually, Riddle breathed deep until he regained his composure somewhat, and carefully climbed to his knees, then feet, smile still wobbly with the threat of further giggling. “Let’s try that again.”
“You sure? I’m probably gonna just fall again.”
“I fell plenty of times when practicing.” He held his hand out. “Come on, up you get. I swear on my role as Housewarden, by the time we leave you’ll have full control over stopping. If your performance meets my expectations, then…” His smile turned secretive. “I'll be sure to reward you adequately.”
Trey blinked, eyes wide, then chuckled and took Riddle's hand. “Well, I can't let myself give up after that, now can I?”