Chapter Text
…missed her again. Aglaea sighs, putting away her teleslate. The ever elusive demigod of trickery was within her reach just a mere blink ago, yet she has already left with a flip of a coin. Either my threads are already beginning to dull or Cifera has gotten even faster…
“Is it not time for Phainon’s lesson? Or perhaps have I interrupted your daydreaming?”
Tch. “Anaxa,”
“Anaxagoras.”
“I sent you a message. Have you not checked your teleslate?” Aglaea huffs.
“Your message was less than informative. ‘The white haired puppy is in the room with purple blossoms’ is hardly proper instructions.” Anaxa crosses his arms with an annoying smile.
Aglaea pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she does so.
Anaxa says something snide. Aglaea ignores the mint haired man.
She must’ve entrusted the task of informing the blasphemer to a garmentmaker who speaks in riddles. Not uncommon among her garmentmakers but still a mistake on her part. Should she apologise? What a hassle.
“I apologise for the… confusing message, it was not my intention to waste your time,” Aglaea starts.
“You are forgiven, I managed to see the dromas while finding you. Therefore, it was a worthwhile walk despite the inconvenience.” Anaxa replies cooly.
“...Phainon is in the library. The winding vines on the walls outside are teeming with purple blossoms.” Aglaea wills her fists to relax lest she ends up punching Anaxa.
“I’ll be off then, to teach your dearest chrysos heir.” Anaxa’s clothes make a slight ruffling sound as he turns around swiftly.
How annoying. Aglaea sends a golden thread to tail the scholar, to ensure that the blasphemer arrives at his destination and the lesson goes smoothly.
“If you wish to observe the lesson, simply ask and I will allow you to sit in. Let’s not play around with threads, shall we?” Anaxa swats his hand lightly at the thread floating near him, not stopping nor turning around to address Aglaea. She forces a smile, gritting her teeth to stop herself from clicking her tongue.
“Very well.” Aglaea recalls her golden thread.
The clicking of heels on the marble floor following Anaxa makes him smile, just a little.
The two walk in silence, Aglaea trailing behind Anaxa a few armlengths away. The door to the library is already open when they arrive, soft chatter floating out into the open hallway.
A mop of white hair sits on a chair, swinging his legs. Castorice sits next to Phainon, seemingly chatting about the newly born chimera. Phainon notices the two entering and rushes towards Anaxa with his workbook, starting a debate with his professor. Aglaea sits next to Castorice, as close as she can without making Castorice uncomfortable.
“Castorice, you’ve returned from Aidonia?” A golden thread brushes against a stray hair on Castorice’s face.
“I… I did not find anything this time either… My apologies, Lady Aglaea.” Castorice fidgets with her hands.
“No need to worry, there is still much to investigate. We will find Thanatos.” Aglaea smiles gently and Castorice relaxes into her seat, having sat up straighter when Aglaea and Anaxa entered.
The lesson goes smoothly, as smooth as it can be with Aglaea and Anaxa arguing once every few minutes like divorced parents. Phainon runs off when he is dismissed, Castorice trailing behind him, watching over the rambunctious child.
“Was the lesson satisfactory, Lady Aglaea?” Anaxa packs away his writing tools.
“I was the one who entrusted you with Phainon's education. I would not let a fool who would give an unsatisfactory lesson to be Phainon’s teacher.” Aglaea pushes in the chairs with her threads. Anaxa chuckles.
“Aglaea, dear Aglaea, I did not know you thought so highly of me.”
“...interpret my words as you wish.”
The two exit the library together, greeted by a garmentmaker holding a scroll. Aglaea takes the scroll wordlessly, and the garmentmaker bows and retreats into the shadows.
“...It seems I will be unable to attend Phainon’s next lesson in person. I will station a garmentmaker in the library, will that be alright with you?” Aglaea says.
“I would rather have your little threads snooping around than an eyesore of a garmentmaker prancing about in one of my classes.” Anaxa says.
“A word of caution, a garmentmaker would be less invasive than my threads.”
“I have stated my preference.”
“Foolish stubborn dromas.”
“You know very well that is only a compliment.”
Aglaea scoffs and walks away without another word. The dromas draped in finery wins today’s battle?