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A handsome man with deep green eyes and messy untied black hair leans back into the embrace of his sofa, letting out a long and frustrated exhale as he does so.
His right hand slowly and methodically reaches out, wrapping around a paper covered in dark stains and messy scrawls on the desk, before scrunching it up and throwing it to the bin in one smooth and practiced motion.
For some time, the only sound that could be heard was the soft breathing of the failed poet.
That moment was broken when Leonard suddenly sat up and started praying.
"The Fool who does not belong to this era, the mysterious ruler above the grey fog, the king of black and yellow who wields good luck..."
"I pray for you to hear my plea. Please tell Miss Magician that I would like to talk. She can come to the same place any time at night of the next few days. Uh, night at West Balam time."
After finishing, Leonard once again sat back and sighed.
"It seems I'm truly unable to do anything on my own..."
。。。✧✧✧ 。。。
Fors had just finished an exercise to stave off writers block when she saw the grey fog materialise before her eyes.
In her mind, the image of Mr Star praying seriously appeared.
... Asking to meet a lady at night... If I didn't know for sure he was gay, I would have thought he was up to something.
Thankfully, she had some idea of what Mr Star wanted of her, and it was nowhere near as stress inducing as any meetup with Gerhman Sparrow. She quickly asked The Fool to inform Mr Star that she would turn up tonight.
He's probably going to ask about poetry again.
Looking around, Fors thought about how best to advise the pitiful poet. It was quite funny to see his abysmal attempts, but given that this was a matter regarding The Fools awakening, it wasn't good to let him flounder for too long.
Poetry... It's just like prose, but it rhymes. Uh, sometimes it does. Hmm.
Shaking her head, she resolved herself to only give motivation. After all, he couldn't expect too much from a romance author!
。。。✧✧✧ 。。。
Fors left the spirit world at a set of coordinates that she vaguely knew represented a house owned by the Red Gloves. Whether it belonged solely to Mr Star or he had requested use of it for the night, she wasn't sure.
She had arrived directly outside the door, and knocked on it politely.
After a few seconds, she heard languid footsteps.
As expected, Mr Star hasn't changed.
Fors remembered the first time she had seen Mr Star, back in Sefirah Castle.
Then, he had sat starkly upright and was visibly tense for much of the gathering. At the time she had felt a vague kinship with him, but now from her experience as a traveller she knew that this was also a sign of one unused to behaving themself in formal situations. Therefore, she hadn't been shocked the first time they met in person and seen his normal relaxed demeanor which totally opposed his conduct in Sefirah Castle.
She had the time to think all this before the door finally opened.
Looking up, she saw a pair of deep green eyes, slightly long black hair, and an incredibly handsome face.
"Good evening."
Leonard turned slightly, opening up a gap and gesturing for her to enter through.
...
The two major arcana sat down at opposite sides of the small coffee table which looked like it had recently been cleaned.
There was only the slightest bit of awkwardness between them, as it was not their first time meeting up outside of the grey fog or the context of a mission, but there was still a slight hesitancy in the air.
Leonard opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally speaking.
"As you know, I have been tasked with writing poetry in order to awaken Mr Fool's Blessed."
Fors nodded. This had been the topic of their previous discussions and came as no surprise, but she felt no need to point this out.
The slightly tentative Mr Star continued.
"I've recently been unsure of what to write about... Aside from the times we worked together, I've only been vaguely aware of Klein's achievements."
For a few moments Leonard only looked at Fors, seemingly hoping he didn't need to expand on his problem.
The Star once again demonstrated how he was completely lacking in the art of words.
So its about writers block, not quality of writing... Well, I can't help with the latter, so I guess this is fine. Uhm, actually, I can't exactly recommend my solution for the former either...
Fors coughed lightly before saying, "If it's material about Gerhman Sparrows travels, how about you read my writing?"
Leonard stared at the ground for a few seconds, looking as though he was debating admitting something.
"... I've already read it."
"And?"
"... I still don't know."
Leonard swallowed the words "I still don't know him well enough."
Fors coughed again before saying "Well, it doesn't have to be strictly true... As long as its about The World on his travels and captures his overall personality, it should be adequate. How about I lend you some discarded drafts I've written in the past?"
Leonard raised an eyebrow.
"Discarded? Why didn't you end up publishing them?"
"They didn't suit the overall vibe. Sometimes I come up with too many ideas and they didn't all work with the flow of the story. So, I cut them."
Fors succinctly explained the problem many authors have.
"Too many ideas..."
Leonard drew out the words with a longing tone.
For a moment, Fors pitied Mr Star. He looked so pitiful sitting across from her. Ahh, how pitiful. Yes, in certain cases, only one word can accurately describe a situation. This is what her many years of experience as an author had taught her.
To avoid the scene from turning awkward, she stood up briskly.
"I'll be right back then."
The Star Leonard gave a nod and watched as Miss Magician left.
。。。✧✧✧ 。。。
The familiar walls of her and Xio's appartment formed around her, the saturated colours of the spirit world dissipating.
As the blaring lights of random spirits fade, the room is left without illumination. This was not a surprise, after all, night had long fallen in Loen.
With one cautious and small stride, she reaches her desk.
Loose stacks of paper adorn the sides, edges, middle, chair, floor, and shelves.
Seeing this in the dim, Fors lets out a quiet sigh.
She knew that her procrastination problem was bad, but perhaps Xio could have bothered her a bit more? After all, there's no deadline on desk organisation, so how could she bring herself to do it by herself?
Thankfully, vague organisation is still organisation, and she knew what the different stacks represented.
It was quite simple, anything that wasn't neat wasn't published, and therefore suited Mr Star's requirements.
Fors reaches out and grabs one at random, before quietly opening a Travellers Door and re-entering West Balam.
This time she doesn't bother appearing outside the door, and instead Travels back directly to her place by the sofa. She casts a glance at the coffee table as she sits. A book has been conspicously placed on it, preventing her from shoving her papers all over the surface.
... A sinking feeling of dread appears within her as she guesses its contents.
Leonard nods to acknowledge her return, and similarly casts a glance at the paper in her hand.
He extends a hand to gesture towards the book on the table and attempts to introduce the material. "This is, uh,"
Seeing his pain, Fors decides to help him out.
"Your latest poetry?"
Slightly relieved he didn't have to bring it up, Leonard makes a small sound of agreement.
Fors sighed inwardly. It seems the night had indeed turned to a literary criticism. It wasn't that she was opposed exactly, but when she had proposed lending Mr Star her draft material she had secretly been rather thrilled at the prospect of getting a good sleep after all.
And now that possibility had just become far less likely.
These thoughts ran through her head as she calculated a way to shorten the exchange, when a brilliant idea flashed in her mind.
Simply don't complete the exchange in full!
Slyly, Fors placed her drafts on the seat beside her rather than the coffee table, preventing Mr Star from reading it immediately. She then picked up the poetry book and flicked through it.
Thankfully, it was nowhere near half full.
Fors made a quick calculation, and, taking into account the freeflowing form of poetry, estimated that this amount was feasible to run through in a few hours.
。。。✧✧✧ 。。。
The conversation takes some time before finishing. Throughout the exchange, Fors would pick apart breaks in meter, false rhymes, and awkward flow. Following this, The Star Leonard would show an embarrassed expression and mention something vague about fixing it, before subconsciously shuffling his seating position.
Knowing that it was somewhat a lost cause, and desperately longing for sleep, Fors didn't press the matter.
When at long last the page turned to reveal an inkless scene, Fors shut the notebook and placed it on the sheaf of paper beside her before setting the whole lot on the coffee table.
With only a polite amount of eagerness, she stood up to wrap up their meeting, and the two exchanged casual pleasantries before she left at long last.
Night in West Balam is later than night in Backlund. By the time Fors arrived back home the only thought she had was of her nice and soft bed.
The famous author snuck past her roommate before crashing into a pile of duvets and pillows.
Not too long after, Leonard Mitchell puts down a cold brewed tea with three sugars, and starts to read.
。。。✧✧✧ 。。。
Backlund, morning.
The renowned author Fors Wall wakes up to the weak sun on her face.
She goes to the desk and feels a strange sense of motivation, as if the conversation with Mr Star last night had invigorated her own spirit.
Or maybe my writers block exersize really worked. Uhm, maybe not. It'll attribute this one to Mr Star...
Deciding to not miss the opportunity, she quickly went over to her desk and began to put away the loose drafts, ready for a fresh start.
After sorting through a few papers, Fors seemed to realise something as her hand stopped in midair.
Isn't this what I gave Mr Star last night? Was it actually just a dream?
Perhaps she had accidentally taken her current work in progress instead? No, that is still at the center of the desk, in its VIP positoin.
Confused, she stood still for a few seconds before reaching one terrifying conclusion.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
Xio abruptly sat upright in her bunkbed, her forehead only being saved from hitting the ceiling by her short stature.
Looking across the room, she shouted over the ongoing scream.
"WHAT IS IT"
"Ahhh................. Nooooooo. Aughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,,,"
Seeing her roommate sunken to the floor and moaning miserably, Xiao's first thought was that it was a blood moon.
"I'm so dead,,,, I'm done for. I'm doomed. I should just kill myself now."
Hearing this, Xio was incredibly relieved.
This feeling only lasted a moment before being overriden by an intense annoyance at the style of wake up alarm. Assuming that Fors had simply missed another deadline and that it wasn't anything important, she promptly turned her back on the failure who still had both hands hiding her face.
Sensing her roommate and supposed ally's lack of concern over her predicament, Fors abruptly called out.
"Xio, this is really bad. It's actually really bad this time. No, its awful. Horrendous. Life ending even. Mr World is going to wake up out of anger and beg Mr Fool to kill me."
Seeing Xio's dubious look, Fors hurriedly explained her predicament.
"It's like this, Mr Star wanted some inspiration for his poetry, uh, if you can call it that, so I offered to lend him some of my unpublished material."
"The thing is, I have two types. One is normal material that overlapped with other ideas, so I cut them. The other is, uhm."
Fors' eyes darted about a little before she took in a deep breath.
"It's romantic material you thought of that puts Mr World in an inappropriate light? So you're embarrased to let Mr Star read it?" Xio understood her friend well, and was easily able to understand the situation.
"Yes, yes. The second is just a writers excersise for letting my mind loose. Obviously, the first kind is what I meant to give him. But, I grabbed the wrong pile and didn't check... No, its my fault for not having proper piles in the first place..."
Fors wrung her hands through her hair a few times in visible distress.
After a few moments of disappointed silence, Xio sighed and attempted to offer some comforting words.
"Maybe he hasn't read it yet? You can go back now and swap them. Everyone knows you suffer procrastination, it isn't so embarrasing to add poor organisation to the list. At least, it's better than letting him read it."
Fors shook her head.
"There's no way. We finished our conversation at around 1am West Balam time. Mr Star is a Sleepless with nothing to do. No matter how slow he is at reading he should have finished it by now. No, even if he stopped after the first chapter, it's already too much."
Just as Xio opened her mouth to say something else, Fors began to rapidly mutter off to the side.
"... Perhaps its bad enough that he will lose control on the spot. That way he can't tell Mr Fool about this... Oh no, if he dies Mr Fool will definitely blame me for it."
"Wait, Mr Star swings that way, so maybe he's read something like it before. Yes, its very normal. He's also quite close with Mr World, and the way he acts in gatherings suggests he might even hold such feelings... He can just project himself into it. In this case, the only problem is 'Him', uhh, the identity of the second protagonist... Uhm, and the fact that Mr Star now knows I wrote such a thing... Nevermind, I am done for after all..."
Hearing these mutterings, Xio guessed that the contents of the 'writing exercise' was worse than she had initially thought and no longer had anything consolating to say. She could only stare in silence as Fors looked around listlessly for items to hang herself with.