Chapter Text
It started, as most things involving Hawthorne tended to do, with an innocuous remark.
“What do you reckon O’Leary has in that case?”
Beside her, his whisper was practically deafening in the quiet of the lecture hall, just barely drowned out under the sound of their teacher reading aloud a section of their textbook. Morrigan elbowed him in the side which he replied to by sticking out his tongue before tilting his head meaningfully towards the front.
He was, of course, referring to their teacher’s large display cabinet at the other end of the lecture room. Positioned near a corner of the back wall with its black frame blending into the dark atmosphere of the room, Morrigan had never paid much attention to it. Given Mr. O’Leary hadn’t once mentioned it in any of his lectures, she assumed it wasn't important and told Hawthorne as such.
“But aren’t you curious,” he whispered, his voice only five percent quieter than before. He waggled an eyebrow at Morrigan meaningfully. “Someone from 918 said there’s a bunch of cursed stuff in there.”
Morrigan leveled a flat stare at him. “And why would that make me more interested?”
Her friend stared back, aghast at her apparent lack of appreciation for cursed objects and dark magic.
“What are you two whispering about?” Cadence murmured from Hawthorne’s side. Her head was bowed down over her desk as she dutifully took notes of the lecture. At least, that’s what Morrigan thought before she leaned over and saw that the other girl had been doodling bees in the margin of her notebook. Cute.
“Hawthorne thinks Mr. O’Leary’s cabinet is cursed,” Morrigan explained under her breath.
“Not the cabinet, the things in the cabinet,” Hawthorne corrected.
“Same thing.”
“Is not–”
“Mr. Swift, Ms. Crow, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Their teacher’s voice rang through the room, cutting neatly through their conversation. He sounded more amused than irritated, but Morrigan’s cheeks still burned as she slid down her seat, shaking her head in unison with Hawthorne.
“Alright then, moving onto Chapter 5…”
The rest of class passed by relatively quickly without any more interruptions, though Morrigan could feel Hawthorne’s insistent gaze on her every few minutes. Predictably, the moment the lecture ended, he jumped out of his seat with a wild grin.
“We should have a heist!”
Cadence sighed, putting her pencil box and bee-filled notes into her bookbag. “Didn’t we have a heist already? To Sub-Nine?”
“Yeah, but that was ages ago,” Hawthorne countered, bag already packed and slung haphazardly on one shoulder. “You know, before all the murder stuff went…down.”
He cut off awkwardly, glancing at Morrigan for a moment. From his side, Cadence’s gaze flitted up as well, though she was a lot more subtle about it.
Morrigan ignored both of their stares as she gathered up her (blank) papers and pencils, knowing the source of their sudden discomfort. After the whole fiasco during the Silver Assembly, she still hadn’t told her friends the full story of what happened that night other than saying Wundersmith stuff. She wasn’t exactly trying to hide anything from them, but the memory of the Guiltghast and the destruction she had caused by summoning it before Squall turned back time still disturbed her. She hadn’t even told Jupiter yet, though her patron (uncle? father-figure? they were still figuring it out) obviously had some inkling that she wasn’t telling the full truth. In her defense, it had genuinely slipped her mind in the panic of telling him she’d apprenticed herself to the evilest man who ever lived.
Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that the League had called him away for another mission just a few days ago. Now that she knew the reason behind his frequent call-aways, she couldn’t really fault him for leaving, and his absence in this instance was slightly relieving. Without the protective obscurity of the Hush, she had no way of concealing all her little lies and omissions that were blaringly obvious to a Witness.
Lost in her thoughts, Morrigan almost missed it when the conversation picked up again, Hawthorne and Cadence having skipped smoothly over the awkwardness. Morrigan blinked back into the present, suddenly grateful for having two such great friends.
“Let’s do it,” she said impulsively, before backtracking and realizing she’d accidentally cut Hawthorne off from some rant about grappling hooks.
He didn’t seem to mind, beaming at her and practically vibrating in his spot. “Yes, alright, Operation SILC is a go.”
“Silk?” Cadence repeated, one eyebrow raised skeptically.
“You know, Sneak Into O’Leary’s Case.”
“Wouldn’t it be–”
“Shhh, just go with it. We can workshop the name later.”
The two girls exchanged exasperated looks as Hawthorne began fervently detailing what they would need to prepare for the heist (lots of grappling hooks, for starters). As they exited the room with the rest of the students, Morrigan threw a curious glance back at the cabinet, which was only a few feet away from the exit.
For a moment, a glint of gold near the top caught her eye, and she felt the ever present Wunder around her perk its head up, tingling her skin. Frowning, she slowed, trying to get a closer look, before a student behind her blocked her view and forced her to move into the hallway.
Well, she sighed inwardly. She would have plenty of time to look at it during the heist. And with that mildly comforting thought in mind, she jogged forward to catch up with her friends as they headed for their station.
//
After a chaotic ride home where Thaddea rigorously detailed the day’s fights and Francis let them try his latest batch of cookies (hers tasted like the nostalgia of an ending summer with a hint of melancholy), Morrigan finally stumbled through her doorway and into Room 85. With a groan, she let her bookbag slip onto the floor and flopped face-first onto her bed, letting the soft fabric cool her skin.
The hotel seemed to have sensed her exhaustion and formed a nest of sorts made of woven yarn and dozens of pillows. She gave a muffled thanks through the fabric and laid there, star-fished, for a long moment.
When she finally mustered up the energy to raise her head, she noticed a plate of crisp ham sandwiches and steaming tomato soup waiting on her bedside table. Morrigan smiled, reminding herself to thank Martha later, and dug in.
Shortly after, with warm food in her body, she felt a little more energized and got out of bed, pacing as she wondered what to fill her evening with. It was the end of the week, and she didn’t have any work for the weekend. Maybe she could go bother Jack? The thought of annoying Jupiter’s nephew made her grin. Unlike the first year she’d been at Hotel Deuclianon, there wasn’t any maliciousness behind their bickering anymore. It was just funny to see his face go red whenever she successfully managed to annoy him.
With pranks already in mind, she stepped towards her door before stopping, remembering Jack wasn’t even staying at the Deuclianon this week. He’d gone back to his school to prepare for an oncoming recital.
She blew out an irritated breath and went back to pacing (a very Jupiterian thing to do, now that she thought of it). Maybe she could go help Frank plan his latest party? Winter was fast approaching, and the vampire dwarf had already started preparations to blow their competition–namely Hotel Aurianna–out of the water. The front lobby was filled with black and maroon decorations tastefully hung around the ceiling. Then again, when Frank was in party-planning mode, he usually whipped himself up into an artistic frenzy that the others stayed clear of.
She could help Martha and Kedgeree with the hotel duties instead? There had been an overflow of guests staying at the Deuclianon recently, probably for some event or another.
A sudden chill crept into the room. Morrigan’s thinking was interrupted as she whipped around and found herself face-to-face with the Hunt of Smoke and Shadow.
Stifling a surprised yelp, she tamped down her instinct to take a step back, instead narrowing her eyes at the closest hunter. “Really?” she asked, relieved when her voice came out steady. “Right now?”
Usually Squall summoned her at the latest hours of the night or dawn for their lessons, when no one was around to notice her sneaking out. If he was sending his hunters in broad daylight, something urgent must have come up. She felt a bit of excitement swirl in her chest, which was quickly overpowered by guilt.
It had been weeks since he had helped her using Tempus, and there had been total radio silence from his end. She didn’t know if he’d just been busy over in the Republic where his real body resided, or if he’d been disappointed by her performance. Not that the opinions of a murderer mattered, but.
Predictably, there was no response from the hunter. Morrigan rolled her eyes with more confidence than she felt and reached one hand out. “Take me to him.”