Work Text:
Sometimes it was nice to be friends with an eccentric billionaire with a penchant for throwing parties.
It was hot at Night Raven College, climbing up in the triple digits the past few days. The fairies who kept the campus at a comfortable temperature were working overtime, retreating to the main buildings and common rooms of the dorms, sans Ramshackle, because of course. So, with everyone just about ready to melt into a puddle the second they stepped outside, Kalim had swooped in and announced that he had rented out a whole water park for the weekend. It would be an understatement to say people were jumping for joy. Or at least they would be jumping if, again, it wasn’t so dang hot out.
Sam’s Mystery Shop had become a makeshift boutique among the other odds and ends normally in stock. He’d set up a few changing stalls in the back, basically just curtains hung in a circle with a full length mirror inside. It was fully set with every kind of swimwear a person could imagine, from full body wetsuits to trunks to sets for the non-binary and trans students.
(Y/N), Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek had congregated at the back of the store, trying on various outfits and accessories, mugging in elaborate poses while (Y/N) took pictures with her ghost camera.
They decided that a whole private waterpark deserved new swimwear. The boys had already chosen their suits, including some extras like tropical shirts, sandals, and sunscreen for a discount, and (Y/N) was the only one left. While Ace jokingly handed her a bright neon yellow one-piece, (Y/N) threw it back at him with a laugh before retreating into the changing room with a few of her own options.
The first thing she pulled on was a purple and blue two piece. (Y/N) laughed at something Epel said outside the dressing room. She turned to the mirror when her breath suddenly caught in her throat, choking her.
Scars marked the wide expenses of skin. Her neck was circled in a necklace of puncture wound remnants when a vine of thorny roses had tried to strangle her. There, across her scapula on her back, a plane of dull skin when it had been evaporated and turned to sand. Wrapped around her right thigh were sucker marks when she had been pulled and thrashed below the waves. At the junction between her neck and shoulder were tiny dots with black lightning zigzagging out from when a venomous snake had bit her. Old blistered skin crawled up her right leg and left hand, preventing the pinky and ring finger from fully closing, that had been caught in poisoned mist. Deep claw marks from a Blot addled direbeast, one half of their whole honorary student, carved into the back of her right hand. A slash from an Overblot Phantom cut across her shoulder and down her sternum, another arcing up from her left ankle to the knee. Across her stomach and hips were burn marks. Even the palms of her hands were marked, from where she had gripped thorny vines as she was forcibly plunged into a world of dreams.
Every mark, tear, and imperfection on her skin, suddenly displayed in the bright lights of the Mystery Shop, caused her heart to stutter, her mouth to go dry, her head to go light, and her vision to blur. Memories for some of the worst days she had had since she came to Twisted Wonderland beat against her mind like a thousand tiny hammers. Her breath became ragged, jumping in her chest. Her hands pawed over the marred skin, as if she could brush them away like an illusion.
She tried to rationalize it to herself. She knew she had scars from the various Overblots during the year. Of course she did, it was hard to ignore the pain that preceded them, or seeing them every night when she bathed. But they were normally covered by her school uniform so she was able to ignore their presence until she had no other choice. But to suddenly see them here, to know that if she stepped out of this changing room that everyone else would be able to see them too, clawed at her heart and frayed every last nerve she had.
The chatter just outside the changing room rang in her ears, dulling to incoherent noise. (Y/N) quickly pulled the swimsuit off, shoving it in a pile with the others she hadn’t tried on. After getting dressed, tugging the hems down a little more than before, she snapped the curtain open. It took the other first years a moment to realize (Y/N) had exited the changing room. She stood at its entrance, curtain clutched tightly in her hand, eyes wide but unseeing.
“(Y/N)?” Jack asked, drawing their attention. “Are you okay?”
(Y/N) looked up, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart by sheer force of will. “I-” She started, hating the way her voice cracked on the single syllable. The others stood, concern across their faces at her obvious distress. Somehow, their worry only made her feel worse. “I’m fine,” She continued. “I just need to - I need to go back to Ramshackle for something. I forgot I had to - I have to go.” Without giving them a chance to respond, she fled the store.
Grim shared a confused look with the others before zipping off after her. He caught up just as she pushed through the Mystery Shop door, ignoring Sam’s jolly farewell. She was taking long strides in a hurry to seem calm while doing everything in her power to get as far away from everyone and everything as possible. When Grim dropped to his usual place on her shoulder she jumped, tripping over her own feet.
“Sorry,” (Y/N) muttered, catching him before he tumbled down.
“It’s fine,” Grim said. She cradled him in her arms as they headed back to Ramshackle. Grim had a weird feeling in his stomach, something he couldn’t place that was gnawing at him. Instead of saying anything, he just snuggled closer to her.
Back at the Mystery Shop, the buoyant mood with the rest of the first years had deflated.
Deuce shoved Ace. “You shouldn’t have messed with her like that. It’s not nice to tease girls.”
Ace rolled his eyes and shoved back. “Chill, she didn’t even take the swimsuit with her. (Y/N)’s got thicker skin than that. I think.”
Epel had poked his head into the dressing room, looking around for anything that might have upset her. He frowned, not finding anything suspicious, and picked up the discarded pile of clothes. “Should we, I don’t know, go after her?” He asked.
“(Y/N)’s pulse was highly elevated,” Ortho said, fingers to his temple as he mentally ran through calculations. “Perhaps she is feeling ill?”
“(Y/N) doesn't need anyone to coddle her,” Sebek said, crossing his arms. “If she has something to say, she’ll say it. It’s not our responsibility to monitor her every emotion.”
Ace huffed. “Listen, Sebek, I know you’re still pretty new to this whole having friends thing, but people usually look out for each other when one of them is pretty obviously upset.” Sebek glared but didn’t say anything, not wanting to betray his own rising panic at (Y/N)’s sudden mood shift.
“If she wanted to say something,” Jack said. “She would have when she was here. Give her some breathing room first. We can check on her tomorrow if there’s still something wrong.”
Their own mood now considerably more gray than it had been a few minutes ago, they quietly paid for their new outfits and dispersed to their own dorms.
The next day in Professor Trien’s class, Deuce worriedly checked the door of the class every few seconds, waiting in anticipation for (Y/N) to show up.
“Relax,” Ace said, resting his chin in his hand. “You’re going to give yourself whiplash.”
“Shut up,” Deuce said back, without any real heat. “I’m just worried. I tried texting (Y/N) last night but I haven’t heard anything back.”
Ace blew his bangs out of his eyes. “Whatever.” Beneath the desk, Ace’s leg was jumping in stressed anticipation.
Just as the bell started to ring, Grim flew through the door, a school bag dragging behind him. He collapsed into his seat next to the boys, huffing hard.
Professor Trien raised an eyebrow, giving Grim a skeptical look. He looked back at the classroom entrance, waiting a few long seconds as the bell reverberated around the halls. When (Y/N) still didn’t appear, he sighed and closed the door.
“Psst, Grim,” Ace whispered. “Where’s (Y/N)?”
Grim frowned in concentration, pulling out a notebook with (Y/N)’s handwriting taking notes for their classes. “My hench-human is sick or something,” He said. “So the Great Grim is going to take care of everything myself today! (Y/N)’s going to be super impressed when I get back!”
“Sick?” Deuce asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Sick how?”
“I don’t know,” Grim said, not looking at them. “She stayed in the bathroom all day when we got back. And she wouldn’t get out of bed today. I had to make breakfast myself and everything!” Despite his complaining, his tone betrayed his uncertain and confused feelings.
“What-” Ace started. Professor Trein cleared his throat loudly, giving the three of them a meaningful glare. They sank back in their seats, opening their textbooks as Professor Trein started class.
As Deuce was trying to keep up with the lecture, Ace tapped the back of his hand, making his handwriting go wonky. Deuce shot him a glare, but Ace was pointedly looking ahead, sliding his own notebook closer to Deuce’s. Deuce looked down, seeing a message scrawled in the margin of the page.
‘(Y/N) = homesick?’ The note said.
Double checking that Trein was busy writing on the chalkboard, Deuce wrote back, ‘Maybe? Was okay till changing.’ He scowled, a horrible image suddenly popping into his head. ‘No one spying on her, right?’
Ace looked ill at the suggestion. ‘All of us there, no one sneaked by. You see anything weird?’
Deuce shook his head. Ace tapped the paper a few times before writing, ‘Go to R after class?’
Deuce nodded. ‘Bring others?’
Ace crossed out ‘Others’ in Deuce’s message and wrote ‘Tarts!’ instead. ‘But, yeah, I guess. Might have ideas-’
Lucian suddenly jumped on the notebook, knocking the pen out of Ace’s hand. He meowed loudly, scratching at the paper to destroy their conversation before laying down, long fluffy tail curled around himself. Ace scowled at the cat, before looking up and going pale at a look from Trien.
Across campus, in the biodome, Jack and Epel were in alchemy class. They’d taken a pseudo-field trip to the gardens to identify different plants and their effects in different potions. But the two of them were using this as an opportunity for a different assignment.
“What about this one?” Epel asked, running his thumb over the petals. “It’s pink. Girls like pink, right?”
Jack scratched behind his ears, looking over from crouching above a patch of sage. “I think so. I can’t remember if (Y/N) likes pink, though. We should know that, right?”
“Those are mountain laurels,” Vil said, stepping up behind them. “They’re poisonous.” Epel flinched back, whipping his hand on his blazer. “Really, Epel, Pomfiore is known for its work with poisons. You should know better by now.”
“Yeah, well, I got more important things on my mind right now.”
Vil raised an eyebrow. “Like the alchemy assignment you both should be working on?” Epel and Jack both looked away. Vil looked down to where Jack was holding a rather haphazard looking bouquet. “What sort of trouble are you two getting up to?”
“(Y/N)’s been having a rough time. We wanted to get her something nice,” Jack said.
“My, how chivalrous of you.” Vil wasted no time in snatching the bouquet from Jack’s hands, plucking out whichever flowers didn’t suit it. “You’ll want to include some foliage and smaller filler flowers to make the whole thing look more full. Scented geranium, baby’s breath, or bee balm will work. After you finish your assignment from Professor Crewel, of course.”
Properly chastised, the boys slinked away, keeping note of flowers and plants they passed that would look good gathered together. Watching them leave, Vil pulled out his phone, hitting the call button for his most recent conversation.
Everyone at Night Raven College knew that if you wanted information on something, there were two people you could go to. Jade, who would help with a sly, disconcerting smile and a price that could come attached with unforeseen taxes, or Rook, where one would only have to suffer through a lengthy dialog of philosophy and beauty before getting to the actual point. Thankfully, Vil knew a way to cut out the preamble and get exactly what he needed from his Vice House Warden.
Rook picked up on the first ring. “Bonjour, gardien de maison le plus adorable! To what do I owe the pleasure of your call this fine morning?”
Vil could swear that he heard the sound of wind whipping, crashing ocean waves, and angry bird calls from the other end of the line, but shook his head and decided to ignore that for now. “Rook, have you noticed anything off about (Y/N) the past few days?” It did well for a House Warden to keep an eye on his spudlings, as far as Vil was concerned. The fact that they didn’t reside in the same dorm was merely semantics.
“Ah, have you had a run-in with the poor lapin, then?” Rook replied. “I was leaving the woods near Ramshackle last night when I ran into her. Such a terrible hour for someone to be awake. I warned her of the negative effect the lack of proper rest can have on the skin!” Vil decided not to bring up how Rook had just said he was also up at whatever unholy hour that had been. “The poor thing was shaking like a rabbit in the jaws of a hound! She asked if I knew of any products that would help reduce the appearance of scars.”
Vil felt a lump form in his throat. “Scars?”
Rook hummed in agreement. “My thoughts are the same as yours, dear Vil. I expressed my concern, but perhaps I was too forward. She scampered off soon after. And it would be most ungentlemanly to barge into a women’s home without her permission. But since she did seem to be in distress…”
Vil put his fingers to his temple. “You went in anyway?”
“Oh, non, non! I would never! But, I did happen to casually look in through the window as I was leaving.”
‘No doubt the window by that large tree in the backyard,’ Vil thought. Out loud, he said, “Yes, and?” When Rook didn’t answer for a minute, Vil checked his phone to make sure they were still connected. “Rook? You better not have fallen to your death with whatever it is you’re doing-”
“She was crying.”
Vil felt his heart skip a beat. “What?”
“She went inside, checked that Monsieur Fuzzball was asleep, then went to the guest room. She walked around, almost like she was one of the ghosts there, then sat down and cried. I didn’t stay much longer after that.”
The mental image of (Y/N), alone in that large and empty house, isolated in the middle of the night, holding herself as she sobbed in the dark materialized in Vil’s mind. He looked down at the scattered flower petals left behind by Epel and Jack from their failed bouquet. The lump from his throat had moved down to lay heavy on his heart.
“I swear,” Vil said, furry grating through his voice with every word. “If someone in this school did something to her-”
“Vil.” Rook’s voice cut off his, heavy and certain. “I believe I know what caused the dear Trickster’s distress.”
“Well, then, who? It’s not like you to hold out on me.” The line went quiet again. Vil was getting tired of these dramatic pauses. “Rook, I don’t have the patience for-”
“You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“What? Rook, stop talking in circles and-” Vil stopped, realization pouring over him like a bucket of freezing water. For a split second, he wasn’t in the biodome anymore. He could feel the Blot dripping down him. The scent of the poison that flowed from his body in that twisted form stuck to the back of his throat. The heavy hand of the Overblot Phantom rested on his shoulder, pushing him onward to destruction, decay, deliverance to what should rightfully be his.
When he came back to himself, he had dropped his phone. His chest burned as he realized he was holding his breath. He could hear Rook calling his name, the sound small and tinny.
“I’m returning to campus now, Roi du Poison,” Rook was saying. “I apologize for not being there for you.”
With a shaky hand that sent an irrational stab of hatred through him, Vil picked up the phone. “Were you going to tell me,” He asked in as steady a voice as he could manage. “Or keep it a secret to try and spare me?” Rook was silent. It was all the answer Vil needed. “Very well. I’ll be in Pomfiore. We… I have something I need to do.”
“Of course, Roi du Poison.”
~~~
Ortho never forgot. Well, ‘forget’ wasn’t really the right word to use. Sure, everything he saw or heard was recorded, stored in his memory drives or stashed in the cloud for him to easily have access to at a later date. But the information was always there. His data processors were so fast that even looking up information would take less time than the blink of an eye.
It was unintentional, sometimes, finding these old recordings. He sometimes wondered if that was what memory was like. Old information bursting to the surface, unbidden, attached to a seemingly random noise or scent or phrase.
It was a useful feature sometimes, sure. It helped him feel more… ‘Real’ wasn’t the right word. More connected, maybe? More like his fellows at Night Raven College. One brick closer in closing the gap between his CPU and silicon and their hearts and flesh.
But it wasn’t always helpful. Useful, sure, but helpful? Not when it caused that strange, bubbling feeling that blocked his processors. His sensors would go on alert, even when scan after scan revealed nothing was wrong. Was this what anxiety was? It did run in the family…
He couldn’t tell if the particular memory was helpful or not yet. He hadn’t told the other first years when it had flashed behind his eyes yesterday at Sam’s. But still, that memory stuck. He had seen that look on (Y/N)’s face as she had bolted from the changing room before. He’d seen it in the dark towers stretching underneath the ocean, as Blot Phantoms had breached containment and the Gate to the Underworld yawned open.
In his mind, he pulled up the video clip. All that hurt, all that pain, compressed into a single expression, frozen in time. He could get rid of it all, if he really wanted. The Delete icon popped into his mental image. And why shouldn’t he get rid of it? What use was it to him, to be forced to remember something so horrible? What use was it to have to look at his friends every day and then have those unwanted, unasked for memories force themselves to the forefront of his attention? Why should he be constantly reminded of the things he had done, the terror he had caused? He could just delete it, ‘forget.’ Only keep the happy memories alive if he really wanted. What good would any of it do?
But, in the end, he knew this whole thing was a fruitless exercise. He waved the delete option away, the clip of (Y/N)’s panic stricken face falling back down into his memory banks. The afterimage of it still seared the back of his mechanical retinas.
What good did keeping something awful do? It made him remember. It forced him to learn, no matter how hard the lesson was. It made him change, made him want to change. It made him want to do whatever he could so that a third image would never join the one from STYX and the school store. It made him alive.
He needed to talk to Idia. He needed to remember, too.
~~~
Sebek’s grandfather had once told him that animals could sense emotions. They could feel stress or good intentions coming off a person and react in kind. Which is probably why Sebek’s horse was so agitated this particular day.
This was the fourth time his horse, Tempest, had reared up, knocking over the obstacles on the show jumping track. He cursed, then immediately felt ashamed and looked around to make sure no one had heard him. Tempest threw his head, hooves pounding in irritation at the fresh sand of the track. Sebek slid off his back with a sigh, taking the reins and bringing him back to the stables early.
“Are you alright?” Silver asked, trotting up on his own horse, Samson.
“Fine,” Sebek snapped back. Silver just raised an eyebrow, more than used to his friend’s snippyness.
“Don’t take your frustration out on us, Sebek,” Riddle said. He was brushing off his horse, Vorpal, until his coarse coat looked as soft as silk.
“I’m not frustrated!” Sebek yelled. Tempest whinnied and threw his head back again, starting to rear back on his hind legs. Trying to regain control, Sebek pulled Tempest to the tack room, quickly removing his gear. The stables were sweltering, the metal roof popping as it swelled with the rising temperatures. Tempest was too agitated for Sebek to give him a proper brush down, so he let Tempest out into the pasture. The horse rushed off like his tail was on fire. Sebek watched his horse run off, hands on his hips and brow scrunched in concentrated irritation.
Well, if he wasn’t going to get any riding in, there were still plenty of other things to keep him busy. Menial work, he hoped, would help keep his mind off of… things.
Rolling up his sleeves, he grabbed a pitchfork and began mucking out the stalls. This was the less glamorous side of the equestrian club. Sure, while everyday visitors might only see the strong and proud horses performing astonishing feats with their strong and proud riders, they rarely stayed around to observe cleaning dung from clotted straw or risking getting kicked in the face when cleaning out a hoof.
(Y/N) hadn’t minded. Sebek remembered how she had gasped with a look of wonder in her eyes when she had learned they kept horses on campus. She’d never been so close to one before, she had said, petting Tempest’s velvet muzzle. He remembered the intense look of concentration on her face as he explained in full detail how they maintained their gear, the stables, and ensured the horses stayed healthy. She hadn’t flinched back at helping muck the stalls and laying down new hay, the unglamorous process of scraping sweat off their backs when getting ready to be washed, heaving heavy loads of feed out to the troughs.
Sebek smiled as he remembered the look on her face when he helped her mount Tempest for the first time. Her incessant happy chittering as he had led the horse by the reins around the paddock, correcting (Y/N)’s posture to ensure optimal riding skills.
And then his smile immediately vanished, as the picture of her laughing morphed into panic from the day before. The pitchfork snapped in Sebek’s hands at the punch in his gut, the feeling of helplessness mixed with a bubble of undirected anger.
With a growl, he threw the broken pitchfork into the trash. He tore off his gloves and marched over to the sink near the tack room. He splashed cold water on his face, hoping the shock of it would do something, anything, to help clear his mind.
“You’re not,” Silver said, leading Samson into the stables.
“What?”
“Fine. You’re not fine, so don’t say you are when I ask what’s wrong.”
“I-” Sebek cut himself off. For a human who was asleep half the time, Silver could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes. “Yesterday,” he began to say, but stopped. What would he even say? Out of nowhere, (Y/N) had started acting strangely, and hadn’t shown up for class today? It didn’t sound as urgent as it felt when he put it like that.
The actual problem, he was loathed to admit, was that this wasn’t something he could fight off. None of his swordsmanship or magic or strength or anything could be used to solve an internal problem. He couldn’t fix (Y/N) or himself.
“Yesterday, (Y/N) started acting strangely. And no one has been able to contact her since.”
Silver’s eyes widened. “Ah. You’re worried about her. That’s good.”
Sebek scowled. “Good? How is (Y/N) refusing to speak to anyone good?”
“No, not that. That you care, I mean. It’s good you’re making friends. And that you’re this worried over someone being upset.”
“It’s… annoying.”
“You were annoying when we first started being friends, too.”
“I was not!”
Silver smiled, not condescending, although Sebek thought he might have felt less embarrassed if it had been. “Did she say why she was upset?”
Sebek ran a hand through his hair, tugging. “No, she didn’t say anything. That’s why it’s so confusing. She was fine until… Why can’t humans just say what they mean? Not everything has to be a puzzle!”
Silver started taking the saddle off Samson. “Maybe she doesn't want to worry you. Although you’re worried anyway so I guess that backfired.”
Sebek scoffed. “She doesn't need to monitor my state of mind for me.”
Silver shrugged. He gave Samson a sugar cube, letting Sebek turn his thoughts over in his head.
“Perhaps,” Sebek said after a while. “Perhaps I should stop by Ramshackle this evening. Just to make sure she’s crawled out to at least eat something. Master Lilia always said every problem looks smaller after a good meal.”
“Somewhat ironic given his cooking,” Silver said.
“How dare you insult Master Lilia’s skills!”
“So you’re going to ask him for a demonstration in the kitchen?”
Sebek didn’t say anything and Silver patted his arm sympathetically.
Riddle paused brushing Vorpal. Eavesdropping was a filthy habit, he knew, but that wasn’t his concern right now. Quickly finishing cleanup and setting Vorpal out to pasture, he changed back into his school uniform and made his way to Ramshackle dorm.
Unsurprisingly, Deuce answered the door. He looked surprised to see his House Warden on the front steps of Ramshackle, but stepped aside and let him in all the same.
“Um, (Y/N)’s not really up for seeing people today,” Deuce said, trailing behind Riddle. “She’s not feeling great.”
“I heard,” Riddle said. “That’s why I wanted to stop by. I brought tea that’s good for treating a cold.” He held up the tin of ginger eucalyptus tea bags.
“I don’t think she’s sick,” Deuce said, mostly thinking out loud to himself. “But thanks! I’ll go make some up.” He took the tin from Riddle and dashed out to the kitchen.
Riddle followed the sound of Ace’s voice to the guest room. Pushing open the door, he saw Ace animatedly talking with a wide grin, hands constantly moving as he told his story. (Y/N) was sunk back on one of the couches, legs pulled up underneath her. Despite the heat, Riddle was surprised that (Y/N) was layered up with long sleeves, a scarf, and a thick blanket pulled over her lap. Grim was sitting next to her, holding a cookie but uncharacteristically ignoring it.
“Hey, Riddle,” Ace said. “What are you doing here?”
Riddle frowned. “‘Hello, House Warden. How are you doing today?’ is the proper address, I believe.”
Ace rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure.” He smirked and looked over at (Y/N), but his smile fell at her glazed over expression.
Riddle cleared his throat, taking a seat in the armchair next to the couch. “I hope you’ll pardon the intrusion, (Y/N).”
She finally looked up, blinking, as if she was processing everything a full minute behind everyone else. She pulled the blanket closer to her, readjusting her scarf. She quickly looked back down. “Hi, yeah, it’s fine.”
The room was awkwardly quiet after that. Ace started floundering, staring his story back up with forced enthusiasm. Riddle shuffled in his seat. He’d come to check up on (Y/N), and while there was clearly something off, he would be the first to admit he wasn’t the best at offering comfort. Ace was at least trying to distract her from whatever cloud was hanging over her. Riddle hated feeling useless.
Thankfully, Deuce reappeared carrying a tray with a tea pot, several cups, and a pot of honey and milk.
“Rule 74,” Deuce was saying under his breath. “If it’s cloudy, serve tea from the left hand side. If sunny, serve from the right. Rule 113, if it’s the winter time, the honey included with tea service must come from clovers. Rule 218, never serve spiced chai tea with raspberry jam.”
“Thank you, Deuce,” Riddle said, thankful for something he knew how to do. He jumped up, taking the tray from the first year and began pouring and handing out cups. “I used to drink this blend when I was unwell as a child, (Y/N). I hope it can help.”
“Thank you,” She said quietly, still not looking up at him. She didn’t bother drinking it, just holding the cup in her hands.
What happened next would have been innocuous at any other time. It was common for Riddle to adjust other’s clothing, fix minor imperfections in their appearance, keeping with the formal order his position and demeanor dictated. It certainly would not have been the first time he had fixed (Y/N)’s tie or plucked an errant piece of fuzz from her hair, all with a small frown and gentle scolding.
But this time, as he raised his hand to pluck a stray thread from her coat, (Y/N) flinched back so hard it almost appeared as if she had been struck.
The hot tea violently sloshed over the rim of her tea cup, burning her hand and splattering her skirt. She seemed to not even register the pain, despite her steam already billowing from her skin.
Ace had immediately jumped up, pressing a thick cloth napkin against the burn. Deuce floundered for a moment, before running out of the room, yelling he was getting ice. Grim dropped his still uneaten cookie and started jumping around.
Riddle, oddly, did nothing. He sat frozen, hand still hanging in the air. They might not have seen it, but he did. The way her hand touched her throat, over that thick scarf, the sharp gasp as if she was desperate for her last lungful of air, her eyes blown wide, filled with an emotion he didn’t recognize.
No, that was wrong. He did recognize it. It had just been such a long time since he’d seen it, especially from her.
It was fear.
Before he could try to formulate a rational explanation, or any explanation really, for this, (Y/N) lurched back. She took a few stumbling steps before turning around, clutching her stomach, and vomited.
She fell to her knees, retching again and pulling in deep gulps of air. Deuce careened back into the room, eyes wide and looking around, before immediately going to help hold the hair back from her face. Ace dove for a trash can and shoved it in front of her in case she threw up again.
“It’s okay,” Ace was saying, almost as much as he was trying to convince himself as much as her. “Just-You just got to breathe and-”
“Don’t touch me!” (Y/N) shrieked. Her hands flew out blindly to knock theirs away. She tried to stand but was interrupted by another dry heave. She clutched at her throat, pulling at the thick scarf in a desperate attempt to pull any air into her lungs.
And that was when Riddle saw it. The row of tiny discolored dots circling her neck. Scars that weren’t old enough to have faded and meshed with the rest of her skin. He felt sharp, acidic bile rise in his mouth as he remembered the day of his Overblot. Screaming and shouting filled his ears as clearly as if it was happening again right in front of him. He remembered sending out thorny rose vines to those he perceived as a threat to his perfect kingdom of order, ready to decapitate any who stood against his rule.
If no one had stopped him, how far would he have gone? Would he have continued his righteous execution? Would he have killed her?
An awful sense of vertigo took over Riddle as he stumbled back. With one last agonizing look at the first years in front of him, he turned and fled the room. His heart drummed impossibly loud in his ears. His sight narrowed to what was just in front of him. His only thought was to get out, to escape, to get as far away as possible from the reminder of the crimes he had committed. He flung open the front door of Ramshackle, only to run head first into Jamil.
“Whoa!” Jamil exclaimed, dropping what he had been carrying to catch Riddle’s arms as he stumbled out. “What are you- Riddle? What’s going on?”
“I-I can’t,” Riddle stuttered out, immediately hating even more how he couldn’t find an ounce of courage to take responsibility for what he had caused. “I can’t be here.” Without another word, he pushed away from Jamil and ran down the path away from the dorm.
Jamil watched after him, confused. He leaned down and picked up the fallen container of leftover kofta. Whenever he made too much food for Kalim, and it seemed like he was making too much food much more often recently, he would pack some up and bring it to (Y/N). It gave him an excuse to get away from Scarabia for a while. And, he maybe thought but would never dare to say outloud, he happened to quite like being around the magicless prefect.
Looking over his shoulder at the retreating Riddle, he was almost run over again by Ace speeding to the door. Jamil jumped back just in time. “You’re House Warden’s rubbing off on you,” Jamil joked dryly.
Ace scowled with uncharacteristic disdain that made Jamil pause. “What are you doing here?”
Jamil held up the container. “I brought food for (Y/N). And Grim, I suppose. Now, if you’d let me in-”
“She doesn't want you here,” Ace cut him off. “Leave.”
Ace tried to slam the door but Jamil caught it, prying it back open. “Excuse me? Since when do you speak for (Y/N)?”
Ace threw the door back open, getting right in Jamil’s face and jabbing a finger in his chest. “You think you’re so Seven-damed self righteous, don’t you?”
Jamil took a step back, raising his hand to try and put some space between them. “Hold-”
Ace, undeterred, followed Jamil’s retreat. “You think just because Kalim moved on and acted like nothing happened and thinks you’re the best thing since butter on toast that the rest of the world will just forgive and forget what you did? Well, I don’t forgive you. You hurt my friend and just walked it off like none of it mattered, like we’ll all just forget about it and move on. I won’t forget about it. I’ll never forget about it. And I know (Y/N) will never forget about it either when that Blot poison you put into her makes it so she can’t even lift her arm up straight anymore. At least Riddle has the excuse that his Overblot was an accident, but you planned all that last winter break, didn't you? You hurt people on purpose. You hurt her on purpose. So yeah, I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near her ever again. Now leave!”
Ace slammed the door shut. Silently, his face stoic, Jamil turned around and walked back down the path to the mirror chamber.
His dorm mates, watching him return and giving an unreturned greeting, wouldn’t have noticed anything off about the Vice House Warden if they had been asked. The only indication of the heavy weight on Jamil’s mind was how tightly he was holding the container of kofta. The plastic bent in his hands, nails almost piercing through it.
He went to his room, glad his roommate was out. He sat at his desk, opening up a textbook and starting on an assignment. When he realized he had read the same sentence six times over and still couldn’t remember what it was, he shut the book and stood back up. He walked over to his closet and started taking down clothes. Methodically, he unfolded everything, folded it again, then repeated the process. Every sock was untucked from its uniform bundle, tossed in a heap on his bed, then repaired.
He wasn’t exactly sure how long he had been at this when Kalim swept into the room.
“Hi, Jamil!” He said brightly. He fell back on Jamil’s bed, shuffling over a little to avoid the pile of clothes.
“Hmm,” Jamil said back. His eyes were straight ahead, staring at the wall.
“Music club was really fun today,” Kalim continued. “Lilia brought in this old instrument he got from another country way back when. I’ve never seen anything like it before! It’s called a bag… A bag… Oh, a bagpipe! It’s just what it sounds like, this big red sack with flute looking things sticking out of it. You hold it and squeeze it while you blow into it and at first it makes this really funny, like, humming noise? But then you can play actual music from it! But apparently the club next door complained so we had to stop after a while. Lilia said they used to use those during battles since they were so loud. Oh! And he said they used to be made out of a sheep bladder! The one we had was made of cloth, though. I guess it did kind of sound like a sheep. You remember that time my little sisters convinced themselves that sheep were clouds and secretly bought a whole flock? We all woke up one morning and a whole flock was wandering around inside! It took forever to get them all rounded back up. And the shepherd they bought the sheep from was-”
“Why don’t you hate me?”
Kalim faltered. He looked confused for a moment, trying to process Jamil’s words in any other way than as they were meant. “What do you mean? I could never hate you. You’re my best friend!”
“I could have killed you. I would have, during my Overblot. I was trying to ruin you, I made you be cruel to people who looked up to you, I took away your own body to do and say whatever I wanted, I almost killed (Y/N) and she’s still dealing with the aftermath, I-” He cut himself off, recognizing his own oncoming rambling. Despite his rigid posture, his heart was speeding in his chest as if he had just run a marathon. His head was swimming.
Kalim put a hand on Jamil’s back. The unexpected contact made the taller boy jump, whirling around with his arms up defensively as if he was expecting to ward off an attack.
“Well,” Kalim said. “You don’t hate me, do you?”
At some point, Jamil would have answered yes. Did it start when he ate poisoned curry meant for Kalim as a child? Was it when he was explicitly told why he was passed over for House Warden of Scarabia due to Kalim’s connections, despite his capabilities? Was it because Kalim always seemed to be happy and content with the world while he was forced to dive into every unpleasant aspect and reality?
But now, would he say he hated Kalim now?
“You’ve seen my grades, you know I’m not the smartest guy around.” Kalim laughed weakly at his own self-depricating joke. “But I do know some stuff. And one of the things I know is that you’re not a bad person, Jamil. Everything that happened before, I think something like that was always going to happen. It’s as much my fault as it was yours, I think.” Jamil tried to interrupt, taking away blame from Kalim for his own shoulders like he had so many times in the past, just as Kalim raised a hand to cut him off. “If I paid more attention, I would have noticed how much I was hurting you. I would have realized that I wasn’t acting like a friend should at all. I should have seen that I was taking advantage of you. So, yeah, your Overblot is just as much my fault as it is yours. Which means that anything that happened after is my responsibility, too. So, if you need me for whatever is going on, I’m right here.”
“That’s easy to say when the blood’s not on your hands.”
Kalim grabbed Jamil’s hands, forcing Jamil to look at him. “They’re my hands, too! You said I’m a spoiled rich kid, right? That I just take whatever I want without thinking about it, right? So then I’m taking this! I’m taking the responsibility! I’m taking the blame! I’m taking-” His voice broke as he hiccuped, tears starting to cloud his eyes. “I’m taking whatever it is that’s too heavy for you to carry on your own. It’s mine. So please, Jamil, please, give it to me. Don’t keep it all locked up for yourself.”
“You-” Jamil started. He sighed, resigned. He gently knocked his fist into Kalim’s forehead. “You make this hard sometimes.”
Kalim laughed again, whipping away the tears in his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I know. I’m trying to be better though. Feeling better?”
Jamil took stock of himself. “I think so. Maybe. A little. Not great.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think (Y/N) hates you either.”
Jamil pressed his lips together. “I really hope so.”
~~~
While magic was an extraordinary companion to modern medicine, injuries caused by Blot were definitely trickier to treat. This was partly due to the rather mysterious nature of Blot itself, to anyone outside a STYX facility, that is. Whatever the case, normal scrapes and bruises, collected from the myriad of everyday misadventures at Night Raven College, could normally be patched up easily, any scars or more permanent injuries fading within the week, give or take a few days. But those inflicted by an Overbloted student and their parasitic Phantom defied typical treatment.
(Y/N) knew as much. Father Goliath, Night Raven’s resident medical professional, had explained the phenomenon when he first treated her for Overblot injuries back at the beginning of the school year, which at this point seemed like a lifetime ago.
Father Goliath, with his gaunt almost skeletal face, thick black curly hair tied back, and dark wine red robes, hardly seemed like the most comforting presence for the school infirmary. Yet no one could deny he was good at his job. A devout follower of the Moondrop sect of magic, he had a keen interest in how the body withered and decayed. Which gave him a unique insight into preventing that phenomenon among the accident-prone population of the magical school.
“I should give you a membership card at this point,” Father Goliath told (Y/N) sarcastically. “You're here so often. Get ten stamps, win a free milkshake, or something like that.”
“Okay,” (Y/N) replied, not looking up.
Father Goliath narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together. He shook out two chalky pink tablets from a jar and pressed them into her hands. “Chew on these until they dissolve. It should help settle your stomach. And lay down for a while. I’ll come back to check on you in half an hour. Meanwhile, you three can get out and stop causing a ruckus in my infirmary.”
Immediately, Grim, Ace, and Deuce, who had insisted on bringing (Y/N) to the infirmary in the first place, protested.
“I’m not leaving my hench-human!” Grim declared.
Father Goliath squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. “People need peace and quiet to recover. It’s safe to say you three are the mortal enemies of peace and quiet. If you want her to get better, take a step back. Do you think I’m going to let anything bad happen in my infirmary?”
“What about that time-” Deuce started.
“Besides that one time!” Father Goliath cut him off. “Now out! She can call you when I’ve cleared her to leave.”
Still clearly unhappy about being banished, the trio said their goodbyes. Grim knocked his forehead against hers and she scratched behind his ears with a weak smile. It dropped the second the door closed behind them.
“I’d get a stomach ache if I had to deal with a bunch of teenage boys all the time, too,” Father Goliath said. (Y/N) made a noncommittal sound in response. He sighed. “Get some rest, Sundrop. I’ll be organizing my supply closet if you need anything.”
(Y/N) laid on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She knew she should close her eyes and try to sleep. Her stomach felt like lead. The artificial taste of the tablets dissolving in her mouth coated her tongue, washing away the sharp acid taste from when she had thrown up. She groaned and rubbed the heel of her palm into her eyes until she saw spots. She was going to have to deal with that when she got home. She really hoped she didn’t get anything on the rug. She also hoped her friends didn’t feel obligated to clean up for her.
The curtain between patient beds was pulled aside. “About time,” Leona said with a yawn. “I thought they’d never leave.”
“Leona?” (Y/N) said, her voice scratchy. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. You heard the old man, usually this place is pretty quiet. Makes it good to hide and get a nap in when classes are using the biodome. You?”
“I’m… Fine. Just a stomach bug.”
“Uh-huh,” Leona said, unbelieving. After a moment, he said, “Does it still hurt?”
“What do you mean?” (Y/N) said, although she unconsciously raised her hand to touch the space on her back.
He gave her a look. “You know. When I used my unique magic on you during my Overblot. You know I don’t like to waste time, Prefect.”
She tried not to flinch but she was sure he caught it anyway. “Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I can’t feel anything there at all. Other times it’s like this crawling, burning feeling. Father Goliath gave me this lotion that’s supposed to help, but it takes time before it kicks in. How did you know?”
“Beleive it or not, those morons dragging you in here isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone having a panic attack.”
“Oh. Did I wake you up?”
“You didn’t do anything. Don’t worry about it.”
She laid back down, staring at the ceiling again. She felt a weight from where she could tell Leona was watching her. The spot on her back, scarred and shiny skin raised in a swirling bumpy pattern, started to itch.
“Would it make you feel better if you hit me?” Leona asked.
(Y/N) sat up. “What? No, of course not!”
“Hmm. Well, that’s my idea gone.” He laid back on his own patient bed, arms crossed behind his head and eyes closed. His calm face was betrayed by his continuously twitching ears and tail.
“I’m not… mad at you,” She said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not mad at anyone, I don’t think. It’s hard to put it into words. I’m just… sad all the time, for no reason. And it comes out of nowhere. Yesterday I was totally fine, I was great! And then I just… I don’t know. It was like everything shut down and I couldn’t think straight. I kept telling myself I was fine, I wasn’t in any danger, it was stupid that I was acting like this, there were people I trusted right next to me, but I couldn’t help but just…” Her breathing was coming fast and short now.
A thick blanket fell over her head, making everything dark. “Easy,” Leona’s deep, rumbling voice said, muffled by the blanket. “You’re starting to panic again. I want you to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, then breathe out for eight. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Can you do that?”
“I-I don’t-”
“I’m going to touch your hand.” Leona pulled her hand out from the blanket, pressing it against his chest so she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. “Here, breathe with me. In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. We’re going to do that again, okay?”
A choked sob emitted from under the blanket. “Okay.”
They repeated the breathing exercise several more times until (Y/N)’s hands stopped trembling. Leona slowly pushed her on her back, moving the blanket off her face. Her eyes were red. He sat on the edge of the bed.
“I don’t want to go,” She mumbled.
“No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to. If they try, you come tell me.”
“No, I mean… The water park this weekend. Everyone’s been looking forward to it so much. I really wanted to go. I really want to. But I don’t know how to explain all this.” She circled her hand in the air. “I don’t want people to see. Riddle saw and… I don’t want to bring it all back.”
It was no secret around campus that a not insignificant number of students still actively avoided anyone who had Overblot during the year. At one point, there had even been a conspiracy that (Y/N) herself was causing them on purpose. (Y/N) remembered one specific instance when a group of students had started a whole shouting match in enigmics. They had jumped up and refused to stay in the same class as Azul, citing not only his manipulative tactics during exam week, but fears that he would Overblot again at theoretically any provocation. (Y/N) stepped in, always the peace keeper, whether she wanted to be or not.
“Come on, Prefect,” One of the protesting students had said. “You should want this guy gone as much as us!”
But she didn’t. As much as she would acknowledge that she was hurt by them, physically and psychologically, she didn’t want any of them gone. As odd as it might seem to someone looking in from the outside, she still considered them her friends. She would no sooner condemn Azul for his Overblot than she would Jack for waking up so early every morning for training, or Ace for his well-meaning teasing, or Grim for his often gluttonous appetite.
And yet… And yet, and yet, and yet…
“You can’t ignore a flood,” Leona said, bringing her back to the present in the infirmary. “You can’t control the rain that causes it. You can’t control the land it destroys. But you can prepare for it. You build dams, waterproof buildings, plan evacuation routes and shelters. The flood will come, it always does. But you can be ready for it.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want them to look at me and only see the mistakes they made.”
“You can’t control the people who go out in the flood. But you can warn them about it. You look at what the flood has destroyed before and plan around that. You build back what’s been broken. Do you want to know what I see when I look at you? I don’t see someone drowning. I see someone who was thrown in the deep end and had to learn to swim by themselves. Someone who will dive down and pull up others even if it means swallowing enough water to choke. I see someone who, despite it all, is still more concerned with keeping everyone else afloat. You don’t have to keep treading water. You brought everyone else up and we have a boat. Let someone else take care of you for once.”
“Thank you,” (Y/N) said with a sniff.
“Don’t mention it, herbivore. Get some sleep. I’m right here.”
The half hour check-in quietly spooled into an hour, then two and three. Father Goliath had come out to check on his patient at the appointed time, only to be met by Leona leaning on the back legs of a chair, legs propped up, arms crossed, and eyes closed, staying guard at (Y/N)’s bedside. She was curled in a ball under the blankets, but at least her deep and even breathing indicated she was getting some much needed sleep. When Father Goliath approached, Leona cracked one eye open. The healer waved away the beastman’s protective glare as he quickly checked her vitals. Satisfied, he left them to nap.
Finally, after the bell ending classes for the day reverberated through the halls, (Y/N) blearily got up from bed. The first years, who definitely hadn’t been anxiously waiting at the infirmary doors waiting for Father Goliath to let them back in no matter what anyone said, flooded in. They had been antsy waiting outside. Ortho had set up a separate group chat, sharing links for articles titled things like “How to Talk to a Friend with PTSD : Do’s and Don’t’s,” “What To Do During a Panic Attack,” and “Advice for Helping a Friend or Relative with Body Dysporphia.”
Leona met Jack’s eyes for a moment, giving the wolf a nod of understanding. Jack nodded back, a bloom of pride in his chest at earning the trust to take care of someone precious from his senior.
“We, uh, got you something,” Epel said. He pulled out a colorful, if not slightly rumpled looking, bouquet wrapped in brown paper.
“Oh,” (Y/N) said in a small broken voice, taking the flowers gently.
“Aw, shoot,” Epel said, his natural accent coming out. “I knew we should have gotten chocolate instead. That’s what my Ma always said. When in doubt, everyone loves chocolate.”
“No, no!” (Y/N) cut him off. “I love them. They’re beautiful.”
“We picked them ourselves,” Jack said. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know if we’re actually allowed to do that.”
“Either way, thank you. You guys are the best. Really.”
“No sweat!” Deuce said. “You know we’re here for you, (Y/N).”
She smiled and it felt strange on her face. “Yeah, I know.”
The group walking through the busy halls resembled a group of security escorting an A-list celebrity through a busy airport. Despite her nap, (Y/N) still felt worn down. Father Goliath warned her that might be the case for the next few days at least, and that it had nothing to do with the side effects of the medicine he gave her. She was slowly accepting that she needed to recover. She couldn’t stay active and recover, doing the same things she would do on a good day, not for a situation like this. But she hated the idea of feeling useless during that time.
“Shrimpy!” Floyd called out in his usual sing-song, happy-go-lucky way. He threw his arms wide for that wonderful incoming squeeze. But instead of enveloping the soft, warm body of his favorite land-locked shrimp, he crashed into a hard wall of pure muscle. Floyd scowled, showing his teeth, as he looked at Jack who had stepped between him and his target.
“(Y/N)’s not feeling well,” Jack said. “She doesn't want anyone touching her unnecessarily right now.”
“But it’s totally necessary!” Floyd argued. He leaned around Jack. “Tell him, Shrimpy.”
(Y/N) became focused on plucking at the flowers on her bouquet. Epel stepped between the two of them, putting a hand on her shoulder to help guide her through the hall.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “We’re taking care of her for now. And she doesn't need anything loud and chaotic right now.”
Not giving Floyd a chance to respond, the first years quickly ushered (Y/N) away. Floyd watched them disappear in the crowd of students getting out of classes for the day. He frowned. Then he scowled. His mood spun on a dime. He shoved his hands in his pockets, stalking through the halls back to Octavinelle, students jumping out of his way.
If there was one thing Floyd did when he was in a bad mood, it was to make it everyone else’s problem.
At this point in the school year, most Octavinelle students could sense Floyd’s bad mood like an oncoming storm. The ones who could fled the Monstro Lounge for the safety of their dorm rooms, while the ones stuck on mandatory waitstaff shifts did their best to look as busy as possible to avoid any accidental collision.
Floyd dragged a chair over near the bar where Jade was mixing up mocktails, maybe with a few extra ingredients on the sly. Floyd kicked a foot on the counter, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and rocked almost violently back and forth on the back legs of the chair. He yanked at his tie and the top buttons on his shirt, the constriction of land-required clothing growing too tight and irritating on his skin.
“Sand dollar for your thoughts, brother dear?” Jade asked.
“No,” Floyd spit out. Jade hummed, non-plussed. When barely a breath of time had gone between them, Floyd slammed the chair back down on all four legs, causing a nearby student to jump almost three feet in the air and scurry away. “I don’t like it,” Floyd said. “I don’t like it when people just change things for no reason. I got a routine, I want to do stuff. And I don’t like it when people just blow me off! If Shrimpy’s going to change stuff she can at least tell me to my face. I don’t need some overgrown Sea Urchin getting in the way.”
Jade nodded, knowing sometimes the best way to help Floyd was just to let him talk. He shook up a milk tea with boba and slid it across the counter. Floyd liked to gnash on the tapioca pearls whenever he was upset.
“I wouldn’t take it too personally,” Jade assured him. “From what I’ve heard, (Y/N) has been off with everyone the past two days.”
“Yeah, but I’m not everyone!”
“It’s a tragedy.”
“What’s a tragedy is you two scaring away or poisoning my customers,” Azul said, walking up to the bar.
Jade gave a mock gasp and put a hand to his chest. “‘Poison’ is such an ugly word. I prefer ‘subjects in variable groups reacting to external stimuli.’ And besides, I didn’t think you would catch me this soon. I thought you would be busy at your club for at least another hour.”
“Idia wasn’t in board game club today,” Azul lamented, sitting down on one of the bar stools and watching Floyd violent chew his boba. “Anyone else is hardly a challenge. I thought I’d come back early and get some work done. But that doesn't mean I want extra work from you. What’s this about (Y/N)?”
Floyd let out some unintelligible but no less angry noise of exclamation, throwing his hands up. He turned to the bar and buried his face in his crossed arms, sulking.
Azul sighed at his, well, not his friend, but at least his childhood acquaintance’s, tantrum. He turned an expecting eye to Jade, waiting for the other twin to inform him of the daily campus gossip. Jade, instead, seemed to refuse to meet Azul’s eye. He instead sorted through his notes, organizing various small containers with who knew what detritus that had been collected by the Forest Lovers Club or pilfered from the Potionology and Alchemy classrooms. Azul cleared his throat, trying to subtlety signal to Jade. When that didn’t work, he frowned, turning to fully address him.
“Jade?” Azul prompted when his Vice House Warden continued to pointedly ignore him.
“Yes, Azul?” Jade said.
Azul rolled his eyes. “(Y/N). You mentioned she hasn’t been acting like herself the past few days?”
“I did say that, yes.”
Azul took off his glasses, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “And? Do you have any idea what could have caused it? She doesn't exactly strike me as the kind of person to be thrown into a bad mood for no reason.” He pointedly cast a sideways glance across the bar top.
“Did you know,” Jade began. “That Rook and I sometimes meet up? Not in any official capacity, but to exchange tales of what we’ve observed throughout the day. He can be a treasure trove of information, once you’re able to decode it.”
“‘Decode’ being the operative word,” Azul said dryly.
“Yes, quite. Well, according to Rook, who spoke according to Epel, (Y/N) became distressed after an outing to the Mystery Shop. Although Epel himself was unsure what exactly happened, Rook deduced she was suffering, let’s say, flashbacks to certain events of the past school year.”
Floyd peaked out from between his arms. “Flashbacks? What, like those strobe lights we had for Halloween?”
Azul’s mouth had gone dry. “No, I don’t believe that’s what he’s referring to.”
Jade nodded. “Apparently, it’s left… quite a mark on her, I’d say. You should understand the sentiment, yes, Azul?” He poured a cup of tea, sliding it over to Azul.
Azul took it with shaking hands and took a long sip. Once, just once, he had seen the marks he had left on (Y/N) during his Overblot. It was by accident. During the very same Halloween event where the strobe lights had been used in Octavinelle’s mad scientist laboratory. Or, rather, afterward, when Malleus had accidentally caused a mass panic by spiriting away half of their number to the Spectral Realm, prompting the other half to charge in for a valiant, if unneeded, rescue. At the party that followed, with all the dancing and merriment, (Y/N) had twirled in rapid circles. The fluffed skirt of her costume swirled around her, so much so that Azul temporarily imagined it as his own tentacles fanning out from himself in the sea. And just there, right there, for a split second, he saw the pattern rising from above her knee to disappear under her skirt at the thigh. Blotched skin in a formal circular pattern traveling in a curved line. Indents where chunks of skin had been dug into then ripped around when he had lashed a tentacle around her leg in an attempt to, what? Bash her head against the rocks? Drown her? Throttle her for her cleverness in circumventing his signature spell? And then, just like that, she stopped spinning, her skirt fell to its normal placement, and she clapped her hands and threw her head back with a laugh, her thoughts as far away from his Overblot as possible.
Azul himself was no stranger in being painfully aware of his own body. For far too many years it had been at the forefront of his mind. He had had his own ways of dealing with it, however unhealthy they might have been. Sure, diet and exercise worked, of course. But there had been more than one occasion where he had sequestered himself away, guilt and self-loathing overtaking him after he succumbed to his body’s plea for necessary nutrients, gorging himself until it was almost physically painful. And then forcing that feast back up, expelling it until stomach acid burned his throat and his abdomen clenched reflexively in anticipation of purging. His mother would have cried if she knew what he did to himself. That, he would have to admit to himself, was one of the motivators for why he hadn’t done it in a very long time. Although he would be lying if he said the urge never reared its ugly head.
He came back to himself at a tug on his jacket. Floyd had slid closer, pulling on his sleeve. “Hey,” he said. “You still here? Getting lost in your head again?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” The twins shared a look. “I’m tired all of a sudden. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while. Come find me if anything important comes up, otherwise I’ll leave it to you, Jade. One more thing, were you both planning on going to the waterpark event Kalim had planned this weekend?”
“It promises to be an eventful day,” Jade said.
“I wonder if they’ll let me go in my mer form in the wave pool,” Floyd said.
“Right. I wasn’t planning on it at first, but maybe it would be a good idea to help keep an eye on things. In case certain opportunities arise, of course.”
Jade smiled knowingly. “Of course.”
~~~
Quite possibly the last thing (Y/N) expected to see when she came back to Ramshackle dorm was Idia fiddling with the TV in her living room. Idia had donated the TV and gaming system that came with it after the events on the Isle of Woe and Ramshackle’s renovation. But besides the first time showing off his skills when it was first installed, he hadn’t come back over to mess with it. Although it had definitely become an extra reason the first years often decided to stay over.
Idia jumped like a startled cat when (Y/N) called his name. “Sorry,” She said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Idia became very invested in his sleeves, plucking at them as if the whole thing was going to unravel. “Ah, yeah, no, it’s fine. Um, Ortho was supposed to text me when you guys were coming back, so I’ll just leave now. I updated your system for you. New GPU, went from a HDD to a M.2 NVMe SDD so loading times should be better, added a new memory card. Oh, and a new internal fan, too, since it’s been really hot. Anyway, yeah, I’ll just go now.”
“Yeah,” Ace said, taking a protective step in front of (Y/N). “Maybe you should.”
“Ace,” (Y/N) said, gently touching his arm. “It’s okay.” Ace looked like he wanted to say more, but just huffed and pouted.
“We’ll start making some dinner so you don’t have to worry about going to the cafeteria, okay?” Ortho said, pushing the other first years out of the room. “Hi, Idia! Bye, Idia!”
“Hang on, wait-!” Idia said as his usual extrovert shield left the room. His hair started sparking with internal panic, although that was evident enough from the expression on his face. Idia really wore his heart on his sleeve. And his anxiety, anger, embarrassment, smugness, really any emotion was plainly evident.
He took a step back as (Y/N) looked closer at the new equipment he had brought over. His eyes couldn’t help but travel along her body. Not in a creepy way, he quickly chided to himself, but just wondering exactly how her skin was marked under her layers of clothes. He wondered what would happen if he asked her to show him. He wondered what it would feel like to touch the marks he had left. He wondered why she was letting him stay in her house in the first place.
“Thanks for doing this,” She said, breaking him out of his spiral of thoughts. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s nothing,” He said. “Just wanted to, you know, help out. Ortho said you weren’t doing too hot so… Not, like, in an attractive way, I mean! You’re plenty hot, or, uh, I mean, not so hot in a feelings sense? I’m not really good with talking with other people or anything. But hands-on stuff I can do. And I always feel better when I get lost in a game, so…”
“Yeah. Maybe I could use that right about now.”
Idia took a deep breath and pinched the back of his hand to ground himself. “When-When Ortho died,” He said. “The first Ortho. I wasn’t okay for a long time. Like, a long, long time. I mean, obviously, you were there at the Isle of Woe when everything went down, and honestly that whole thing opened up a lot of old stuff I had been pushing back for forever and it really did a number on - ah, anyway, nevermind, I’m rambling. The point is, I get it. Sort of. My mom, Seven, you should meet my mom, she’d love you, she told me once that grief is kind of like a button in a box. And then there’s this ball bouncing around inside the box. I think that’s how the metaphor went. Anyway, when you’re close to, you know, the bad things that happen, the ball is really big and it pushes the button all the time. But then, eventually, the ball gets smaller. The button doesn't get pressed all the time but it still can. And then sometimes, something happens that makes the ball bigger again. I wasn't really paying attention when she told me all that the first time. But she’s got a point. I don’t think the button ever really goes away. And it’s hard to control how the ball bounces around the box. It takes time, but you can figure out how to do it. Especially when you have other people around to help. Ah, anyway, man, I’m bad at this. Did-did any of that make sense? I can just, like, leave if you want me to.”
(Y/N) gently took the edge of his oversized sleeve. “Yeah, it makes sense. Thank you.”
Idia quickly looked away, face turning a rosy pink. “Uh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He pulled up his hood. “Right, so, I’m going to go disappear forever again. This much natural light has to be bad for you. Anyway, let me know if anything doesn't work right, or whatever.”
“Could you,” She said, pausing Idia’s escape. “I mean, that online game you talk about playing with, what was his name? Something Red? Do you think you could teach me to play sometime?”
“Sure, if you want. Don’t expect me to carry you through the whole thing, though.”
She gave a small laugh as she said, “Yeah, sure thing. I don’t expect you to. Just need a little help sometimes.”
~~~
(Y/N) had been lying awake in her bed when the soft green glow of fireflies started shining through her window. Gently, as to not wake up Grim who was curled up in a deep sleep on her legs, she sat up and looked out the window. A familiar tall, dark figure stood near the front gate. As if sensing her attention, he lifted a hand in greeting. (Y/N) carefully shuffled Grim off, making sure he was still cozy in his blankets. She slipped on her shoes and pulled a terrycloth robe around her before making her way downstairs and out into the night.
Malleus stood with his back to the old house, hands clasped behind him. He looked up at the sky, eyes tracing the stars in patterns only he could see. He turned and smiled at her as she approached.
“You’ve been causing my knight some distress,” Malleus said in a half-way teasing tone. When it didn’t land, he became serious. “Tell me what ails you, Child of Man. I swear I will do everything in my power to rectify it.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. The only sounds around them was the night music of the campus, crickets and wind in the trees and frogs. The air was heavy with humidity that made it feel like they were standing in something tangible. She rubbed the gouge mark Grim had given her on the back of her hand with her thumb.
“I’m afraid of you,” (Y/N) said in a still, small voice. “I don’t want to be. You’re my friend. You’re my Hornton. I didn’t used to be. But I feel like I’m afraid of everything now. And I hate feeling this way. I hate looking at my friends and wondering if we’re all going to get killed. I hate this panic I feel whenever someone is angry or sad or whatever and I have to wonder if they’re about to Overblot. I hate wondering if the next person we meet has some manipulative agenda and is going to attack everyone I know and care about. I hate knowing that when push comes to shove there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I hate feeling useless all the time when the people I care most about in this world are in mortal peril or being drowned out by however magic actually works and I can’t do anything about it. I hate it.”
Malleus was as still as one of his beloved gargoyles. His hand itched to reach up and touch his shattered horn, but he gripped his hands so tight they went bloodless to resist the urge.
“Ah,” he finally settled on saying. “That is… not something that is easy to amend.”
“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) quickly said. “I know you already feel awful about what happened, and I don’t want to make it any worse. Really, I don’t. It’s just… It’s like everything has just been eating away at me from the inside out since the start of the school year. And now there’s this giant hole in my chest and it's bleeding out everywhere and I can’t stop it.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. It is an expected reaction. Instead, I feel I must apologize to you. I have not been a good friend to you. If I had, I would have noticed your distress earlier. If I had, I wouldn’t have put you in such a difficult situation to begin with.”
“It’s… I mean, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean. It’s fine. You already apologized before, at the ball. Everyone’s said their sorry, and they mean it. I know they do. And I forgive them. I feel like an idiot, being this nervous about everything.”
“Absolutly not,” Malleus interjected sharply. “You are in no way a fool. You must never think that about yourself, in this regard or any other.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know, but…”
They stood next to each other, watching the bob and sway of the fireflies.
“It is,” Malleus finally said. “Not an issue easy to remedy.”
“No, it’s not.” She looked down at the back of her hand, at the three long claw marks dug into her flesh. “It’s slow. But it gets better, eventually. It fades, like scars. I know I won’t feel like this forever, I won’t be the same person I am right now. But, God, it’s hard to believe that sometimes.”
“It is indeed a long and arduous journey. I am on my own. But, if you would allow me, my dearest child of man, I would be honored if you allowed me to accompany you on it.” He stepped in front of her, bowing low, one hand extended.
She laughed, sniffed, and used the back of her hand to brush away tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She took his hand and squeezed tightly once. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”
~~~
(Y/N) took the rest of the week off, and no one could blame her for it. At one point, another student made a snide remark about how easy it must be to get an excused absence if a person just bat their eyes and cried in front of the right people, but they were quickly shut down by no fewer than eight defenders who had gone through the Overblot incidents themselves and knew exactly what kind of toll it took on them and the Prefect in particular.
Until, finally, the promised day arrived. Hoards of students gathered around the mirror portal chamber, ready to head out for a day of cool relief and fun. Jamil, ever attentive, was taking a head count to make sure anyone who had RSVP’d was there, and any stragglers got a scathing side-eye before being added to the list, per Kalim’s insistence no one be left out, reservation etiquette be damned.
Several groups stood around anxiously. Not for anticipation to get going to the water park, but for the possibility of who might join them. Riddle, standing with his Heartslabyul seniors, looked rather green around the gills as his eyes darted to a particular cluster of first years every so often. Leona reclined from an elevated position on the side of the room, Ruggie close by, keenly observing the masses. Azul trailed behind Jamil, spouting off something that was meant to sound poetic and convincing, but Jamil was having none of it. Vil monitored his spudlings, trying to keep Epel in place while he rubbed sunscreen into the younger boy’s cheeks. Idia wasn’t present physically, declaring to Ortho that he had used up all his extrovert MP for the week if not the month during his trip to Ramshackle. But at least he had agreed to tag along in tablet form, even if the screen was set to audio only most of the time. It was the thought that counted. Most people were surprised when they saw Malleus present, flocked by his two knights and boyish Vice House Warden. He, too, seemed to be searching the crowd, a disappointed frown on his face whenever his investigation came up fruitless.
Finally, as the crowd was becoming restless and the heat was seeping into the already crowded room, they couldn’t put it off any longer. The mirror portal shimmered and a cheer went up from the crowd. Eagerly, people began to jump through to the waiting oasis on the other side.
The usual suspects of Night Raven College were the last to go through the portal. Just as they were about to be resigned to their fate of having a sunny and fun-filled day at the water park without a certain lynchpin attending, the door of the portal room burst open.
“Never fear!” Grim declared as he swooped in, overly large sunglasses tilting on his face under a large straw sun hat. “The Great Grim has decided to grace you with his presence! Let’s get this show on the road!”
“Sorry,” a smaller, hesitating voice said from behind Grim. “Are we late?”
(Y/N) stood awkwardly in the doorway, shifting her weight on her feet, not quite looking at anyone in particular. She was wearing cuffed shorts and a long kimono-style cover up over her swimsuit and carrying a large canvas beach bag that bulged with oversized towels, a deflated pool floatie shaped like a donut, and snacks. Multiple of her scars were visible, half way veiled by her clothes.
The Hearslabuyl first years immediately dropped their bags and rushed over to her, quickly followed by the rest of the gang. (Y/N) took an involuntary step back. She squared her shoulders as she met them, the smile on her face as they spoke not nearly as forced or uncomfortable as it had been a few days prior.
Deuce looped his arm through hers, escorting her to the mirror like a gentleman in a period drama, while Ace more modernly gave a hearty thunk on her back. Jack took her bag, slinging it over his shoulder with his own. Sebek lectured about how important it was to wear sunscreen, which Grim scoffed at saying he didn’t like how it felt to put on, which just motivated Sebek to lecture harder. Epel playfully squirted some into his hand and smeared it across Grim’s nose. They all laughed as Grim panicked and tried to rub it off.
Kalim looked at Jamil, who stood stock still, watching. He touched Jamil’s arm gently. Jamil blinked, looking down at him. He took a breath and relaxed his shoulders, giving an almost imperceptible small grateful smile.
“You’re not late!” Kalim said joyfully. “Come on, the day’s just getting started!”
At the steps of the mirror, Riddle took a step forward. He held his hand up half way, unsure if it was in a stopping command or desperate attempt to reach out.
“(Y/N),” He said. He inwardly flinched at how the others in the room locked on to him. “I- That is, I feel the need to - I want to apologize. Formally. I realized the other day that I’ve never fully acknowledged what I did to you. We’ve all just moved around it, and it’s not fair to you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I promise that I’ll do whatever I can to make this right-”
(Y/N) surged forward and pulled Riddle into a tight hug. The boy let out an undignified squawking gasp at the interruption. He held his hands in the air, unsure what to do with them.
“I know,” (Y/N) said. “I know. And thank you.” She took a steadying breath that rattled in her chest. She pushed back from Riddle, sweeping her eyes over the room. “All of you. I don’t know how long it will take for everything to get back to normal, or what normal really even is anymore. But I know we’re all working through it. We’re moving forward, and that’s the important part.” She held Riddle’s hand, looking at him deliberately, then at each of the previous Overblot victims. “You’re important to me. You’re my friends. We’ve gone through Hell and back, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant we all ended up safe, together. Just because my scars are visible doesn't mean we don’t all have them. I can’t promise I’ll be okay all the time. I can’t promise I’ll always act rationally or not shut down when things get too much. But I can promise that I’ll try to get better. I promise I’ll keep going. And I promise I’ll be here when you move forward, too.”
“Beautifully said, mon Trickster!” Rook cheered with his hands clasped over his heart. Next to him, Vil nodded approvingly.
“You practice that?” Leona said teasingly, ruffeling her hair.
“Maybe,” She said. Leona huffed a laugh.
Bolstered by the encouragement, everything feeling a little more solid than it did before, they filed through the mirror.
The sudden bright light after the darkness of the mirror portal room made (Y/N) squint and blink. After a few blinding seconds, the overwhelming white light of the sun solidified into the grounds of the water park. They were standing just inside the entrance, a large wave pool laid out in front of them. The water had just started to churn, sending waves rippling and growing larger and larger. Several large and colorful slides rose in the distance. The myriad of other Night Raven students were already running around, shrieking with laughter. Someone had discovered a cache of water guns and a battle had broken out. Shaded cabanas lined a strip of soft white sand to replicate a beach on the other side of the wave pool. A sand castle building contest was already underway.
“What is he doing here?” Vil said abruptly.
They followed his gaze over to a cabana where another group of students were set up. (Y/N) recognized a few faces, specifically the pale boy with ebony black hair and a large smile, waving his hand above his head at them.
“Hi, Vi!” Neige LeBlanche called out.
“Oh,” Kalim said. “You guys remember my cousin, Minajael, right? Well, when I was reserving the water park my parents wanted to make sure we were all being safe, so they asked him to come with us as a chaperone! I guess he brought some other people from RSA too.”
“Lovely,” Azul said, catching a flick on long, bright red hair dramatically surfacing from the wave pool.
Well, at least (Y/N) could rely on the decades (centuries?) old feud between NRC and RSA to help take the attention off of her for the day. She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. The sound startled those around her. She was even surprised by it, which just seemed to double the bubbling affection in her chest, making her laugh harder. Her chest ached and she couldn’t tell if she liked the feeling or not. Still, she embraced it. She embraced the warmth of the sun, the chill of the water, the comforting solid weight of Grim at his place on her shoulder.
She waved to another Night Raven student running by, much to the lifeguard’s annoyance, who was holding an extra water gun. He grinned as he threw it to her. She checked the tank, pumping the hand pump a few times.
“Well?” She said. “We’re not going to let a few Royal Sword interlopers ruin our day, are we?”
The returning wicked grins from those around her was all the answer she needed.
Yeah, (Y/N) decided. Everything was definitely going to be okay.