Recent content by Lysander Docatto Valestri

Pomrick Bloomsfield Nilamani Lysander looked up from whatever quiet orbit his thoughts had settled into and gave a small, knowing nod toward Nilamani. “Well,” he said, not quite smiling, “look who’s slithered in.” His eyes passed over her, golden and distant, but not unkind. Whatever judgment...

Lysander turned only partway, as if not to break the small spell that paint and canvas had cast. His gaze went from the colors to Pomrick, the tangle of hair, the eyes too awake for this hour, and he let his mouth take on a crooked line that was almost a smile. “Your jokes are so thoroughly bad...

Lysander stood before the canvas, posture straight, gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back. His white coat, lined in black and gold, caught the gallery light with each slow breath. The painting loomed tall—an ominous fortress, wrought in deep blues and blacks. The battlements looked jagged...

“Physics? Yes. Architecture? No,” Lysander said, arms crossed under his chest. “I admire good street plans and clean lines, but mortar and joinery don’t hold my interest.” He shut his eyes and rolled his head once, left to right. “I can’t even build a wooden crate, let alone anything larger...

Lysander shook his head, golden eyes steady on Aiko. “It’s a magical affinity I was born with,” he said. “I can control energy, and if you can control energy well enough, you can bend space to your will.” He lifted his hand and held his palm out toward her. The air around his fingers...

Lysander stayed at Aiko’s side as he spoke, his gaze fixed less on the canvas and more on the way her hands moved, how her wrist tilted, how her fingers gripped the brush. It was the rhythm of the act that held his attention, not the subject taking shape on the canvas. “Let’s see,” he said...

Lysander quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t quite understand why Nilamani had insisted on pairing him with the elf girl, but, in a moment of rare goodwill, he complied. He stepped over, slow and deliberate, and halted beside Aiko with exactly three feet of polite distance between them. From there...

Nilamani Aiko Pomrick Bloomsfield Lysander crossed his arms under his chest and tilted his head. His posture made it clear, he would answer, but only because he chose to. “It’s simple,” he said. “There’s a magical art I aim to master. It deals with spatial manipulation. Most know the stars tie...

Pomrick Bloomsfield Aiko Nilamani Lysander gave a small shrug as Pomrick’s voice faltered into silence. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, taking advantage of the lull. His posture straightened, confidence shaping every line of his frame beneath the soft lantern light. “I’m Lysander...

Pomrick Bloomsfield Nilamani Aiko Lysander halted a polite arm’s length from Nilamani, coat-tails settling around his boots like pale plumage. A faint clink and the muffled swish of cloth made him glance back. He watched as Pomrick hastily fumbled to close one of his half-open pouches...

Nilamani Pomrick Bloomsfield Lysander crossed the open lawn with a leisurely stride, pale coat drifting gently in the evening breeze and gleaming softly beneath the scattered stars overhead. Ahead lay the small gathering of students—an uncertain circle of lanterns spilling flickering amber...

Nilamani Lysander scoffed, a sharp exhale through his nose that conveyed all the disdain he didn’t bother putting into words. Still, he didn’t snap or scold—not yet. Instead, he leaned slightly to the side, plucked up a twig from the grass with exaggerated care, and poked Nilamani in the ribs...

Nilamani Lysander’s entire face contorted, somewhere between a pout and a frown, as if his pride and sense of propriety had just taken a simultaneous slap. His white brows drew low while his lips twisted into an uneven, vaguely squiggled line, the very picture of reluctant indignation. A faint...

Nilamani Lysander’s brow twitched, and for the first time in their exchange, a hint of a scowl darkened his otherwise composed features. He tilted his head back, just slightly, as though trying to determine whether Nilamani was being genuinely inquisitive or simply provoking him. “What sort of...

Nilamani Lysander rolled his eyes, a gesture so practiced it might as well have been hereditary. Nilamani’s remark didn’t rattle him in the slightest, in fact, he found the assumption rather arrogant, as if their mere presence could somehow derail his focus or dull his intellect. “Do as you...