Fate - First Reply Sunbathing in Secret

[Nilamani]

In a quiet more secluded corner of the courtyard lay a winding coil of snake like tail. It was a quiet morning and Nalimani had slunk off to resume their original form and warm up in a patch of sun. They didn't truly begrudge being essentially confined to legs for most of the day, but it was stifling. This was a patch of garden a bit tucked away that generally had less foot traffic. It wasn't entirely a secret, they were more than willing to give an answer when asked. Though when they attended classes they generally assumed an appearance that was not dissimilar to an Elf. Like other Nerevyn there were a few signs to those in the know, mainly a littering of scales across the legs. However, considering Nalimani wore linen pants this detail rarely factored in. Still they didn't want to potentially cause some big fuss so they had sought out a more secretive area to unfurl.

They rested their head on crossed arms sneaking a bit more sleep. Nalimani struggled a little with the rigidity of an academic schedule. It was easier on warm sunny days like this but they were far from an early riser. The drifting morning sunbeams lit up the sprawled tail in a spectacle of color. A scaled expanse of pale almost pearlescent white emerging from the robes they wore and transitioning to a deeper and deeper blue down to the tip of the tail.
Their scale caught the light in a dazzling iridescent way. Nalimani was prideful about very few things but the color and quality of their tail was among those.
The Nerevyn softly snoozed to birdsong without concern.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani

The midsummer heat hung thick over the College courtyard, muffled only by the lazy drone of insects and the rustle of wind through herb-laden shrubs. The manicured hedgerows that bordered the main path shimmered slightly under the sun’s gaze, each leaf etched in gold and green. Lysander Valestri walked with a purpose that might’ve passed for confidence, had it not been for the fact that he was quite clearly looking for somewhere to sit and hadn’t found it.

His figure cut a dashing shape against the green, dressed in an immaculate white coat traced with gold threading, its tails sweeping dramatically behind him like the train of a noble’s cloak. In one hand, he carried a rather strange book; a tome the size of a small paving stone, its cover a pale, leathery white, wrinkled like old skin. Blue eyes, seven in total, peered out from the cover, their vertical pupils narrowing and widening independently as if the book were cataloguing the garden alongside its bearer.

He had intended to read it—gods knew why in the heat of the sun—but every bench he passed was too exposed, too dirty, or already occupied by someone with poor hygiene and worse taste in perfume. With a mild scoff and a theatrical roll of his eyes, Lysander veered off the cobblestone path, stepping onto the soft mulch of the inner garden. A low hedge snagged at his coat; he batted it aside with the hand not burdened by the glaring grimoire.

He pushed through a clutch of shrubbery that someone had clearly planted to discourage wandering and emerged into a shaded nook partially hidden beneath the heavy canopy of a magnolia tree. The air here was cooler, sweeter, tinged with moss and floral perfume. It was not, however, unoccupied.

There, half-reclined against a patch of sun-warmed stone and very much not hiding, was a stranger who, at first glance, seemed simply an unusually dressed student. But then Lysander’s gaze trailed lower. Past the shoulder. Past the torso. And stopped, quite abruptly, at the waist—where human skin gave way to the fine-scaled sheen of serpentine anatomy.

One pale brow arched. He adjusted the weight of the book under his arm, as though making sure it too had taken in the sight.

“And what,” Lysander said with a measured drawl, his tone teetering between dry amusement and mild incredulity, “do we have here?”

He did not sound alarmed—curious, perhaps, like someone who had found a rather charming lizard sunbathing in the middle of a salon. A slight, bemused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his free hand lifted, as if gesturing to the air around them to explain itself.

The book blinked. All seven eyes, one after another.

Lysander didn’t.

 

[Nilamani]

The coil of scales stirred slightly the tip of their tail twitching. Slowly, Nalimani picked up their head to address the disturbance of their nap. Half lidded, golden eyes opened with a sluggish sleepy expression. A murky gold, like a once treasured coin tossed to the bottom of a fountain. The Nerevyn regarded him in silence for a moment as if not fully registering his Prescence.

Still in a bit of a daze Nalimani felt the instinctual urge to drag the slim figure past the shore. To watch them struggle and gasp until they succumbed. Only for a fleeting moment. Because of course there was nothing more than a few small water features and a fish pond in this garden. The college itself was about as far from the coast as one could be in Elbion given it's un-natural floating architecture. That and Nalimani had been made to understand that sort of thing wouldn't be tolerated here. The wind softly rustled the leaves of the tree and the shrubbery surrounding them. Nalimani coming to their senses, looked around the isolated bit of greenery.

Their eyes opened more fully to actually take in the other student.
They made no move to hide even now that it registered they had been discovered. Nalimani only propped themself up a bit on their elbows to get a better look.
Nalimani was fairly sure they hadn't seen this one before. White hair was among the less common shades....Perhaps a new student then. Nalimani still hadn't caught the hang of living among human culture enough to know if the clothing the boy wore meant anything. Well....other than that this student must either be good at keeping tidy or be quite good at a cleaning cloth.
They realized belatedly the boy had said something. A serpentine approximation of a polite smile crossed Nalimani's face ".....Lost are we?"
It was a bit of work for them to have stumbled in here. Then again it seemed the desire for a quiet secluded space was well shared among the students of the college. There were only so many tucked away nooks and crannies. Their eyes drifted to the book. An unusual looking grimoire....if that's what it was. Looks could be deceiving in this place. Nalimani was proof of this in a way. Though the very notion of being ogled back at by a book was amusing on it's own.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani

Lysander’s expression twisted at the suggestion that he was lost, as though the very word left a sour taste on his tongue. He gave a sharp, theatrical scoff, the sort that echoed faintly in the shaded alcove of the courtyard garden, and tilted his chin upward in practiced defiance.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, brushing a few unruly strands of white hair from his brow with the back of his gloved hand. “I was merely looking for a quiet place to read my book. Not that it’s any great mystery.”

He shifted his grip on the tome and held it aloft, tilting it slightly so that its uncanny cover caught the dappled light filtering through the trees. The pale leather stretched and flexed subtly under his touch as if it had muscle and memory. Seven azure eyes blinked in sequence, their reptilian pupils narrowing as they focused on Nilamani.

With the weight of someone accustomed to being observed, Lysander took a step forward, the hem of his coat trailing softly behind him like the whisper of silk on grass. He leaned in—not rudely, but with a clinical interest that bordered on impertinence—and let his gaze travel once more to the stranger's lower half.

The scales caught the light in subtle, iridescent glimmers; a serpentine body coiled where most folk had legs. His brows lifted.

“And what exactly,” he began, his tone smooth but unfiltered, “are you supposed to be?”

He made a slow, sweeping gesture with one hand, vaguely indicating Nilamani’s tail. His voice was curious, yes—but beneath it hummed a note of genuine bewilderment, the kind that usually led to foot-in-mouth questions and disarming honesty.

“I’ve never seen a person without legs before. How do you even get around with all… that?”

His hand wavered as if he might find the appropriate word in the air itself, then settled back down against the cover of his book, where the blinking eyes seemed to share in his curiosity.

To Lysander, it wasn’t mockery. Not exactly. More like the natural inquisitiveness of a boy who had grown up around too many scholars and too few boundaries.