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 Nilamani 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 Nilamani 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. Nilamani 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. Nilamani 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, Nilamani 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 Nilamani 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 Nilamani 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. Nilamani 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. Nilamani only propped themself up a bit on their elbows to get a better look.
Nilamani was fairly sure they hadn't seen this one before. White hair was among the less common shades....Perhaps a new student then. Nilamani 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 Nilamani'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. Nilamani 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.

 

[Nilamani]

There came an unexpectedly large reaction to the question. Perhaps this one was the touchy type. Some of the students here seemed to really have lofty airs. Or at least lofty-er than Nilam could manage. It wasn't so long ago that Nilamani's only concern was finding the next bite to eat. Ah well, perhaps this was indeed someone important. They didn't bother to keep up with such things.

The odd tome became no less odd when held in full view. It seemed to blink quite a lot....some kind of code? or perhaps the eyes were bothered by the sunlight. Both notions were amusing in their own way. The book's gaze settled upon them in a way that would be unsettling for most. Making eye contact with a book, how novel. Did it just flex? Enchanted items weren't so uncommon in the college but this one was certainly.....unique.

Nilam rested their chin in their palm. Ah the expected turn of conversation. While their tone could have been more polite it was still a tame line of questioning. At least compared to what some of the bolder students or even maester's had inquired. Perhaps he thought this some spell gone horribly wrong.
"Our kin are called...Nerevyn...is the precise term....though there are plenty of more colorful names. Mermaid, Siren....that sort of thing." Nilamani replied bemused as they watched the boy take in the sight. Nilam was really quite proud of their scales. They weren't quite as vibrant as some of the color schemes of Caeryn, but not quite as dark and muted as a true Thalassyn. Even among their own people Nilam sat somewhere between.

They couldn't begrudge the observation that indeed this college was made with humans in mind foremost. They were clumsy enough on the wide open sands of the beach let alone a set of stairs, not that he needed to know.
"I can have legs when I wish. I put it away usually." It wasn't so bad to be the object of curiosity once in a while. They so rarely had the chance to display their most splendid trait. Albeit for practical reasons.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani
Lysander tilted his head at Nilamani’s languid retort, his mouth quirking in a lopsided, fox-like smirk. He exhaled through his nose—not quite a laugh, more a sound of acknowledgment—and waved a hand as if brushing away his own prior curiosity.

“Well,” he began, with the airy cadence of someone attempting to be gracious after a minor faux pas, “I suppose I can’t be too baffled by your features. Not with Maester Vaezhasar slinking about the campus.”

He stretched as he spoke, arching his back like a lounging cat and raising one arm until his shoulder gave a satisfying pop. The book remained tucked under the other arm, its many eyes rolling independently in a gesture that could almost be interpreted as weary tolerance.

“Truth be told,” he went on, letting his limbs relax once more, “that man has shown me more oddities in the last two years than most folk witness in a lifetime. Shrieking mandrakes with lungs. A spectral beetle that recites poetry in Old Elbionic. Some sort of jellyfish that plays the harp with its... tendrils. Oh, and this book, it was a gift from him."

He gave a vague flutter of fingers at the temple, as if to say I’ve long stopped trying to understand.

With an unhurried gait, Lysander stepped forward and crossed the last patch of soft ground between himself and Nilamani’s sun-drenched resting spot. The tails of his white coat flared slightly behind him before settling again, and he lowered himself with fluid ease to sit—though not without a faint wince as one gloved hand brushed a dry pine cone.

He settled a few feet away, carefully respectful of personal space, crossing one long leg over the other with theatrical elegance. The book he set down beside him, face-up, where it continued blinking in an unsettling rhythm.

“In any case,” he said, now turning slightly to face them with a more affable expression, “I’m Lysander Docatto Valestri, of the house Valestri, one of Elbion’s merchant dynasties, if you keep track of such things. Which, judging by your… charming choice of sunbathing location, I assume you don’t.”

His voice carried the faintest teasing lilt, not unkind, but edged with that idle smugness particular to young men who’d never worked a day in their lives and saw the world as an ongoing curiosity.

“And you are?” he asked, eyes narrowing with genuine interest now. “You know—beyond the tail.”

His smile, though slightly crooked, was not insincere.

 

[Nilamani]

It took Nilamani a moment to recall the Maester. They hadn't had much opportunity to cross paths with that particular maester let alone learn from them. From the sounds of it perhaps their lessons were not unlike Maester Kikwi's...
From the sounds of it they were missing out on quite the potential source of fascination. Though admittedly a jellyfish that could make music felt less a bewilderment and more some distant relative. They tried to remember vaguely if there were any Nerevyn tribes whose true form took such an appearance. None came readily so they let the thought pass.

Nilamani watched his approach with an appraising gaze once more. Two years? Then perhaps not a new student at all. The college was deceptively large despite it's rigorous admissions process. Seems they simply hadn't crossed paths. Nilamani was not the best judge of human ages. This one seemed young...but wise enough to know when to toe the line.

Oh right, introductions. In their still drowsy state they hadn't thought to ask. Lysander Docatto Valestri , it sounded like a potion ingredient. "A long name, must be very important indeed.....though your guess is correct. There wouldn't be much point in my keeping track of such things." Replied with their own teasing tone in response. The tone of one detached from the tangled webs of society.

"An outsider by most definitions. But at the moment, I am just another student. Filling my time with amusements until I hear the call of the deep."
They leaned back to sit more upright against the coil of tail. The winding mass of glinting scales adjusting as they did so.
"Nilamani is my name."
Folding their arms and tilting their head to regard the book again they asked,
"Do you know them well? Maester Vaezhasar ?" It wasn't so unheard of for maester's to give gifts the Nerevyn supposed but the tome seemed an unusual choice.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani
Lysander rolled his eyes, though the gesture was more theatrical than rude, a kind of practiced exasperation that young nobles learned in place of outright scoffing. Nilamani’s remark, while well-meaning, struck him as vaguely half-witted. Not know the politics of Elbion? When one intended to live in its shadow for years? He almost opened his mouth to say so, but thought better of it. Instead, he gave a small shrug and let the silence speak for him, wearing the look of someone politely choosing not to correct their company.

He adjusted his posture and drew the thick tome into his lap, its pale, leathery surface wrinkling subtly beneath his gloved touch. The eyes embedded in the cover blinked lazily, then closed one by one, as though dozing. Lysander flipped open the book with the care of someone accustomed to handling both delicate texts and objects that might bite. The pages inside were crisp, unblemished, and a blinding white that nearly matched the exterior. Each one was crowded with inked notations in precise, slanted handwriting—paragraph upon paragraph of magical theory, spell schematics, and margin scribbles in a second, messier hand. Likely his.

He scanned the first page idly, as if only half-reading, and spoke in a casual, almost distracted tone.

“Of course I know him. Duh.”

The word slipped from his mouth with just the right amount of juvenile disdain to imply affection beneath it.

“He’s been my tutor for two years now. Ever since I turned sixteen. Gave me private instruction in the basics—energy flow, channeling, containment, all that.”

He paused to flick a page with the back of a knuckle, then glanced sidelong at Nilamani, his expression lightening.

“Though, truth be told, I doubt the tutoring would’ve lasted nearly as long if I weren’t so lazy.”

There was no apology in his voice. If anything, there was amusement, at himself, at the arrangement, at the very notion of responsibility. His fingers drummed absently on the book’s spine as he reclined back on his palms, stretching his legs slightly out before him.

“My father finally got fed up and enrolled me here properly. Something about ‘developing discipline’ and ‘earning my way.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, his lips quirking in a half-smile. “As if waking up before noon isn’t punishment enough.”

The book in his lap gave a faint, papery twitch. One eye opened and narrowed at him reproachfully.

Lysander ignored it.

 

[Nilamani]

The many somewhat dramatic flourishes hadn't gone unnoticed. It seemed this was a button that could be pushed to great effect and Nilamani filed it away for later. He vaguely wondered if Lysander was the type whose face got red when they were really angry. It would certainly stand out against such pale skin and hair.
There was something deeply satisfying about the prospect. Reducing someone who clearly put effort into appearing elegant into a frustrated mess. Ah well there was no point in speculating.

Nilamani drew a bit closer to not so subtly peer over Lysander Docatto Valestri 's shoulder at the book. The tome seemed neigh on invaluable. The quality of the pages the writing was kept on alone was of a much higher quality than half the books in the college's library. Then again it was clearly enchanted in some way which made discerning the actual value difficult. The actual contents themselves were suitably complex. Certainly it confirmed that either the Maester was quite generous, or that he cared very much about the boy's education.

"Private tutoring, hm?" Nilamani replied in a passive tone.
They themselves weren't always the most studious. Only devoting true attention to those subjects which provoked their fickle interest. They were certain they owed their admission at least in part thanks to their very being was nearly an object of study themself.
They weren't entirely sure what to make of this half petulant, half polite little noble. He was certainly dripping with the entrapments of upper society.
They offered a laugh like a withheld secret. "On this we can agree. It will be all the more punishment in winter. Takes ages to warm up."

Reflective eyes caught the sun as they flicked down to catch the books little twitch. They eyed the tome like a cat eyeing a bird from a windowsill. They pointed to the book where it sat in Lysander's lap. "Would you mind if I had a look?"

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani

Lysander gave a languid shrug, the sort that suggested he didn’t mind sharing but couldn’t fathom why anyone wouldn’t already know what he was reading. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he turned the book sideways and angled it toward Nilamani, letting the midday light fall cleanly across the spread page. The leather binding creaked softly as it shifted, and one or two of the embedded eyes blinked open again, briefly, as if irked by the change in orientation.

The page was dense with text and diagrams. Neatly inscribed lines arched like veins across the parchment, mapping flows of invisible energy through skeletal silhouettes of the human body. Margins were filled with annotations in a hand that looked nothing like Lysander’s chickenscratch penmanship: older, sterner, and profoundly unimpressed with laziness. At the top, a title: On the Eye That Sees Beyond the Veil. It was a lesson in detection magic, emphasizing the necessity of sight in perceiving arcane currents, the elusive third eye, and the subtle art of visualizing mana itself.

“Knock yourself out,” he said breezily, giving the book a small tap with two fingers. “The thing’s supposed to help me master the Art of witch-sight.”

He leaned back again, hands braced behind him, the fabric of his white coat catching on the grass in slow folds. There was a hint of pride in his voice, but it was undercut by the lazy drawl of someone who didn’t yet grasp the full depth of what he was learning—or perhaps didn’t want to, just yet.

Then he paused, and one gloved fingertip lifted to rest lightly against his lower lip. His brows drew together faintly, and he turned his head just slightly toward Nilamani, as though suddenly unsure of his audience’s familiarity.

“You do know what that is, right?”

His tone wasn’t mocking, merely curious, perhaps even faintly teasing, but the arch of one snowy brow suggested he was already preparing to explain it anyway.

 

[Nilamani]

Ah perhaps subtly wasn't the best course with this one. What Nilamani had really wanted to do was touch the tome to inspect it's construction.
Though Lysander Docatto Valestri seemed so awfully proud that they decided it would dampen the mood to correct him. The diagrams scrawled in the tome were artful and the explanations thorough.
Witch sight wasn't really one of Nilamani's interests but the detail in the book seemed deeper than one usually gleaned from an in person lecture. With the trade off being that there wasn't someone standing nearby to tell you what you might be doing wrong. Detection magic was indeed an important tool but it was also one that was sometimes benefited from natural gifts. The arcane mechanisms of which Nilamani did not think too deeply about.
The clear distinction between the two penmanship's almost felt as though Nilamani was getting a small peak into the maester scolding Lysander. It was almost quaint.

As Lysander turned to make a sort of gesture of realization, Nalimani wondered why the boy was wearing gloves in summer. Perhaps he simply didn't like getting his hands dirty, or the skin beneath was disfigured....or it was to avoid touching the book directly in some way.
They almost forgot that Lysander had asked a question. Nalimani gave a half furrowed brow and pursed lips in response. "Not the faintest idea...." Came their answer voice tinged with coy ignorance. They did know of course. But Lysander was so clearly wound up to boast their knowledge that it seemed more fun to let him.

Nalmani settled back against their coiled tail with their small slanted playful smile returning. As if to give Lysander the metaphorical floor.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani
“Witch-sight,” Lysander began, reclining a little further as if settling into a lecture he’d given before, “is the ability to see magic, literally.”

He gestured with both hands for emphasis, raising them in a slow, sweeping motion as though conjuring something theatrical from thin air. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he reached up and tugged lightly at the corners of his eyes, stretching the lids ever so slightly to narrow his vision into exaggerated slits.

“It’s not just sensing magic in the air,” he continued, “but actually seeing the ebb and flow of arcane energy all around you. It starts out like faint shimmers, almost like heat rising off stone. But once it's properly developed, you start perceiving things you’d never notice otherwise—wards, enchantments, binding threads, even the emotional residue that clings to objects.”

He let his eyelids relax again and dropped his hands, brushing off a blade of grass that had stuck to his sleeve.

“Maester Vaezhasar says it’s the most important basic we all have to learn,” Lysander added, his voice slipping easily into a soft imitation of the older man’s slow, resonant cadence, clearly a routine he’d practiced before. “‘Visualization is the cornerstone of sorcery. Without it, you’re fumbling around in the dark with nothing but doggerel and guesswork.’”

He smirked faintly, then leaned forward just enough to rest his forearms on his thighs, the book still open beside him like a companion.

“Sigils, incantations, hand gestures... all useful, sure. But comparatively superfluous. Visualize the magic. Shape it in your mind. Everything else is just scaffolding.”

Despite the offhand tone, there was a glimmer of admiration buried beneath the recitation—both for the art itself and, begrudgingly, for the Maester who had managed to impress these lessons upon a boy not particularly prone to discipline.

 

[Nilamani]

Nilamani listened attentively though it were no great revelation. Lysander Docatto Valestri 's recitation of the principal was lively and colorful. It was clear that Lysander had a strong appreciation magic if not the discipline by his own admission.

Nilamani had no frame of reference for if the impression was an accurate one. It certainly sounded very Maester-ly. Then again the maesters came in all shapes and level of seriousness. Maester kikwi being notably more chipper than one would expect of a maester. They could tell at the very least that Lysander had great faith in this Maester's teachings.

They tilted their head to watch Lysander pull his own eyes into an odd face.
There was a lot of such energy and residue to see in a place like the college. Perhaps too much. A veritable ispy of cluttered enchantments, old spells, new spells, it made Nilamani curious what Lysander did see.
Perhaps a practical exercise was in order.

As Lysander was finishing up their impassioned monologue, Nilamani's eyes took on an impish glint.
Nilamani gathered their hair to one side. They ran their fingers through to loose some of the knots that had formed from their earlier nap and plucked free a leaf.
"Oh? and you're practiced at this visualization I take it?" Nilamani asked with a playful smile "enough to play a game?" They of course had a particular challenge in mind. Though it was hardly a difficult one presuming the boy was on his way to mastering such a skill.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani
Lysander tilted his head, humming softly through his nose as if weighing Nilamani’s request, though the truth was, he relished the challenge the moment it left their lips. One could see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the faint twitch of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let the silence hang a breath too long, theatrical as ever, then exhaled in a scoff that was half indignation, half grudging respect.

“Really?” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, but the smirk that followed betrayed no real annoyance.

With a sharp crack, he flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles one by one, as if preparing for battle rather than a bit of magical showmanship. Then he sat up straighter, golden eyes fixing on Nilamani with a sudden and startling clarity. Gone was the lazy lounge of the princeling wasting a sunny afternoon; what remained was a glimmer of something sharper, coiled beneath the surface, ambition, pride, and a youthful hunger to prove.

“Bring it on,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with challenge. “My family didn’t raise a craven.”

 

[Nilamani]

Nilamani's smile grew into a wide bemused grin. They watched Lysander Docatto Valestri make a great show of reluctance while withholding a laugh. Despite the noble's many noises of hesitance they could see right through this little act.

There was a quality in their eyes that had already accepted. Even if they hadn't read it in the boy's face their words would have confirmed it. If they had been truly reluctant they would have asked for details or the stakes before considering agreeing. Not that Nalimani thought it necessary to raise stakes on such a simple challenge. They were gleaning enough information from the interaction alone. That Lysander would seemingly take on a game for the prize of wining alone noted something of their character. Confidence or not there was a certain level of competitiveness and pride needed to be so eager over an unnamed challenge. Quite the easily motivated peer.

The sharpness and sudden rigidity of their fellow sorcerer certainly wiped all pretense of nonchalance. Nilamani almost wished they had a more grand game to foist upon this gallant contender. Alas it was only a passing whim of a game. Nilamani drew themself upright and coiled their tail tighter behind them as if to clear the playing field. "I've hidden something very personal in the garden. It should be plenty bright enough with witch sight. " It was an old habit that they had resorted to less and less for practicality. They had removed their necklace to regain this form. while it might have been safer to tuck it into their robe, there was something freeing about tucking it away somewhere. Like lifting a magical weight from ones shoulders, albeit still tethered. There was no danger of it being truly lost. Nilamani felt where it was as surely as one knows ones foot is attached to ones leg. Of course being that Nilamani had come to nap, it would be rather annoying if a thief or well meaning student caught a glimpse and carried it off while they slept. So they had tucked it inside their pants and hidden both.

"If you can point to it without standing up I will consider it your win. Only one guess." There wouldn't be much point if they allowed more guesses than that. After all if they had been studying to see the weave of magic itself they should need only to pick out the thread which represented Nilamani themself and follow it. Either he could see it, or he couldn't. Nilamani tilted their head to watch Lysander expectantly gauging the boys reaction now that the game was named.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani
Lysander closed his eyes with the solemnity of a boy about to dive headfirst into a freezing river. His chest rose, then stilled. He drew in a sharp breath through pursed lips, controlled, measured, then slowly exhaled through his nose. The hum of the world dimmed in his awareness, as if he were plunging into silence beneath a vast, unseen surface.

Inwardly, he turned his focus to the flow of mana within him, channeling it upward, not to his fingertips, not to his voice, but into his eyes. A strange sensation, like pressure and warmth wrapped in static, settled behind his brow. His bushy white brows furrowed with effort, a faint crease forming between them as he recalled the instructions he’d so recently dismissed as "dense but necessary."

And then, he opened his eyes.

They glowed faintly, golden irises now threaded through with fine pulses of a orange-ember light, like the slow heartbeat of starlight caught in crystal. The change was subtle but unmistakable, and when he looked out at the garden again, the world had transformed.

The mundane peeled away.

Everything shimmered. Not garishly, not like some stage illusion, but with a quiet intensity, threads of power wove through the trees like vines of molten copper, while soft eddies of ambient mana curled lazily through the air, luminous and ever-shifting. The stone benches bled with ancient enchantments that still clung to them like old perfume. Even the towers of the Elbion College, distant and austere, throbbed with slow pulses of arcane rhythm, as if the buildings themselves remembered every spell ever cast within their halls.

He blinked once, twice—slowly. Then turned his eyes toward Nilamani.

Their form was awash in crimson energy—an aura that rippled and bubbled like something half-alive, its rhythm erratic but powerful. Arcane warmth bled from them in waves. But what caught Lysander’s eye, more than the aura itself, was a single strand of power—thin as horsehair and almost invisible to the untrained eye—trailing from one of their hands like a spider’s thread pulled taut.

It led across the lawn in a gentle arc, vanishing into the petals of a rose bush some thirteen paces northwest, where it pulsed faintly, like breath held in a bloom.

“There,” Lysander said, raising a hand and pointing with one long finger. His voice was lower now, awed in spite of himself. “You stuck it in the rose bush.”

A beat passed before he blinked again, the faint glow in his eyes dimming slightly as the strain of focus began to settle in. He did not look away, though. Not yet.

The world had stopped being mundane.

And for once, Lysander Valestri was actually paying attention.

 

[Nilamani]

A purposeful calm seemed to settle of the boy as Nilamani watched. Stilled and breathing slowed as he turned to look at their serpentine form. There was certainly the unmistakable flow of magic in the boy's gaze. Though, unable to know what Lysander Docatto Valestri was truly witnessing Nilamani could only patiently observe. They didn't need to wait long. Before the boy even spoke Nilamani could see Lysander's eyes following an invisible trail to the very spot. Then it was confirmed by their quietly awed statement.

"Indeed, your eyes see true." Nilamani replied with a sharp toothed grin. They leaned forward slightly and their tail smoothly uncoiled as they slithered over to the bush.
They reached a hand in to carefully withdraw the folded fabric from their hiding spot. From this they retrieve the carefully tucked away pendant. It shown in the light a deep blue much like the tip of Nilamani's tail. Yet there was something uncanny about the way the light bounced off the cerulean sheen. As if it weren't held here in the lazy wafting sun beams but somewhere still deep beneath the waves. It's elegant interlocking curves forming a star of strange geometry.

Nilamani donned this ominous bit of jewelry. Draping it over their neck and smoothing their hair free of the golden chain with a practiced motion. With a small breath Nilamani closed their eyes and willed their shape to change. Their tail shrinking and morphing to the desired shape. It was a process they usually preferred to do out of sight. They understood that without the fan fare of sparkles or some extra illusory work it was unsettling to some and grotesque to others. This one seemed to already have an eye for the arcane so they offered the chance to see or look away as he wished.

Now standing bare legged in the grass, Nilamani looked down at their own feet. They idly wiggled their toes in the grass. There was the correct number. They had long since gotten used to taking this form. Thus they rarely made such a mistake. Handfuls of scales scattered about their legs a reminder of their true form. They were lucky really that they needed to only transform their lower half. Their tribe were usually born with lungs rather than gills. Nilamani hummed softly and wobbled a little as they adjusted their stance.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

Nilamani

Lysander allowed his focus to slip, letting the arcane current ebb from behind his eyes like water draining from a basin. The pulsating glow dimmed, faded, and was gone—leaving only the familiar molten hue of his irises, sharp and yellow as sunlit gold. He blinked once more, slower this time, and exhaled as though releasing some unseen tension.

The world around him dulled again, colors no longer bleeding with magic but merely basking in the midday light. He watched as Nilamani rose, the coils of their lower half shifting with languid grace—and noted, almost absently, that their feet—such as they were—were bare.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt walking around without shoes,” he remarked, tone dry and faintly admonishing, though the urge to scoff was politely swallowed. His words carried the unmistakable lilt of someone used to luxury, who couldn’t quite fathom choosing discomfort, no matter how arcane or serpentine the physiology involved.

His gaze dipped again, a touch more scrutinizing this time. Not impolite, but keenly observant—curious, analytical, and just a little audacious.

He nodded to himself, as if mentally confirming some private note.

“Shapely legs you’ve got there,” he said at last, quite matter-of-factly. “I’ll admit.”

It wasn’t flirtation so much as an offhand compliment, delivered with the careless sincerity of someone who had never been taught to filter his thoughts before speaking them aloud. A pause followed—brief, weightless—and then he gave a small shrug, as though he’d merely commented on the weather.

 

[Nilamani]

"I will accept the sentiment of your concern." Nilamani replied dismissively with a playful laugh. It hadn't been their intention to remain barefoot. It seemed in their half asleep state this morning they had simply forgotten to put shoes on before wandering to the garden. It was a spot they snuck away to often.
They weren't very fond of shoes, but Lysander Docatto Valestri was correct. There were plenty of hazards to step on in the garden. They had lived so much of their life on the sandy beach shores or in the water that shoes felt cumbersome. Or worse if Nilamani didn't remember to get the size of the feet right then the shoes would fit poorly. In the end they had taken to wear a soft velvet slipper like shoe most of the time. They were still lined up next to their bed in the dorm Nilamani imagined.
"If only I had a better memory in the mornings." They lamented with a small sigh.

They offered a bemused smile at the boy's assessment. It felt bit more like a wealthy aristocrat giving passing praise to a sculpture than a flirtatious banter. In a way that was exactly what it was.
Nilamani was plenty willing to take the compliment.
"My~ How kind of you to notice."
It was clear they were at least a little vain about their alluring visage. Luring was their very nature after all, might as well make efficient use of it.

They turned slightly to step into the loose fabric of their pants and tie up the thick cloth strips about their waist. Nilamani stepped lightly back across the grass to stand in the little patch of sun again.
"Well then, perhaps I shall leave you to continue your reading." They pondered lightly.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

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 wish,” he replied coolly, flipping to the next page of his tome without even glancing up. The parchment made a soft, crisp sound as he turned it, the ink catching the light in a faint metallic shimmer. “I’ll read my book either way.”

He spoke with the casual assurance of someone who had never been told no in a meaningful way, the sort of calm that came not from patience, but from entitlement.

A few seconds passed, his gaze skimming the page, though, truthfully, he was only half-reading now. Something itched at the back of his mind. Curiosity. He’d never seen anyone like Nilamani in all his time at the College, and he had a talent for noticing what didn’t belong.

“How come you’re here, anyway?” he asked at last, glancing up, eyes narrowing just slightly in thought. “My father says the College isn’t exactly keen on letting nonhumans attend classes."

His tone wasn’t cruel, nor even accusatory, just blunt, inquisitive, unpolished in the way young men often are when asking things they probably shouldn’t.

“I’ve seen a few elves around,” he went on, absently brushing a bit of grass from his lap, “but you’re sure as hell a lot more... exotic.”

 

[Nilamani]

Nilamani hesitated for a moment their hands in their sleeves. They had more meant to politely excuse themself. After all their nap was over. So the dramatic eye roll was an unexpected response.
However the little follow up tone of arrogance and assumption implied to Nilamani that Lysander Docatto Valestri had interpreted it as a request for permission. Not that they could really blame him. There were plenty of more skittish students who might do such a thing.

They were still standing there hesitantly deciding if they should make another attempt to leave when they caught a pointed glance. This was followed by a much more direct line of questioning.
Nilamani's resumed a serpentine smile. Perhaps this one simply wasn't very good at being sincere.
They stepped to the side to settle into the grass cross legged next to him.
"I hear from the older students it was much worse before.....in truth I may have fibbed a little on my initial application." They replied with a small easy laugh.
There had been some fuss initially but they had found their own way to fit into the stiff lines of academic life.
"I suspect the first one to realize these pointy ears were different was taken with the idea of my becoming a specimen rather than a student..."
It seemed they had successfully managed to stay long enough to gain the good will of a maester or two. At least enough to prevent it being a scandal if more people knew. At this point Nilamani wagered that the maester who had been fooled were more likely to pretend they had known and let it slide than genuinely admit they made a mistake. To admit they had been charmed and duped was probably a too much of an ego blow to be worth the revenge of getting Nilamani expelled.
It wasn't as if Elbion's application process was known for being fair or unbiased.
"some bribe with coin, I bribed with scales." They added with a small shrug. Their tone causal as if this type if bartering were a very normal way to make deals. It was an odd notion knowing that most of one's body was considered a rare ingredient. It was at least slightly more dignified to be used for magic than some fates a Nerevyn could earn. Especially those that bothered to linger around land-folk. Oh, the outlandish things they had heard sailors around the port say in hushed tones without knowing.
Lysander certainly seemed more the former than the latter. His reverence for magic if in doubt had been proven with their little game.
"and what do you make of my...more exotic kind?" Nilamani asked their tone a bit teasing again.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

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 dim-witted inquiry is that?” he said, his voice laced with indignation so crisp it might have been served on fine porcelain. The words weren’t shouted, but they landed with the force of someone thoroughly, personally, offended by the question’s mere existence.

He flipped another page of the grimoire with a practiced flick, the vellum whispering beneath his fingers. His eyes danced briefly over the text, though his attention remained fixed, irritably, on the conversation.

“You’ve got a snake’s body from the waist down,” he continued, gesturing vaguely in Nilamani’s direction without looking up, “and that’s... yes, cool. Unusual, sure. But hardly a thing to write home about.”

There was a pause, filled only by the faint flutter of a breeze and the rustle of leaves.

“Maybe if you had a second head that could belch fire or something absurd like that, I’d be truly impressed.”

 

[Nilamani]

Taken a little aback Nilamani drew a hand up to rest against their cheek. It was true they had been attempting to be a little provocative. Was this more of the boy's dramatic gestures? Or had they pushed one button too many?
They quietly watched Lysander Docatto Valestri flick distractedly through the book. They listened to the little clarification with a neutral almost blank expression. It was a truly odd way to answer the question. Their eyes looked Lysander up and down where he sat as if processing it.
They both sat in silence for a moment, one offended, the other baffled. Then the extra assertion of dismissal really pushed Nilamani over the edge.

They broke out into a fit of deep laughter. So, the verdict was not worth considering because they weren't 'cool' enough. They had noticed the sort of detached way that Lysander had appraised them earlier and chalked it up to a lack of interest sure. But this truly was a studious one indeed. Their shoulders shook as they briefly covered their mouth in their sleeve to temper the laughter.
It all made a bit more sense, the dramatics the competitiveness, this one really had a childish streak.
They laughed for a bit longer than was polite.
As the laughing died down they uncrossed their legs and turned to Lysander. They leaning in close over his shoulder and whispered into his ear suggestively.
"No, I doubt you would want to write about the more impressive parts in a letter to home.~"

They pulled away this a wide smile on the verge of collapsing into more laughter.
"Here I thought human's cared quite a lot about that sort of thing. But you are young after all, or is it that you're the type to eschew that type of thing for propriety's sake?" Here he had thought the boy's use of the word exotic initially had a more subtle meaning. He had apparently meant quite literally that he only considered Nilamani slightly more interesting than an elf.
Nilamani was of course not particularly offended that Lysander might not have any attraction to them. In a way that was a relief if anything as he was a bit too young.
They had expected that he might say that he wasn't prejudiced or perhaps complain about lost ships as some merchants do.
However, hearing Lysander talk about it like a child might debate which type of dragon is the deadliest, was certainly a subversion.
They watched Lysander with a deeply bemused expression.

 

[Lysander Docatto Valestri]

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, unmistakable blush bloomed across his pale cheeks, betraying more than he was willing to say aloud.

“Huh? You’re a stranger,” he huffed, eyes narrowing as he turned his head slightly away, though not far enough to break eye contact entirely. “Why in the world would I start flirting with someone I just met? And in broad daylight, no less.”

His tone took on that strained, almost whiny quality of someone trying desperately to sound composed while also being very much not composed.

“That’d be weird. And unbecoming,” he muttered, voice dipping toward his chin, as if he hoped the earth might swallow the last part of his sentence before it reached the air.

There was a beat.

He crossed his arms stiffly, still pink in the cheeks. “Just because I said you had nice legs doesn’t mean I want to do that with you.”

 

[Nilamani]

There was a reaction Nilamani was expecting. Albeit even more dramatically than anticipated.
They placed a hand to their own cheek as they watched a very unsubtle blush spread across Lysander Docatto Valestri 's features. It was even more noticeable against such pale features.
The notion that one might need a certain level of familiarity and the cover of darkness for a bit of idle flirtation was innocently stiff. Almost gentlemanly, what was he waiting for? a proposed hand? first love? Aristocrats did have their rare charm points.

It was hard to resist prodding a bit further with the face he was making. Then again Nilamani had only meant to tease him a little, not harass him.
"oh~? My mistake, I didn't know one needed some sort of formal introduction for playful banter."
They replied their serpentine smile never dropping.
"For the time being that is against the rules even for me. Or rather I suspect the result of it being discovered is grounds for expulsion." They mused with a tone of almost sourness. Perhaps this one was content to wait around until the right societal conditions were met, but Nilamani had an unknown deadline hanging over everything. They certainly didn't want to end up expelled before then,. or worse get someone else expelled.

"A bit of coy words surely isn't such a crime.~" Nilamani teased as they leaned back still regarding Lysander's flustered form.
"You needn't worry, I've my sights on another. " It was partially true. In reality they had several 'another's that they at the very least liked to provoke a blush out of and one favorite.

Though they had to admit Lysander had some potential as a candidate. Perhaps in a few years.
"Do let me know if you begin to reconsider.~"