(Untitled)

[roseimbroglio]

Who: Asellus (roseimbroglio) and Ildon (blackwingprince
What: Ten years' reunion.
Where: Dorms, somewhere?
When: Orientation, day 2.
Warnings: Mystic antics. Lectures, probably. Sellz is an ingrate. :(
Rating: PG?

Comments

[blackwingprince]

To mystics, time was always relative. Upon dying as humans and being turned with mystic blood, all aging stopped, and they were effectively immortal; Ildon had lost track of the centuries that he'd watched go by in Facinaturu, and he was one of the younger princes. Yet, he reflected, ten years could still manage to be a long time...under the right circumstances.

That it had taken him ten long years to do a task he'd originally expected to have accomplished in ten minutes was certainly one way to reckon the time, of course. But more than that, it was how those ten years would have affected his charge - and, to his mind, Asellus had never ceased being his charge from the day Orlouge had put her under his care(although she'd never actually been his concern until Rastaban had made a similar request himself). Asellus was half-human; while she no longer aged - or, if she was aging, was doing it so slowly as to be unnoticeable - she was no mystic. And, as Rastaban always observed, that meant that rather than being static as they were, rocks

[roseimbroglio]

Oh, that face. That was something she hadn't seen in a while, though she vaguely remembered some similar expression-- veiled disappointment, general disgust with humans; she wondered if the Vergil she'd known hadn't been taking lessons from the Mystic standing before her. His disapproving stare-- after that highly satisfying shocked gape-- made her laugh. As it had almost always done

[blackwingprince]

And there she was, laughing - at him, although there was nothing terribly unusual about that. There had always been something about him that Asellus apparently found terribly funny, although he'd certainly never known what it was. And as vexing as it was, and had always been, there was a measure of considerable relief to hearing her laugh again. Not simply because it meant she was well, and happy(again, a relative term, judging by their earlier discussion), but because Facinaturu and the ten years he'd spent looking for her had seemed a bit darker without it. Mystics rarely laughed, for one reason or another, but Asellus had never been shy about it.

He wondered, absently, if he looked any different to her; certainly not as different as she looked to him, of course, but...ten years of searching, almost without pause, would take its toll even on a mystic. If he were any thinner, any paler, he would never have noticed, but Asellus might

[roseimbroglio]

Her smile twisted into something almost savage in its amusement; for a moment, she could feel a rising darkness, which she shoved down as she donned an appropriately sheepish face. "Well, I didn't want to spend much, and as natural causes and starvation really can't kill me... I think..." She shook it off. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. How are you? Wasn't your hair longer when I last saw you? Maybe I'm forgetting..." Amusement and teasing was lost in the enthusiastic, puppy-like grin as she examined him, reddish-violet eyes quick and darting. "Is Rose doing well? Is Rastaban? Has Zozma found a reason to escape the Chateau again?" The redheaded Mystic might have been something of a bad influence on her, she was willing to admit. But time had done more than any bad influences could to her; the muscle-memory bows and curtsies and gracious movements were still there, a bit, but her tongue was uncultured and her voice brash again. It was like she'd never defeated Orlouge at all