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Draven slipped into the library, and sagged against the door for a second, before pulling himself together, and heading across the room. He dropped into a chair, and stared around the room blankly. This was… not helping. Not that he really wanted to do anything. But wasn’t there a reason he had wanted to come in here..?
Right. He stood, and headed over to the shelf of spell books. He needed to brush up on his magic. He may be one of the most skilled mages of his age, but he had to stay in practice. Besides, there was always room for improvement.
He headed over to the table by the large, dark curtain-flanked window at the end of the room, and set the tome down. As he flipped through it, his eyes caught on the chapter title: “Messaging.” He drew in a deep breath, remembering reading through this chapter repeatedly - along with everything else he could find on messaging - not long after Elliot had graduated. And disappeared from his life completely. Not that it had really made all that much of a difference. He had gone over all of it again after Father passed. He had felt like Elliot should hear it from him. Not that he had ever been able to figure out how to message someone when he didn’t know where they were.
One day he’d figure it out. But he wasn’t going to use it to reach Elliot. He knew better. If Elliot wanted to talk to him, he knew exactly where he was. Granted, Elliot had been forbidden from ever setting foot on the Delacroix estate again, but that was for the best. He was a disgrace to the family name. And Draven didn’t want to talk to him. He wasn’t a little boy anymore.
He stood up, raising a hand, and drawing the curtains with a simple spell. He then lit the candles in the chandelier hanging overhead. All easy magic. A warm up before he tried anything more difficult.
⋆⁺₊⋆ Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble ⋆⁺₊⋆
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╚═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════. ✦ .╝Delacroix Estate * The Library ⋆⁺₊⋆ Midday
The darkness of the library was calming, a fresh way to relax in life. A nice way to get away, escape from the stress and worries. He had few of those now, years ago he'd had so many, wondering if he would be the next to die to an unknown cause when on adventures. Worrying that it would be so far away from the city of Voxthain that his family would never see his body again.
After he'd retired from the work, the title of adventurer had quickly been removed. There had been too many recent deaths of the young nobles going into the wild and after his adventures, the councillors were satisfied with the information they about the unknown world beyond the cities. The removal of the title had been crushing all those years ago, and now he still missed it. Perhaps if the new graduates could still be chosen to have their adventuring freedoms... Elliot wouldn't have run away... Elliot would have stayed, adventured, found himself, then settled down. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...
The grand dark oak door of the library creaked open then slammed shut. The echos of a body leaning against the door panting quietly filled the cavernous library, bouncing off the towering shelves filled with books, new and old.
The new arrival made their way into the library and settled at the round table where he often studied novels, and wrote more of his own. The feeling of the footsteps stopped and he knew whoever it was was now content where they were. Or at least as content as they could be considering the echoes he'd heard.
Andre pushed himself up, stumbling and falling a bit, before standing fully. He hated the fact that he was growing old and losing his mobility because of hit. The slight hunchback he had gotten from reading, writing, and studying for over 40 years was starting to affect him in ways he hated. Along with that, his ability to see was starting to dwindle as well, the figures far away from him growing blurry.
Slowly, he made his way through the shelves, his footsteps light sweeping against the majestic wooden flooring. From afar you couldn't hear it, but the closer he got to you, you could hear the light shuffle of his footsteps as his shoes slid across the ground in his attempt to walk.
Rounding the final shelf, he saw the figure. Draven. The boy was practicing magic. Simple magic he had mastered with his soul. Andre could recall when Draven used to have to force such easy magic when little, but with time and practice, the simple acts became a part of him. So easy you could think of what you want it to do and it would happen, as if it was part of your soul. Hence the name older wizards had given it. Such creativity they had.
Andre stood steps from the table, not finishing his approach to avoid startling Draven. He knew how it felt to be distracted in the heart of the magic, then coming back to reality and someone to be hovering over your shoulder. Terrifying. It always made him jump in fear. And that was why he held his distance, waiting from the boy to notice him before he approached.
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Draven strode through the room, lighting candles, unsure what to do next. He looked up at the antique silver chandelier, which had been in the family for centuries. The family. Everything he did was for the family. As it should be. This was no different. He was proud to be a Delacroix, and happy to do whatever he had to for his house. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t known this was coming. But, somehow, Mother broaching the subject made him feel slightly panicked. Because if she was already talking about it…
How long would it be before she told him she had chosen the bride? He ran through all the potential options in his mind. There weren’t many. The Ellington-Wyver matriarchs were already wed to each other, obviously, and, besides, their House was less than prosperous, and that was not to mention their adopting commoners as heirs. Caledonia Hayden was also common-born, which had been the cause of a rift between the Haydens and the Delacroixs and Calicos. The Thornes also had common blood. The Crane girl was most definitely not an option. Who was left? There was the Seavey girl. And, of course his cousins. Mother wouldn’t marry him to one of his cousins, would she?
She would, if she thought it was the best option. And Draven would go along with it. Whatever was best for the family. And, obviously, continuing the bloodline was imperative, but he did not want to think about that.
He was thinking about it.
He knew that even if Elliot had stayed, he would be expected to marry and have children, but at least there wouldn’t be so much pressure. Maybe he could wait a little longer. Lala was twenty-seven, and she still wasn’t engaged. He remembered overhearing his parents lecturing Elliot on his duty in this regard when they had first learned of his disinterest in girls. As if lectures had ever had any effect on Elliot. As if anything had ever had any effect on Elliot. They had ended up using the silencing spell, but even that wouldn’t deter Elliot from running his mouth again first chance he got.
Draven, on the other hand, had decided that choosing to remain silent was better than being forced to. Having that spell used on him had always been such a horrible feeling, and there was just something reassuring about knowing that even while he didn’t speak, he was still able to. If Mother wanted silence, that was what he’d give her. He sometimes wondered if that really made him smarter than Elliot, or just less brave.
He turned sharply on his heel, and headed back toward the table where he had left the spellbook. He noticed a figure standing by the table, and made the candles burn brighter for a second, his face emotionless. “Good afternoon, Uncle Andre.” Uncle Andre was pleasant, and sometimes, Draven found spending time with him a welcome distraction, but just now he felt that he would prefer to be alone. But walking away so quickly would be rude.
He should have thought to check and see if Uncle Andre was in here. He nearly always, unless he was in his own rooms. Which was what Draven should have done, gone to his own room. Well, he was here now, and so was Uncle Andre.
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
The boy disappeared with floating candles, exploring through the shelves, obviously oblivious to his presence. He looked to be caught up in his own thought. A normal thing to be done. After all, communication wasn't something that often happened in the Delacroix estate. Sure that meant they weren't all in the most healthy of relationships, but they were family and had to protect eachother.
The book on the center of the table caught his attention. It was left open, and it had been something that the boy had grabbed. What was he trying to learn? Or review? Or struggling to learn. Andre wanted to help never the less. Whenever he got a chance to assist in the boy's life he would do so. It was something his brother, Draven's grandfather, would never have done for the kids. But that wasn't Andre. And Andre wanted to try and help. And perhaps also feel a sense of worth a long the way.
He approached the table, slowly, making sure not to fall on his bad leg too hard. Aging was pain, it took the life and mobility out of him, leaving him with just his magic. And sure, he could use him magic to help himself move better, but it had never lasted.
Reaching the table, Andre looked at the book. It was a spell book like he'd expected but it was open to a page that he hadn't expected. Messaging. What possibly could Draven need the messaging spell for. He was well acquainted with the spell, having practiced it quite a lot with Andre before. Enough to the point where Andre would believe the boy had mastered it. Sure, a few struggles here and there but the boy could cast it quite flawlessly. Right? Or was his memory failing him again now?
“Good afternoon, Uncle Andre.” It caught him off guard, and if he could jump Andre sure would have. Behind him, Draven stood having returned from his adventure through the aisles.
"Afternoon kiddo," Andre said in his frail partially quiet voice. He turned from the spell book on the table, not needing to examine it further. "I couldn't help but notice the spell book when you came in here, do you want to practice a bit more?"
The offer wasn't out of the ordinary, magic was the most common thing that Andre did with anyone. Less conversations more magic. Just how he worked. It was also how he had avoided so many conflicts, including the Elliot one. That poor boy had been so stressed he just needed a way out. If only the councillors hadn't gotten rid of the explorers rank, then maybe the boy would still be with us. Even so Elliot wasn't the kid he was talking to now. and possibly ever again. It was Draven in front of him.
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Uncle Andre looked up from the spellbook Draven had left lying open on the table, clearly startled. Candlelight flickered over his face as he greeted Draven. Draven couldn’t quite stop the eyebrow arch in response to his great uncle’s choice of words. Granted, Uncle Andre had always been a bit different from the rest of the family, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. But, he was outnumbered in those things, and Draven spent far more time with Mother than he did with him. And, frankly, being called kiddo was just… weird.
His gaze flicked to the book. He should have closed it before getting up. He should have realized that Uncle Andre was probably in the library. He should have a lot of things. What had Uncle Andre thought upon seeing which page Draven had left it open to? He was actually quite skilled at messaging, and Uncle Andre probably remembered that. He had helped him practice it plenty enough when he had been younger. But it wasn’t like he had even been looking for that page. He’d just been flipping through the book, and had happened to see it, been reminded of when he had read it last. Not that he was going to explain that.
He threw up a hand, drawing back the thick, dark green curtains, and allowing the afternoon sunlight to pour through the window. The library was still rather dark, but the light shone directly across the table, and over them. With another wave of his hand, he put out the candles. He technically could have done it without moving a muscle, but he had a bit of a tendency toward slightly dramatic gestures.
“I was just looking through it.” Practicing magic with Uncle Andre was not exactly what he had had in mind when he had come in here, although, to be fair, he had been planning on practicing. He’d just intended to do it alone. He stepped up to the table, placing his hands on top of it, and looking down at the book. Why not bring it up? Simply as a hypothetical question? “I was wondering about how one would message someone when unaware of their location."
Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. But who knew, being able to message someone, regardless of knowing where they were, might be useful someday. Not wanting to contact Elliot shouldn’t stop him from figuring it out. He was a Delacroix, he was supposed to grow his magical abilities. Masonry was what the House held control over, but for generations they had also been known for producing many of Lux’s greatest mages, Uncle Andre himself being a case in point. Draven, as well, all things considered, within his own age group. Not a distinction he intended to lose as he got older. If he got much older.
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
Andre watched as Draven threw the curtains open showing him in light. It wasn't his favorite things, being in light. It often hurt his eyes, but he wouldn't complain. That would just be him acknowledging that he was getting older and that it was taking a toll on him. And he would absolutely not admit that. Not anytime soon. And hopefully never.
The move had surprised him. Not the fact that Draven did it with much more dramaticism than needed. The boy had always been a bit dramatic, born to be an actor and perhaps cursed with upholding a noble lineage. He would never make assumptions.
“I was wondering about how one would message someone when unaware of their location."
That was... interesting to say the least. and definitely something they'd never covered before, Andre was sure of that. Why would Draven be interested in such a magic? Perhaps to massage a girl he was seeing? Or to reach out to his brother? Or... No drama. No rumors. Only facts and reality. While the rest of the Delacriox's were tangled up in the mess of drama they'd been in Andre had learned long ago how to stay out of it. And embracing those questions or rumors in his head would just undo all of the hard work and single side conversations he'd had.
"Well, Draven," Andre started as he turned his attention from the boy and light to the book in front of him. He closed the cover and read it, letting out an 'ahh' of realization, "For starters, this is a beginners book, not the 101 but easier then a 202 from Cogsworth. You won't find anything to help you in here."
He turned his attention from the book to Draven as he said, "Walk and talk with me while I explain things simply and get you the right book," he said. At the same time, Andre flicked his hand and blue dust-like sparkles of magic surrounded the book, picking it up off the table, and flying away with it weaving between the shelves.
Andre waited for Draven to make his decision already sure of what the boy would say, 'yes'. Even if he wasn't entirely into the situation that had happened, which Andre had slowly pieced together but was still unsure about, if the boy wanted to know something he'd take the chance to learn it.
(he did actually use magic, he just waved his hand when he did it)
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Draven kept his eyes on the book as he spoke. A part of him still questioned whether bringing this up was a bad idea. He didn’t need to know of a way he could contact Elliot, it would be too tempting. This isn’t about Elliot. But it was, wasn’t it? After nearly two years, he was still pathetic enough to miss him. This was not going to help. If he actually did figure out how to do it, how would he stop himself? Think about what Mother would say. What she would do. Of course, he didn’t really want to think about that, the last thing he needed was a flashback.
But it was too late to stop himself from thinking about it now. And maybe that was a good thing. He wouldn’t be tempted to do something stupid if he focused on the consequences. Look at you, said Elliot’s voice in his head, eighteen years old, head of the house, and still following Mother’s orders, still terrified of punishment.
That infernal voice was one of the reasons he wanted to contact his brother in the first place. Maybe if he actually talked to him, it would go away. Or maybe not. Either way, Mother would punish him if he were to contact him. And he intended to avoid that. Coward. He couldn’t even tell whether that was Elliot’s voice or his.
He focused on Uncle Andre’s words, on the book, which for the last few seconds, he had been staring at without seeing. Of course, it was a beginners book. He hadn’t really been paying all that much attention to which volume he had grabbed. He did generally start with easy spells, but he didn’t really need a book for them. He nodded, looking up from the book, and out the window, before turning to Uncle Andre.
He absently watched the small sparkles created by Uncle Andre’s magic carry the book back to it’s shelf. This was, again, a horrible idea. Yes, he wanted to learn how to do this, but why? If it was just about Elliot - which he feared it was - then he should probably just forget about it. Luminos, he had gotten so good at hiding his feelings, he hid them from himself half the time. Still, this was clearly about Elliot. And even if it wasn’t… It would open that door. A door that needed to stay closed.
Just say no thank you. Explain you were just wondering, and you don’t really have the time. Come up with an excuse. It should be easy, so easy, to do. But it wasn’t. This was something he had wondered about off and on for a year. And here was a chance to possibly find out. He wouldn’t use it to contact Elliot, he knew better, he could control himself. He smiled at Uncle Andre, who was watching him expectantly. “Of course.”
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
The sparkles faded and the light of the window was all that lit up the room. Minus the candles of course. The white candles burned with small flames and sat in stunning golden candle-holders on either side of the window. On the sides of the candles were thin gold shavings of the Delacroix crest, a beautiful touch that Andre admired. The candles had always been a thing of the Delacroix house, a symbol perhaps, and they had evolved over the generations but some parts of them always stayed the same. Like the golden crest.
Blue sparkles lifted the candles as Andre cast another spell, turning from the window. Unlike Draven, he wasn't dramatic about it with his wrist staying at his side when he cast the spell with a flick. The candles floated down from their holders, four in total, two on the outside of Andre and two on the outside of Draven as they began to walk.
While Draven's curiosity in magic, specifically the messaging spell without a known location, made him curious in the boys intentions, it wasn't his place to ask. Andre knew that much. He could wonder all he could wanted but he would never ask. It just wasn't his place, and he knew that.
Slowly, Andre began to walk, pushing his own curiosities from his mind as Draven moved beside him the candles floating as their light and moving with them. "To begin son, casting without knowing ones location is quite challenging and it can go very wrong when you begin," he begins, thinking of how to explain the complexities of the spell. "When you know where the person is, you can ensure the message gets to them and then alone. When you don't, you often are sending the message out and hoping it reaches the right person." The was a pause before he added, "Often times when you start trying the spell, and even for a new person it happens with me, the message will be received by the wrong person. It's just a danger of learning."
The first time Andre had attempted this message without knowing where his recipient was, he had messed up terribly. Instead of his fling, a girl he'd been with at a ball receiving his message, it was the girls mother. They had had similar auras and he'd made the fatal mistake, one he hadn't made since.
"It takes lots of practice, and it's easier to cast once you learn the recipients aura and their magical presence. It confirms that you are sending the message to the correct mind," he says as they slowly walk down the center of an aisle. He paid no attention to whatever Draven had decided to do: whether the boy was looking around or had his eyes closed. All he paid attention to was that he was beside him walking.
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Why the hell was he doing this? This was ridiculous. He should just leave. But instead, he followed Uncle Andre. It’s fine. This isn’t a big deal. And it really wasn’t so long as he didn’t do anything stupid once he knew the spell. He wouldn’t. Which, of course, meant this whole thing was pointless, and he should really really work on a more useful spell. What was he going to do with this? Annoy Isley and Alex?
At any rate, Elliot was one of the things he wasn’t supposed to let himself think about. His emotions were getting too close to the surface. And he was almost completely certain that even if Uncle Andre were watching him, he wouldn’t pick up on it, because his face wouldn’t betray a hint of feeling. But he was feeling, and he needed to stop. That was the only way he survived this life.
Light from the floating candles flickered before his eyes as he followed his great uncle through the stacks. He focused on that, on the shadows beyond it. It was always rather dark - or at least, dim - in parts of the library - in the house, in general - even now, when the sun was at its zenith. There was plenty of light by the window, of course, but as they moved away from it, the shadows deepened. Hence the candles, he supposed.
He took all his thoughts of Elliot, all the emotions they conjured, and he shut them away. Locked them behind closed doors, buried them deep within himself. Deep enough he would hopefully have a hard time finding them. Deep enough he wouldn’t have to worry about them resurfacing for a long while.
Well, that was a bit concerning. Not that he was going to use the spell for anything anyway. Certainly not anything to worry about. If he were to attempt to reach out to Elliot - but he wasn’t going to. And, really, he had no reason to ever use this spell at all, except maybe to speak with his friends. Although, granted, if someone other than his friends were to get the message… it might not exactly be the best for his reputation.
Uncle Andre continued, as he led Draven further into the library. Or, he supposed, out of it, as they had started at the end furthest from the entrance. Draven nodded. But Uncle Andre wasn’t looking at him, so he added a quiet, “Mhmm,” to acknowledge that he was still listening.
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
Even the smallest amount of acknowledgement was enough to encourage him to continue. "Often times, you on message those you know the aura of so it's a safer process. But on those rare occasions, you want to be certain you send it to the same person." The warning in his voice was clear. He remembering how his father had torn into him the morning after he'd messaged the wrong person and they'd gone to his father. That had been terrible. Grounded for who knows how long. The only appearances he's made was for classes and balls. Nothing else.
The rows of book towered over them as Andre stopped at a shelf. He scanned the books murmuring, "101... 102... Semi-Advanced... Experimental and Research..." That continued on for a moment until he spotted what he wanted. He reached out his made as magic carried the book from the shelf to his hand. "This is what you want kiddo," he said, offering the boy the book that he held. It was a fat textbook, one that would be too heavy for Andre to carry without magic. The book was bound with a leather clasp and the cover read, The Advancement from Scrolls to Magic.
Andre knew the book cover to cover. It had been published soon after he'd graduated Cogsworth by his fellow adventurer buddy, Thomas Ellington. It was a dead that the family had been forced to merge with another. They had been quite powerful magicians at one point. A single generation of weaklings later and the name had been forced to merge with another.
Either way, the textbook he'd offered Draven had been one he'd read himself as a kid. After a journey, he'd been told to sit down and learn how to message successfully without seeing a person. It had been a turning point for him in magic and he'd struggled severely. However, Thomas had taken his time and taught him from the very textbook he offered Draven.
"Thomas Ellington was a magnificent man and author. He was an researcher and adventurer alongside me. Specialized in the cliffs and oceans. Sadly he passed after a tragic accident on the rocks. The only way we found him was because of his message." The was a pause of emotion. Images flashed through his mind of George and himself running out of the brush to see Thomas laying at the bottom of the rocks with his head split. It had been a gruesome scene. One that had worried the councillors severely. That hadn't stopped Andre and George though. They kept exploring, gathering information for the council and people until George had also died on a tragic accident. That had been the reason the council decided to remove the occupation of explorers/adventurers from the cities. "Before he passed, he taught me how to message using this exact same textbook. I'm sure it'll be exactly what you need to figure out what your doing."
Andre's mind wandered away again. He wanted to go look at his journals. The cute booklets he'd written inside of filled an entire bookshelf in his private library. Those were filled with memories and emotions.
The longing to escape Draven was large but he had to teach the boy. He had to pass the magical legacy on. He came second to the name of the Delacroix family. And since Draven needed him now, he'd stay and teach the boy. Practice messaging until he knew exactly what to do. Practice until the boy learned to be a master of the spell.
((So sorry my response took forever! Take your time with yours!))
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Draven listened int - not exactly intently. He was paying attention, yes, but also… not. Someone who’s aura he recognized? Well, he didn’t see why he would be messaging someone who’s aura he didn’t recognize. But neither did he know why he had agreed to this particular lesson in the first place. He should really just put an end to it.
Would that hurt Uncle Andre’s feelings? Maybe he would rather be left alone, anyway. Why would he want to be teaching Draven? He must have been doing something in here before he had interrupted him.
He really should have just gone to his bedroom.
Uncle Andre was… different from Draven’s parents. Kinder. Seemed to actually like helping at times. But who knew if he really did enjoy it? Draven liked him, he did. He supposed, under the circumstances, maybe he should love him more than Mother, but he didn’t. Of course, he also hated Mother. It was all too complicated. Elliot had once told him that loving their parents was Stockholm Syndrome. And to be fair, maybe he was right. But Draven couldn’t help it, surely Elliot understood. Then again, Elliot hadn’t seemed to realize that he was the person Draven loved more than anyone, either. So there was really no telling what he did or didn’t understand.
He had also had things to say about Uncle Andre. Sure, Elliot had enjoyed hearing the stories of his adventures - he had alway been so much more of an adventurer at heart than Draven, so much stronger and braver - and he had no doubt appreciated that their great uncle never treated him badly. Was always nice. But that wasn’t enough for Elliot.
If he really cares about us, why does he let them hurt us, Draven? Why doesn’t he even try to stop them?
Elliot couldn’t appreciate smaller gestures. Just like he couldn’t appreciate the fact that Draven’s life, his future, his last scraps of freedom, had been sacrificed for his own. Maybe he didn’t even realize. Draven didn’t know.
He didn’t care. He pushed the thoughts further back, deeper down, as he took the book. It was large, and very heavy. He studied the cover for a moment, letting the last of his emotions drain away, allowing the familiar numbness to return in full force, before looking back up at Uncle Andre, holding the tome against his chest. “I suppose I really ought to learn this spell then. Wouldn’t want to die with no way of letting you know where to find the body.”
There was nothing he was trying to do. Just distract himself. What did Uncle Andre think he was trying to do? He wasn’t supposed to draw attention to himself. Not within his own family. Outside of it, yes, of course. He was the head of the House of Delacroix, after all. But within the House, he was as small, as quiet, as compliant as possible. The perfect son. He didn’t think Uncle Andre would talk to Mother about this, but he could never be sure.
He knew he wasn’t really in charge here, in spite of his title. He knew he had to be careful. And this was not his wisest of moves.
(he did eventually take the book... if you don't want Andre to have a response, that's fine, just wanted to make sure you knew. also, small thing, but Elliot was disowned before their dad died)
((I never saw anything about him taking the book in your post? it was just his thoughts? i'll rewrite ig sorry))
(it's fine. yeah he took it towards the end, like the third to last paragraph)
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
There was a moment before the textbook was taken. Strike two. Andre tried his best to be a good dude. If he noticed that Draven didn't want to be with him, he'd let the boy go. Right now, he'd noticed two things. Draven only spoke when addressed, strike one. And the brief paused before taking the textbook, strike two. Of course, Andre knew there was plenty of possible reasons behind the hesitation. Draven could be lost in processing information, that's what he was hoping. But the boy could also be distracted by his own thoughts. To Andre, that was a reasonable answer, he had been too until Draven had shown up in the library.
Andre moved on either way, he turned and began to make his way back to the table, "This is the type of textbook to get the best out of it by reading and practicing as you go," Andre began as he made his slow limping. He hated that he was getting old, the fact that he used to be able to run and be in the wild was amazing. Now he was an old great uncle with a limp and an extensive magic knowledge. Times have really changed... Pushing his thoughts to the side, Andre continued, "The beginning of that textbook is a detail of history. It explains the old use of scrolls and things like that. You can skip that section if you want." The thought of his freedom had been pushed from his mind just like he'd conditioned.
"The second section of the textbook is a detailed explanation of the simple spell message. You've already learned this in Cogsworth but your welcome to review it," Andre continued to speak as he moved slowly. The silence from Draven bothered him a bit but he brushed it off as the boy focusing. "The third section is what you are looking for. I recall it being titled 'The Magical Advancements'. I might be wrong though," he said. His memory had begun to fail him a bit with old age. Yet another reason why he like to document everything. Whether it was scrolls, books, or papers, he always documented his work now. A drastic change from his youth where he;d only used journals for documentation. He was glad he'd done that now, those journals were the only thing beside photos and failing memories that he had of his journeys. "This section details the process of advancement, how to do it, and how to practice. It will be long, but it is very detailed and has plenty of diagrams."
They turned a corner, weaving down a small path between bookshelves as they headed back towards the circle table that Andre had begun at. The towering bookshelves always made Andre awestruck. They were beautiful. It was amazing that the Delactioxs' could afford such a magnificent collection. It must have cost a fortune. Although, being in the most prestigious noble bloodline had that bonus.
Andre focused his attention back to the textbook and his grand-nephew. "The textbook may be a bit outdated by like 50 years, but in my opinion, it is still the best textbook for message magic." He knew the disclaimer wasn't too necessary but it was important for some magic users. He'd received critique for the books he preferred in the past, so he'd made it a partial habit to point it out. Although, the better way of avoiding the criticism was to stop teaching magic all together. Which he'd done for the public.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒊𝒙Draven knew he was probably being too distant. But really, anyone who lived in the same house as him should be used to it. This was simply what he did. This was how he survived. He didn’t really like this life any more than Elliot had - not much more, anyway. Elliot had always been more rebellious, more independent, so maybe he had hated it more, but still. Elliot had always fought, until he had managed to get out altogether. Draven just locked everything up inside himself. Which was something Elliot had told him to do back when they were younger. Back when Draven was actually the more sensitive one, and got punished for crying far too often. But then he had gotten upset, and told Draven he had taken it too far. Because he clearly never did anything right.
Uncle Andre turned and headed back the way they had come, and Draven followed. He should probably make more of an effort to… well, be present. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully focus. His brain kept wandering. It always did, regardless of whether he was shutting his emotions off or not. Which, granted, he usually was. Not feeling was always preferable, but paying attention was sometimes even harder with too few emotions than with too many. This was something he had been wanting to learn for a while, he should really make sure he actually took in the lesson. But Ciel, it was difficult.
Maybe it was best not to learn it, anyway. He had already decided he wasn’t going to ever really use it, after all. But maybe it would be nice to know. In case of emergencies. He dragged his attention back to his great uncle’s words. He seemed to be just going over the contents of the book, which Draven could learn, himself, by reading the table of contents he would be sure to find at the beginning. Still, not listening when Uncle Andre was taking the time to go over this would be rude. Really, he never should have said anything. He didn’t really need this lesson, and likely Uncle Andre didn’t really want to give it. So what was the point? Just satisfying his curiosity? He couldn't even stay focused.
“Of course. I’m sure you’d be the one to know. And I haven’t seen any newer books on messaging quite so long.” It was indeed a very large tome. And very heavy. But what was he doing here? Why was he studying this? Surely, there were more useful things he could be learning. Well, he had wanted a distraction, and he had found it. But he wasn’t so sure if it was worth it. If Mother found out about this, she might suspect he was trying to contact Elliot. Or maybe having some sort of affair. Either way, she would be furious with him. Either way, he would be punished.
Dieu, he really was too old for this. He was an adult, she couldn’t keep - but she could. Because he let her, he always let her. But what was the alternative, really? He couldn’t leave. Elliot was already out of the picture, he was the only one left. He had to stay here. He had to go through with whatever marriage alliance Mother arranged. He had to be everything she wanted.
And on the topic of marriage, and heirs, and all that entailed - which he’d really prefer not to think about - maybe seeing if he could learn how to erase scars would be a better use of his time. Because the thought of his future wife - whoever she was - seeing them, potentially asking about them - he’d rather not deal with that. But he certainly wasn’t going to bring that one up to Uncle Andre.
They reached the table, and he set the book down, unsure whether Uncle Andre would leave him to it, or stay to help him practice. Was he even going to practice? Might as well. But he couldn’t really see the point. Maybe he should just take the book up to his room, where he could make the decision on whether to actually go through with this at his own leisure. But Uncle Andre was right there, and really he should see if he had anything more to say.
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
Life was long and slow in Andre's eyes. And it was always punishing. He knew that from when he'd lost his job as an adventurer. He had learned it again watching children being neglected just like he was. The heirs of this family never learn, he thought. Or they're never brave enough to brake the cycle. He'd done his best himself to break the cycle. To make the childhood of all of the children raised in the Delacroix family enjoyable and not a terrible memory. He'd succeeded in his mission... when it came to the time children spent with him. Parents in the family were always duds. His father, his brother, and sadly, Draven might also be a dud of a father.
The thought was not one he should be considering. The parenting methods of parents were not his priority. If he wanted to critique that, he should have had children of his own. He hadn't done that and he wouldn't in a million years. The kids weren't the problem. It was just... love was difficult and draining. So was magic. He didn't have room for both a wife and magic studies. He'd had to picked. And he'd chosen magic studies. That's why Draven is asking for your help.
"New informational books on the subject have all been failures," Andre explained. "They were published by young wizard wanna-bes." He knew because he'd read the all. It had been a waste of his time. They had been advertised as a massive breakthrough in magic. In reality, they had been nothing but restating information with wrong information. Andre had already reported the books for being false and he'd decided the authors were either greedy, illiterate, or both. "The information is just restating what we know with lies mixed in. That's why I refuse to have them in our library."
Reaching the round table, Andre stood beside Draven. The book was placed onto the table and Andre flicked his hand to open it with a swirl of blue magic. The pages flicked past as a black bookmark ribbon appeared from seemingly nowhere floating over there heads. The flipping of pages paused at a section where the ribbon dropped into the book effortlessly and the scene continued. "I don't remember if I already told you this," he said. His memory had been failing. A lot more then usual. He had survived by taking notes in his studies. He wasn't taking notes of his conversations though. "The book is split into three sections, those are what the ribbons will be," he explained as a second black ribbon flew from over their heads and landed into the book. "The first is history of the spell, the second is what Cogsworth covered, and the third is how to advance in difficulty and skill," he explained, hoping Draven would stop him if he'd already gone over this. He couldn't really remember, he'd talked about the author, right? He was pretty sure. If not, Draven would read the front of the book if he was interested in learning rather then hearing his uncle babble on and on about magic.
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Draven stared down at the book. He didn’t know why he was having such a hard time dredging up interest. This was, objectively, an interesting topic. Usually, he would be excited to learn a new spell. Maybe he just had too much on his mind. Even if he was trying to forget it all. He supposed marriage was a pretty big deal, surely he had a right to be distracted. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t always known this was coming. He was eighteen, and a Delacroix - and not just a Delacroix, the Head of House. Of course it was time to think about marriage arrangements. And it didn’t have to be a big deal. Except… except it sort of was. He just didn’t know if he could focus on magic right now, with that to think of.
Uncle Andre had never married. Something that Draven had thought about before. It wasn’t, however, something he had ever brought up. It wasn’t the sort of thing he would ever ask about. Of course, to be fair, he didn’t generally discuss anything with Uncle Andre outside of magic, an arrangement that always seemed to work well for both of them. So, of course, Dravne had no way of knowing whether there had ever been anyone his great uncle would have liked to marry, or he’d never met someone, or if he was uninterested in the idea of marriage altogether. He didn’t know whether his not marrying had caused much drama in the family - it had to have caused some, he would think. He had no way of knowing whether Uncle Andre was truly happy or not. But he was sort of jealous, regardless. Because he could never get away with not marrying. With not having children. It’s for the good of the family. I am happy to do my part. And he was. As long as he didn’t think about it too much. His experience in relationships was rather limited, he supposed, and considering he had had to end things with threats, not ideal. His experience in relationships with girls was, frankly, non-existent. His desire to have kids was also non-existent. All things considered, if he thought about any of it too much, he was liable to start panicking, and he really couldn’t have that.
He nodded along, nearly smiling at Uncle Andre’s choice of words. He just needed to focus - he didn’t know what he would say if Uncle Andre realized he was barely paying attention, and asked about it. So, pay attention, he must. Magic was much less nerve-wracking to think about, anyway.
Uncle Andre came to stand beside him, opening the book with his magic. He began going over the contents of the book again, which Draven was pretty sure he had a grasp on, even if he had been only half-listening the first time. He tried to pay a bit more attention the second time around, as his great uncle explained the different sections of the volume. He nodded. “History, basics, advancement. Got it.”
Andre Kaland Delacroix ⋆⁺₊⋆ Voxthain Noble
Andre could talk and talk and talk about magic but he did have things to work on. In his quarters out of sight, he was trying to figure out how to drain magic. He wasn't a murderer, he was a researcher. He'd felt the salt when he'd been selected and had sworn to secrecy in his practices by the Haydens. They didn't like him. That was a completely normal thing. They didn't have to love him, but he never imagined them to hate him so much. Either way, they needed his help to figure out the threat to Voxthain: the dead bodies drained of magic.
"Yep, you got it kiddo," he said with a lazy smile. He'd come here to take a break and cool off. It frustrated him how much he was struggling to discover a spell. Of course, there may not be a spell possible to drain magic but, he had to try. He'd gotten caught up with Draven and it was a good distraction but he did have to remember his priorities. "Should I leave you to read?" Andre asked.
The idea crossed his mind of having Draven message him if he wanted to practice. It would be a good way to practice considering the boy would have to find his aura and then complete a message. He kept it to himself considering that Draven might not be ready to study alone. He'd already mentioned the potential so he didn't speak up again waiting for a response.
(sorry this is a bit short. I couldn't figure out anything else to write)
((it's fine. should we wrap it up now? either in this next post or your next post?))
(yeah, I'd say it's leaning that way. you can do one and I can do one?)
((okay, that's what i thought. sounds good))
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Draven tapped his fingers, rings clicking against the tabletop. The sound seemed louder in the large room, echoing as it did. He stared down at the book, thinking about how he was actually quite skilled at messaging. About how he could easily send a message to Mother or Lala or Isely without issue. It was just… He didn’t need this lesson. He really didn’t, because the only one he had had trouble messaging was Elliot, and he didn’t need to message Elliot. He wouldn’t. He had tried twice in the past, once soon after Elliot’s graduation, and once, earlier this year, when Father had passed. Because he had figured was reason enough to break the two years of silence.
But it didn’t matter how well he knew Elliot’s aura, something had changed. It wasn’t easy to locate anymore. The fact that he didn’t know where he was didn’t help, but really, he couldn't help but wonder if that was only part of the issue.
Not that it mattered. Elliot would have heard of Father’s death by now, if he was still on Valoran. Regardless of which city he was in, the death of the Delacroix patriarch would be hard news to avoid. Harder in Voxthain, yes, but all things considered, he highly doubted Asterath would be ignorant.
And he honestly had too much to deal with lately without thinking about his stupid brother. So, really, he had just wasted both his and Uncle Andre’s time. It had been a distraction, but not really the most welcome one.
There he went calling him kiddo again, Draven was never going to get used to that. For one thing, the term was an odd one for a Delacroix to use - maybe it hadn’t been when UncleAndre had been younger, he didn’t know. It didn’t really feel very… Delacroix though. For another, was not used to people referring to him as a kid, in any way. He wasn’t a child, hadn’t been since… Dieu, he didn’t even know. Yes, he was young, but, well, he had had to grow up fast. And people just… didn’t refer to the head of a noble house as a child. At least not in their hearing. He supposed he couldn’t be sure what all was said about him behind his back. At least the papers left him alone, thanks to the Seaveys close relationship with the Delacroixs. A relationship he supposed his marrying Melody would only further cement.
“Oh, yes.” Did he sound rude? If it weren’t his own uncle, he probably wouldn't have given a second though to that, but, well, it was. At any rate, he got the sense that Uncle Andre did want to leave, return to what he had been doing before Draven had come in and interrupted him. “Actually, I think I might take this up to my room.” He closed the book, then picked it up. Oh, he had somehow forgotten just how heavy it was. He adjusted his grip. “Thank you for your help.” he gave a little nod, before heading back toward the door.
Andre Kaland Delacroix
Andre watched the boy leave lost in thought. "Of course, message if you need anything," he said as he watched the kid leave. Sure he wasn't young anymore but Andre would never cease to see Draven as a kid. The boy had been forced to adulthood much too soon. Andre had been lucky to live out his childhood so maybe his small words and reminders were enough to remind Draven that fun was still something that he could have. And that his life was in his hands, only his. Andre had learned that throughout his life. He'd been a student, an adventurer, and then a magician. He'd lived a long life and now he was a homebody that watched over the rising generations trying his best to fill in the cracks. It wasn't his responsibility but he wanted to do the best he could to make up for the slack and neglect the passing generations had made. Even if it was one small step at a time.
Andre heard the large door to the library shut and he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. With the kid gone, at least he could get back to his own issues. The magic and experiments that he'd been failing at repeatedly. He knew the process of failure and recovery that led to success but this felt like perpetual failure. It had gotten to him so much he'd come to the library to cool off. He'd spent way more time than intended in the library though. He'd intended maybe a few minutes and some fresh (as fresh as the library is compared to his quarters) air.
Returning to his quarters would take more time and Andre began the journey. His way to the grand doors of the library took much longer then Draven's. The young boy was a spring chicken. Somehow, Andre didn't envy the young for the agility and speed he was losing with old age. He was already at terms with such things. He was also coming to terms with his eventual and inevitable death. Everyone dies eventually, it's just a matter of when and how. For him, it was most likely to these murders, the shadowfog, or natural causes. Only fate and time would tell.
Magic whisked open the doors to the library large enough for him to sneak through. He left his thoughts about fate and teaching in the library letting them be locked in by the slamming door as his magic released letting a boom echo through the deserted empty library.
Mod
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