Attwood was a labyrinth—even to Algernon, who had been a visitor to the grounds more times then he could recall, mostly ode to the fact that the recall of the average prepubescent wasn't much. Somehow, he could still recall a pathway far off the main corridor—the one he'd traveled with his father, at a time when ever addressed him as Blackwood. To walk it alone now, a decade after his passing, felt like he should feel more. Right now, he only felt tired as he hoped that the transfer of his plants to Attwood's abounded greenhouse didn't result in any infractions.
At home, it served as his sanctuary away from whatever hardships plagued him at the time. And in this hellscape of a school, he found it extremely unfortunate to find the greenhouse considerably small and wildly out of sorts.
With the sun setting, Algernon used magic to light the disheveled mess of a room before sending the flames to the wick of candles between the pillars. It was nothing compared to his home's greenhouse, but most importantly it was free of people and secluded in an out-of-the-way part of the castle, just as forsaken and neglected as itself.
He got to work right away fixing the place up, making room for his planta, and taking account of the supplies. It was at least well-stocked with old well-made tools that only needed a dusting. He used his magic to open all the windows and doors before sending a breeze of dark energy across everything to dispatch the buildup.
As he worked he hoped the image of that girl and Brickwood would leave his mind. The way she innocently smiled up at him with a hint of red on the apples of her cheeks made him want to vomit. Like a blissfully content lamb looking down the throat of a wolf.
He banished the thought away. Whatever interest his cousin had in that girl, had to be of no concern to him. She was just merely another person to become a small figure in his peripheral vision as he carried on by himself.
He knew this, all the while his mind ran through the scene of her smile lifting up her sun-kissed skin and filling up the pockets of her rotund cheeks.
Pathetic, Algernon cursed himself as his stream of magic grew so strong it rattled every panel of glass in the greenhouse.
YOU ARE READING
Algernon Black
Romance"Gods aren't born. They rise." Algernon Black is the most infamous boy known throughout his world for a prophecy that would make him a god if he sacrificed the one he loved most. Downcast and disheartened, Algernon never paid the rumors much mind, u...
