ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"eighteen"

"sorry i missed the gathering yesterday in the boys' dorm, i was busy unpacking." xander spoke as he sat beside me in class, watching me as i flicked through the pages of a herbal spell book.

i sighed, before gently closing the cover of the aged book and placing it infront of me on my desk, "it's okay, it doesn't matter." i simply said, slumping my shoulders as all motivation had left me during this week, leaving me drained physically and emotionally.

"lucille was helping me." he began, as he looked down at his desk, avoiding my gaze.

lucille? wow.

i wasn't expecting that.

"oh, cool." i nodded my head and he repeated this action, i looked down at his hands which contained many tarnished rings and emblems of his family, from signet rings to the black family tree imprinted on his index finger in a compact silver ring, i could tell family and his origin meant a-lot to him, however he didn't speak of it very often, only if he was asked.

he slid the book from infront of me over to him, letting his fingers explore the cracked spine of the book, dragging themselves across it as he examined every yellowed page, buffed corner, stained surface, his brow furrowing as he did just that.

he stopped on a page, weighing it down with his pointer finger.

his eyes were fixated on a certain illustration, one of a flower with multiple, slightly-wilted magenta and deep purple petals sat daintily upon a stalk splayed with delicate branches adorning leaves.

"Iris," he read out from the contents of the page, "Feminine energy, essence unlocks old patterns of limitation and stagnation, aspiring us to the heights of beauty and grace."

i listened to his words, how fluidly the words fell from his tongue and into the air, how i knew that if his voice and words were to have a particular material or feel, it'd be the finest velvet, sewn with such elegance and intention that the only time you'd ever see it being used is draped across a dark interior, it's thoughtful hues complimenting the darkness surrounding it.

"...restoring a path to art and creativity, iris moistens the hardened aspects of the soul such as stagnation." he spoke, his face solid with concentration, brows con-caved in focus, his lids fluttering, his dark lashes complimenting his eyes, equally as dark and perpetuating, except if you looked close enough, streaks of emerald green could be discovered, to be visible within a glint in which you'd only be made aware of if you were looking closely at his expressions, when he smiled.

he slowly closed the book, using two fingers to slide it back to me from across the table.

"that flower makes me think of you." he stated simply, his loose curls hovering in front of his face, his jawline illuminated in the rays of the dewy dawn that seeped through the windows in the dim classroom.

in that moment, i felt a euphoric rush.

hearing those words come from his mouth, which came almost directly from his heart, made my chest palpate.

despite being unsure of cheesy lines such as the whole 'this reminds me of you' facade, what xander had just phased so simply, made me question how maybe those sorts of word phases actually meant something genuine, raw - and wasn't just something boys would say in high school to get themselves in your pants.

"thank you," i smiled at him sweetly, as i began to place the book in my bag along with my bottled ink and feather quill, tucking my wand deeper into my robe pocket.

"you're welcome." he chuckled after saying this, beginning to pack away his belongings also.

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