LYCOS | tacet anima mea [Wenclair Omegaverse]

SCALDING | moon | iii.i (4) | 16.0k

| vii |

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☼ ⋆⁺₊⋆

| (she is brewing) |

"So like, you— You didn't do anything to him, did you?"

A project's ministrations have you pulled back into the academy library. Unfortunately for you, the windowed sector. The sun doesn't stream overhead in the hour now, yet it is a brash influence on the building clouds. Their grey is near-blinding. Though you adore the color, the hue alone is enough for your eyes to ache.

Last night still weighs heavy on you.

Her blonde does flower to you, however... The blues flourish with ocean. Purple is the rolling aftertaste. Pink scorns. It's pleasant on her.

Enid has her hands planted firm on the library table. She waits.

"Why are you concerned?"

Between the two of you is the mess of papers collected, then the books Yoko managed to pry from a freshman before a final biting retort, and the urge to whack its spine over their head. Enid sits across.

"Well— I... I dunno. You didn't ... actually hurt him, did you...?"

You pause, decide the pamphlet in your hand is not necessary, and reach for another document.

Your stare flecks. Yoko handles another book.

And, coyly, you have Enid wait. For enough time.

"...no."

She rolls her eyes.

"Okay, but what did you do?" (No answer.) "Wednesday?!"

"He's alive."

Enid flares, sews her mouth tight, and for another time, you're reminded just how malleable her face is. Elastic, in a way. It may be the shape-shifter in her, and it isn't the moon she changes to, or it's the vibrancy, for she is her own canvas.

Before she has the chance to wrest more from you, Yoko mutters,

"Dead or alive, we gots this recipe to find, Enid."

The Fang glances from behind her treated lenses. The windows are a blight to her as well. It was a flustered decision, made at the last minute.

For such a simple project, it has been a strain on group effort. The research is made tedious by the rubric. Namely for the potion's instruction itself, which had to be researched within academy books through a week of sophomore exams.

Hence Yoko having been an insult away from reconfiguring a ghoul's jaw.

As the group's resident crone, she handled the recipe and the background context for the paper — with minor incident. Enid, who bemoaned to you both over her schedule and clubs — because there are multiple —, she is designated the ... support. And the cook. Who would have to risk singing her brows over a cauldron in the next class period.

Then Eugene, who enrolled himself into Honors Concoctions to further his entrepreneur journey, and he now sags into a hand as he scrolls through his computer. He managed to skip a year of class given his talent in chemistry. It, conveniently, landed him alongside you.

Said talent refuses to lend its hand now, where he scrounges through every file he collected for this project, then the internet.

"This is going to take forever."