Gentle breeze drafted through a crack of the open window, mixing with the stale air inside a tower, permitting of herbs and stone dusts that didn't quite have a smell, but did wonders to a human's mind in imagining one. A short blond stood in the middle of an organized chaos, pale hands busied with a masher full of herbs an ordinary person wouldn't know the names of even in their wildest dreams. He was surrounded by an array of books and vials, parchments and feathers with dried ink on them, jars of oils, dried herbs and stones.

He navigated the seeming cluster of items on the table well, reaching for a vial filled with a red liquid without lifting his gaze from the mix of quartz dust and poppy seeds in a jar standing in front of him. He tipped it and doused the mixture with a few drops, carelessly putting the vial back onto the wooden table between countless others. He stirred the future elixir, hand moving automatically in perfect circles.

When he was satisfied with his work, he poured the now greenish liquid into an empty jar and flicked his wrist at the used jar. Any leftover traces of the elixir vanished into thin air, leaving just the strong scent in their wake.

The mage stepped back, hands hovering by his sides, covered by the long sleeves of his robe. He eyed the jar and the liquid as it stilled inside it slowly. He wasn't even sure why he'd made the potion; it's not like anyone would use it. It was a calming potion, used to sedate the nerve system after an unwanted violent burst of aggression. He had no use for such a potion, long used to keeping his emotions in check.

He sighed.

Truth be told, he only made it in vain hope. His apprentice had a problem with aggression and Seamus often had to give him a potion to calm him when it got really out of control. He supposed he shouldn't call him his apprentice anymore; James left almost a full moon ago, after deeming his skill in the magical hand enough for whatever he wished to do for a living.

Seamus wouldn't hold it against him, he was no more than a simple teacher to the temperament blacknet. Though, no matter how embarrassing it was to admit, Seamus had grown accustomed to the young mage. The tower felt.. empty, without James' voice filling its air with questions and random bits of conversations that were nothing more than a wish to elevate the somehow tense air that always seemed to gloat around Seamus.

Seamus frowned. At this rate, he would have a use for the potion.

He lifted the jar to his lips and drank the whole thing in one gulp, wiping the few stray droplets from his mouth with the back of his hand. Though the potion was meant to be used during a violent fit, it was a general sedative and would work well even on his nervous, anxious body.

There was only such a difference between anger and anxiety, after all.

As he felt the potion burning its way through his body, Seamus sighed and slumped into the only sitting utensil he had in his little laboratory; a small wooden stool. Its surface was tainted with countless stains of unidentifiable liquids from the long years it had served its purpose here. James used to sit on it quite a lot, as Seamus himself preferred to stand while working.

Seamus couldn't do much more than sigh again as even his relaxed mind tripped over his attempts of concentrating on tangible things in front of him and went back and around to the blacknet who was who knows where.

Actually, Seamus knew very well where James was. The blacknet was on his way to Ferta, a little over halfway there.

Seamus could see him, could see where he was if he closed his eyes and concentrated enough. He could feel the gravelly path underneath his leather soles as of he were the one walking it, could feel the autumn breeze as if he were the one walking through it.

Even in the state of utmost euphoria, Seamus' mind refused to stay within itself and instead led him in James' path, his eyelids closing on their own accord and allowing him to look through the blacknet's eyes, at the dense forest surrounding him. He shivered at the gust of air until he realized it wasn't James who felt the sensation, but rather it was him. The window in his laboratory had opened itself and the gusts of air sweeping in made goosebumps appear on his skin.

Seamus waved his hand, as if in dismissal, and the glass pane slid into its proper place, locking itself and keeping the wind out as its original purpose said to. The blonde mage could feel the potion wearing off already - it couldn't've been more than half an hour of sitting still as a rock.

He let out a shaky breath. He would accomplish nothing at this rate. He stood up, smoothing out his dark robe and looking the room over. It was a mess.

He was a mess.

His magic was boiling in his veins, a raging inferno instead of the quiet, contained flame within his core that it was on normal occasions. He couldn't let this go on. If his magic wished for it to be - and gods, did it -, he would pursue James and quench the thirst the inferno inside him had of closeness.

He took a step forward, but instead of his foot hitting the stone floor of his laboratory, it landed on a patch of thinning grass, in front of the tower. He continued Stepping, skipping every couple hundreds of metres as he set course to Ferta.

Gods, he thought he was supposed to be the trained one. He couldn't even keep his magic in check; he needed the presence of a freshly trained mage.

Oh how he was mistaken.