Officially, Tancred was dead. As far as almost everyone knew Dagbert Endless had drowned him in the art room of Bloors academy. In fact it was only his family and a select group of close friends who knew he was alive.
Though this lead to some perks (like not having to attend his awful classes at Bloor's, or having to put up with Manfred and his followers, or having to eat any of those awful cafeteria meals) it also meant that he had a lot of time on his hands, and not a lot of ways to spend it.
Tancred was used to drawing attention to himself. He was bright, fast, and deadly. Like lightning. As a storm-bringer, and someone who was naturally dramatic, he liked to have an audience. In short, Tancred Torsson was a people person. But now, during the week at least, when all his friends were at school, there were no people for him to be with.
He had started spending much more time by himself, and had been spending that extra alone time just… thinking. And to his great surprise, most of his thoughts had been drifting towards one particular thing. One particular person, actually.
Emma Tolly.
The bird-girl, the girl who could fly, the girl who had saved his life, the girl who he couldn't stop thinking about. Emma.
Tancred and Emma had been friends for quite a while, and he had never thought of her beyond that. But now Tancred couldn't get her out of his head.
He thought of her every time he saw a bird, every time he saw a blonde girl, or a girl wearing a green hood. He thought of her every time he saw a drawing or painting that he though she would like, or a book that looked like it could have come from her aunts' shop. He thought of her all the time, and every time he thought of her, the weather around him would go ballistic.
He finally decided that something had to be done about it. But what could be done?