Never knew if we were really true
Never thought I'd ever get to you
Never thought I'd end up like this
Never was I stronger than I'm now
Never felt this much a fool somehow
Never had much thought for myself
Seek You Out
Poets of the Fall
xXxXxXx
06/19/XXXX
Entry 585
Howard Link is the most insufferable person I have ever known.
I do not know if Louvelier is simply that intimidating to his underlings or if Howard Link is just that dedicated, but the man has not left me alone for a second since we have arrived in Xanitha. He has been my constant shadow, and I am finding it difficult to get any work done with him looming over my shoulder. No matter how late I stay up to search the library, he does not tire.
If I cannot find anything for Allen Walker by tomorrow, I fear I will have to return empty-handed…
49
xXxXxXx
Lavi coughed as he pulled another dusty text from the shelf. Waving a hand, he tried to dissipate the dust motes before he could breathe them in. His hands were dry and covered with the musty film. He had given up brushing off his clothes and hair hours ago, finding the whole exercise pointless. He smelled like an old parchment and if his lungs weren't completely filled with dust by now, it would be a miracle.
Still, he pressed on.
He had pored over books upon books, hoping to find something that would help Allen. In the Xanitha library, the monks and scholars who took care of the texts put him in the right direction. Lavi had only been to the library once before, and he never had a chance to see the whole thing. But when he asked to research dragons, the library's keepers sent him over to one of the far off wings. His only company after that had been Link's quiet, unwavering presence. He could feel the blond's unnerving aura radiating behind him, as if Link were a guard waiting for his prisoner to try and make an escape attempt any moment.
Then again, with how Louvelier operated the Black Order at the moment, they all felt like prisoners. Had Lavi not pulled his Bookman status against the Director, he would have been denied his request. As it was, he had to lie about his true purpose. Officially, he was here to research for Bookman. Lavi refused to let them know his true purpose—finding answers for Allen's last encounter with the dragons.
So far, the books proved no more helpful than the ones he'd read at the Order. They described dragons, had vague information about where they had come from, what they did, a few of their supposed powers, but nothing more. It was all information he knew, either through his own studies or firsthand experience fighting the beasts. Finding himself at a dead end once again, Lavi sighed in frustration. He was getting nowhere.
"Problems, Junior Bookman?" Link asked, not looking at him as he spoke.
Lavi shot him a glare, but managed to rein in his temper before he caught on. "None whatsoever."
Link turned his gaze to the redhead, a look of practiced patience on his face. "If this endeavor has turned into a fruitless one, may I suggest cutting our losses and heading back early. If we leave in the next hour, we can make it back to headquarters before nightfall."
"I have until tomorrow to complete my business, do I not?" Lavi snapped back, keeping his eye on the book he had just opened.
Turning back to gaze out the window, Link crossed his arms. "It had merely been a suggestion."
"Next time, keep your suggestions to yourself."
Link fell quiet after that, but Lavi could still feel the tension in the air. He knew being confrontational wasn't the best course of action—it would only make it harder for him to get what he wanted if he were labeled a troublemaker by Louvelier's men. Still, he couldn't help but send a few cocky remarks Link's way. If nothing else, it helped him blow off some steam, which he desperately needed after being stymied since arriving in Xanitha.
Lavi paged through the book, finding the same information he had seen in every other text since he got here. He feigned interest, not wanting Link to make any more assumptions. He spent a few minutes searching the book before giving up again. He moved back to the bookshelf, replacing the book where he had found it and scanning through more texts along the wall. He ran his fingers over the spines of books that caught his eye.
Each title sounded the same: Scourge of the Three Kingdoms—Dragons and their Ilk; Dragons and Chimeras, the Great Plague; Dragons: An Ancient History. All these books were written by scholars who had never seen a dragon in their life, and each one was as dry as week old bread and as useless as a hammer without a head.
Grabbing another book at random and praying for more luck this time, Lavi sighed and gathered the large text in his arms. As he pulled the book free, a second book fell with it, hitting the stone floor with a soft thunk.
Lavi reached down, grabbing the book and looking at the tattered cover. It had no title, no markings on the outside, and it looked like it had seen better days. The edges were frayed, there was unmistakable water damage, and the faded leather cover was half rotted off. With a shrug, Lavi added it to the book he had already grabbed and headed to the table to work.
He opened book he had grabbed first, but even as his eye hit the page, he felt drawn to the battered text sitting next to him. It was odd, but he felt like it was calling out to him. Taking a slow breath, Lavi opened the mystery book instead.
He blinked in confusion as he scanned over the first page. The book looked to be a journal of sorts. Each few pages were marked with dates, and the scrawling handwriting was sloppy—not at all what he would expect from a professional scribe.
As he read over the text, something felt wrong. It only took a second for it to click in his mind—the language was not the common tongue, nor any other language currently spoken. Lavi tapped his fingers against the table as he scanned the text, searching for something familiar in the words. He knew so many languages that he'd lost count of the exact number, but he could decipher the words if given the chance.
Lavi scrutinized the text for a long moment, analyzing the words, syntax, the grammar. After reading a few pages, he realized what exactly he was looking at.
There were three countries that made up the lands of Khathos: Ariala, Thalios, and Haalan. Each country had its own language, its own culture. The lands had warred in times long past, something the Bookmen had detailed records of, but all of that changed when the dragons attacked the humans. One thousand years ago marked the anniversary of the dragons' declaration of war on humanity. No one knew quite where the dragons came from, or why they decided to attack the humans who inhabited the three kingdoms.
It was common knowledge that Thalios, Ariala, and Haalan put aside their differences and joined forces in that time to fight the dragons. This also saw the founding of the Black Order, of Dragon Hunters, and the beginning of the Great War that still waged on to this day. As they worked together, the need for a common language became apparent. Eventually, the three languages merged into new language, referred to as Common. It had aspects of each of the three countries' languages, morphed into the one they spoke today.
When Lavi looked at this journal, he could tell it predated the official beginnings of Common, and if he was reading it correctly, the language looked to be that of Haalan. He checked the dates of the journal, but found while the month and day were marked, the year had been omitted. He sighed in frustration, but even so, this was an interesting find. He wondered what the librarians were doing, leaving an artifact like this on the shelves. He wondered if they even knew what they had?
Curiosity piqued, Lavi began to do a rough translation of the journal. It took him a few minutes to cypher out the first couple of sentences, but when he did, his heart nearly stopped.
08/15
I have tried to get the villagers to understand that the dragons mean us no harm, but they will not listen to me.
If only they knew them like I did. I've been given nothing but kindness from my friend. My cottage is so close to the Ilith Mountains that he comes to visit me nearly every day. We spend our time hunting, fishing, and talking. I've read him books through the night until the sun has risen once more.
His eyes are golden, like the sun, and his presence is calming, like a gentle forest stream.
I think I may love him, but I don't know for sure.
Lavi had to keep from gaping at the pages, not wanting to alert Link that he'd found something interesting. He bit his lip and kept reading, hoping to glean more information from the entries. It took him longer than he wanted to complete translations in his head, but he didn't dare write them down. Lavi doubted anyone else could read the journal besides Bookman or himself, and the redhead wanted to keep it that way.
This was the best lead he'd found in weeks. The journal was filled with entries, and Lavi knew he couldn't possibly translate the whole book before he left, not with Link hovering over his every move. He wasn't sure if the answer Allen needed was in the journal or not, but it was better than nothing.
Setting the journal aside as if it were just another book, Lavi grabbed a different book and began going over the text. If there were any other helpful books in the library, he was determined to find them.
xXxXxXx
The morning Lavi had left, it had started raining. The chill of it crept into the stone rooms of the Black Order, and even with every fireplace stoked with wood and burning through the night, it didn't stop the slow, numbing cold from reaching Allen's bones and refusing to let go. The early summer weather was still cooler at night, but the storm had brought a bitingly cold wind with it, and it left everyone with icy hands and feet if they didn't keep bundled up.
Allen thought the cold had more to do with the loneliness he had felt since Lavi left. It had only been a couple days, but the redhead had left so abruptly, not even bothering to say goodbye, that it had hurt Allen more than he wanted to let on. There had been a hastily written letter left on his nightstand when he woke, detailing Lavi's reasons for leaving and an approximation of when he would return.
It didn't do anything for the aching in his heart.
Time seemed to move at a snail's pace while Lavi was in Xanitha searching for answers. Allen had tried to occupy his time, but nothing caught his attention. He had tried to read, but the words blurred on the pages. He had even subjected himself to sparring with Kanda during the day, but after receiving one too many bruises, he decided to abstain after that. The distraction wasn't worth the pain.
Finding himself at a loss for something to occupy his mind, Allen wandered the halls of the Order, aimlessly moving about and listening to hard rain against the windows and the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cold air. He walked around as if in a fog, too unfocused to think properly.
It wasn't until he heard familiar voices up ahead that Allen's mind began to clear. Curious, he followed the noises until he came upon a small sitting room. The far wall was lined with large windows, letting in what little light the day had to give. Around the room, braziers were lit, along with a roaring fire in the hearth, giving off a warm, welcoming glow.
As he crossed the threshold, he smiled at the scene in front of him. Miranda, Lenalee, and Timothy sat around a circular table, yarn and knitting needles strewn out on its surface. Each of them had a project in hand, at various degrees of completion. Lenalee looked up first, Miranda and Timothy too busy with what looked like a small square of knitted cloth.
"Allen, what brings you over this way? Last I heard you were training with Kanda." She set her work down, the purple fabric lined against the wooden needles a bright contrast to her black dress.
"I got a few too many bumps and bruises to keep up with him, I'm afraid," Allen said with a sigh, stopping as he reached the table. "What are you three up to?"
"Miranda's teaching us how to knit!" Timothy said, grinning as he pulled his own blue knit square from Miranda's hands. "Look what I already did!"
"Careful not to drop your stitches," Miranda warned, worry washing over her face as she winced at Timothy's less than gentle touch with his project.
Allen grinned as he inspected the knitting. "Very nice. What are you making?"
"Miranda has us making squares for a blanket," Lenalee added, picking up her needles once more and starting in on the next row of work. "She's got her own project, though."
"And what's that?"
Miranda waved off Allen's question. "Just a pair of baby socks. The squares will make a baby blanket, too. I figured it was a good idea, since Lenalee's expecting."
"It's really thoughtful, Miranda. You know you didn't have to do it," Lenalee added giving her a soft smile.
"Ah, don't be silly, Lenalee," Miranda replied. "It's my pleasure. Besides, you two are helping as well."
Lenalee turned back to Allen. "Did you want to try? It's not as hard as it looks, and we could use the extra hands."
The invitation left Allen's heart feeling lighter than it had in days. He needed something to occupy his time—who was he to deny the opportunity when it arose? Sitting down next to Lenalee in one of the empty chairs, he smiled. "I'd love to, but I'm afraid I don't know how to knit."
"Miranda taught us just today," Timothy said, his bright eyes focused on working the needles once more. The tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated on the work in front of him.
Lenalee nodded. "It's not too hard, really. We'll talk you through it. And if you mess up, Miranda can fix it easily."
"She's like a wizard! I don't know how she does it!" Timothy added, looking up from his work. "C'mon, Allen! You gotta try it! We need to make stuff for Lenalee's kid!"
Allen laughed and shook his head. "All right, you win. I'll give it a try. But you'll have to be patient with me."
"I don't think that'll be a problem," Lenalee added, reaching out to the supplies on the table. As she fished out a pair of matching needles for Allen, Miranda chose a soft, gray heather yarn for his square.
Allen watched, mesmerized by the way Miranda's hands moved with the yarn. She demonstrated to Allen how to cast the yarn on, her fingers making loops with the thread as the needle wound around it. He tried to keep up with her, but she moved so fast and made everything look so simple. He wondered if Timothy was right and she was a wizard.
He fumbled with the needles, blushing furiously as Miranda corrected him time and time again until he got the rhythm of it. Once the first stitches were cast on, she showed him how to knit, working the rows back and forth, keeping the tension on the thread loose. As Miranda explained and demonstrated the craft to Allen, he began to grasp it, at least a little, and slowly worked his way to knitting on his own. It only took half an hour for Miranda to explain everything, and once he started working, he felt as if he'd been doing this his whole life.
"This isn't so hard," he said, working the thread around the needles. Then he dropped a stitch and reality came crashing back. "Oh, no… Help."
"Don't pull the yarn or you'll lose more stitches," Miranda reprimanded him, moving back over to his side to help him fix the mess he'd made.
"Sorry, Miranda."
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, a smile on her face as she managed to loop the lost stitch back in place. Once it was fixed, she handed the project back to Allen. "If you three didn't help me, I'd never get these done in time."
"It takes so long just to get this little bit of fabric," Allen said, looking back down at his gray square, or rather—what would eventually be a square. Right then, it resembled a tiny scarf more than a square for a blanket.
"Yes, but when you finish, you know you've completed something. You made it out of nothing but yarn," Miranda said, sitting back down and picking up the tiny little sock on her needles. She smoothed the green fabric with her fingers to check the length, as she just started in on making the heel. "It's a good feeling."
"It's like magic," Timothy added, still diligently working on his square.
Lenalee laughed. "It kind of is."
Allen nodded in agreement as he started to knit once more. Even though his silver eyes were focused on the task in front of him, he could feel his companions' warm energy as they all worked together. A smile slipped onto his face as he kept knitting stitch after stitch. The slow, repetitive motion calmed his nerves, slowed his heart and mind. He felt more relaxed than he had in ages and the tension in his shoulders loosened up as he leaned back in the over-stuffed chair. With the soft sound of rain on the windows and wood cracking in the fire, Allen relaxed into the calming atmosphere.
Hours passed, and once it was time for supper, they checked their finished works. Miranda had managed to finish one sock, and knit half of the second. Timothy, Lenalee, and Allen had a total of eight blanket squares knit up and cast off, all in various colors. Allen couldn't see a rhyme or reason to the colors scheme, so he assumed she was using up leftover yarn—not a bad idea considering how much yarn would be needed for a blanket, even one for a baby.
"Nice work everyone," Miranda said, smiling as she looked at the squares littering the table. She picked up a few and ran her fingers over the soft fabric. "These will make a warm blanket, perfect for the baby."
Allen stretched his fingers, cracking his knuckles as he set the remaining yarn and his needles on the table. "Thanks, Miranda. I hope I didn't mess up the stitches too much."
Lenalee chuckled and nodded. "I feel the same. I don't know how well they will work."
Miranda shook her head at their negative attitudes. "All of these look perfect. You three did so well."
Timothy picked up one of the squares he had worked on and grin. "Yeah, I think they look great, too."
"I think we deserve a break now, don't you?" Miranda said as she stood up.
"Yeah, we don't want to miss supper. Allen's stomach might eat right through him," Lenalee joked, elbowing him lightly.
Allen sighed. "It hasn't even growled y—" Before he could even finish his sentence, his stomach grumbled as if in protest.
Timothy laughed, nearly falling back into his chair. "Wow, Allen. Everyone is right. Your stomach does have a mind of its own."
Blushing furiously, Allen stood up with the others. "It's not that bad." Even as he said it, his could feel his stomach gurgle again, churning angrily.
Timothy ran over and grabbed Allen's hand. "C'mon, let's go get some dinner before you die."
"I said it's not that bad!" Allen continued to plead. He let himself be dragged along with Timothy as Miranda and Lenalee followed behind the two, both women trying not to laugh.
xXxXxXx
The oil lamp had extinguished over an hour ago, and Lavi had waited patiently, staring at the ceiling as he listened to Link's breathing in the cot next to his. He bid his time until he was certain Link had fallen asleep. He wasn't sure if the blond could fake his sleep, but Lavi figured he had to sleep eventually. Since they were scheduled to leave in the morning, Lavi doubted that Louvelier's faithful watchdog would let them linger longer than necessary.
Moving silently, Lavi eased up from his cot to keep the flimsy mattress from squeaking. He padded along the stone floor on bare feet and headed to the desk. They had secured a small room in the living quarters for the library's scribes and curators. While the room was on the cramped side, it served their purposes for the duration of their stay.
The cold floor sapped the heat from Lavi's feet, threatening to numb his toes completely. He reached out in the darkness, using the scant moonlight filtering in through the windows to see by. There were a few books on the desk that he had brought back to their room. He felt the texts until he grabbed the right one, recognizing the frayed, worn edges of the journal. With deft hands, he slipped the journal deep into his traveling pack. Books weren't allowed to leave the library, but Lavi doubted they would notice this one's disappearance. Besides, he didn't have the time to translate it fully and it was the only book that seemed even remotely helpful to Allen. He needed to bring it back with him so he could translate it properly.
Once the book was hidden deep inside his pack, Lavi tip-toed back to his cot and laid down. His gaze moved over to the other bed, checking to make sure Link hadn't woken up. The blond hadn't moved, and his breathing seemed as even as it had been earlier. With a soft sigh, Lavi curled back up under the thin covers. Tomorrow they had a long ride back to the Black Order, and Lavi wanted to be alert for travel.
As he closed his eye and tried to fall back asleep, his mind drifted to thoughts of Allen. Even being gone two days seemed like an eternity. Lavi missed the warm feeling of someone else in his bed, the comforting weight against his side. Just one more night alone, and he could see Allen again.
Lavi hated how dependent on Allen's presence he had become, but that realization didn't diminish the empty ache in his chest.
xXxXxXx
Rain whipped around Allen, plastering his long hair to his face and hitting his skin hard enough to sting like the prick of a thousand needles. Lightning etched against a pitch black sky like electric veins, and the accompanying thunder shook the ground under his feet. Allen was numb from the cold rain, unable to feel his fingers as he tried to grip the slick rocks. His throat was sore from screaming, his voice lost among the din of the storm. The only warmth he had left in his body was from the tears pouring down his dirty cheeks. The fresh scar on his face ached, but he pressed on, climbing frantically up the mountain.
He knew he was getting closer when he could hear the roar echo overhead. The sound made the hair stand up on the back of his neck and sent a tremble of fear down his spine. He couldn't see in the dark, except for when the lightning struck, but he could hear the dragons' cries above the storm. A fresh wave of panic rose in Allen's chest and he pushed himself to keep climbing.
He had to hurry, had to reach the top before it was too late. Every movement left him aching from the wounds he had already sustained, but the cold helped to numb the pain—especially the torn flesh on his abdomen. Rain beat down so hard against him, he wasn't sure if he was soaked in water or blood at this point. Either way, he couldn't stop.
He had to keep climbing.
Allen's foot slipped on some loose gravel, and he fought to keep from falling any further. Clenching his teeth together, he dragged his sore, beaten body up once more and fought to regain the lost ground.
As Allen reached the mountain's peak, his eyes widened at the sight before him. Two dragons had fought, one white as freshly fallen snow, and the other blacker than the dark side of the moon. As lightning illuminated the patch of rocky earth, Allen's mouth opened in a soundless scream, the air stolen from his lungs.
The white dragon had lost the battle, neck snapped and body left broken and useless against the mountain top. The black dragon stood on top of the body, feasting on the slain dragon's corpse. The sound of bones breaking and flesh being torn from the body could be heard even over the cacophony of rain against the mountainside.
Tears poured over Allen's cheeks, mixing with the rain as he shook his head, collapsing against the rocky ground beneath him. As he stared at the horror, catching glimpses of the gruesome scene in front of him with each flash of lightning, he wept for the dead.
Allen managed to find the strength to stand. Even as he limped towards the dragons, his voice rang out strong. "Murderer! How could you?!"
The dragon ignored him, continuing to tear into the flesh of the white dragon. The slurping and crunching noises of bones and blood being devoured left Allen sick to his stomach.
"You killed your own brother and now you eat him like an animal!?" Allen screamed, the anger and sadness welling up in his chest. "How dare you?! And you call yourself the superior being?!"
The black dragon paused, turning to glare at Allen, its eyes glowing in the storm like two yellow gems. "A human like you could never understand."
Spite and revenge were the only things keeping Allen moving at that point. He closed the gap between him and the dragon, jaw set hard as his teeth ground together. "You're nothing but a monster."
The dragon growled in warning, and continued to eat.
"You'll never win this war now. You've killed Neah for nothing!" Allen shouted, pulling himself between the dragons. He stared up at the black dragon with a defiant glare. "You've already lost."
In an instant, Allen felt the pain around his midsection, teeth slicing into his body, shredding his flesh and organs in one clean bite. The air forced itself out of his lungs so he couldn't even scream in pain as he was tossed off the side of the mountain, his body tumbling over the rocks.
Then everything went black.
Allen screamed as he shot up out of bed, the sheets tangling in his limbs as he fought with them. He tumbled off the mattress and into a heap on the floor. His breath came in panicked gasps, his mind still stuck in the dream. It took awhile to realize where he was, that what he had seen wasn't real. Even that thought, however, was nothing more than a weak consolation.
His body ached as if he had really been injured. He lit his bedroom lamp and stripped down to his underwear to check over his body. No cuts or bruises were there that hadn't been the day before, and certainly not the life-ending ones he'd sustained in the dream.
Cold sweat dripped down his neck, and Allen shivered against the chill of the night air. One look at the window showed him that the rain hadn't ended, but the storm had become worse over the course of the night. Lighting struck in the distance, and Allen watched it skitter across the sky as it had in his dream.
It felt so real, like he had been there—climbing the mountain, shouting at the dragon, dying… It was too much. Forgetting about his clothes, Allen grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it tightly around him as he paced back and forth in his room. He couldn't sit still, couldn't control his thoughts.
He hadn't had this dream before, and it was considerably more disturbing than his recurring nightmare. It almost felt like a memory—almost. But nothing like that had ever happened to him, not that he could recall. And considering how the nightmare had ended… With a sigh, he sat on the edge of his bed, pulling up his frozen feet and tucking them under the blankets to warm them.
He wanted to talk to Lavi. The redhead was the only one that he could trust, but Lavi wouldn't be back for a while yet. The sun hadn't even come up yet, and he knew Lavi would be gone at least half the day.
With a sigh, Allen flopped back on the bed and tried to sleep. However, every time he closed his eyes, the dream played over and over again in his mind. He couldn't stop it, couldn't clear his head of the awful images.
Allen pulled the blankets tighter around his body and groaned. A few more hours—he could make it a few more hours.
xXxXxXx
The rain had soaked through Lavi's cloak by the time they reached the walls of the Black Order. One lonely sentry had let him and Link inside the main compound, and they hurried to return their horses to the stable. Lavi rushed through untying his bags and left his horse in the care of the stablehand.
Link had barely dismounted his horse as Lavi was already halfway out the door. He gave the redhead a sour look before speaking. "Where are you rushing off to?"
Lavi chuckled, and turned on his heel. "As much as I've enjoyed our time together, Howie, I'm afraid I have a previous engagement." Leaving the blond to scowl after him, Lavi rushed out of the stable and into the main building.
Lavi felt the ice cold rain water dripping down the back of his neck, his hair and clothes drenched from the downpour. They should have waited until the storm passed, but Lavi was too anxious to get home, and even if he had wanted to stay in Xanitha longer, Link wouldn't have allowed it. He doubted the blond would've waited another day even if it were raining fire and brimstone.
He smiled at the few people in the halls who greeted him, feeling the strain of it on his cheeks. Lavi excused his rushed pace as simply a desire to get out of his wet clothes and get a hot shower, but deep down, he knew why he hurried as fast as he did.
Allen…
As much as he wanted to run straight to his friend's room to find him, he knew it would look too suspicious if he did so. Instead, he tried to keep his steps even and headed to his own room for a change of clothes.
When he entered, he wasn't too surprised to see Bookman at one of the desks near the window. He had a lamp lit against the gloom of the day, and no less than five books opened to various pages.
"Lavi," Bookman greeted, his black rimmed eyes not looking up from the task.
"Hey, Old Man," he shot back, not paying much attention to his master. He hung up his sopping wet cloak and kicked off his drenched shoes.
Bookman finally turned, leveling a stony gaze at his apprentice. "Where have you been?"
Lavi kept his face neutral. "I left you a note, didn't I? I went to Xanitha for a few days to check out the library. I wanted to do some research." It was the truth, or at least part of it. He continued to fuss with his clothes and pulled his pack open, anything to not look Bookman in the eye.
"And exactly what research were you doing? Nothing I asked you to do," Bookman retorted, his voice gruff as usual. "In fact, you haven't completed any tasks I've given you in over a week now."
"I'll get to them," Lavi grumbled, trying to keep his heart from racing in his chest. "I ran out of resources at the Order's library—I needed a bigger collection to look through."
"And you have yet to tell me what exactly you were looking for."
If there was one thing Lavi knew how to do, it was lie. There was an art to lying—to making it seem more believable than not. He had years of practice, learning most of what he knew from Bookman himself. The trick was to keep his lies as close to the truth as he could. If he wasn't technically lying, the believability came easier.
Turning, Lavi let out an exhausted sigh, trying to come off as annoyed as possible. "I was researching more information on dragons. I figured it would help if we were attacked again, seeing as how it's happened twice already." He brushed the damp strands of hair out of his face. "I'm not excited about getting caught with my pants down again, and I don't fancy being turned into dragon chow. Two close calls are already two too many."
Bookman scrutinized the redhead, and Lavi could tell that he didn't quite believe him, but had nothing else to go on. Relieved, Lavi went to grab some dry clothes, when Bookman's next words sent a chill of ice in his veins.
"I've noticed you've been keeping company with Allen Walker."
Lavi had to force the shock away from his face before Bookman could see it. "What of it? You told me to keep an eye on him, right? And I only have the one, so—"
"Don't sass me, boy. I know what I said." Bookman glared at him, and Lavi held his aloof demeanor. "And you know my meaning. You look to be getting a little too close to him."
The redhead frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not too close," he insisted. "Lavi is close to Allen. I am not. There's a difference."
Bookman's icy glare held firm, and Lavi felt his resolve begin to crumble. "You'd best remember the difference, Junior. We're not here to make friends; We're here to observe and record. Nothing more. Bookmen don't—"
"I know, Old Panda," Lavi snapped, finally losing his temper. "I've heard it a thousand times already. Bookmen must be impartial. Bookmen do not have attachments. People are just ink on paper, history to record. I'm well aware of the rules."
Bookman sighed, not bothering to hide the frustration in his voice. He rubbed at his temples, as if simply talking with his apprentice gave him a headache. "Lavi, you have been here at the Black Order for nearly three years now. That's the longest time you've held onto a persona before. I'm warning you to watch yourself. When we move on and you have to discard Lavi for your fiftieth persona, it may not be as easy as the others. Keep that in mind, or you may not be able to let forty-nine go."
Lavi's mouth went dry at his words. Still, he managed a reply. "I got it under control. Don't worry so much—your hair will fall out."
Having had enough of the smart comments, Bookman smacked Lavi in the back of the head. Lavi cried out, clutching his head in pain as he glared back at the old man. "Then get your damn work done. I want all of the projects I gave you to be finished before tomorrow."
Lavi huffed and spared a quick look at his travel bag. "Can I take a damn bath first, or is that too much to ask after I've been riding in the rain all day?"
"I don't care what you do, as long as you get that work done." Bookman returned to his seat at the desk, ignoring his apprentice.
Grumbling to himself and still rubbing his sore head, Lavi turned and gathered the clean clothes he had picked out to change into. Kneeling down, he reached into the pack, subtly grabbing the journal and slipping it between his clothes. When he stood back up and glanced back at Bookman, it looked as if he hadn't noticed the sleight of hand. Without another word, he left the room and headed down the hall.
Still numb from Bookman's words, Lavi hurried down the halls, heedless of who saw him as frazzled as he was. He clutched the clothes and hidden journal tight to his chest as he hurried towards Allen's room. He counted his blessings that no one questioned why he was headed in the opposite direction as the baths.
When he reached Allen's room, he knocked hard and quick on the door, nearly catching a splinter in his knuckle from the wood. It took a moment, but when the door opened and he saw Allen's face, Lavi could feel the relief flooding him.
"You're back," Allen said, his face lighting up as he looked over the redhead.
Lavi couldn't keep the smile from his face, even with Bookman's warnings still floating in the back of his mind. "Can I come in?"
Allen laughed and opened the door wider, letting Lavi pass through before closing it behind him. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." He continued to smile as he watched Lavi. "I didn't think you'd be back this early in the day. It's only a few hours past noon."
"Well, if nothing else, Link is efficient. He kept a rather tight schedule," Lavi explained, still clutching his clothes tight to his chest. A lump grew in his throat as he looked at Allen's expectant face. "I, uh… I think I found something that might help you."
Allen's eyes widened, and he took a step closer. "Really? You did?" he asked, as if he didn't quite believe the words and needed them repeated.
Lavi unwrapped the journal, ditching his clean clothes on Allen's bed. He held the delicate book with both hands, presenting it to Allen. "I'm not positive yet. I haven't had a chance to properly translate it, and I didn't want Louvelier's watchdog catching me making a copy either."
"You stole this?" Allen asked, opening up the cover and looking at the pages.
"Borrowed indefinitely," Lavi corrected, a smirk slipping onto his face.
Allen chuckled, but kept his eyes on the pages. "I can't read it."
"It's in old Haalan," Lavi explained. "I know the language and can translate it for you. From what I've read so far, it's the journal of a man who had befriended a dragon."
His words brought Allen's silver gaze back to Lavi's. "What? That's… I've never heard of such a thing…"
"Nor have I. But I need to translate the whole text before I know if it's really any help to you."
Allen nodded, his fingers gently running over the old, brittle pages. "Lavi… Thank you so much. I honestly didn't think you could find anything."
Lavi grinned. "What? You don't trust me, Al?"
"No, I do. I just didn't believe that…" Allen shook his head, not bothering to finish his sentence. "Never mind. I'm glad that you're back."
The tone in Allen's voice made his heart melt in his chest, like butter on a hot skillet. It was wistful, melancholy—happy and sad at the same time. Lavi had to take a moment to clear his head before speaking, not trusting his heart to keep quiet. There were more important things that needed to be dealt with. "I need you to hide the journal, Al. Don't let anyone see it. We can't risk having to explain the journal and why we have it. I don't want any suspicion to fall on you. I'd keep it myself, but Bookman is already wary of why I had left."
Allen tucked the journal deep into his desk, doubting anyone would think twice about it being there. "Do you think he knows?"
"He knows something is going on, but he's not sure what yet," Lavi explained, still trying to erase his master's earlier words from his mind. "I would translate the journal now, but he demanded I do some work for him, and I need it done by tomorrow."
"Mm," Allen mumbled, his eyes still on the desk drawer where he tucked the journal away. "And you'll be busy all night, I assume?"
Lavi sighed. "Yeah."
Allen turned his gaze back to Lavi and moved closer to him. "I understand. I've waited this long, another day or two won't kill me."
Even though his words were calm, Lavi heard the sadness in them. He reached out, grabbing Allen's shoulders and pulling him closer. His hands were still clammy from being out in the rain, but they warmed as soon as they touched Allen. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Lavi could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"I'll do my best to hurry."
"Don't rush on my account," Allen insisted.
"Who said it was for your benefit?" Lavi asked, a mischievous grin on his face. "Maybe I'm just itching to get you alone with me?"
Allen managed a grin to match the redhead. "If you haven't noticed, we're alone right now."
"So we are…" Lavi replied before leaning in to capture Allen's lips with his own. As soon as his chilled lips met Allen's, he felt heat rush through his body. His hands slid over Allen's arms, snaking down to his hips to pull their bodies flush against each other. Allen's hands wound up around his neck, twisting into the damp, red strands.
Lavi moaned softly into the kiss, deepening it as he eased his tongue into Allen's mouth. Lavi felt him comply, the hands in his hair tugging with a gentle insistence. They continued to kiss, the rain still tapping against the window pane.
Allen was the first to pull away, only to tuck his head against Lavi's chest. He sighed, closing his eyes. "I missed you," he mumbled, voice soft as he continued to cling to the redhead.
Lavi swallowed, letting himself drown in the emotions fluttering in his stomach. "I missed you, too." He reached up to run his hand through Allen's hair, then leaned in to bury his nose in the white strands.
"Lavi?" Allen asked, his voice hesitant. He still had his face pressed up against Lavi's chest. "Will you be working in the library?"
"That's the plan."
"…Would it be all right if I stay there with you tonight?"
Lavi tilted his head, trying to see Allen's face. "Why's that? Wouldn't you rather sleep in your bed? It's more comfortable than that lumpy couch in the library."
"I can't sleep, anyway," Allen admitted, finally pulling away to look back up into Lavi's face. "Please?"
Too close… Lavi's mind warned him. He wasn't sure how it happened, but Allen's presence had become something he needed now. He craved being by his side, like an addict craved their next fix. Two days away should have been nothing to Lavi, but the entire time he had been gone, he could think of nothing but Allen.
Maybe Bookman was right—he was too close to this persona. Lavi was now less like a mask and more like him. This had never happened before, not once in all his years training as Bookman's apprentice.
Why? Why did Allen Walker have to be special?
Even with the doubts swirling in his head, Lavi smiled. How could he not smile back at Allen's beautiful, scarred face? He couldn't say no, couldn't deny him. Lavi doubted that he would deny Allen anything if he asked for it.
"Yeah, it's all right. You can stay with me," Lavi answered, cupping his hands over Allen's cheeks as he went in for another kiss.
Much too close…