Everything I Touch
Chapter 1
Before the Break of Dawn
"Lelouch, it's almost time," She reminded him, "so quit dithering." She was quite the insistent woman, proud of her ability to prod him. "Unless you'd like to be integrated, that is." Lelouch internally bemoaned his fate. But, perhaps that was befitting; she wasn't lying when she said he was prone to melodrama. Not that he was so vain as he once was. Stretching his sight once more, for nostalgia's sake, he took in what he supposed would be the last glimpses of what had been their home world. He supposed he was still rather vain, he had lived here for so long, and yet he prioritized nostalgia over the growing risk his continued presence here was causing. Perhaps he had simply come to recognize it and, in so doing, learned when was the proper time to be a peacock. And, truth be told, now was not the time. He did wish to prevent integration.
With that thought, Lelouch turned to face his traveling companion, and more importantly, their destination. A vibrantly luminescent hole in the fabric of their reality, ironically located in the fabric of their bed sheets. That was surely something that had set off his temper; the verdant hole through the pattern clashed rudely with the motif he had had in mind when they last renovated. And now they had naught on but their bedthings, and they had to rush out into some random reality. And, he was rather certain that even those wouldn't carry with them into wherever this gateway was headed. With that thought, he came to the decision that they might as well test his hypothesis.
"You know, like as not, we'll exit stripped of what dignity these things offer," he said as he proffered his hand. She seemed rather nonplussed by this, replying with a flick to his forehead before she accepted his outstretched hand. They both knew what that meant, and so it was left unsaid. It was mutually understood that they had run out of shame long ago.
Without further need for communication, they stepped forward. With a small tug on his hand, she sunk into the portal and he quickly followed suit. He quickly came to the upsetting conclusion that this portal was in fact conjured, and not a true gateway—conjured portals required a short travel time whereas true gateways existed as holes in reality that could be stepped through. That would surely complicate things, as magic tended to be rather disconcerting; always changing reality and twisting the land. And drama! For some reason, nearly every memory he had read that included magic was twisted with more drama than the vapid women of the Aries Villa could gossip up.
Bursting him from his colourful imagining of geese in court dresses was the revelation that they had, in fact, arrived. And, that they were summoned well above the ground. Inexorably, this lead to a quick meeting with gravity. He landed on his feet, the Grey Witch in his arms. This is not a suggested course of action, as he fractured the bones in his legs in several places, twisted an ankle, and tore a few muscles in his shoulders. Such was the price of chivalry, he figured, as said Witch righted herself and settled to his side.
They seemed to have landed themselves in a thick cloud of debris, as he had to strain himself to see his companion. And even then, all he could make out of her were brief glimpses between the mild coughing and blinking one's body demanded in such an environ. A quick exploration of the other senses lead him to the conclusion that they were, as he had predicted, stark naked. He had expected this, though there was likely to be a reaction of some sort from the natives when the dust settled. They stood at aloof attention and schooled their features as the air began to clear.
Louise held her breath as she watched her spell explode yet again. Or, so she tried. The truth of the matter was that she had been trying to properly cast the Familiar Summoning Spell for nigh on an hour, and that it was taking a heavy toll on her petite body. The smoke and debris from all her failed attempts only compounded this. Her breathing was severely laboured, and she had to bend over to catch her wind. She staggered in her attempt to right herself, but was saved from further embarrassment when she succeeded in that small endeavor. She was willing to give it one more go, and she knew that her Professor was as well. Most of the crowd had dissipated as it dawned on them that she was unlikely to successfully conjure a familiar, but the few that had heeded the Professor's word were willing to watch once more as well. They had jeered and spouted derisive things that made Louise tremble with frustration, but now they were all deathly silent. It was a somber affair; never before had someone actually failed all the allotted attempts, and to fail someone whom they all regarded as the most fervent student in the school was thought provoking.
Louise dusted off her skirt and attempted to look dignified as she frantically searched her mind for one last chant. She had gone through as many rehashings of the aria as she could think up. In fact, this last attempt was nearly blasphemous—it referenced witchcraft and demon lore. She had long ago lost heart, and her peers had long ago lost interest. It was simply principle that held her up, a vehement desire to prove herself and just not fail.
One last tug at her uniform to properly righted her blouse, then a tug to fix her reddish blonde hair and she was done. She figured it was best to face failure with a façade of self-confidence, and perhaps that was her saving grace, for when she was preparing to cast what would surely be her last attempt at magic for so long as she lived, she became acutely aware of a blurred outline hidden in the smoke.
She cast several quick glances to her fellows—glances seemed to be one of the few things she could always cast—and lo, they seemed to have caught on as well. Surely this meant that she was not, indeed, hallucinating. The smoke dissipated further to reveal that one outline had become two. Two rather casually intimate outlines, if her limited court training held true.
When the shroud finally cleared, they were all treated to the sight of something none of them had expected. Not only had Louise the Zero summoned a familiar, she had summoned two! And when she had claimed that the familiar she brought forth would be the most beautiful, she had not been exaggerating. Before them stood two of the most beautiful people Louise had ever laid eyes upon, in all their natural glory. A woman with waist length vibrant green hair and bright yellow eyes stood next to a violet eyed brunet that could only be described as beautiful, in all it's feminine implications. He didn't quite tower over his companion, at only half a head taller, but it was immediately obvious that they stood as equals. A complimentary pair, they possessed not quite an air of black and white so much as two different shades of grey. Which was the darker grey was something she felt not even her mother could divine. They both boasted pale complexions, and their features were gentle like porcelain, though Louise did not look further than was decent. It was after reviewing this line of thought that she came to the startling realization that these mysterious newcomers were, in fact, nude. It seemed that she was not the first to realize this though, as, to her dismay, Guiche—the school's resident blue eyed blond pretty boy—was quite openly ogling the both of them, and Kirche—a brazen dark-skinned redhead whose impressive bust had a following—was attempting to discreetly remove her own clothing; no doubt to assault her new familiars!
"Ah! I did it, didn't I Professor? Professor Colbert? I've done it! These are to be my familiars?" she asked with a desperate look to her robed professor. If she had done just it, then Brimir be damned if she wasn't entitled to feeling the greatest high of her life! "Does this mean that I pass? That I can continue under the school's tutelage? Oh, for all that is Holy, let it be the truth! I don't believe that I can come up with another chant," she insisted. After all, even if she succeeded again, certainly she would collapse from the effort.
The Professor seemed to snap back to reality from wherever his mind had taken him. The balding wizard was well known as rather scatterbrained, and his flights of fancy tended to confound even the most patient of students. "Well, Miss Vallière," he began, "I believe you'll have to finish the contract before I can call this a pass." He seemed hopeful, so Louise let herself feel that her hope was not unfounded. If she could just form a contract with even one of these people, then she could avoid the fate of an early marriage. If there was one thing she disliked above all others, it was the thought of being a token wife in some loveless political marriage. The attentions of her professor snapped her out of her musings, "Miss Vallière? Do I need to remind you of the procedure? Or would you rather just ogle them with mister Gramont?"
"I—" she started, "I know what to do, and Guiche had best turn his lecherous gaze elsewhere!" Namely, she'd prefer if he kindly jumped into one of his magical mole's holes. "And Miss Zerbst will kindly replace her underthings from whence they came!" With those rather caustic remarks, Louise took her first steps towards what she hoped would be her new familiars. They were seemingly unfazed by what was occurring, and Louise found that much more unnerving than if they had shown some sign of distress. She wondered if perhaps she had accidentally summoned nobility from one of the neighboring countries; their carriage certainly seemed to point to such a conclusion. They were unflinching, and they seemed oddly amused by what would surely be a disturbing occasion to any commoner. Magic was not something the average laymen could witness without some outward sign of fear.
In a slight daze, she stopped at what was considered a respectful distance for greetings and began with a slight 'ahem'. "My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière," she addressed them politely, but not with any more respect than should be expected from someone of her station and lineage, and politeness seemed to be the best way to avoid displaying how flustered speaking to two completely bare strangers was making her. "I have, just now, performed the Springtime Familiar Summoning rite, and you, sir, madame, seem to have been the outcome. This begs the question: 'Have you answered my summons?'"
They stood motionless for the better half of a minute, and Louise began to wonder if they could understand her, but the silence seemed to convey that they were having a silent conversation somehow, and so Louise persevered. The young couple stepped forward and the man began, "Miss Vallière, we have—" he paused ever so slightly, and the woman to his side picked up where he left off, "—come upon your summoning." Their words seemed odd, as if they hadn't spoken in the longest of times, and so were unused to the feel of speaking. They seemed polite, although Louise couldn't shake the feeling that they were bemused by the whole situation. Regardless, she came here to seal the contract, but now she was left with the small conundrum of which one to seal it with first. Would she be able to form a contract with both? If not, which would make for a better familiar? It would be terribly embarrassing to kiss either of them, and she was loath to choose between them.
"Then the contract must be completed," Louise said, "so, would you please lean," she indicated to the ground between them, "forward a bit?" She decided that, if she must kiss someone, then let her first kiss be lost to a beautiful man. With such uncharacteristically amorous thoughts in mind, she closed her eyes, raised her wand, and began the final step as she prayed by all that was good that she would not have to attempt this spell more than once. "My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière. Pentagon of the Five Elemental Powers; bless this humble being, and make him my familiar." She leaned forward to meet this strange new man, and pressed her lips to meet someone else's for the first time in her life.
When she pulled away and opened her eyes, she was shocked to find that the couple was all that she could see. She seemed to be in some disturbing place that emitted this strange feeling of otherness. Surely this did not happen when one formed a familiar contract, these odd visions and the feeling of curiosity this place seemed to have in her were not natural. And then they vanished, replaced instead by what must be a witch of ancient magicks and her demon familiar. They spoke in unison, "It seems that you are in need," the words formed on their lips but came from elsewhere, "but that can be amended. Choose a contract that would reflect your need," the witch stepped forward, and Louise experienced visions of a life of adversity and sacrifice that culminated in respect and strength. "Or, perhaps you would prefer the contract that would reflect your desire," the demon stepped forward, once more aside the witch, and Louise saw in vivid detail a life of happiness and ease. She saw gifts and adoration and recognition; all the things she'd ever wanted, all she could possibly ever want. And then the visions of grandeur ended, and she was once more faced with the devilish couple, and now, a choice.
Louise had never had such a choice before, but she knew that to make a contract with such creatures was unnatural. It was unmoral, immoral, evil. It went against the foundations of her belief to sign such a tempting contract, for surely the unspoken price was her soul. "I will do no such thing. I choose to remain unfettered by contracts with such empty promises. In the name of the Founder Brimir, I demand you release me from this chaotic waste!"
And then, she opened her eyes again. It appeared that nothing had changed, she had just had one of the most terrifying visions ever described, and then nothing. Reality returned. She had apparently lost herself in the final magic of the sealing contract, as Professor Colbert recounted that she had kissed the young man, and then she had fallen unconscious. The young couple, who chose to withhold their names, had informed the teacher that the contract had been formed, and that she had apparently lost consciousness from casting so many spells in such a short period of time. So fatigue, that was it. She had a terrible vision caused by fatiguing her supply of willpower, that was comforting in an odd way. She could very well have died from such a condition, but at least those haunting visions weren't some wicked curse cast by a religious radical.
After mulling over this for some few seconds, Louise turned her senses outwards. She was in her room in the Academy, and all seemed well. Professor Colbert was standing at her bedside, but he was the only addition to the room—she was resting in bed, her armoire on the other wall; the door was to her left, past the table, and the night sky could be seen out the window to her right—nothing worrisome. "I will be fine, please give them my thanks when next you see them," she placated the worried teacher, he really was one of the nicest people at the Academy. He never gave up on her, and she regarded him as something of a silly uncle. But she was fine, and so she asked that he vacate a young lady's room, for his presence disturbed her rest. She felt a twinge of guilt at manipulating the man, but she truly was fine and she was sure that the doting wizard would forgive her.
She sighed as she sat up in bed, it was nighttime, yet she felt restless. How long had she been incognizant? She felt that she was the only one awake in the school, but knew that the staff would be preparing breakfast at this hour. She shuffled over to the window to watch the night sky and let her mind wander to the things that lead to her being here. She wondered what things the next day would hold. She wondered, and she soon lost herself in thought. Which was abruptly halted when she realized there was a person to either side of her. "And where did you two come from?" She wasn't too worried, the newcomers had shown no malice before, and now was not the time to panic, surrounded and without a wand as she was.
"Don't you recognize your own familiars, Mistress Vallière?" the man to her right groused. "Or perhaps if we disrobed, you'd remember?" They both seemed entirely unbothered by the idea, and it was so terribly. . . scandalous! Louise couldn't help but blush at the thought of her familiars doing such a thing, but found it difficult to verbalize.
"I—I think not," she attempted to word this carefully, but her embarrassment seemed to be bleeding through so obviously. "If you truly are my familiars, as you said, then I think it best if you don't cloud my mind with such thoughts as," well, as what? As them jumping out of the clothing they had mysteriously procured and pouncing on her with less than innocent intentions? She couldn't tell them that, but they needed an answer, "thoughts such as that." And of course they knew just what she had been thinking, because Louise was a terrible liar and her voice had been so thick, like she was some sort of pervert.
"You have questions. We might answer a few," this time it was the woman. Louise was beginning to wonder what to ask when the immediately obvious came to her.
"Your clothes, where did they come from? You aren't truly a student of the Academy, sir. And I've never seen a maid hold herself in such a manner, ma'am." A silly question, true, but it was something that Louise couldn't help but ask.
"Not a 'Who are you?' or why we accepted the summons?" The man seemed either a tad miffed, or he was enjoying this. Louise couldn't rightly tell, and it worried her. Her question had been rather rude, in hindsight. But surely they would forgive her such a minor insult.
"I—" she began to apologize.
"We stole them," was their resounding, at least to Louise, answer.
Well if that wasn't improper. They didn't seem the least bit worried that they'd be caught. They didn't care that they could be charged with impersonating staff and impersonating nobility? That was what the clothing signified, so they must understand.
"Well, then who are you two? I'm not familiar with the foreign nobility," which was to be expected; a token wife need not know much of politicking, and a successful Mage would have to learn such things from life experience. And as she was to be one or the other, she was never taught much of foreign politics.
"We are your familiars," the woman replied.
"Yes, certainly you already know this, Miss Louise?" the dark haired one offered. It appeared that her familiars had a sense of humor, but she was in no mood for such things.
"No, your names! Your families! You're nobility from elsewhere, correct? Gallia? You don't appear Germanian. Gallia, right?" Truly, they didn't deserve such a berating, Louise couldn't read anything from them, but surely they knew what her question had implied!
"Names? You may call me L.L., and this is my accomplice C.C.," he said. And then he said nothing more.
"And . . ." she trailed off.
"And that's all you get to know," the newly labeled C.C. said in such a thickly saccharine tone as to be painful, but it made their position on further questions of the matter completely clear. There would be no further answers on the topic, if any topic. This was aggravating to Louise, as she had hoped she had just made new political allies, but now she didn't even know if these people were simply merchants, or perhaps they came from some distant land across the Sahara.
"Could I at least call you L and C? If you're going to answer so cryptic—"
"No! I detest that man!" L.L. interrupted quite violently.
"—ally." L or C, one of them was apparently a figure that L.L. detested, and so she did not push the subject further. "You answered my summons, it seems, to confound me," she whispered. To her chagrin, that statement seemed to be holding true; she couldn't help but wonder why. After some few minutes of silent brooding, she decided to ask another question. "And . . . you'll promise to be my Familiars? To stay and be at my side?" Louise could tell that her tone wasn't far from begging, but she was not above begging in such situations.
There was a long period of time in which nothing was said after that. They stayed, and they all watched the stars. Louise couldn't shake the feeling that there was yet another silent conversation occurring between her Familiars, yet every time she checked to her sides C.C. and L.L. both seemed completely absorbed with stargazing. It was unsettling, but they stayed, and that was what was important.
"Dawn is just beyond the horizon," C.C. put forth gently. And it was, so Louise was left with the decision of what to do. She had plenty of time, and she hadn't bathed the day before. She nodded her goodbye and went to find the public bath. It was entirely empty, as young nobles rarely woke so early. It was quiet and the water wasn't kept nearly as warm as it would be if it was crowded, but it was peaceful and Louise was able to relax. She was able to make it to breakfast in time, though she hadn't much of an appetite, and so she chose to head back to her chambers. They were still there when she returned to her room, though they had shifted to watch the sunrise from the edge of the bed. The both of them struck a strange silhouette that contrasted with her normally empty room, but it was a contrast that she felt she'd grow accustomed to.
When finally it was time for classes to begin, she told them as much, though they seemed to already know before she started telling them. The Tristain Academy of Magic was a sprawling campus with several floors and a myriad of ways to traverse between any two given points, yet they knew the way. That was an oddity that she was starting to notice, they knew almost everything before she told it to them; they could not be surprised. But such a trivial matter, she decided, was not important in the face of recent events. And she hadn't the time to think about trivial matters when class would be joining soon. And after class, she'd have to do something about getting her new Familiars some appropriate clothing. It was entirely disconcerting, the way she, a second year student, was being followed by what appeared to be a third year student and a maid of the school.
When they finally did reach the class, her peers had already found seats, and it appeared that they were the last students to the small auditorium classroom. Not that that bothered Louise. She had no friends to speak of and disliked crowds, so it was some small comfort to be the last. If only she wasn't the last in application of the school's teachings as well. She'd expected cries of 'Zero' and 'just quit' when she entered. And that was what she got from those that left early the day before. None of those that had stayed as told joined in, which she found odd. But it wasn't so bad, at least they weren't participating; maybe she had earned some form of begrudging respect from them, she could only hope it was that. Then her Familiars entered behind her and a look of equal parts confusion and interest formed on all of the student's faces, even those that had stayed seemed piqued, though it was likely because of their choice of dress. She really would have to get that straightened out. The students soon seemed to lose interest in both her and her Familiars as they began gossiping and trying to figure out who these odd newcomers she had come across were. In the respite from their attentions, Louise shuffled to her seat, and because her Familiars' stations elsewhere alluded her, she could not deny them the courtesy of the adjoining seats.
As her familiars sat at the desk with her, the class once again took notice of them, their confusion more than evident. But now was not the time to bother them for answers, as the teacher promptly entered, and that ended all chatter. Louise recognized Professor Chevreuse, a slightly rotund woman with an easy smile—and, inexplicably her familiars recognized her as well. Perhaps they were older than they looked and had attended the Academy before? But then surely Professor Colbert wouldn't have had to ask for their names, they were not the type to be so easily forgotten. Then they had met her elsewhere? Unlikely, Professor Chevreuse was a minor noble that preferred teaching to travel. Come to think of it, she was probably offered the teaching job right out of the Academy. That was a new way to look at it; Miss Chevreuse may very well have not left the school since she began as a student in her teen years. Now looking at the Professor in a new light, Louise began to actually listen. ". . . joy seeing the new familiars that are summoned each spring." The Professor was a tad vain, but she wasn't unkind, so most students didn't mind. "Well, Miss Vallière," she was addressing not only Louise, but the entire class, it seemed, "You either picked up some new friends, or these are your new Familiars, as Mister Colbert described them." And that caused the class to erupt with—well—with something. It wasn't quite shock, perhaps a few had figured it out, but it wasn't the most disbelieving sound she'd ever heard either. It seemed that they didn't know what to think of someone having two Familiars, let alone two humans.
"Y—yes! They are what came out! I swear!" she was just a little defensive, nothing more. "They—" she paused to collect her thoughts, "This is L.L., and this is C.C.," she said as she gestured to her respective Familiars. "And they are in need of some proper apparel, as they are neither a student nor a handmaid. I'll have to send for some proper clothes from home, it seems." Louise cringed as she realized she was talking of things of little consequence.
"Yes, I thought as much, Miss Vallière," the teacher said as she made for the front of the room, leaving Louise to her thoughts.
"Now then, on with the lesson." She paused for effect, "My Runic name is 'Red Clay.' Chevreuse the Red Clay. This year, I will be teaching you all the magic of the Earth element. Does any one here know the four great elements? Mister Guiche perhaps?" She tended to favour those that shared her affinity for Earth Magic.
"Yes, Miss Chevreuse! They are Earth," he stressed that one, the self-important fop, "Fire, Water, and Wind."
"And combined with the now-lost element of 'Void,' there are five elements in total—as everyone should already know. Of the five elements, I believe Earth holds an extremely important position. This isn't just because my affinity is Earth, nor is it simply a personal preference." Well, if that wasn't such a blatant lie. Louise knew for a fact that most Mages like Professor Chevreuse believed in the unequivocal importance their element held in society. "The magic of Earth is very important magic that governs the creation of all matter. If it wasn't for Earth magic," and she paused again. Truly, Miss Chevreuse was pompous. "We wouldn't be able to produce or process necessary metals. Raising buildings from large boulders and harvesting crops would also involve much more work. In this manner, the magic of the Earth element is intimately related to everyone's life." And here her tone conveyed that it was the only element that was related to life.
It felt as though her Familiars had such an opinion as well, she felt as though there must be a silent conversation. That feeling was becoming annoying, and none of the other students seemed to have it—perhaps these were the latent effects of exhaustion. She certainly hoped so, at any rate; the alternative seemed to be that she was going mad. She slumped over her desk as she pondered this, momentarily ignoring the teacher as she went on about transmutation. Really, she was just reiterating basic theory, nothing major. They all knew how to turn pebbles into brass, though none of them could do it in practice as of yet. Louise figured that if she could get the spell right, she might turn them into flint or some such. But when the teacher asked for her to come up if 'She was going to ignore the lesson', she was terribly nervous. And it showed in her work; she transmuted the pebbles into an explosion. The rest of the class had been prepared, though. They had even tried to warn the teacher about her, though it sounded so much more like they were insulting her. Her Familiars were the only ones that stayed still, yet they seemed the least affected by the explosion—she was going to have to ask them how they did that. If they hadn't known about her success rate before, something she doubted, what with them knowing everything else, then they definitely knew now.
Louise was not to be daunted, though; she dusted herself off and held herself straight. A similar method had worked when she summoned her familiars, so hopefully it would work in this situation. If it did, Louise decided, then she would make this a routine. Her explosions were already routine anyways, so why not have a plan to deal with them? "Will someone please take Miss Chevreuse to a water Mage? She's been knocked out," that was Kirche, which was exceedingly odd. The voluptuous red haired girl should have taken this as another chance to tease her, but she was being helpful, if not quite amicable.
"Zerbst? What do you want? I don't need your pity." Because really, she may dust herself off and hold herself high, but she was thoroughly upset. She had hoped for some change, even a tiny bit of progress. After all, hadn't she succeeded in not one, but two spells yesterday? But no, nothing.
"Then please forgive me my pity, for it is yours," Kirche retorted. So it was that, she truly felt sorry for her? A Zerbst should never do such a thing, did she not understand proper decorum? Their houses had feuded for generations, now was an odd time to break tradition. "My Ardent passion is not so distinct from compassion, I will help you. Your failure may have been spectacular," she seemed oblivious to how rude that sounded, "but your success was undeniable. There must be something redeeming about you, and I intend to discover it!" So she was curious? Well Louise didn't wish to clean the room by herself, and her Familiars had mysteriously disappeared with the rest of the class.
"Fine, Zerbst. So be it. Just don't get in the way."
Professor Jean Colbert of the Tristain Academy of Magic, Colbert the Flame Serpent, or as the students called him when they believed he couldn't hear them, Colbert the Wandering, was considered by most to be a competent teacher. By some he was considered a silly old tinkerer; by a small few, he was a point of terror. But the same could be said for most people, and so he did not dwell on it. He instead on all of the things no one else seemed to take notice of; he knew his way through the school almost as if he designed it, he knew that the only place without stone walls was the servants quarters, and that there were exactly one hundred and eight thousand books in the annals. Though, sometimes Miss Longueville, the Headmaster's Secretary, consulted him on things about the school; she was an interesting woman, he was considering asking her to the upcoming Ball of Frigg. He was naturally curious, and that was why he found himself going off to investigate things when he could.
He was currently en route to Miss Chevreuse's class, as there had been a loud popping sound that usually accompanied the spells of his most interesting student, Miss Vallière. Not that all of her attempts exploded, sometimes nothing spectacular happened at all, which was oh so vexing. But that track of thought sputtered out when he was abruptly stopped by a large crowd of sooty students rushing down the hall from the direction he was headed. It appeared that his hunch had been correct. He found himself incapable of pushing against so many upset younger people, and when he finally escaped from the thinning crowd, he found that he was much farther from his destination than he had been earlier. Such was fate, he guessed; he was always finding things.
Taking a small second to reorient himself, he made to head back. He knew the school like he knew his element, and the time he'd been working with them was not so different: most of his life, really.
Such idle thoughts proved pointless, as he rudely walked into someone on his way there. Making to apologize, he stood up and offered his hand to none other than one of Miss Vallière's Familiars, the male one to be precise. The green haired woman had easily dodged him, he found, and let him bump into her companion. What an odd dynamic these two had with each other, it was truly flummoxing, but Colbert lived for the flummoxing, and so he enjoyed what little he'd talked with them. They'd come to him whilst Miss Vallière was unconscious, and the conversation had been ever so interesting. He felt that there was so much more to these two than could ever be guessed, and yet they gave nothing away whilst hinting at so much.
"Ah, all apologies, Mister L.L. I should pay more attention to my surroundings, I guess." Colbert was never much of an eloquent speaker, which he supposed made sense; most of the ideas he wished to discuss didn't have words for them yet, and so he'd made it a habit to be as direct as possible, to avoid confusion.
"Think nothing of it, Jean, L.L. should pay more attention to where he walks." That was just one of their oddities, they insisted on his first name. Everyone but his mother used his surname, so it really was jolting, he'd almost not recognized they were addressing him at first. And they seemed to constantly prod each other, even when there wasn't a word being said. That was fascinating, in a way, like all things.
"I'll consider that," he gave that a small 'hmm', everything about him tended to be inquisitive. "Now where was . . . Ah! I was just going to check on Miss Vallière, has something happened? It sounded like an explosion."
"Louise is . . . preoccupied," C.C.'s voice was full of innuendo, "with . . . Miss Zerbst," and L.L's tone implied the same. It was uncanny, the way these two spoke so fluidly as a unit. He'd love to ask them how they did—
"Whah . . . ?" It seemed he was even more inarticulate than usual, being flustered did that to a man. "You're not suggesting . . . ?"
"Suggesting what, Jean?" Colbert couldn't tell if L.L. was mocking him or not, these two were so unreadable, "They're busy." Well, now Colbert was uncertain if he wanted to know just what they were doing. In fact, he'd rather not risk it. If he caught something occurring, they'd have to be expelled, and he couldn't do that to his students. He decided that emergency diversionary tactics were in demand.
Colbert turned to walk with them, away from where he had been headed. "So, what's it like being Familiars? I take it Miss Vallière isn't too much trouble," he started; small talk would never be one of his strengths.
"Oh, it's not so bad, Jean. I believe she wanted to get us a proper wardrobe, though. Is this not flattering enough?" And yes, it was quite flattering indeed. The maid uniforms were supposed to be, they were the highest quality uniforms outside of the royal palace.
"Well . . . ah . . ." he sputtered. "Miss Vallière cares deeply for decorum," he mustered up. And that was such a poor answer, Colbert had meant to mention class separation taboos and impersonation laws, but they always seemed to twist his intentions and imply something that he hadn't thought of.
"I suppose you're right. Well, what's a Familiar to do? It's not like we—" and that's where Colbert jumped in, cutting her off in the hope of avoiding more embarrassing conversation. And now she was visibly miffed, but if he could avoid more insinuations, he didn't mind so much. Surely they'd forgive him if he asked.
"That's right! We've completely ignored the fact that you're Familiars! Human Familiars are unprecedented, what think you of that?" They didn't have any opinion on the matter, from the look, but Colbert was desperate to avoid their befuddling subjects, so he kept on. "Actually, there should be some type of Rune somewhere on each of you, if you're Familiars." He paused to take a look at them. "I can detect that you're her Familiars when you're near Miss Vallière, and yet I can't see the Rune marking." They seemed complacent to ignore him, or at least they were unwilling to answer that admittedly indirect question. "They aren't somewhere hidden somewhere . . . indecent, are they?"
He realized that he had just walked into something vile, and so waited for them to reproach him, and yet nothing did come. "No, Jean. They're right here," L.L. pointed to the back of his and C.C.'s left hand.
Another conundrum, it seemed. Colbert prided himself on always finding things, and yet when he spoke to these two, the only things he found were embarrassment and confusion. There were no obvious markings on either of their hands, in fact, he likened their skin to unmarred alabaster. Was there some secret to seeing it? He hadn't gotten a good look at them before they ran off and found clothes, so he had no clue if they were lying about it not being hidden under fabrics. But, confounding as they were, they seemed generally good-natured, and so he had to believe them. But that got him nowhere! Where were their Runes? If they were there, why couldn't he see them? Had they cast some strange magic on them? They seemed like nobles, so surely they knew magic. But Colbert didn't think such a spell existed that could bend light. Then . . . firstborn magic? That was unlikely, he'd never heard of a meeting with an elf that didn't lead to a violent confrontation in the elf's favour.
Whatever the answer was, he would not find it today it seemed, as whilst he had been preoccupied with his thoughts, they had arrived. Where they had arrived wasn't immediately obvious to him, but when he realized, he couldn't help but let out a small sound of surprise. How had they lead him here? How did they know the layout of the school so well, only being here for a day, that they could lead him back without turning around? "Miss Chevreuse's classroom? But aren't they in there? We wouldn't want to disturb them. Privacy is important, and-and-and a thing of beauty!" He was nearly reduced to incoherence at the thought of what could be going on behind those doors, and yet they just . . . walked in! Well, if they did that, certainly it must be safe. Unless they intended to join in, which he decided wouldn't be so terrible. If he walked in as they were disrobing, he might find out if there were any Runes on them without having to ask for them to strip for him.
"Thinking will solve nothing here," he muttered to himself as he stood before the door and prepared to enter.
Said door abruptly swung outwards.
"Oh, Professor Colbert, I'm ever so sorry!" Louis bolted down, "I didn't know you were there," she said as she cast a dark glance at C.C. and L.L., who had followed her out.
"It's fine, Miss Vallière. Today seems to be a day for getting knocked over," he replied with an apologetic look to her Familiars that she decided to ignore.
"Good, I was worried that today would be a day for knocking out teachers instead," she said. And then she realized what she'd just said.
"Professor Chevreuse?" was Professor Colbert's disappointed reply.
"Yes," she said quietly. "But it was an accident! And I'm really sorry, and we cleaned up the room!"
"We?" he paused. "You mean Miss Zerbst? That's what you were busy with in there?"
"Yes, I helped Louise pick up after her failed attempt at transmutation blew up in Professor Chevreuse's face!" Kirche cheerfully added as she exited into the hall. "She'll be fine, I had Tabitha take her to a Water Mage for healing." Louise wondered about Tabitha, she'd never actually spoken with the bookish girl, but Kirche seemed to be her only friend. Louise had been thinking of approaching her, but she was a bit too standoffish, and whenever she thought there was a chance, the girl pulled out a book.
"Is there something you need, Professor?" Louise asked; she didn't really know why the man would come all the way over here. He had seemed more relieved by what Kirche had said than the situation merited. Professor Colbert had never been particularly close with Professor Chevreuse—unless they were secret flames? Unlikely. Then another reason? Unlikely. The most likely answer, she decided, was that Professor Colbert was silly.
"No, I think not. If all is well, then I have no further reason to be here. Please go about your business," he said, his tone almost pleading. Had he something to do, and this was just an unwanted diversion from his schedule? He seemed almost too ready to go, almost flying down the halls. Actually, by the look of it, he was levitating between steps to extend his gait. Well that was odd. And that look he gave her Familiars before he left . . . Professor Colbert was such a silly man.
"Well, Zerbst," she turned to face Louise now that she was being addressed, she'd been staring at her Familiars, "thank you for assisting me, I take it your curiosity is sated?" Perhaps her tone was a bit too harsh, but Kirche had outright stated that she wasn't helping Louise out of altruism; so if Louise was a bit resentful, she felt it was justified.
"For the now, Louise," Kirche said as she tossed her hand in the air in a perfunctory farewell. Louise opened her mouth to reprimand her for referring to her so casually, but it really wasn't a battle that she felt was worth it. Too much had happened so far, and it was only midday. Her energy was best saved for other, more important, things that were likely to happen, such as shouting at people that teased her.
Louise stood idly by the door, now that her company had all fled. Her Familiars weren't truly company, so much as expected presences, though she wasn't actually used to them yet. But they weren't much for conversation, as far as could be told. So far, they'd mostly stayed in the background. The little she'd spoken to them seemed to reflect that they had some inordinately large pools of sage advice for people their age. So, they weren't truly company.
"Shall we go for lunch?" That seemed to capture their attention, maybe they were hungry. They were thin, but they looked healthy, if not muscle-clad.
"That would be delightful, Louise," L.L. answered. C.C. Seemed to glare at him, and then he put forward a question, "You wouldn't happen to know if pizza is on the menu, would you?" He let out an audible sigh, though at the word 'pizza', they both seemed to perk up. But Louise could only shake her head at their antics—and because she lacked that knowledge.
"I am unfamiliar with that dish, but I don't believe so, you may wish to check the kitchens some time." They made no indication that they would do as suggested though, so she just blew it off as one of their growing list of idiosyncrasies. "Another time, then," she added as they entered the dining hall.
The trio had just finished lunch, which had suffered from an acute pizza shortage, and they were now headed off to her chambers to retire for the evening. The meal had begun with thanks to the Queen and the Founder Brimir, understandable she supposed; the Queen was the leader of the county's autocracy, after all. Duly noted, however, was that they'd never met this Founder of the Brimiric faith. They'd certainly heard plenty of his name since coming here, though they'd never heard word of him from any of the few supernatural beings they'd spoken with. And neither she nor Lelouch had ever had any particular interest in religious texts or memories, those tended to be far too dogmatic for their tastes, so it wasn't unlikely that he was real. They'd have to question someone about it, she supposed. Lelouch wanted to speak to the staff, as they'd done after first meeting Jean, but she would rather just ask the readily available Mage they were bonded to.
Their 'Little Master', as they'd taken to calling her in private, was rather lax, it seemed. They'd been here for little more than a day, and already she'd given up on understanding them. That just wouldn't do, they'd decided, though they didn't plan on rectifying it quite yet. In the meanwhile, they could always entertain themselves with young-spirited Jean—he was a fun one, always asking questions. Some of his questions were a bit troublesome, but they could always twist that in their favour. Lelouch had actually proposed that the first one to get him to run away screaming would get bragging rights. And bragging rights are a huge deal when you live forever and neither of you can forget anything, as they can always be brought back up. C.C. usually won their verbal battles, as she had all the juice on Lelouch's childhood, but occasionally he came from nowhere and swept her off her feet with something particularly embarrassing.
Louise was an interesting child, she'd come right out and thrown their contract back at their faces, which had never occurred as a possibility to them. But the event left the poor child in shock, and so they'd had to knock her out to give her mind some time to rationalize what had happened to her. When Lelouch had proposed they accept the Familiar contract, she'd balked at the thought, but now she was coming to appreciate the choice—a point her Demon Emperor was currently lauding over her. The petite strawberry blonde had earned herself several points by simply remaining calm when they surprised her at the window; she seemed to have a basic understanding of proper behaviour regarding stressful situations, though they both agreed that that had been no fun and they would have to give her a proper fright.
All together, this world was proving to be an interesting change of pace; they hadn't left C's world in . . . what must have been millennia, not that they'd minded. The only real negative was the lack of pizza, but she was sure that that would be amended—after all, she'd infected Lelouch with her addiction, if to a much lesser degree. Well, and his name, that was a definite drawback. C.C. thought of herself as C.C., her name was reserved for special occasions, but Lelouch had to just go out and copy her. One of the most well read beings in existence, and he has to copy her naming convention; she'd yet to forgive him for that, and so he was hers to command, something she was relishing.
'Quiet, Witch. Thinking will solve nothing, leave it be.' Lelouch tended to get antsy whenever she thought about pizza, which she made note of and used to her advantage. After all, the way to stay a happy couple seemed to be to make each other as miserable as possible in all possible situations, and he tended to answer in kind, though he used his mind. He functioned under the belief that being able to beat her at chess invalidated much of her authority and reestablished status quo ante bellum; Total War of affections, as it were.
In response to his complaint, she simply ignored him and taunted him with one of those wan smiles she knew he liked. That was the end though, they'd broken even—for now—one of them would pick it back up at a more appropriate time. The group had reached Louise's room, and no doubt she would have questions to ask—after some fun, at least.
Louise had been brooding over her Familiars—apparently enough to draw a couple looks during dinner, if she went by what L.L. had told her on the short walk to her chamber. She was brimming with questions, many of them admittedly either banal or personal. But a few of them she felt she ought to know, such as if they were somehow capable of reading minds, what with all they knew before she could tell them. And what were their capabilities? What level of magic were they capable of? Or what were their elemental affiliations? She had many questions along these lines. Or she did, until she sat on her bed and looked at them.
L.L. had walked in with this placid look on his face, and yet he had this mischievous glint in his eyes. In the background it was no better; C.C. had the same glint to her eyes accompanied by a crooked half-grin, like she'd done something naughty. All she'd done was lock the door . . . She'd locked the door. Well this didn't look good. Maybe they really were mind-readers, and they knew what she'd thought last night! No, no, no! That shouldn't be right! Hopefully they wouldn't!
Louise couldn't help but go slack-jawed at the thought of what they were going to do to her, and then she was thinking about how they could probably hear what she was thinking, and then what they'd do with that knowledge, and-and-and it was such a vicious cycle! And she was so embarrassed, and her mind was so dirty! And now they were walking—no, sauntering over to her! Were they really going to seduce her? They'd only just met! They couldn't be so bold, could they? And yet, she'd kissed one of them! Had they mistaken that for something more?! And now they were crawling towards her, and she was shrinking back onto into her bed. But they just kept getting closer, and she'd never done such a thing before. But they were so beautiful . . . and if they insisted . . .
"P-p-p-please be gentle with me!" Louise finally squeaked out. "I-I've never d-d-done this b-before!" And she was so pitiful! But they just kept this slow crawl to either side of her! She was surrounded, and it was dark, and she didn't have any choice! They were just too much for her! And . . . And . . .
"Why, whatever would you mean, Lit-tle-Lou-ise?" C.C. whispered out.
And then she realized that she wasn't nearly as close as she'd thought. Her Familiars were seated on either edge of the bed, staring at her innocently, far too innocently, but the mischievous look was gone. Had she imagined it? She must have, she quickly decided. It was all in her head! Yes, that was it! "N-nothing," she managed to stutter out. She needed to reign in her imagination—but out of the hovel and into the gutter seemed to be the only way! "What are you d-doing in my bed!" she squealed.
"We're sleeping, Master. Is there anything else to do in a bed?" L.L. replied; again, too innocently. But she couldn't say that, and the last few minutes had left her drained, so she simply collapsed into her pillow and resolved to do something about the sleeping arrangements some other time.
ODD#I(e)/5,iii;69Cfn3178
AN:
Bedthings is a perfectly plausible word for the English language, and it simply came out as I was typing. It should be a rather self explanatory word, but if you were wondering, in this case, it was used as a term that encompassed both flannel pajamas and a négligée.
OBSOLETE: THE FOLLOWING IDEA HAS BEEN DROPPED
Noiret (pronounced something like nwahr-ay) is derived from French, which may have lead to some confusion. I found it some time ago in its feminine form 'noirette' (nwahr-et). I felt that it fit better than 'blacket', or 'raven haired', and that it maintained flow in this sentence. I'm likely to use verdette later, for the same reasons. I'm also considering coining 'fraisette' (frayz-et) to refer to Louise and family, fraise (frayz) being French being for strawberry. Feedback on your opinion of whether this is too cumbersome would be useful.
Also, there seems to be no way to indent. If it is indeed possible, It'd be nice if you could tell me how.
I am more than open to criticisms, please review. I've been trying to make it a habit of reviewing lately, please do the same for me.