Chapter 7: Enrapture

The walk back to her room left Seraphina too much to think about, and despite it being such a long trip, nowhere near enough time to process it all. Sorrell was right, as he often is. It didn't take much imagination to foresee Dusk fighting to free his love. As if she were a damsel in distress. Even with how thorough the psychic was in her handiwork. The excruciating details that defined her as a venomous serpent rather than a fair maiden.

And Dusk is naïve enough to ignore such a warning. Her brow furrowed as her worries consumed her. As the doors to Atlas Academy swung upon for her arrival, she stomped forward at a faster pace. Past the grand entrance, beyond the pillars lining the halls of the grand Academy. In the foyer before Headmaster Ironwood's office, she saw a familiar figure, tall and lean, with a childish grin, waiting outside the office doors.

Professor Vidal. Despite his reputation as a clown and his past as a general layabout, he remained a loyal subject of Lord Sorrell. Only an unrequited love stood in the way of his regular duties. And even those he performed with flying colors. Literally. A bouquet of flowers behind his back. A warm and eager smile gracing his face. Clean clothes, unstained by paint, for once.

The artist turned at the sound of Sera's clacking heels. He knew what she was capable of. Though they were never close, working under the same benefactor meant you familiarized yourself with all pawns. The tyranny Seraphina commanded and dominated with, the ruthlessness matched only by a bloodthirsty Viridian... Professor Vidal waved with the energy of an excitable child, smile never faltering.

The psychic pressed on, not once considering to respond to the awkward welcome. Once blinded by the illusion of love, men become enthralled by the yearning. Hesitation becomes courage, longing evolves into joy. And the desire to comfort and protect becomes unparalleled.

Dusk had grown more bold of late, to the point that his portrayal was that of valor. He was not himself these past few days. No longer jumpy, no longer shy. In the name of what is right, what would he do? By the voice in his heart, what would he do? For the sake of camaraderie, what would he do?

All questions lead to the same answer. And all answers lead to the soldier's demise. He did not know. He was not aware of the face of fear. And no matter how noble his aspirations, it could not compare to the avarice of a crime lord. The thresholds both are willing to break are worlds apart.

With a permanent scowl since the moment she stepped inside, Seraphina strode through the empty halls. This late at night, few should be out and about with study or practice. But she had a feeling that she no longer knew the adolescent she bewitched. No, that's a lie. She knew what she had turned him into. This was the result of her own hesitation and melancholy.

Lord Sorrell was right. This has all been a grave error. A stupid mistake brought on by these encumbering emotions. He would, no doubt, be awaiting her return. She could already sense his presence, opposite to those of her comrades. While they played at cards, he alone sat in her room.

Panicky thoughts and dreaded premonitions plagued her mind. She had no time remaining, and the barrage of anxiety never yielded. Sera glanced over at the other door, where playful commotion echoed through. Then, she entered her own room, where Dusk awaited her. She had dug her own grave. And now it was time to pay the price.

And for all the build up her brain accumulated over the past hour, she was at a loss for words. Dusk was seated on her bed, awaiting her return with loyalty. A notebook sprawled in one hand, a pen scribbling away in the other. A small pair of rectangular reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

He hadn't even glanced her way. With her words unable to escape, she could not describe how surprised, yet confused she was. Sera had anticipated even the worst of scenarios. But she not take into account that he would do nothing. Another minute passed by, in the eerie silence that lingered. The soldier finally looked up from his book for the briefest of moments, as if his focus never left his book.

Then, he gasped and dropped the book, tense and nervous. Like he had always been before. "Oh, h-hey. I wanted-About-No, no-" He stammered, as lost for words as she. Inhaling sharply, he smiled at her. "Hello." But even with his pleasant welcome, Sera felt all but pleased.

She dared not read his mind. Afraid of what she would find lurking within. A coward, as ever, she wanted to flee. But instead, she found her knees locked in place, her expression frozen. The psychic watched him retrieve his discarded book, before she finally ripped her gaze away. This was too soon. But nothing more could be done.

"So, uhhhhhhhh-" Dusk began, but found his own mind drawing a blank. Realizing himself the absurdity of his prolonged gawking, he fumbled with an attempt at conversation. "I hope you're doing well. And I guess I was also hoping I'm not intru-No, no, I'm definitely intruding. Sorry. But I needed, well, no, I wanted, rather, to discuss something of little importance."

Sera quietly breathed in, bracing herself. But aside from that, she did and said nothing at all. At the very least, she hid the displeasure written on her face. Dusk had continued to throw his hands around as he spoke, as if trying to physically grab his words.

"I don't mean to come off so awkward, but, given everything that's happened, I doubt there's a possible way to make this not off-putting. Wow, I have really been out of sorts. So, I know what this sounds like, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind coming to the Practice Range with me. I know this sounds like I want some privacy with you for... No, forget that last bit. Gracious, there really isn't any way to not make this sound odd.

"Anyway, bottom line, there was something I wanted you to help me with, and I kinda felt that it would be best if it was done now, rather than later or tomorrow, because now that I have it on my mind, I doubt I can get any sleep at all without Sylvia knocking my lights out." He sucked in an abundance of air, having wheezed out the very last syllables. "Though, thinking about it now, I have a feeling I won't be getting any sleep at all, simply due to the fact that once I get like this, it's impossible to stop."

"Like," Seraphina murmured, glancing away. "Get like what?"

"Inquisitive." The psychic shuddered at the word, yet the soldier remained ignorant to her dismay and rambled on. "I've been dying to divulge into this topic, I guess something I inherited from my father. You know, he was heavily invested in that kind of hobby as well. But, like, it's like an obsession.

"I know this is most definitely a bother, but I hope you don't mind me being a little selfish." He finished at last, patiently awaiting her answer. The psychic let out a forlorn sigh, bracing herself. She needed courage for what may come next. Do I even have a choice?

"As you wish." She replied.

(-)

Ahhh, Lily. The artist pondered, in a love induced daze. Sweet, precious Lily. She is gonna be so happy! To see me! And the flowers! And me! No longer able to contain himself, Professor Vidal burst through the door to Headmaster Ironwood's office. And there, radiant as ever, sat Lily Lavender.

"Please leave." She announced, before the lovesick artist could get his first word out.

"Lily, my love! So pleased you could grace me with your presence once again!" He declared.

"Please leave." Lily repeated.

"In fact, your beauty has me so enthralled, I feel cursed. I cannot look upon such majestic flowers as these without seeing your beautiful face enrapture my thoughts." He offered the expensive bouquet to her, leaving enough of a gap so Zafiro could further immortalize her enchanting image.

"Please leave. I'm rather busy." But the artist knew no consideration, all despite his dedication towards the secretary. He scanned the room itself, before his eyes fell upon the ornate vase occupying the table. With a swift motion, the flowers sprawled out from the opening, breathing more vibrant life into the otherwise featureless room.

Zafiro then saw fit to place the flowers onto the desk beside Lily. But he made sure it did not impede her work. He toyed with the varying petals and stems, until his masterpiece was done. The artist took several steps back, and held out his fingers, forming them into a box. The mere sight of Lily magnified by the accompanying flora was almost too much. It filled him with inspiration for his next painting.

"Ahhh..." He sighed with glee. "How the thought of enhancing your beauty seems impossible, yet I continue to be amazed time and again."

Lily sighed. She closed her eyes, plucking the glasses from her face and pinching the bridge of her nose. "What do you want, Professor Vidal?"

"Nothing less than a date, of course!" He chimed. He was most pleased with her direct approach. A small baggie was tossed his way, the contents dark and blurred from the motion. Upon closer inspection, it was still hard to identify what these brownish, spherical chunks might be. There was a label, with a nutrient table adjacent to that. Pitted Dates.

"Help yourself to as many as you'd like." Lily remarked, her work resuming not long after. At first, the artist was baffled and vexed. But, this was the first time she had ever given him a present. One that she had in preparation just for him. How thoughtful! With that thought, he popped one into his mouth.

And very nearly gagged on the putrid taste. After managing to swallow it despite the nauseous feeling in his stomach, he studied the bag further. The details on the back described an expiration date. Which had passed more than a year ago today. She tried to poison me. My first gift and she tries to feed me these... How magnanimous!

Cheery once more, he stuffed away the baggie, and watched her work, smile as wide as can be. Lily had been thinking about him for so long. She had this specially prepared for him for ages. Such generosity touched his heart. It was the thought that counts, after all.

And there he sat, gleeful and content. While the secretary continued her work unimpeded. Zafiro sat there, cross legged and gazing into those lustrous eyes. She looked up on occasion and frowned upon seeing him still sitting there. And yet, she made no comment or complaint about his presence.

And every so often, she would shoot a glance at the flowers beside her. The artist liked to think that, despite her screen hiding away her features, she was trying to hide a smile. It brought him peace of mind, and he wondered what he would do to show she is loved tomorrow.

(-)

"Remember," Dusk stated, his voice like a soft and gentle murmuring. "You may back out of this at any time. I'd hate to force you into a practice you don't want to do."

"I..." Sera found herself hesitating. "I'm not sure."

"That's all right. I understand if it's too private."

"No." She said, swallowing hard. His hungry eyes staring into her unnerved her. She never felt so vulnerable before. But she had to see it through. "Let's begin."

Dusk exhaled a relieved sigh. "Then please, reveal all you have to offer." A sharp clicking noise rang through the empty chamber, and the soldier readied his pen. His glasses glimmered with a sheen as the light bounced off the lenses. With his grip tightening with anticipation on his notebook, and his rear on the edge of his seat, he was ready to scribe.

"My Semblance is Telepathy." Seraphina began. "It allows me to study and recognize the surface and passive thoughts of those in my vicinity."

"Automatically?" The soldier demanded to know, the scratching of his pen on parchment loud and harsh.

"It can be. It's like eavesdropping, I guess. I can focus to pick up on someone's monologue with ease."

"Huh... Describe 'Surface thoughts'."

The psychic crossed her arms, a strained expression. She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing here anymore. True to Dusk's words, it was a request out of the blue. Though Sera's anxiety had been long forgotten, the discomfort remained. Perhaps it had grown since then. "Stuff like, what am I feeling, what I want to eat, what am I going to say."

"What about when someone is trying to hide a secret?" He asked.

"That is when it proves most useful. No one can truly hide a secret in their mind. The harder they try not to think about it, the easier it comes to mind."

"Like a lie detector. Interesting..."

"Actually... No, never mind."

"No, no, tell me everything." The way that last word hung in the air was standoffish and unsettling.

"Monica is the hardest to read." Seraphina admitted. "Well, read as in... You know what I mean. Someone absent minded is difficult to retain their thoughts. I suppose this means its the same for them." More jotting. Dusk was really getting his money's worth. The psychic found herself twiddling her thumbs, trying to take her mind off of all this.

"How much Aura does it drain?"

"Oh, hardly any at all."

"Truly?" He asked, looking up in disbelief.

Sera hesitated once again. "Y-yes. Only when I dive deep-"

"Oooo, yes." He exclaimed, writing faster and faster. "Continue."

"I'm not sure this is working out." She admitted, shuffling uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" He asked, lowering his book. She could peer at the contents. Line upon line of words, all trying to comprehend and explain her powers.

"This is-Are you sure this is all you needed?"

"Of course! This is a tremendous boon to my research!"

With her mouth hanging agape, she stared at the soldier in confusion. "And your research is... My Semblance?"

"Not just yours, though it is a fantastic stepping stone. Truly innovative. Most Semblances I know of manifest in a physical sense, like greater strength or speed, or even an unorthodox boon or resist-"

"Dusk." She stated her name loud and plain.

"Hmm?"

"What are you even doing?"

"Researching Aura." He showed her his notes and waved them about. "It's such an unusual component to the mortal shell. Grimm don't possess it, and it bolsters defenses and does wonders more. If we can get a better grip on it and how it functions, then-"

And on he went. Seraphina wasn't even sure about how to approach the babbling rant he exploded into. Even with her Semblance, he could tell that this was all he had on his mind. The sheer energy he focused into it as well was impressive.

"Are you... All right?" She finally asked.

"Hmm? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He posed the question as though the question itself was meaningless.

"But... What happened the other-"

"Yes, yes, I was there." He interrupted. "Oh. Not to sound insensitive or anything. I am thankful for it, though."

At this, Seraphina took a step back. "How can you be thankful for it? I did something horrible to you!" I broke your heart!

Dusk put down his book, pen, and glasses, and grabbed her hand. He tugged at her with such a gentle grip, she shuddered with guilt. But all he wished to do was to have her sit down. Her Semblance told her so. Her pesky, intrusive, disgusting Semblance.

Once they had both sat down, he crossed his arms and tilted his head. "It was an appropriate response."

"What?"

"Your rejection." That word, which he declared so easily, sounded frank and hollow. As if it meant as little as reading the word in a dictionary. "I'm pleased you accepted my invitation and followed through. It really took a heavy weight off of my mind. Hell, with your Semblance you could probably tell."

"Stop. Mentioning my Semblance." She could feel herself almost puke every time it came to mind.

"I'm... Sorry. I don't meant to be insensitive." He gave a sigh and folded his hands. "It was nice. Being enamored and in love. It had its highs and lows, but really, any answer you would give would set my mind at ease."

"What? How?"

"Well, there's no point embellishing on the details if you would say yes." He answered. That can't be all he feels about it. She searched and searched, from the surface of his mind to as far as she could reach in that tiny span of time. But it was true. He thought little of it. Barely more than a morsel of his brainpower.

"But, since you declined my proposal, it means I can focus on my studies again." The soldier finished.

"Just like that?!" Seraphina felt a little insulted now.

"No, of course not 'just like that'! It... It was hard, at first. Painful. There's no denying that. But, two important things came from that. The first is that I can move on. It was occupying all of my thoughts. You had captivated my mind. And I don't know if it was your... I wouldn't care, either way. But I'm pleased that the dreaded answer has come and gone.

"I'm... Sorry. I didn't think you would be under such duress from the entire ordeal. I guess I didn't give you enough credit. You're as human as I am. I'm glad I mattered enough to you that my reaction would weigh upon your mind like that."

His words seemed to shatter whatever negativity had caged her. Like a gentle wave washing away the grime, there was only peace. The tranquility that inhabited Dusk's mind seemed to replicate in hers. Not joy, nor satisfaction, but peace. Like the weight Dusk had described encumbering him before his confession, she felt that same weight that once transferred to her erode.

"And the next... No sense keeping it a secret." Dusk said with an embarrassed smile. "You had said the story isn't over yet. It made me think. There's always the future." The psychic snorted, covering her mouth. Her reaction made the soldier flush a brighter shade.

"I know. Optimism isn't in my nature. But logic is. And my logic dictates that there's always tomorrow. It can wait on the backburner while I focus on other things."

"And so, you continue on." She finished for him, already attuned with his line of thinking. Literally. "Life doesn't wait for anybody, why would it make a special case for you?"

"Exactly!" He answered with that smile like sunshine.

"You really are too good to be true."

"Thanks, I guess." He had opened his arms a little more, reaching for his notes again. "Was there... Anything else on your mind? I'm not psychic, you know."

Seraphina laughed. "What's S.O.T.S stand for?"

"The what?" Dusk looked down at the cover of his book. Those letters had been emblazoned on the cover in shoddy yet permanent penmanship. "Oh. That. Monica wrote it. After I... Interrogated her about her Semblance, she vandalized it with that. She says it means Secrets Of The Semblance."

"Of course she did." She ran her hand through her hair, an action to ease her nerves and comfort herself. Standing up, she strode to the combat area of the chamber. Though she had no idea how he thought her Semblance might work in combat, she nonetheless asked "Shall we resume?"