Thoughts

V stares at Uda with an expression void of concern, the weight of his ultimatum hanging in the air. "I don't care how much you hate nobles. Are you going to behave, or are you going to be sent back? Professor Ayla won't tolerate any misbehavior," he states, his sigh punctuating the seriousness of his inquiry. Uda, her glare shifting from Isabella to Aira and then back to V, concedes with a disdainful "Tsk, I get it." She then commands Talen, "Carry me to a room," a request he silently complies with, lifting her without a word and departing the scene.

V collapses back onto the couch, stretching out with a sense of relief now that the immediate crisis has been averted. 'I'll keep an eye on her. As long as she doesn't come into contact with any noble and important figures, she won't cause much trouble,' he muses, considering the implications of his own intervention.

Aira, observing V's handling of the situation, raises an eyebrow inquisitively. "Was that comment necessary?" she probes, challenging his earlier remark. V, unfazed, responds with a nonchalant yawn, "Who cares." His smirk belies a deeper amusement at her query, "What? Disappointed?" Aira, maintaining her composure, retorts with a measured "Slightly" before making her way to a door and exiting without another glance back, her departure leaving a quiet tension in its wake.

Aira settles into the comfort of a couch made from soft wool or some other unknown, plush fabric. The room, adorned with furniture supported by live plants, offers a serene escape. She stretches out, reveling in the satisfaction of a relieving pop from her back, a groan of contentment escaping her lips. "Mmmm... that felt good," she murmurs, rolling over to face the back of the couch.

Her thoughts swirl with frustration and intrigue centered on V. 'Why is he like this?' she ponders, her face buried in the soft fabric, her feet fluttering in a rhythm of mild annoyance. 'Why can't he be like every other man?' Her internal monologue deepens, reflecting on V's distinct departure from the norm.

'I'm constantly keeping tabs on everyone, and he is the only one I don't know what to do with,' she muses, her frustration evident. She meticulously goes over his daily routine in her mind: the pre-dawn training sessions on the track, his solitary workouts in the gym alongside Isadora, followed by his dedication to cooking breakfast. Then, he retreats to his dorm for hours, attends class, returns to cooking, and ends his day with more training. This strict regimen leaves no openings, no vulnerabilities for her to exploit. 'No matter who I send to track him, he always gets away in alleyways whenever he leaves the academy...'

Aira's thoughts betray her vexation and the challenge V presents. Unlike others within her sphere of influence, V remains an enigma, eluding her grasp both physically and figuratively. 'Just what am I supposed to do with him?' she laments, her strategies failing to cage a spirit as free and unpredictable as his. 'It would be great if he worked for me, but he has no intention, and he's shown that he's not afraid of royalty.'

Her contemplation turns to the problem of recruitment, of bending V's will to serve her purposes. Yet, he stands firm, unswayed by titles or power. 'How am I supposed to get him to work for me when he won't hear my offers...' she wonders, her feet ceasing their dance of frustration. With a resigned sigh, she rolls off the couch, faced with the daunting task of devising a new approach to a problem that refuses to be solved in conventional ways.

Aira stands up briskly, her movements precise and calculated. With a flick of her wrist, she tosses a crystal onto the table, which activates with a soft glow, expanding into a holographic screen that displays an array of potential allies. She casually opens her pouch to grab a salad, setting it beside her as the water for her tea begins to boil. Settling back down, she starts scrolling through the profiles, her attention snagging on one in particular. "Seraphina has the potential to be one of the strongest in our grade..." she muses aloud, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she examines the data she's painstakingly collected.

"Tsk... she's smart but naive. Getting her to work for me isn't hard, but..." Aira trails off, her brow furrowing in frustration. "Ugh... V won't let us near her. His shop is pretty decent, and her brother is working under him. It would be impossible to convince her without her asking V for advice." As she chews on her salad, a look of contemplation crosses her face. Why is he doing this? I understand if he doesn't want to get involved, but why would he go out of his way to keep us away? Is there something I'm missing?

She scrolls through the data on V, her irritation mounting. "His background information is normal, which annoys me. I know it's fake, but there's no way to prove it. He's shown he's not a threat and doesn't want to get involved with our problems." Pushing her salad away in dissatisfaction, she ponders the possibilities. "The most probable reason is him being a criminal; he knows how to lose trackers..."

Pacing around the room, Aira's mind races with strategies and contingencies. "This is frustrating. I really want him. I can't force him since he can walk over to Liam. I can't rush things; I have to find something, anything on him." She pauses, considering her options before dismissing Isabella's capability to influence V. "As much as I'd like Isabella to win him over, she's clearly incapable of dealing with him."

Decisively, she grabs her MST and makes a call, her voice firm and commanding. "I need you to look into everyone that goes in and out of V's shop." Without waiting for a response, she ends the call and sinks to the floor, beginning to meditate.

-

V gazes at Sera across the lounge, a decision heavy on his mind. With a determined sigh, he rises, swiftly pulling Lysandra into the nearest room, then beckons Sera with a firm "Come in." Inside, V surveys the elven room, noting its modest size with a hint of curiosity. 'So this is where I'll be staying this semester? Hmmm... the elven rooms are kinda small.' He throws Lysandra on a table, her attention fixed on the flame within her lantern, while V and Sera position themselves across from each other in the living area.

V leans back, exhaling deeply, the weight of the moment settling around them. Sera, enveloped in awkwardness, finally breaks the silence. "S-so why did you call me here?" In response, V lifts his hand, his black silk glove transforming into a dagger. He twirls it, letting the blade dance between his fingers, a deliberate display of control. "You know, I really don't like it when someone pretends to be someone else..." His voice trails off as he leans forward, the dagger's tip gently caressing her cheek. Sera's reaction is instantaneous—trembling, her eyes widening in fear.

V's next words cut deeper than any blade. "So tell me, why are you still pretending to be her when we're alone?" Sera's response is a stuttered denial, "I-I am Sera." But V, unconvinced, feigns an attack with the dagger, which morphs back into a glove just before contact. He leans back, a mix of frustration and resignation in his eyes. "You're not Sera. Sera isn't scared of me."

He probes further, seeking the truth hidden beneath the facade. "You're lucky she went out of her way to save you. Now you two have to share her body. So, what's your name?" Sera, conflicted and cornered, insists, "I-I'm Sera..." V, weary of the charade, presses on, his gaze piercing. "You're not Sera."

Defiance flickers in Sera's eyes as she claims her identity more forcefully, "I-I am." V, however, sets a boundary, his voice final. "You can go now, give Sera control. Sera will stay in control, and you'll come out when you're with me."

V rubs his head as Sera departs, contemplating his next move. 'I guess I'll have to try a different approach. For now, I should deal with the visitors waiting outside.' His gaze shifts to Lysandra, who clings to her lantern, an emblem of her isolation. 'I really don't like this... tsk, I can't have her blow this place up.' Approaching her, he offers a distraction, "Here, play with this for a while." A dark flame orb materializes in his hand, and he tosses it to her. "My flame is weird. If you don't want it to extinguish itself, feed it normal fire and it should be able to absorb it." Securing the room, he leaves Lysandra with the orb, hoping it will calm her.

Exiting the room, V finds the lounge occupied only by Isadora and Biana, the latter deep in slumber. Without ceremony, he lobs a coconut at Isadora, instructing, "Can you throw Biana in an empty room please." Isadora, unfazed by the task, drags Biana away, her expression indifferent as Biana's face brushes against the ground.

Standing before the main door, V braces himself, 'Okay, I just need to watch my words and I'll be fine, I've already left a good impression on them.' The door swings open to reveal not a crowd, but Lúthien alone, her presence marked by a serene glow. "Hello again," she greets, her smile warm. V, taken aback by the quietude, mutters, "Huh, I thought there'd be more..." Lúthien confirms, "Yeah... when I got here there were lots of students that wanted to meet you, but I shooed them all away." V smirks in gratitude, "Well thank you for that, Lúthien."

As they stroll, Lúthien addresses her earlier actions with humility, "Don't worry about it, it's the least I could do after I disrespected you. And please, call me Lú." V, acknowledging her gesture, responds, "Sure thing, Lú. Shouldn't you be resting? I've heard that lashes are painful..." Lú nods, her resilience shining through, "No, they are painful, but I refuse to rest on such a beautiful day."

They pause for a moment, and Lú's attention is drawn to a flower at their feet. As she gently touches it, the flower responds to her presence, blooming a vibrant purple. "This is the most responsive flowers have been around me... thanks to you, that is."

Lúthien stands gracefully, her smile broadening as she pushes back her hair, adjusting it meticulously. "Sorry, I'm sure you don't understand much as a human," she apologizes, her tone gentle yet hinting at deeper layers of her identity. V's gaze drifts to her ears, noting their elongated shape, a characteristic of elves known for their profound connection to nature. 'She does have longer ears than most elves. She possesses a higher affinity to nature than most, but to activate it, she needs to harmonize with nature. There are multiple methods, yet due to strict elven culture, it must be done with someone from her generation. Unfortunately, there aren't many with her level of affinity, and those who are demand marriage, which she despises.'

Caught in his observations, V is momentarily distracted until Lúthien's hand waving in front of his face snaps him back to reality. "Hello? Are you there?" she inquires, a hint of amusement in her voice. V shakes his head, clearing the cobwebs of thought. "Sorry, I got lost in thought," he admits, offering a brief smile.

Lúthien nods, a shared moment of understanding between them. "Happens to me all the time," she confesses before her expression grows more serious. "I won't ask how you know or how you're capable of using our martial arts. I'm sure the elders have talked to you." She clasps her hands together, her request sincere and urgent. "Please... please train with me. I don't expect you to understand, but I need to connect with nature, and right now you're the only one who can help me."

V nods, "No need to plead. I made an agreement with the elders to help you, as long as I get access to the first level of the library." Her sigh of relief is palpable, a weight lifted. "Thank you," she breathes, her gratitude sincere.

Her enthusiasm rekindled, Lúthien beams. "Now, I'll show you my specialized training room," she declares, her excitement infectious as she eagerly leads V away.