Six weeks into the term, the academy's usual noise took on a different, more frantic quality, the particular collective dread of several hundred students realizing, more or less simultaneously, that examinations were considerably closer than any of them had been mentally prepared for.
BRR: I've organized my notes by subject, then by sub-topic, then chronologically within each sub-topic. I finished my review three days ago. I'm currently on my second pass.
FNN: I HATE YOU.
BRR: You could have started earlier.
FNN: I DID START EARLIER, BRIAR, I STARTED YESTERDAY, WHICH IS TECHNICALLY EARLIER THAN TODAY.
They had claimed a corner of the library's common study room, the whole group gradually accumulating around a single long table over the course of the afternoon, and Arthur, surrounded by an increasingly chaotic sprawl of open books and half-finished notes, found himself watching his friends' collective approach to academic panic with the particular fascinated horror of someone witnessing several distinct disasters unfold simultaneously. Finn had surrounded himself with a fortress of texts, most of them open to random pages, occasionally slapping one closed and grabbing another with the particular manic energy of someone who had decided that touching more books faster equaled more effective studying.
MRA: You're not actually reading any of those.
FNN: I'M ABSORBING THEM.
MRA: That's not how absorption works.
FNN: IT IS IF YOU BELIEVE HARD ENOUGH.
Mira, by contrast, sat in near total stillness, a single volume open before her, working through it with the particular unbroken concentration of someone who found genuine peace in focused, solitary study, her earlier shyness entirely absent, replaced by something quiet and confident that Arthur hadn't seen from her before.
TLN: You're very good at this.
He'd settled beside her at some point without much fanfare, and Mira, glancing up briefly, offered the smallest possible smile before returning to her notes.
MRA: I like knowing things properly. It's easier than knowing people.
TLN: That's fair.
He said it warmly, without any apparent offense at the implied comparison, and returned to his own considerably less organized notes with the particular contentment of someone perfectly happy simply existing in the same quiet orbit as her. Across the table, Yseult had adopted an approach entirely her own.
YSE: The third principle of transmutation states that essence cannot be created, only redirected from its original expression.
She said it aloud, slowly, her fingers tracing absently along her own lower lip as she considered the phrase, a small furrow of concentration between her brows, and Arthur, glancing up from his own notes without particular intent, found himself, for reasons he could not immediately explain, entirely unable to look away.
YSE: Redirected. From its original. Expression.
She repeated the phrase again, softer this time, worrying at her lip with her thumb, her eyes half-lidded with the particular focused intensity of someone working through a difficult concept, and Arthur, still staring, became distantly aware that his pen had stopped moving several sentences ago.
BRR: Arthur.
ART: Mm.
BRR: Arthur, you've gone still.
ART: Have I.
FNN: HE'S STARING AGAIN.
Yseult, apparently entirely unaware of the effect she was producing, continued murmuring her way through the transmutation principles, occasionally pausing to bite gently at the end of her pen, her expression the whole time one of pure, unselfconscious academic focus, and Arthur, several seats down, found himself in the exact same paralyzed state as before, his own notes entirely forgotten.
BRR: Oh no. She's doing it again.
MRA: Doing what?
BRR: Watch.
Briar gestured subtly toward Finn, who had, without anyone noticing the transition, also gone entirely still, his fortress of books abandoned mid-panic, his eyes fixed on Yseult with the exact same glazed, unblinking expression as Arthur's.
FNN: ...redirected from its original expression...
He murmured it back, apparently having absorbed the phrase through pure osmosis without processing a word of its actual meaning, his gaze not once leaving Yseult, and Briar, watching both of them with open, delighted horror, turned to Mira with the particular urgency of someone documenting a genuine phenomenon.
BRR: It's like looking directly at something you shouldn't. Like a very attractive form of Medusa. Anyone who makes prolonged eye contact just sort of... Stops functioning.
MRA: That seems like an exaggeration.
BRR: Look at them, Mira. LOOK at them.
Mira looked. Both Arthur and Finn sat frozen, pens abandoned, mouths slightly parted, their entire attention consumed by Yseult's continued, oblivious murmuring, and even Talon, glancing over out of simple curiosity, found his own gaze snagging for a dangerous half second before he deliberately wrenched it away with visible effort.
TLN: I see what you mean.
BRR: RIGHT?
Yseult, finishing her review of the transmutation principles at last, looked up, blinking, and found four separate people watching her with varying degrees of paralysis, and her expression shifted into open, delighted confusion.
YSE: What?
Nobody answered immediately.
YSE: Why is everyone staring at me?
BRR: No reason.
FNN: NO REASON AT ALL.
ART: I was just. Reviewing my notes. In your direction.
YSE: That's an odd way to review notes.
She studied the four of them for a moment longer, clearly suspicious but apparently deciding, in the end, that the mystery wasn't worth further investigation, and returned to her own materials, resuming her habit of murmuring theory aloud while absently tracing her lower lip, entirely unaware that she had, within seconds, claimed two more victims, Arthur going rigid again immediately, Finn's pen dropping from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Elsie, who had been quietly and productively working through her own notes at the table's far end for the entirety of this unfolding disaster, finally looked up.
ELS: Is he doing the staring thing again?
BRR: They're both doing the staring thing.
ELS: Of course they are.
She said it with the particular long-suffering patience of someone who had watched this exact phenomenon occur several times now and had entirely stopped being surprised by it, and returned to her own work without further comment, though Arthur, had he been capable of noticing anything beyond Yseult's continued murmuring, might have caught the small, private smile she wore while doing so. The exams themselves, when they finally arrived three days later, proved considerably less dramatic than the studying that preceded them. Briar finished early, calm and thorough throughout. Mira's results, when eventually posted, sat comfortably near the top of the entire cohort, her quiet focus translating precisely into exactly the outcome her discipline suggested it would. Finn, despite his chaotic preparation, scraped through with results that seemed to genuinely surprise even him, and Yseult's Alchemy marks were, unsurprisingly, flawless, delivered with the same easy, unbothered confidence she brought to everything else.
Arthur's own results arrived mixed, strong in combat practicals and swordsmanship theory, considerably weaker in Soul Ability foundations, a subject that continued to feel, to him, like studying the rules of a game he had never once been permitted to play. Instructor Pratt, handing back his marked paper, paused a moment longer than strictly necessary.
PRT: Weak results, but not surprising ones, given the material. I'd encourage you not to take it personally.
ART: It's difficult not to.
PRT: I imagine it is.
She said nothing further, moving on to the next student, and Arthur, looking down at his own paper, found himself, not for the first time, wondering exactly how much she already understood about why the material sat so uncomfortably against everything he was. That evening, the whole group gathered again, exams finally behind them, the particular loose, relieved energy of shared survival settling over the table.
FNN: We should celebrate.
BRR: With what?
FNN: I don't know. Cake. Something with cake in it.
YSE: I fully support this plan.
ELS: Of course you do.
YSE: What's that supposed to mean?
ELS: Nothing. I simply think you'd support any plan that involves you continuing to exist as the center of attention.
YSE: That's rather harsh.
ELS: Is it inaccurate, though?
Yseult considered this with genuine thought, and then, apparently deciding the accusation held enough merit not to warrant defending, simply smiled.
YSE: No. Not particularly.
The group's laughter carried out into the evening, exams survived, another six weeks of Solmere behind them, and Arthur, sitting in the middle of it all, found the particular ordinary noise of friends who had made it through something together settling into him like something he was, by now, beginning to properly call his own.