Page 88 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

I'm currently reclined in my seat with practiced nonchalance, Gabriel's form comfortable and familiar after the transition through Mortimer's impressively efficient wards.

Despite appearing to pay minimal attention, I'm absorbing every word Professor Eternalis offers, though the subject matter —Elemental Blood Magic Theory— covers territory I've already explored through necessity rather than academic pursuit.

"The fundamental principle," Professor Eternalis emphasizes, chalk tapping against the board with precise rhythm that somehow enhances retention, "is that blood carries memory beyond mere genetic coding. Each droplet contains impressions of experiences, magical exposure, and inherent abilities that can be manipulated through proper formula application."

Her mismatched eyes —one blood-red, the other swirling violet— sweep across the classroom with penetrating assessment that makes several students shift uncomfortably.

When that gaze passes over me, I maintain a casual posture while offering a subtle nod of understanding that acknowledges her points without revealing just how intimately I understand these principles.

Necessity taught me blood magic basics long before formal education — survival required it when facing Darius and his coven when trying to portray good potential “wife” material.

Later, watching Atticus manipulate blood with casual mastery during our trial showed me how elementary my understanding remains despite practical application.

Mini Grim perches on my shoulder, his tiny skull-like visage currently engaged in what appears to be a deliberate staring contest with the student occupying the desk beside mine.

The shadow being occasionally shifts position, hollow eyes never breaking contact with my neighbor, who seems simultaneously fascinated and unnerved by the scrutiny.

This desk-mate has spent the entirety of our ninety-minute class alternating between staring at me and hastily looking away whenever I show signs of noticing.

Unlike the aggressive attention I typically receive from other students — suspicion or resentment from those who sense my hybrid nature despite Gabriel's convincing glamour — his attention carries a different quality. There's curiosity there, certainly, but also something like appreciation that makes maintaining my disinterested façade slightly more challenging than usual.

Professor Eternalis turns to the massive blackboard that spans the entire front wall, beginning to draw an elaborate circular pattern in chalk that glows with faint luminescence when applied to the enchanted surface.

The design appears to be a modified blood ritual containment circle, though certain elements suggest applications I haven't encountered before.

With her attention focused elsewhere, I take the opportunity to properly observe my persistent admirer.

He's slender, almost delicately built, though not in the aristocratic way that marks Fae nobility. There's something slightly off about his proportions — not unpleasant, merely unusual.

He seems thin to the point of concern, bones visible at wrists and collarbones despite the academy uniform being designed to flatter all body types.

The word "sickly" comes to mind, though he doesn't exhibit typical signs of illness. His skin maintains a healthy glow despite its pallor, and his movements, while contained, suggest wiry strength rather than weakness. It's more as if he's naturally meant to be slim but hasn't been eating properly, his frame somehow compressed beneath clothes that hang slightly too large, suggesting recent weight loss.

His scent is what truly captures my attention.

My vampire aspects provide enhanced olfactory sensitivity, and this boy smells unlike any paranormal classification I've encountered. Floral notes dominate — not perfume or soap, but something organic and inherent to his being. Wild roses, night-blooming jasmine, and something earthier beneath, like fertile soil after spring rain.

The combination should feel feminine, yet somehow it presents as purely masculine on him, complementing rather than contradicting his evident maleness. The paradox is intriguing in ways I hadn't expected, making me wonder exactly what paranormal classification he belongs to.

He's turned his attention to the board now, apparently genuinely interested in the blood circle Professor Eternalis is constructing. For the first time since class began, he's actually taking notes rather than stealing glances in my direction.

His pencil moves across paper with surprising elegance, each stroke precise despite the complexity of the diagram being reproduced.

I lean slightly to glimpse his work, curious whether his academic focus matches the intensity of his previous attention. The motion brings me closer to him, our shoulders nearly touching as I peer toward his notebook.

The sudden sensation of cold water drenching my entire upper body sends shock racing through my system.

For one disorienting moment, I'm transported back to the cafeteria, to Damien's cruel "prank" that triggered memories of Darius's warehouse torture. The flashback lasts only milliseconds before rational mind reasserts control, but leaves my heart racing with adrenaline response.

Laughter erupts around us, the cruel sound confirming this wasn't accidental spillage but deliberate attack.

My desk-mate has received similar drenching, water soaking through his oversized uniform to plaster fabric against his thin frame. The expression of resigned acceptance on his face suggests this isn't the first time he's been targeted.

"C'mon, Hawthorne," calls a voice from several rows above. "I thought you had faster reflexes. Aren't you supposed to be the school's favorite?"

Guess my reputation from “above” already made it down here to Faerie version of Wicked Academy.

The taunt carries notes of both jealousy and disdain, suggesting a complicated history I'm not yet privy to, but I’m sure my sudden presence next to my neighbor somehow contributes to this ironic need to bully us both. My neighbor doesn't respond, his attention focused on the now-soaked notebook before him.

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