SERICA
Ainset led me around to the western wall of the auditorium's ring and to a pair of large wooden double-doors, bobbing along through throngs of students, "Here we are, cutie, the library," she said, giving her hips a waggle as she slipped through them. Lantern light played along the polished metal contour of her ass and essence-smoothed indentation of two plump labia.
Alright, low blow… I groaned to myself, reaching for the door's iron handle. I must have looked like a massive pervert to my surrounding classmates, reaching out for the jut of her ass. The door opened, silent on its hinges, and I proceeded into the well-lit space.
Plenty of light filtered into the library through its outer walls' stained glass, which depicted diligent young women lounging among flowers, their attentions absorbed in books. It extended up all four floors to the auditorium's roof and down two additional floors into the earth. A marble staircase zig-zagged its length between them.
The space held only a small crowd of extra-studious girls seeking a head start on the year's studies. Each of the six floors was split into two colliding sunbursts of radiating bookshelves. Every sunburst held texts pertaining to one of the École, and held a lounging area with plush leather chairs and tables at its center. Ainset flanked the École de Cuisine's circle and led me to a downward staircase, rolling over its edge to descend while I popped down the steps.
"Here's where Illia chooses to spend her nights," the Esprit said with a hint of annoyance. We bottomed out on the second sub-level, a considerably darker space with additional lamps providing supplementary light.
This subterranean space held two additional sunbursts, one for more general, scientific texts; the other for works pertaining to essence and Esprit. Speaking of the spirits, I spotted a few, house Fuefoyer. They were small, sumptuous women of essence that looked like flame filtered through the cracks of bricks. Unlike Ainset, these chose to walk the floor. Their presence filtered warmth and comfort throughout the library's entire structure. They also served as a ward against floodwaters, which had not managed to breach the library's structure since its creation.
Ains linked fingers with one of them, and it gave her a twirl as we rounded a bend, heading to a row of shelf-flanked doors on the interior wall. Ains giggled and pressed up against her stone, giving the Esprit a kiss that lingered long. When it broke, she arched back and ran a finger down the center of her chest, saying, "You'll come find me, oui?"
Tramp.
I couldn't help but wonder how many of these staff-esprit she kept on retainer. One of the outer-wall doors stood open. Illia's voice, velvet smooth, spilled from within.
She peeked her head out, soft light rolling down the waves of her dark-brown hair, before beckoning me within with a bottle-green fingernail. The back of my neck prickled at the sight of her, the indignity of my stolen electives blooming fresh within my mind.
At the least, she could've given me a warning.
"There she is. Congratulations on the defi-" Illia said, settling her curves into a leather chair as I dipped through the door, "Mind closing that behind you?"
Not at all. My internal voice dripped with mock compliance as I pulled the door shut. The room was cozy, a wood-paneled study space with a lamped table and six chairs. Illia gestured a hand to the chair at her side, thrumming her fingers against its seat. Sitting across from her was another student, a classmate from lycée that I held in low esteem, Deleer.
She and I were roughly the same height and of similar athletic build. That's where the comparison ended. Every other aspect of her stood in stark contrast. Firstly, the girl insisted on wearing a white porcelain mask that covered the top half of her face. It sat upon her nose, with twin points that dipped to her cheeks, and another two rose from her forehead like small horns. Behind it, her eyelids were shadowed nearly black. I'd seen her without it once, and she was pretty, with long, graceful features.
"Hey Seri," she said, glancing up at me. Her lips were painted a burnt orange that matched her hair, set against gray skin. The dimwit had a fingertip set to the side of her lower lip, dragging it down to reveal a few teeth.
Why is she here?
"Deleer," I replied, settling into the seat at the table's end, a spot down from where Illia indicated.
The maven rolled her eyes, "I figured you two were acquainted."
More than that.
Ainset wound to Deleer's side, nose hovering close to her neck, taking in scent with a flutter of her eyes. It hit my nostrils as well, a tangy musk.
Ainset's attraction didn't surprise me. Deleer's family were Mûrie, ripened, an identity that was part ethnicity and part religious practice. Her folks only took part in the first of those aspects. They were essentially normal people, operating a butcher's shop a few blocks from my childhood home. Deleer was as well until a few years ago. Air-headed, yes; a tomboy, yes; but otherwise she fit in.
Faulting her for deviance felt like someone taking a nip at my earlobe. I knew better and had little room to do it, but it happened all the same.
"Very true," she said, glancing sideways at Ainset, bemused at the attention. There was no threat there, no jealousy. Mûrie drew Esprit like flowers drew butterflies.
She adjusted the ribbon wrapping her forearm. It was white silk brushed with two rows of scrawling red runes I doubted she could read. A single length of it wound each of her limbs and looped her torso at various angles, providing minimal coverage. Its tassled ends hung loose at her hips; they were as close as a Mûrie came to carrying a leash. Her family only wore the ensemble for religious holidays. Still, she'd opted to do so year-round, requesting a faith exemption from our lycée and earning the scorn of our peers. Mûrie didn't bond with Esprit; they paired, letting the spirits take the yoke and guide their actions.
I nodded to Illia, ready to be done with whatever this was.
"Perfect, down to business then. I've just met with the three department heads, and have some mixed news to share on this evening's draft," Illia said, smoothing the ruffle of her dress along her thigh.
Mixed means horrendous, I assume.
Deleer rolled her tongue along her teeth as Illia went on, "Serica, your probation has come into play. There was a vote, the result of which was that you will not take part in the proceedings." I took in air, trying to remain composed, "Tread not though into despair, you'll still have an équipe. That's where Deleer comes into play."
Sure. I'll just not worry; this isn't devastating news.
With a tilt of her head, Deleer leaned in, her burnt-orange side-pony rolling across her shoulder, "Oh?"
"Alright," I pressed, my mouth dry. Just rip off the bandage.
"In response I requested an allowance, that a temporary captain be assigned in your stead until your probation's termination. Deleer, since your first applied major was tacticienne, you seemed the logical choice. You will be assigned as the ranger of Serica's équipe, and serve as its captain-"
"My probation's termination," I cut her off, "Sorry. Is there a date for that?"
"Not at this time."
Haaah- I seethed. What next, do you want to pry off my fingernails?
"I wanted to set aside this time for the two of you, such that you can prime Deleer on your wishes for the draft," Illia turned to Deleer, "You'll be making the decisions. The department heads made that clear, though it would be wise to give Serica some consideration. Chances are you'll soon be under her leadership."
Pulling her eyes back from Ainset, Deleer said, "Oh, right. I can do that."
My mind went to my list. Priming her on its intricacies would be impossible, even if she did pay attention.
Alright, let's just triage this, do as best we can. There was no point in arguing. Illia was just playing middleman. Apparently, the department heads had it in for me as well. That stung. The three of them voted and came to this conclusion: at least two were rooting for my failure.
"Can- can I ask a question?"
Illia nodded, "Of course."
I fought the urge to say, "Never mind."
You need to know, wondering will just eat at you.
"Do you know... how my department head weighed in on the issue?" I pressed my lips together, preparing for the worst. If Aureli knew me by name and had placed me in low regard, that would come as a blow.
"I'm afraid I can't divulge that," Illia shifted in her seat. "However, the vote was not unanimous. I'd hold onto that fact if I were you."