P42 - Sparks and Studying

Location: City of Flamma - Flamme University | Café:

The sizzling aroma of flame-seared rice and ember-brew coffee filled the air as Brant sat across from Orin at the Flamme University café. The heat-crystal lanterns pulsed softly overhead, casting molten-orange glows across metal-paneled walls.

Brant poked at his plate. "Can't believe I already burned through half my meal card."

"Can't believe you made a bet with Veltra about some chocolate cake over some math quiz that you flunked" Orin replied, slurping a spoon of spicy stew. "The look on your face is priceless."

Brant gave a tired smirk. "Still got myself a slice too though"

A loud chair screech interrupted them.

"Talking about me behind my back?" Veltra set her tray down with a smirk, her flaming red eyes glinting. "OH, YOU GOT ME MY CHOCOLATE 10-LAYER CAKE!?" and instantly dives in, getting her mouth covered in chocolate within 5 seconds of sitting down.

"Just talking about class," Orin said.

Veltra rolled her eyes. "Lies!"

Their laughter was cut by the soft sound of approaching boots. A sharp voice followed.

"Are you Brant Pyra?"

Brant looked up to see a short girl with long coal-black hair and intense red eyes. Her outfit was complex yet elegant, with two small hand-cannons clipped to each hip. She stood like she didn't care if she was in someone else's space.

"I... uh, yeah?" Brant answered.

Lysa Cinderfall nodded once. "I liked your father's books. They very were motivational."

Brant blinked. "Wait... you read--?"

"Goodbye." She walked off without another word.

"Who the heck was that?" Orin asked.

"Lysa," Veltra said, biting into a crisp roll. "Top-tier shooter. Keeps to herself. Never talks to guys--well, until now I guess."

Before Brant could respond, a cluster of voices rolled through the café entrance like heatstroke. Solira strolled in, confidently laughing with two other male students, sparks lightly jumping from her hair strands.

As she passed their table, she tossed a glance his way. "A strong boyfriend really could come in handy, especially if he's fearless enough to protect me from everything evil..."

Brant didn't even turn as he kept sipping his lukewarm coffee.

Solira scoffed under her breath, flipping her hair as she walked into the next room. But the second she was out of view, she dropped into a chair and covered her face with both hands.

"WHY WOULD I SAY THAT?" she whispered to herself. "Now he thinks I'm good-for-nothing player..."

One of the guys places his hand on her shoulder and hesitantly mentions "W-we don't think you're a good-for-nothing..." with Solira quickly firing back with an angered reply "DON'T TOUCH ME, I'M NOT IN A GOOD MOOD RIGHT NOW!!!" as she pulls back and the two guys become scared and start reading the menu in a hurry.

In the next class, a lecture on Fire War History, Brant took his seat and opened his notes. Solira entered a minute later, glanced around, and to her visible happiness, the only open seat... was next to him.

She sat down and tapped her pen against the table. "I just couldn't stop staring at that bland face of yours. I just still can't believe they gave you the winning ticket to the lottery of this place."

Brant didn't flinch. His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed.

"I see," he muttered, returning to his notes.

Solira crossed her arms, hiding her sigh behind her hand. She didn't write a single line.

Later that night, Brant was walking alone toward the boys' dorms, streetlights humming above the silver pavement.

"Wait," came a voice from behind the corner.

Lysa stood there, leaning against the wall like a phantom. "Hold up."

Brant frowned. "What is it?"

Before she could answer, the sound of fast-running steps echoed down the path. Brant turned--

--and Solira crashed right into him, test papers exploding into the air like fluttering embers.

They hit the ground. Brant groaned. "Seriously!?"

"Don't yell! I--uh--these were notes I borrowed. I have nothing for the exam," she said, frantically picking them up.

Brant's tone sharpened. "You didn't take a single note? Do you want mine or something??"

"I didn't think I needed to," she snapped. "I also don't want some filthy hands touching the same piece of paper I'll touch."

Brant stood. "Fine."

He started walking away--but then, a small hand caught the sleeve of his jacket.

"Wait," she said softly. "Will you... study with me instead?"

Inside her dorm, Lysa, her dorm-mate, silently nodded and walked into the bathroom without a word.

Brant and Solira sat at the small table by the window, books spread, scrolls rolled open. She asked questions with genuine curiosity, and he explained theories, techniques, history--all the things she never bothered to focus on.

Hours passed. Lysa, fresh from a long bath, walked out in a robe, hair towel-dried.

She spotted them asleep, heads resting against each other at the edge of the table.

She smirked, reached for a nearby eraser, and...

whack--

tossed it right at Brant's forehead.

"Ow--!"

Solira slowly sat up, eyes half-open. "Is it... morning?"

Brant stood in a panic after checking their clock. "It's midnight! I need to get back before lights-out!"

He gathered his things in a rush and practically bolted out the door.

Lysa crossed her arms and smirked. "So... is this another one of your 'boys' you're teasing?"

Solira blushed and dove into her pillow. "He's... different than the rest."