daybreakacademy | Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power

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Here in the dark, in these final hours, I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power

WHO: Héctor, OTA Catch All
WHERE: Around the school
WHEN: Various times after the 9th and/or the Valentines dance
WHAT: Various opens in the late evening
WARNINGS: Standard spoilers

You can't turn around a bad day, week, month, year, decade... you can't turn any of that without trying first. And so, once the monster's beaten back, his lost arm is returned, and the dance wraps up, so begins his annual rejuvenation. It's his return to the grind, starting every January (late this year but, well, he's doing his best), when he goes back to the drawing board and renews his plans-- only this time, not just for his return home. He's got a few things in mind this year, and isn't that exciting in and of itself?

A - OTA

With his arm back in place and whole again (gone for that week of the 2nd to the 9th and leaving him looking more like a zombie to people than he'd ever let himself before), he can actually get back to repairing the other one who took some hits this past while.

Rather than steal from the shop class, this time Héctor has decided to break in. Which, considering how much they let him use this place for doing repairs around the school, it isn't really breaking in is it? He doesn't think so. And so, upon a work table, in the dead of night, he's lain out a broken guitar. He's got nails and tools, bits of wood and scrap metal, anything he thought he could need for trying to repair the old thing. The guitar's not going to sound good when he's done, but it'll be something.

Despite everything, he's not quite ready to give up on music yet. In fact, he takes to humming a little as he works, breaking into soft song only to quiet again into humming as he hammers and cuts and sands away at the guitar. Until he hears footsteps and abruptly stops, that is.

B - Aube

Not every night can be spent on fixing the guitar. He's still got occasional evening classes to TA for, things to mark, essays to read. On those nights, he settles in the Aube common room, quietly working this time.

Being nocturnal as he is means bad news for any kids sneaking out of the dorm late in the night. "Ah, ah!" He says to any looking a little too ready to go, eyes lifting from his work to them and brows lifting higher. "Did you text Bee for this little excursion?"

C - Aube

Of course, not every child getting up in the night is looking for rowdy adventure. He knows all too well by now that some of these kids have had more adventure than they ever asked or bargained for. Those quiet wanderers, or ones who settle in corners, they're no less apt to get his attention.

He gives them their moment of space and quiet. Just a moment. Then, trying not to scare or disturb them, he walks over, placing a hand to the back of any given chair and tilting his head down at them.

"Hey," He says, soft as he can. "You okay? Can't sleep?"

D - OTA

In the early mornings, for any early risers who seek him (and not one of the smarter or more experienced of adults in this place) he's of course there to tutor those who need it. He may not always know what he's doing with magic but he can work out a lesson and, more than that, he can work with kids.

He draws another example upon paper when he can't simply show it, and he presents it, explaining each piece and part. "Do you understand?" He asks.

Perhaps you're the one he's tutoring. Or, perhaps, you're catching him just as the last kid wanders off and he's gathering up the books and papers, time soon running out with the coming dawn. But he might have time for one more.

E - OTA

He doesn't know the first thing about this, any of this. He keeps telling himself he's not a fighter, but more and more he's coming to realize he might need to be. It's not just about him anymore.

That evening he finds himself in one of the training areas. The bow he takes up is tall and heavy, heavier than a guitar. He's got the dexterity for that and the experiencing of firing... his arm. But it's not the same and he hasn't entirely got the strength built in him for using this thing. He's not sure if he can build the strength or if what he's got is as good as it's going to get. But he can't see himself yet using anything else.

So, there he is in the range, practicing. His shots mostly miss but every now and again he gets somewhere and he's encouraged to go farther. He gives a little laugh of victory and surprise in these moments. Hopefully he's not interrupting anything.

Of course in all his focus, anyone interrupting him is almost certain to make him jump and yelp and send and arrow flying far off target.

F - OTA

At some point before the library's closing for the night, he's managed to surround himself so thoroughly in books that he's built something of a wall around himself. His hand is half tangled in his hair and his brow is knit with concentration, pencil tapping absentmindedly in his other hand as he reads. The books seem to be all about defensive and offensive runes and spells.

"Wait, what?" He straightens up, flipping pages back, and then to his current page, comparing them. "That doesn't make sense, how can you-- what?"

G -[Closed to Orihime]

"Orihime?"

The call comes with a knock. Finally, at long last, he can repay this girl. He's ready at her door, smiling in his newly repaired clothing and holding a bag of tools and materials (nabbed from the shop class as usual).

As the door opens he laughs and say, "Repair service! Is now a good time?"

H - St. Valentine's eve - [Closed to close CR and/or those who ask first]

He's only been here so long, only saved up so much and a lot of it goes towards his hopeful plans. But for this, he can spare a small expense.

The shopkeeper had eyed him curiously, as exhausted and nervous as he'd appeared to be that morning of the thirteenth, pushing the limits of his magic into the day. He knows, in some sense, that he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.

But it's the first time in ten years he could do anything and... well, she deserves something. After ten years she deserves so much and a simple carnation or rose just isn't cutting it. Even this doesn't quite but... he can't push more, because even with this, the best gift he could give is his distance.

The note simply reads "for Imelda Rivera" in fancy calligraphic script. He presses the tiny card to his lips then places it back into the bouquet. It's a bright one, colorful, with full, giant blooms. There's soft pinks and bright ones, oranges and reds and blues, greenery, and vivid purples-- her favorite. It'll remind her of home, he's sure.

Off he goes into the night, bringing his delivery to the Lumiere dorms. He just needs to leave it at her door and go. So far so good. He won't get to see her reaction like this, but that's fine. She doesn't need to be happy with him, he just needs her to be happy. That's what he tells himself as he slowly and quietly works his way back, turns the corner-- and freezes, a deer in headlights as the second worst thing that could happen here, does.

I - Other, Make your own

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He beams at the girl, happy for the easy agreement. Seems he said things the right way in this instance.

He doesn't have any good winter jacket himself, so he simply focuses on tidying his work pile to carry, lest any kids stumble out and see their essay results too early or the like. He makes sure to be ready for the girl's return.

The notebook gets a curious look. "Writing something?" He asks. He starts to walk with her to the door.

As long as she could still get a good view of the sky, some compromises were fine. "Something like that~"

"It's important research."

Very, very important.

"Oh-ho! Being mysterious now, are we?" There's a teasing note to his voice. "And is this very important research being done for school or for something more personal?"

He leads them out to those front doors, pushing it open for her but not without first glancing out the window. Nothing dangerous that he can see. No monsters, no ghosts. He's just have to be at the ready.

Quickly, he follows out after her.

"Hmmm, it's kinda both, I guess."

All was safe out here! At least for now. Definitely on the frigid side, but that's what you get for being near the Alps, apparently. That whole thing about getting more clothing might have been a good call on Hector's part.

And immediately, Puella might have already forgotten the promise of not going too far. She could see everything outside thanks to that pale moonlight, plus every star in the sky. It was something not commonly seen - too many city lights where she's from. Had she known the sky could be this pretty at night she would've wanted to live somewhere quieter ages ago.

Puella had taken a few steps down, intending to make it to the bottom of the stairway, when she finally remembered. ...Right, don't go pass the first step. She was not exactly sure what was going to happen now that she already did that, and so stayed there awkwardly in the middle. Nervous to go back up, but not feeling confident enough to fully commit.

That gets him raising a brow further, but he doesn't ask. She'll tell him if she's going to tell him he supposes.

The cold hits hard, like it always does. The sting of it makes him wince, but it's not going to do anything but make him preserve a little longer, so he doesn't let himself falter.

He should've figured she'd run ahead in her excitement-- it's what Coco would do, a painful thought, that-- but that sends a real jolt through him. He starts forward fast, prepared to call out, when she stops. It's a moment in which they're both frozen in place that a soft and nervous laugh gets out. He walks up to the stairs, looking like he's examining it all, then takes one long step to the one she's on. A wobbly and dangerous move, but he ends up standing beside her and looking down, giving one single nod.

"Seems about a step," He concedes. He sits down.

He wasn't angry? Puella could have gone back to the top if was going to be an issue. It looked like Hector was going to fall by taking that long step down, and she's not sure she could live with being responsible if he actually hurt himself.

He didn't have to do that - it was appreciated, but Puella was having conflicting emotions.

"...R-right!" she replies, and soon sits down next to him. Right here was a good spot.

She set the notebook down in her lap and opened to a page. Alas, the moonlight was bright, but not bright enough to read what was on the paper. Puella pouts softly, but she did have something just for this situation. Namely, the flashlight installed to her phone. There must be some way to prop it up while she writes.

The pages already had notes on them. A strange hodgepodge of actual writing, childish drawings, charts, and more of those runes she liked to use...they made for a useful code if she wanted to keep things even more secret. Mostly for fun. Usual kid stuff. If it was anything serious she likely wouldn't have opened it so close to Hector at all.

The fact she remembered herself at all is good enough. This is still close enough they can run inside if they do in fact need to. He cant tell she looks uncertain but he smiles as though to tell her that she needn't be so.

He's not sure if he can see better in the dark these days or if he's just so used to doing so. Nevertheless, he can tell it's dark enough that she's not going to be making much progress with this.

He watches her try to work with the phone, but says, "Wait, hang on." He'd just recently help Peter in working blight towards a light spell. He can remember the hand movements and the incantation. He'd only need a little spark. The rest of him would stay lit up while he used to, but focusing his energy on that spark would keep him from turning over to the dead before her eyes.

He closes his eyes, focusing. Upon his face, markings light up under his skin. It's a golden light and one that travels down through the rest of him. It shines through his fingers as he moves them through the air, that simple light spell that in no time at all produces the tiniest glowing ball, floating. He guides it to hover over her book, and then draws back, resting hunched with his arms upon his knees.

"That better?" He asks. Now she had two lights, one for writing, and him for ambiance.

"-?" Puella closely watched the light float over her notes, wandering where exactly it was going to go or land on. She stuck her hand out to wave under it, either to catch it or see for sure it was hovering on its own. She could feel nothing underneath, just the light itself.

"You can make it glow too?" she sounded enthused. Was he also a Candle? Because it looked like it.

He laughs a little. It's always a surprise to find people still... finding wonder in all this.

"It's just a spell," He explains. "Anyone can do it if you just figure out how things work for you. You'll probably learn it in class eventually." A little something for her to look forward to.

There's a pause before he gestures wryly to his own glowing self. "This part is just me though."

So he was.

"Oh. I...I can do that too. ...S-sort of."

The hesitation was high, worried if she should've said anything at all. If that was a spell she was expected to learn eventually, then she will need to master it soon. Otherwise she was going to fail. Or worse...

His smile slips a bit. It'd be hard to miss those hesitant notes.

"Sort of?" He repeats. "You seem a little unsure. Is something the matter?"

Maybe his light is making her nervous. Going to dust had bothered Peter after all. Seemed there were more things than skeletons that bothered people.

Kind of debating whether or not she had enough strength to even demonstrate now. Trying to force the Radiance to work was usually...tiring. And of course she's tried countless times once she was told about it. Give any kid a superpower and you bet they will look for every way possible to use it.

"It usually doesn't work," as Puella speaks, she forced the Radiance again. The Flame was too small, too weak, like trying to light a bonfire with a single ember. A faint, orangeish light pulsated from her chest for a few seconds, but once she had to stop holding her breath, it snuffed itself out.

Puella could have maybe held it for a bit longer, but she didn't want to risk getting that dizzy.

He's about to ask exactly what she means, mouth opening to do so when he feels it start to sting. The flickering light comes after, the sting turning to a burn.

"Ah-! Niña, niña-!" His own light flickers violently as he cringes, his little ball of light snuffing out.

And then just like that, her light goes out along with his. They're both left in the dark.

There's a long silence in which he tries to think how to explain and comes up blank. It could've been worse. A full flame would've done real damage. But there's still a damage here now for what a little girl is supposed to think of this.

"I'm sorry... maybe this isn't a good idea. We should go back inside."

"What?" Panicked by whatever Hector was afraid, she stopped even earlier. What happened? Was she not allowed to do that..?

And now it was too dark to see much. It wasn't so much that made her worry however, but the silence. No one ever does that unless they were upset about something. Especially adults. The longer it takes for them to speak up again was a good indicator of how angry they were.

...Puella must have done something really bad. She's not exactly sure what, but it must have been something huge. Especially after the next thing she heard.

"But-...But we just got here!"

What about the stars?

For whatever it was worth, there was no hint of anger in his voice. Regret, certainly, bringing her out here only to turn back, playing with power, but no anger for it and certainly not at her.

"I-I know," He says. "I'm sorry." He tries to rise to stand but between the flame and the drain of his energy into that spell and staying normal, he's quickly dropping back down again, hard onto the stone step. This is what he gets, forgetting his cane inside.

So much for quick escape if something went wrong. He scrubs at his face with a hand.

Alright Héctor. No running. Think for once.

"You're... a candle, right?"

Edited 2019-02-19 09:09 (UTC)

"That's what everyone says."

If that glow was something bad. Like, really, really bad. She will make sure not to do it again. That had not been something anyone had said before.

"...I-I won't do it anymore if we can stay."

Seeing Hector fall over was also just as painful to watch.

Of course she was. Not a strong one either. He can guess what just happened, an excited girl finding rare familiarity.

"No, no, it's okay. I mean, don't do it again but--" He takes a breath through his teeth. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just have a magic that doesn't... work well with others. I apologize. I hope I didn't scare you."

He watches her face a moment, waiting for some unpleasant revelationto dawn. Then he sighs. "We can stay. But we won't be able to use any more light magic. Is that alright?"

Edited 2019-02-19 09:51 (UTC)

"...I guess that's fine." Honestly after all that, Puella wasn't sure if she wanted to write anything now. Her mind was scattered with other thoughts now, few of them being that pleasant. But the sky still was nice to watch, and the closed notebook was somewhat comforting to press against while she squatted on the step.

She still made a mess of things, even if Hector did not want to say it. It's not the first time her over ambition managed to...well, have undesired results. Nor will it be the last. But she had never heard of Candles in a negative light before.

"...Is being a Candle something bad?"

Edited 2019-02-19 10:09 (UTC)

He feels horribly guilty. He wanted to help the girl, not make things worse for her. He's undeniably done that. But he hasn't a choice. He's not going to be able to sacrifice the energy for another light spell without ruining this further.

So he turns his attention away, figuring he at least ought to watch for the very monsters and ghosts he tried to warn her away from in the first place. Bare tree branches rustle with the cold wind, but other than that, he doesn't see anything. When he startles, it's only by her words, making him turn back to her.

"What? No! No, no, no. There's nothing wrong with Candles! Nothing at all!" His shoulders slump, and he exhales heavy. "Oh niña, I'm sorry. It's really not you, or your fault. In fact, you'll probably find this doesn't happen with anybody else. I'm just..." His mouth presses. "I got sick a long time ago. Very sick, until I got my own power. When I got it, I was less sick, but I still have to be careful. Like an allergy, but one that nobody else has. Still, if someone has an allergy, they're supposed to let people know, right? And I didn't tell you, so it's not your fault. Please don't feel bad. Or feel like you're bad. You're not. You seem like a sweet girl to me."

Edited 2019-02-19 13:15 (UTC)

There will always be other nights to make notes. Unfortunately, she might also have these nights to always remind her the first time her power hurt somebody.

"I don't really feel like a good Candle. Everyone knows and can do a lot more than me."

Even Puella's skills with runes had been put to the test. And that was the only other thing she could show off.

"I shouldn't have done that anyway."

"Ah, but you're young," He points out. "And here, people find their way with this stuff at all these different times. Did you know? I was twenty three when I got my first bit of magic. And I couldn't cast a single spell until about two, maybe three months ago." He gives a very pointed look, inviting her to laugh at this lame adult and the magic equivalent of just learning to ride a bike. He is offering himself for humiliation.

More seriously, he continues, "I've been tutoring a lot of kids, you know. You'd surprised how many of them feel like you do-- at all different ages too. Some people here are really talented, it's true, but they've also had more time. And sometimes even when they are good in one way, they're worried in other ways. So don't you worry about being the best of them. Just focus on the best of you and what you can do. If I weren't sick, I'd have been happy to help you with your little flame. I think it looks cool. Give it more practice, I'm sure you'll be able to do even more with it."

Despite not being that many words, Puella does change around slightly. No longer as scrunched up to hide from the world.

"...Ekke said that too." In which case, maybe there was a lot of truth behind it. Including the whole thing around developing magic much later. But if two people had said so then it's probably real.

As for the small flame itself, that was disappointing. She would love to have someone to practice with. And it wasn't even that cool by comparison.

"Señor Ekkehardt is a wise man," He says, smiling wider. "Very, very smart and much more experienced with this than me."

He reaches over, gently patting the girl's shoulder.

"If it still bothers you, even with all that, try to think about you are learning instead. You will be better at all kinds of things as you work at this. You'll understand people who might struggle. And you'll be able to tell them what I'm telling you. And what Ekkehardt has told you. And that's a different sort of light that only some people learn."

He still thinks it's cool. A birthday candle is still special while fireworks exist.

Patting the small hatted child might have done the final trick. Physical comfort usually helped a lot. ...She absolutely did not have tears in her eyes and even if she did, they would dry up sooner or later. But Puella will fully repay the affection by hugging Hector around the waist, whether he wanted it or not.

"I will~! And I won't give up!" There was still a long, long ways to go. But if she was going to be the smallest Candle then she'll just need to be the brightest small Candle.

It's not that he'd have protested the sudden hug but there's no doubt it takes him by surprise. He's rocked back in place a little, his arms going around her instinctively to catch and hold her safe. But the feeling of this tiny girl holding him tight, it takes him far, far away.

It's not a cold night but a blazing afternoon, the sun setting gold. There's no wind in the air but the small and hurried steps of a toddler. He's already opening his arms to her before he's fully through the door. He can hear her voice, joyous, "Papá!"

And then he blinks awake from that dream, heart aching like it wants to kill him. He squeezes the girl tight a moment, choking back on his own need for tears. When he lets go, she won't even notice. So he hopes.

"Then you'll get there for sure, niña. I'm certain of it."

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