To Nerluce's own surprise, the disciples in the water Affinity dorms didn't so much as give him a second glance when he came bursting through the doors.

They didn't look at him like he was strange or a stranger when he passed them on the stairs. They didn't ask him why he wanted to know where Fonbi was. They didn't give him curious or odd looks when he was speaking to Fonbi. Fonbi didn't treat him like a stranger or ask how he knew what Aristide was doing. No one batted an eye when Kierli called him by his name and came rushing up to give him a hug.

Nerluce wished that he could blame it on the nature of the disciples with a water Affinity. Or the nature of just people in general with a water Affinity. They were said to be laid back and easy-going, able to adapt to any situation. However, while that might've been some of it, Nerluce knew that the majority of it was because he came to the water Affinity Dorms so frequently, he was just considered a part of the background.

That was a bit of an embarrassing thought.

After relaying Aristide's message to Fonbi and hugging Kierli and making all the necessary promises to come tell her stories soon - apparently, both Aristide and Fonbi were second-rate compared to him - he was finally able to make it up all six ridiculous flights of stairs and to the private quarters belonging to the Head Disciple.

Nerluce bit the inside of his cheek as he glanced around. He'd been up here countless times before but... never without Aristide. It felt... somewhat wrong. Like he was invading Aristide's space. Which was ridiculous because as Aristide had said previously: when had he ever hesitated to walk right up here before like he was the head disciple and Aristide the guest?

But still. There was an amount of trust that Aristide had granted him. The trust not to destroy the place or to snoop around his personal things, not that he had many. Nerluce glanced at the door to Aristide's room. He glanced at the hall that he knew led to Aristide's personal kitchen. And then he glanced at the doors to the training room.

It would be easy to forget all about training. He could use Aristide's kitchen and his ingredients and make a meal for himself. He could fall asleep in Aristide's bed - much bigger and much more private than his own. Or he could just turn around and walk down those six flights of stairs again. It would be so, so very easy and yet...

Nerluce couldn't do it.

Taking a deep breath, Nerluce entered the training room. It was no different than the last time he saw it. The walls and floor and roof were all still made of stone. The trenches around the room still flowed with running water. Nerluce lit the candles. First with a match, and then, ceasing control of the flame, he lit the others. A warm-up of sorts.

There were a couple of stray dummies and weapons propped on wooden stands. Nerluce was pretty sure he couldn't manipulate dead things - he didn't think that was something any Life Magickian could do considering it was life Magick.

Still, he didn't want to take any chances.

Nerluce was meticulous in his work. He moved the straw dummies and wooden props and any other piece of wood or straw or life he could find, save for the wooden doors - there wasn't much he could do about those. He put it in the kitchen, as far away from him as he could get it. He hoped that Aristide would not come back before Nerluce had a chance to move all of the stuff back, craving a late-night snack.

A small smile stretched on Nerluce's face. He couldn't see Aristide doing that. There was still something ethereal about his angel that made it hard for Nerluce to see him do things that normal people did like eat and sleep and piss. Of course, Aristide did all of these things. Nerluce had seen him eat at the very least. But a couple of meals together wasn't enough to scrub the divinity from Aristide's presence.

When Nerluce returned to the training room, the candles had melted down and Nerluce's footsteps echoed when he walked. The room was almost completely empty now. There was just Nerluce, the sound of water, and a single, sturdy sword.

Nerluce sat down next to the sword and tried his best not to look at it. He did not want to die - who in their right mind did? - but he knew that if he used his life Magick again... he had to atone for those he hurt. If his life was the payment, then so be it. Let his crimson blood mix with Aristide's crystalline water.

And with that, he searched inside of himself. The memory of that night was like a jar of alcohol, sealed tight and kept out of sight in a dark basement. He repressed it. He didn't want to see it or feel it or remember it at all. He had kept it sealed for so long that Nerluce thought he would have forgotten it. But, like alcohol sealed tight, it only got stronger and the smell was overwhelming when one opened it.

The memory of that night was so... vivid.

Nerluce could remember his chapped lips. The drunken songs Lyana was humming under her breath. He could remember the crunch of the snow under his boots. He could remember trying to walk in Hamelin's footprints. He could remember the way his cloak felt against his skin. He could remember the way his stomach lurched when he fell. He could remember the smell of blood. And he could remember the absolute terror that overtook him.

And, like every other minute detail that Nerluce had thought he would forget if he repressed it for long enough, he remembered how he had called out to the rose bush and it had come. He remembered the power and how good it had felt rushing through his veins. Magick was good for people. It made them stronger, healthier. Nerluce had never understood that belief until that night. He had never felt so good.

He swallowed and tried to control his thoughts. Nerluce wasn't meant to feel good. That was not a good memory. It was awful. And it made him sick how good he'd felt during it. He hated how he had delighted in stealing the free will of another living creature. He hated himself for how like his father he was in that memory.

And he wondered if his father did the things he did because of how good they felt.

Nerluce focused on how he had called the vines to him. He didn't really know what he had done but he knew how it felt. He snapped his fingers and tried to recreate that feeling. He tried to call to the fire as he had called to the plants. Nothing happened. He had not expected it too. He shifted, slightly.

Snapping his fingers... he didn't like it. Fire wasn't some dog or servant. Why ought it come when he snapped his fingers at it. He needed another gesture, one that felt more... right. He tried rubbing his fingers and then rubbing his hands. He tried making a fist and then he tried pressing that fist against his other hand and then he tried pressing the first over his heart. But Nerluce was no soldier and fire was not his commander.

What did Nerluce see fire as? It was an element and it had no will. It was a tool. That was what Taayir said. It was nothing like Life Magick and it felt a little silly to be intertwining the two. But how was Nerluce supposed to get a tool to come when he called it? So... he couldn't think of fire as a tool. It was not a servant and it was not a master either. Which left...

Nerluce took a deep breath and then thought of how he would greet a peer. A friend. A partner. Someone who was he equal.

Lyana's face came into his mind. He supposed it was obvious why. She was his first friend. Both in Ethera and in general. She was the first person who treated him as though he was not his father's son, but as... a person. As a fellow student. That memory was less vivid but it felt every bit as good. And that was when he remembered the foreign and strange gesture that Lyana had given him.

A handshake.

Another deep breath. Nerluce put all of his attention into his movement. He put all of his will into meeting the fire as a friend. He put his hands together, grasping them awkwardly. He couldn't remember how he was meant to do the handshake exactly but he tightened his grip and felt warm between his palms. He reached out to the fire, as he tightened his grip and rubbed his palms to create a bit of friction.

Hello. How are you? I want to be your friend. I am not your master and you are not mine. We are equals. Will you come?

The warmth sparked as Nerluce spread his hands apart.

There, in between his trembling hands, was a small, flickering flame. It had come. It had come. Nerluce asked it to and it really had come. That warm, ecstatically good feeling rushed through him, just as it had the night he called the rose bush. The fire had come. It flickered and blinked and looked up at him and Nerluce felt tears sting his eyes as he released it again.

The fire had come. The fire had come, it had really come. He choked on a sob. He could stay here. He could stay and be a Seraph. He'd done it. The fire had come.

And it would not leave him ever again.