《The devil [1] (Lumity/the owl house Fanfiction)》4
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Amity's POV;
Looks like someone's getting asked out for a dance...
"Are you two dancing later or what?" I asked Willow.
Willow flushed red.
"What?? Uhm... Well.." she began stammering while scratching the back of her neck.
"Hey, Willow, and Amity." Boscha said while waving a hand mid-air in front of us.
I smiled while waving back to her.
Boscha had this hint of blush in her face when she glanced over to Willow.
I watched the two stare in silence before Boscha finally cleared her throat and asked Willow out for a dance.
I smiled.
These two are so gay... Good for them.
I watched some witches get into place for dancing just like Boscha and Willow.
I sighed.
I wish I had someone I could dance with.
"Hey, Amity!"
I perked a smile when someone spoke beside me.
It was Augustus.
"Hey, Augustus." I replied back.
He smiled as he said, "what are you doing here alone near the tables?? Aren't you gonna dance with anyone tonight?"
I chuckled at his statement.
"Not this year again I suppose." I said.
"Huh? But you haven't danced with anybody when you turned ten." He said.
I shrugged.
"It's fine... I might know how to dance but I'm not too big on it y'now." I said as I crossed my arms and looked down.
Silence loomed for a moment making me raise a brow towards Augustus to look over to him.
He had this look of shock in his face as he stared at something or moreover someone on the dance floor.
Glancing over to where he was staring, I gasped when I saw a familiar look from the other side.
It's him!!
Tucking the paper inside along with the golden vile, I rushed for him.
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I didn't care if I was gonna be passing the dance floor. I needed to get to him.
"Excuse me." I called over while hurrying for him.
I continued to walk closer and closer.
Ignoring those who were ready for the music to start.
I walked closer and closer, his picture getting closer and closer.
He was busy by a table of food, listening to another witch talking to her.
That's when I stopped though, by the edge of the dance floor, just a step more and I was off of the dance floor.
But I couldn't bring myself to take another step as watched him smirk in front of a witch talking and smiling at her.
It would seem rude if I just bumped in on them y'now.
Sighing, I turned around and stared at everyone dancing.
What am I even doing..? Why are you chasing someone who might not even like you and just goes to your birthdays in an anonymous state so he could do whatever he wants here??
Sighing once again, I crossed my arms before feeling a tap on my shoulder.
A witch asked me out for a dance.
His suit looked so pristine just like his face.
I forced a smile as I reached to accept his hand before someone held it in theirs before I could accept his.
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The Ruined Monks of Rothfield Monastery
Erin is the youngest member of the dark monks; a supernatural brotherhood whose ultimate mission is to improve the dire circumstances of poor, war-torn villages using powers unique to each member. Or so he was led to believe. Erin, like his brothers, does not age, and that is, unfortunately, the only trait he shares with them. He cannot charm or compel like Woodrow, he cannot cast illusions like Knox, he was not swift like Swithin, not powerful like Blake. He was barely an assistant to his dear brother Wilbur, with his herbology and alchemy. He was told to lie low and make himself scarce. That is what he did. The dark monks temporarily reside in abandoned monasteries scattered around the country, feeding the poor and healing the sick, nurturing the monastic lands until it was fertile enough to raise crops and rear animals. As the years passed, they would leave these reformed, repopulated, self-sustaining monasteries and venture froth to help the next settlement. Yet, after years of toiling and quiet servitude, Erin notices that people and the country itself are declining. The villagers look gaunt, the once-lush soil now barren and cracked. He begins to feel disheartened, thinking that their mission is proving futile. Still, their leader Blake is steadfast and charges onward, and lately has his eyes set on a certain monastery in a thick, thorned forest that seems to diminish, even nullify their powers. A thick forest that Erin somehow has a connection to. A thorned glade where an ethereal voice calls his name with one simple request along with a promise:Heal the land, child. Heal the land and I promise to give you sanctuary so long as you stay. I promise to nurture you as you nurture me. As Erin cultivates the land, the land, in turn, gifts all its caretakers with new, enhanced skillsets on top of their unique powers -- skills of protection, healing, and magic. Magic. Erin had long wished to see the world fill with it again. The people, regardless of common or noble blood, still believe that magic will enter this world again. Magic to bless the king like it did the Saints. Magic to dispel the miasma befouling the world. Magic to bring back the fae folk and their many forms. It is up to Erin to forge the many paths leading to a bright future; to build a prosperous paradise that welcomes all races and bloodlines, by mastering the rewards gained through agriculture, horticulture, and animal husbandry, smithing, crafting, and fishing. Erin may also find a lifelong friendship and romance with his neighbor, Claude, if he decides to pursue him, and may even join him in the military campaign outside the monastery. The darkness still lurks outside, after all, and the mastery of his skills, along with a few good friends, may finally be enough to turn the tide in their favor. Most of all, Erin wants to keep the vow he set for himself: to protect everyone and everything he loves until his dying breath.
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