Walking into the dining hall for breakfast the next morning, Laurel was a bit taken aback by the sight of the tail of Wyvern’s gown as she sat on one of the benches, back turned to him. Still, he recovered from the light shock and served himself, making a point to walk by her table as he searched for one; though she was excitedly talking to someone beside her, she paused to greet him. “Hey, your Highness,” she exclaimed, scooting to the side to free a spot and patting the bench, “I was actually itching to ask you something.” He acquiesced, sitting with them and many others. “How come you’re eating in the student dorms’ hall?,” he asked. Wyvern adjusted her posture to let the man she’d been talking to into his line of sight; by the insignia and colors of his cloth armor, he was a guard. “‘Cause this is where Des eats,” she said, then introducing them plainly: “Desmond, Laurel Greyland, vice versa.” 

After they exchanged pleasantries, she immediately kept going: “Nevermind that! I wanted to ask you if you’re getting along with my little Siren so far.” Eh. He ignored her pleading gaze by taking a sip of hot milk with honey. “Well, to be honest… She doesn’t seem into chatting. Unless I ask her for help. Then, she talks a lot,” he said. “Oh? So you did ask her for help?” Wasn’t that the point? “Yeah. I managed to be able to sense her mana and stuff,” he kept drinking his milk, somewhat uncomfortable. 

“What? She let you use her as an example?” By that point, Wyvern seemed deeply invested. “Eh, I think she regretted it anyway. She seemed peeved after she asked me what made it click,” he snuck a glance at Wyvern, terrified to find her wide eyes hovering over him. “Why? What did you reply? Come on. No suspense.” Laurel shifted, focusing on the table. “Well… I said that once I opened myself to any intent from her, it was easy.” Wyvern’s sudden laughter made him shudder; she contained herself as soon as Desmond touched her shoulder. “You must have freaked her out,” she said, still smiling as she rubbed her eye. 

“Why?! That sounds perfectly normal,” he said, but still felt oddly defensive. “No, no. It’s because of the nature of her work,” said Wyvern and, noticing he was looking at her quizzically, explained: “You shouldn’t be casually making yourself vulnerable to a curse inflicter. Especially not her… Her brand of cursing relies much more on her own will than most curses you’ll encounter.” He thought it over for a second before admitting: “I haven’t encountered many curses.” Wyvern snapped her fingers as if that gesture would make him understand. Or maybe she just liked doing that. “If you did, most of them would be something to the effect of cursing you to go bald. That’s because that sort of curse relies on the properties of spell ingredients. Siren’s… not quite. Hers are, I’d say…” Wyvern paused, looking around as if pondering how much she should say, “... a battle of wills. Ultimately, hers ends up overpowering yours and she’ll lead you to relentlessly harm yourself.”

“Seriously, Wyves, you should stop butting into the girl’s social life,” Desmond interrupted, stealing a pancake off her plate. “But she’s like the little sister I’ve never had!” He rolled his eyes upon hearing that. “She hardly speaks to anyone as is,” he said, “I’m sure she doesn’t need a big sister as overbearing as you.” With a flick of Wyvern’s finger, the napkin Desmond had been cleaning his lips with made its way into his mouth, effectively choking him. “I’m not overbearing!” Wyvern hissed. 

From the lack of concern of everyone around them, their banter should be a regular occurence. Laurel silently withdrew from the conversation, finishing his breakfast and trying not to miss the food he’d be eating back home. 

As soon as he was done, he took the path to the library again. Maybe it was best to explore the castle grounds or even venture out into town, but he wanted to experience that faint taste of progress again… in magic and maybe also in conversation. He was glad to see that the building looked busy that morning. Studying along those scholars made him feel like a student too; perhaps that was silly. Once he got to the privacy of Siren's office, he found her sitting at her desk, writing something. Somehow, she'd gotten her coat's sleeves off. Her exposed arms had weird symbols drawn all over them; some seemed tattooed and others seemed like dry, or even fresh, ink. Taking a few steps ahead, he saw that whatever she was drawing was much alike the symbols on her skin.

"Good morning," he said, staring unapologetically, "What are you doing?" She tapped the pile of books beside the one she was currently drawing on and said, "Cursing this batch." He bent over slightly to get a better look, "How does it work?" Siren sighed. "Focus on the basics for now," she said. As expected, it seemed like personal questions wouldn't fly. Laurel let himself fall on the couch, willing to attempt some more small talk. "It's a bit disorienting how big or, um… grandiose everything is around here," he said, looking around, "I mean, just your office is gigantic." That seemed engaging enough for Siren. "I suppose the Ashen people don't have a flair for ostentation," she paused and then smirked, "though the royal family must have access to a lot of frivolities the common folk do not." Her voice had a bit of a bite to it, but Laurel shrugged it off. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise," he replied. She stopped writing altogether and tilted her head to the side, smiling tightly. "As a prince, do you really deserve to wear the boar and wheat grains you have embroidered on your cloak?," she asked, resting her head on her hand, "That symbol belongs to your people." 

Despite all the soft pillows Laurel was on top of, his body felt tense. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words didn't come out. Whatever he said would have sounded pathetic, wouldn't it? So he shrunk in place while Siren went back to work as if nothing had been said. As he watched her smile melt away, he noticed that there was a smudge of ink where her hand had touched her cheek. Though maybe then too much time had passed to reply, he still did: "Isn't your life very cushy too?" She chuckled, pen gliding away at the paper, "Since my Umbral Star graduation, yes." As her eyes narrowed, she continued: "Though I may have been detached from existence for a while…" 

Siren's amusement, even if it came at Laurel's expense, made him relax a little. "How so?," he asked. "Isn't it time you started studying?," she said. Right. He thought it over. "I don't really know where to go from here." That gave Siren some pause. "Let's try the opposite of what we did yesterday," she said, focused on her books, "I'm busy though, so just touch my arm and we'll both try to keep tabs on your mana flow." Laurel got up and circled her desk, "Shouldn't I be able to feel my own mana?" Siren refilled her pen nib, a dull look in her eyes. "Optimally, yes. I just want to discard a hypothesis," she said, letting out a frustrated sigh as she attacked a smudge with her blotter.

Choosing obedience, Laurel grabbed her bare arm, trying not to touch any fresh ink. "What now?" Uneasy, he looked down at her, but she didn't look up. "Try to do the same thing I did yesterday. No rush," she answered. So he did. Multiple times. Nothing seemed to change or flow or whatever within him. Under his grip, he felt Siren's arm tense up as she worked, unbothered. "I think I'm doing it wrong," he said. "As I said," her head seemed to go further down, "you should be more attuned to your own will. If you want to direct it somewhere, you need intent." He could try that again. Having someone to hold for reassurance was a confidence boost, actually. Keeping her advice in mind, he clarified his intentions to himself and tried to redirect that energy towards the hand that touched Siren.

A while later, a tingling sensation along with that focused layer that she'd described made him smile wide; he almost yelled in celebration, but remembered the library thing. "Did I do it?," he half-whispered, trying to contain his excitement. He was pretty sure of it, but the way Siren looked at her own hand with her brow furrowed made him doubt himself. "Yes, but you transferred it to me," she said. His eyes widened, "Is that bad?" She shook her head and sighed. "No, it just dispersed," she continued, "Maybe your intentions weren't focused enough." Laurel scratched his nape, looking away for a moment as he said, "Well… I was thinking of showing you… The way you showed me."

He snuck a glance at her face right before she looked off to the side. "Ah," she said, "That felt… clean." For some reason, the interaction felt awkward, though Laurel thought it shouldn't. After a while, Siren smiled a little and said, "Since you've skipped from harnessing to transferring, you could try refueling a fairy light for me." That made his excitement come back.