During the hours before sunset, Laurel paced about castle grounds. Even though he'd already had a bath that day, he cleaned himself up again, his mind running out of things to do. Once night had already fallen and the library's closing time drew near, he hurried over, his heart fluttering so much he thought it had come loose. "We're almost closing," said the intern at the reception. "I just have to talk to Siren and I'll be out," he said, which seemed enough to convince them. Or maybe they didn't care. Pushing the office's doors open and being immediately greeted by Siren's smile was enough to make his own falter. He carefully closed the doors again and walked over, perhaps a bit rigid; she got up to meet him. 

"So you came," she said in her usual way of teasing. "I wouldn't miss it," he said, taking a shy step forward to touch her hand softly. She returned it, her fingertips almost tickling his skin. "So… What now?" he asked. "We wait for closing time," she said, squeezing his hand before letting it go. "And then?" She returned to her desk and looked up to grin at him, "We go down to my room." The sudden silence was as loud as a slap. Siren must have noticed the redness in Laurel's cheeks, because she added: "... For privacy. Considering your status and all." She ran her eyes through his clothes. "Of course, it would have been helpful if you didn't come in House Greyland colors, always announcing your presence and such," she said. He looked down as if shocked by his own cloak. "Fuck, I didn't even realize. Sorry," he said. "You should worry about your own reputation," she laughed, "I don't have one to uphold." 

After taking in his puzzled look, she sighed and said: "You really don't know anything about me, while I've read your family's biography. Makes me sound obsessed." He took a seat on the couch, realizing they might be there a while. "It doesn't. It just so happens you transcribe lots of books," he said, "Though I'd say going around at night kissing people before marriage would hurt anyone's reputation." She laughed again, though it sounded somewhat snarky. "Your optics are so screwed, princeling," she said, "You can only imagine social norms and interactions among nobles and royals." Laurel raised his eyebrows and, after a moment of silence, Siren's smile widened. "You mistook me for a noble," she accused. "So?! That made the most sense!" Laurel exclaimed, suddenly wanting to prove his optics weren't screwed. 

To his surprise, Siren's face softened and she touched her back to her chair, relaxing somewhat. "I suppose it does. For you especially. I don't recall any scholarship programs such as Umbral Star's in the Ashen Valleys," she shook her head, "But no, I'm a farmer's daughter." She paused and then bit her lip, but it wasn't out of anxiety; no, it was done provocatively. "Does that turn you off?" she asked. He shifted, too aware of the space he took up. "Honestly, Olga, I don't think there's much that could turn me off right now," he said in a lower tone, immediately regretting it and looking away so as not to see her reaction. To make it worse, she didn't answer verbally. So, they just sat there in the awkward silence until someone knocked on the door. They didn't come in, just screamed from outside: "Siren, I'm heading out!" 

That made them face each other again. They both looked breathless, as if the intrusion had been a surprise, even though it was what they'd been waiting for. Slowly, Siren got up and walked over to Laurel, reaching her hand out to him. He took it and got up as well. Wordlessly, she guided him down to the basement. Looking down at the back of her neck made him more nervous. Honestly, he kind of wanted to restyle her badly done hair. She always had bed hair. It made him want to sit her down before him and brush it carefully so it would look nicer. But their relationship didn't go to that extent and he really shouldn't want it to. 

At last, they got to the final step and Siren fished her keys out of her pocket; she unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open to wide darkness. "Mind lighting it up for us?" she asked, "I'm spent." He didn't mind. Soon the room was lit, revealing a space he bet Siren didn't spend much time in. Still, he looked around. By the bed, there was a bookshelf as short as a nightstand, but wide enough to be functional. Close to a wall, there was a desk much less grand than the one at her office. In any case, the star of the room definitely was the bed. Even to Laurel's standards, it was lavish: huge and adorned by fluffy covers and an unholy number of pillows. He suddenly realized where the pillows on the couch came from. 

Siren's touch on his arm brought him back to reality. She guided him to the bed and sat him down cautiously, as if setting a scene up. Her movements were faulty. There was a split second of consideration where she looked at the space beside him, but ultimately decided to sit on his lap, knees going past his waist. Laurel wasn't sure if it was her sudden weight that rendered him breathless or her proximity. Hesitant, he wrapped his arms around her; she felt warm and… solid. Maybe that was an odd way to think of it, but he wanted to squeeze her against him. Her hands were firmly on his shoulders. "This might be too forward," she muttered, "But you did say there was little that could turn you off." He could hardly focus enough on what she was saying to reply. Because of their position, her neck was almost touching his lips; he could smell her perfectly with each breath he took. Yeah, having her on top of him might prove to not be that comfortable.

Then, she looked down, bringing her face closer to his. Her breath was warm against his cheeks and he was sure she felt the same. Each second stuck like that was agonizing. "What now?" he asked. As if that was possible, she came even closer. Great. "You kiss me," she said. Feeling a little childish, Laurel demanded: "Why me?" Siren squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and hissed. "Because I don't know how to," she said, as if admitting it pained her. "Well, I don't, either," Laurel said. Her eyes were a bit wide when she opened them to investigate his. "Fuck," she mumbled. She took a deep breath and, having successfully convinced herself, grabbed him by the nape and brought his mouth to hers. That was enough to do him in; all he could really do was hope she didn't mind. He rested his hands on her hips, trying not to grip too hard once he'd felt their shape. The kiss was sloppy and all over the place; it seemed like they were never in agreement of its direction, but he'd be tortured if it stopped. 

Then, the inevitable happened. Her teeth caught on his, or maybe the opposite. Still, when she pulled back to cover her mouth, he just gripped her hips tightly and pulled her closer, barely aware of his actions. It had felt oddly cold when she took her body off his. "Can we try again?" he asked. She uncovered her mouth and smiled. Actually, it was that impish grin. "I can feel it, you know," she said. It didn't take him long to understand. "Olga, I'm sorry," he said, feeling his cheeks warm up. Her grin grew and her voice dropped even lower, "You've been grinding me against it." He immediately lifted his hands from her hips, letting them go. "Fuck, I'm so…" She interrupted him by grabbing his hands and putting them back where they were, still smiling. "Yeah, we can try again," she answered at last.

What was supposed to be a mere kiss turned into a full-blown make out session. Before Laurel knew it, Siren had pushed him down on the bed and pinned him against it with her weight; he had his hands on her waist, fighting against the urge to run them all over her. At some point, just kissing her wasn't enough anymore. He wrapped his arms around her and forced her down against his chest so they could both catch a breath; she dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Maybe we're going too fast," he said. "Do you want to stop?" she asked. He gripped her a little tighter, the implication that their bodies might be separated making his heart race. "No… That's not the issue," he said. She nudged him to keep talking. "It's because you're making me feel like… doing more." Siren staggered. "Ah," she murmured. After a while, she started laughing and sat up. "Then I guess we'd better stop, huh," she said, smiling down at him. He'd never seen her smile so tenderly. Her face looked softer than ever when she said, "Do you want to hang out?" He sat up as well, feeling his blood rush when their faces got that close again. Before they stopped completely, he gave her a quick last kiss. "Yeah," he said.

She got off his lap, making him feel quite exposed, and started rearranging the pillows. Finally, she sat against the headboard and motioned for him to come close. He obeyed, soon finding himself right beside her; they took their shoes off and Siren covered their legs with a fluffy duvet. "Do you want me to end up falling asleep here?" he asked. "It'd be fine, I wake up earlier than most," she said. "And your bed is so good…" he said, closing his eyes. They just chilled out for a while, which was great, because Laurel really needed to recollect himself. "Did you… have fun?" he asked after a bit. "I did. Actually, we should do that again," she said and, when he looked at her, she had a smile on her face. 

"I've been having a great time with you," he took her hand gently, playing with her fingers, "I hope you know that." That seemed to embarrass her somewhat. "I thought I'd despise your very presence, so I'm pleasantly surprised," she said, turning her palm up so he could keep outlining her calluses. "All I had to do was suck up to you," he laughed a bit. "My ego is not that big." He smiled as well. "Well, but you wanted someone to take notice," he said, lowering his voice, "You told me to need you and ask you things… Speaking of which, what did you mean when you mentioned Umbra's face?" She hissed under her breath again; "You're not letting that go, are you?" As he shook his head, she sighed, "Look that up yourself and spare me." 

At that point, he grabbed both her hands and brought them closer to his chest, making her eyes widen as usual. "But, Olga," he tried to find her weakness, "I need you. I love when you explain things to me. You're the strict teacher I always dreamed of having." She squeezed his hands and took a deep breath. "You're weird," she said, "And a liar." Still, she exhaled slowly and acquiesced: "You know, the Umbral Star Academy is named after Umbra, the deity. It's a remnant of what the universe was before planets and stars were invented. Essentially a collection of cosmic dust. It's seen and assimilated everything." She paused, looking at nowhere specifically, like she was thinking. "But it's said that it can take on a humanoid form before us, though it doesn't have a face. So it wears a heavy veil, because the dust that comprises it stores secrets to… well, everything, really." Siren glanced at their hands and then looked away. "Even if one were to lift its veil, there's a failsafe, you see. As a last resort, Umbra mirrors your matter instead of revealing its."

She stopped again, taking a good look at Laurel's blank face; he hadn't quite processed it yet. Her hands were trembling a little in his grasp, so he smoothed them over with his thumbs. "We like to tell kids and hopeful people that you'll see something true about yourself if you stare at Umbra's face," and, before he could react, her face turned stern: "That is why I shouldn't have said it. You'll only misinterpret me." She might be right. The conclusion had kinda messed with him. "If you tell me what you meant, I can't misinterpret you," he said, trying to help her amend it. Siren inhaled sharply. "I meant that you were right. I am lonely. And I do want you to be my friend, as pathetic as that may be," she said. 

He was ready to just accept that and move on, but he sort of wanted to give her hell for the times she'd teased him. "Ah, because that made it sound like you… liked me," he said. Immediately, her cheeks reddened and she hid her face on his shoulder. "I don't. Don't be an ass," she mumbled. "That'd be okay. I do have a minor crush on you. It's okay to feel these things," he paused, feeling his heart sink a little, "It doesn't mean we'll do anything about it." She still hid her face in his cloak, gripping it tightly. "I don't have time for that," she muttered. "And I can't," he said, holding her closer in a hug, "But I'm not going to pretend I don't have feelings for you. I do. And you can choose what to do with them." She looked up and bit her lip. "I want to do more things to you," she said, "And I want you to pay attention to me and praise me even more." He slid a hand up to play with her hair, enjoying the feeling of intimacy he'd never gotten before. "I love how vocal you are," he said, "I can certainly do all that."

She inched closer and kissed him slowly; the desperation from earlier seemed gone. It was soft and warm and feeling the tip of her tongue made him shudder. "Then we're good," she said afterwards, "Still on for the party tomorrow?" He nodded. "Yeah. Can't miss the opportunity to see you out of your usual clothes," he said. "Don't make me self conscious," she grumbled, "Though I am curious to see if you'll do makeup." He raised an eyebrow, unsure what to make of the question. "Of course," he said and, after rethinking it: "Is that an Ashen Valleys thing?" She smiled. "Yeah," then, she took her lips to his ear: "We can hang out here afterwards." It sent chills down his neck.