On its own, the simple sound of clinking heels against a floor rarely elicited a reaction out of people. But there was nothing simple about those precise heels. Nor the woman who wore them.

Students of all ages scurried to positively throw themselves out of her way, dreading of obstructing her passage or inconveniencing her in any fathomable way. Some tripped, some face planted into walls. But no young man or woman alike failed to turn and watch as the entrancing tall presence sauntered and floated casually past them, down their Academy hall.

Luxuriously thick black hair styled meticulously, without a strand out of place. Round wine-coloured nails adorning her silver-ringed fingers, full hips and waist synched tightly by a richly decorated burgundy blouse and skirt. She stood out between the myriad of uniforms like a sore thumb, or a rich, magnetic siren.

Her head was tipped back, chin held high, a signature smile she wore at all times playfully toying at the corner of her dark painted lips. The young woman emanated ease, confidence and, mainly — innumerable amounts of power.

Bewitching.

Intoxicating.

Those were usually the adjectives people used when describing the picture painted beauty that was this particular person. So nobody even dreamed to question when she determinately rounded her heels towards one particular dark and permanently deserted hallway of the dormitory. They were all too stunned by her presence, afraid to miss a beat of her.

Humming a cheery, soft melody to herself, she halted before a dark mahogany door. Her slender fingers reached patiently into her pocket and fished out a set of polished keys, which she promptly inserted into the keyhole and twisted, walking inside.

The room was completely dark, not a single source of light in sight. So dark she couldn't even see her own perfectly manicured hands.

Her emerald eyes narrowed, lips pursing. Then, knowledgable feet stalked forth, skilfully and easily avoiding the array of empty bottles, papers and materials scattered across the pavement.

Once she was across the room, she reached forward and tore the curtains open in a singular harsh motion, instantly flooding the room with light.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Her melodious voice sang through a wide, signature smile.

Which elicited a loud, discontented groan from the bundle of covers on the small bed closely on her right.

"No. Out." Lyra grumbled, words lined with conviction but slurred and muffled by her pillow.

The young woman only grinned brighter, delighted eyes turning to asses the student's disarrayed figure. "What was that, darling? Yes, it is rather lovely to see you too." She mused, u-turning and floating gracefully to the nearby bathroom. She returned promptly, walking up to the bed and placing a full glass of water on Lyra's bedside table.

"Now. Drink this and up you go!"

As the woman walked off, Lyra rolled slowly and languidly onto her back. Her forearm reaching to cover her eyes from the intrusive light, a discontented, lazy eye cracking open. Immediately latching onto a certain figure's back.

"How did you get in?" The student mumbled, drowsily.

"With my keys, silly!" The woman threw her a look over her shoulder, pearly white teeth glimmering in a full fledged smile.

Lyra frowned. "I took those from you months ago."

"Yes, and that wasn't very nice, so I ventured to correct your little mishap."

Rolling her eyes, Lyra sighed, before covering them fully with her arm. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I not visit?"

"That's what I'm wondering too. Can you, in the future, not visit?"

The woman frowned at her in playful offence. "How boorish. Being away from society makes you so ill-mannered, Zahrat Saghira."

Lyra grimaced visibly at the familiar nickname. A gesture the raven-haired woman made a point to ignore.

"I'm not in the mood for— how do I put this politely?" Lyra opened her eyes, arm falling off, a pointed glare shooting to the woman's back. "You. I'm not in the mood for you."

The raven-haired beauty only hummed, thoughtfully. The signature smile never left her features, and she deigned a stray paper she had picked up with a final look before tossing it over her shoulder in dismissal. Whirling around to face the displeased prodigy sprawled on the bed instead.

"Yes, it seems you're rather much more inclined to drinking yourself senseless in the dark for a week straight." She cocked a dark eyebrow Lyra's way, emerald eyes pointed into brown ones. "When was the last time you've ventured outside your little, blowsy cave?"

Lyra decided to sit up. Grunting quietly at the strain in her limbs and cracking of her joints, (as well as her typical headache), she shifted upwards, feet dragging to dangle off the bed.

"How is that any of your business?"

"You are my business." Emerald eyes narrowed. "The company's business."

Lyra made a show of ignoring her, reaching forward to collect the glass of water off her bedside instead. "I've been going to classes." She mumbled, and flinched in displeasure when a loud, melodious laugh slashed through the room.

"What proverbial bullshit!" The woman grinned. "I have spoken to your teachers and they were quite quick and adamant to reassure me that you hadn't attended one single lecture this week."

Lyra rolled her eyes, bringing the glass to her lips. "Who did you speak to?"

"That lovely little lecturer of yours, Miss Pouiteuil." The woman moved again, towards her drawer, which she proceeded to scan with interested eyes. "She seemed quite happy to me, bless her soul. If only I had any knowledge of fluid mechanics, I would happily entertain her for dinner."

The pointed scoff Lyra gave in between sips went ignored.

"Oh, and that new charming young man from the engineering mathematics department. Vincent, was it? No, that's not right."

Lyra's movements paused, lips releasing the rim of the glass. Her heart skipped an uncomfortably long beat.

Viktor.

Slowly, making a point to look collected and unbothered, she lowered her hand. "You did?" She mused, attention focused solely on the glass she was currently depositing back on the table.

"Why, yes! Lovely eyes."

The student rose to her feet, stepping towards the chair propped up to her desk with the intention of slipping the richly coloured robe hung there off its back.

"What did he say?" Lyra asked, shrugging the long silken material over her white pyjamas. She meant it to sound disinterested, and it did.

But it was rotten luck that the woman knew her this well. Emerald eyes stopped their skimming halfway through the jewellery section, and her gaze rose to eye the silver-haired girl's back curiously. "Rather uncharacteristic of you to care about what people have to say of your persona, Lyra dear." She muttered through a pearly smile. But there was something uncharacteristically off in her tone, coming out a smidge less theatrical than usual.

Lyra tsked, annoyed, and wheeled on herself to lean back on her desk with crossed arms. "Forget I asked. Could we cut to the chase please? Why are you here?"

Smirking, the raven-head threw her a hooded-eyed glance over her shoulder, which Lyra watched her do, widely unimpressed. A pleasant chuckle left the woman's burgundy-painted lips and she tipped her head back slightly before nodding towards the student's desk.

"Nigel sends his warmest regards."

Lyra sighed, turning to search for the envelope. It sat square in the middle of the table, in the only space not littered by her stray papers. She swiped it off, with a scoff. "Of course he does. What does he want now?"

"He sent me to corroborate on whether you have completed the plans for our beloved councillor's order." The woman swiped an invisible dust particle off the drawers, smile curling at the edges. Then, she moved towards the closet. "Your cheque is attached, as per usual."

Lyra worked the letter open and skimmed through the contents with calculating eyes. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the number that sat written above Councillor Hoskel's signature. "Seems the man doesn't have any notion of money either." She muttered in astonishment, staring at the large sum.

"Which works handsomely to our benefit." The raven-head grinned, flying the doors of the student's wardrobe open.

A sight which Lyra narrowed her eyes at.

"Could you not dig through my closet, dearest?"

"Ooh, we're back to pet names?" The woman deigned her with an amused look. "I like it! Brings back memories."

Lyra's mouth twisted.

She watched, displeased, as the raven-head returned to swiping through her hung clothes with manicured, lean fingers. Standing quiet for a moment with arms crossed over her chest and a lonely finger tapping impatiently at the crook of her elbow. Before, at last, she sighed, annoyed.

"The plans aren't in there."

"Darling, I wouldn't be surprised if they did end up here, what with all this chaos. But no, silly, I'm checking if you have any unquestionable items of clothing suitable for that little girl's party tonight." The woman threw her a coveted glance. Then, she smiled, and her green eyes flashed with a dangerous emotion Lyra did not necessarily care for. "What of that emerald dress you wore to our date that one time? You looked rather ravishing."

"I burnt it."

The raven-head rose an eyebrow, delighted. "How dramatic."

Shaking her head in dismay, Lyra finally pushed off the table, arms falling by her sides. She meandered forward, bare feet padding down wooden floorboards towards the bathroom, bottom of her knee-long robe chasing dramatically after her.

"It's in the back." She waved absently into the closet's direction when she passed. "But I'm not wearing it."

"Well, you're not showing up as an Astraois representative, by my side no less, in your shaggy a-do. I may find your rugged style quite charming, but I'm plenty certain most people at a place like that won't."

The annoyance in Lyra's voice was palpable. "Of course you're coming."

The woman beamed at her over her shoulder. "Of course I am! Nigel was quite insistent on it. Plus, I can never pass up a high-class party. One of Cassandra's even less so."

When Lyra emerged out of her dark bathroom she stopped, exasperated, standing deftly still. Watching as the raven-head continue to asses her clothing. Her nails scrubbed mindlessly at the skin of her palm, the corners of her lips pointing decidedly downwards.

At last, she groaned, rolled her eyes in an impatient way and spoke. "That blue dress there. That's what I'm wearing." The raven head paused her movements at the words, eyes latching onto the material Lyra had spoken of with assessing interest. While she did that, Lyra reached to twist open the handle of her front door in one decisive motion. "The plans are in my lab. After you."

The woman turned to face her then. Her eyes found the student's disheveled figure, and she smiled. Making a show of them roaming her frame for the first time that day with amused intrigue — those disarrayed strands of silver hair, the long white slacks and tank-top peaking from under the exotically intricate red and blue robe.

Lyra recognised the emotion swimming behind the woman's irises immediately, and held back a scoff. Instead, she resorted to standing still, holding the door open for the raven-head. Her posture straight and unmoving, expression painfully unimpressed at being so openly leered at.

But it only made the woman smile wider. Humming in appreciation, the raven-head stepped forward. Lyra was only a few inches shorter than her, but the heels gave the woman a considerable advantage. So when she stepped up to her, the student had to tip her head back slightly to level those emerald eyes with her signature empty brown.

"See?" The woman dragged through a delectable smile. "Your manners are already starting to return."

Lyra rolled her eyes, looking away promptly.

The sight made the woman chuckle. And after sparing the silver-haired student another glance, she stepped into the hallway with heels clicking against marble. Diligently, Lyra followed, barefooted, and they walked to the door across the small hall in a few short steps. She fished a key out of her robe's pocket, unlocked the door and stepped into her lab, leaving the door open for the raven-head to float in elegantly behind her.

While the student trodded over to a reclined desk at the far end of the room, emerald eyes skimmed over the vast interior of the laboratory. The room was enormous, brimming with light that emanated from the large, patterned windows on the opposing wall. Prototypes of engines, catenary curtains and airships of all shapes and sizes were sprawled around. Some leaning on stands, some laid out on the myriad of desks, the bigger ones hung up on strings, dangling off the high up ceiling.

Here too, papers and books littered every corner visible out of any sort of peripheral. But the mess was kept off the floor, instead piling up on metal desks and surfaces. The raven-head watched the familiar interior with a smile, noting the presence of an impressive amount of empty coffee mugs and the new elaborate chalk-drawn engine plan in the middle of the room. Lyra had never been a fan of blackboards, so she took it all out on papers, floors or walls. A quality which she still had, apparently, the woman noted in amusement to herself.

"Here, all done and finished." Lyra spoke, walking back with a large rolled-up scroll in her hand. "I'll come by next week to supervise the forging of the engine and stabilisers. I've alternated the design so they will triple the airship's speed, but they both have to be manufactured in a precise manner. Otherwise it will be too unstable and run the risk of spinning out of control at the first notion of a breeze."

While the student spoke, standing straight as ever with her hands folded behind her back, the raven-head unrolled the paper in assessment. Eyes skimming over perfectly symmetrical drawings and elegantly written numbers. She smiled down at it all in astonishment, slowly, lips stretching into a barely visible smile.

"You never cease to amaze, Zahrat Saghira." Her soft voice dragged carefully, and she glanced at Lyra through long, thick lashes.

The silver-haired woman's face remained expressionless.

After a long moment, the woman beamed, rolling the paper shut. "Splendid! I got what I came for and got you out of bed. Now!" Emerald eyes levelled brown ones with seriousness, and she stepped in closer to the unflinching student. "The party starts at eight, so be there at eight twenty-five sharp. Nigel is quite insistent we all make an entrance together, as the face of the company. So shower, curl your hair, put on some heels and do not be late. Otherwise you'll have me to answer to."

A suggestive smirk curled her burgundy lips at the last statement, and Lyra grimaced openly at the sight.

"Always good to see you, Nerissa." Lyra dragged tightly, plainly and painfully unimpressed.

But it only seemed to spur Nerissa's smile further. She leaned in closer, bringing a hand to Lyra's cheek. A single, lightly tanned and manicured finger reached to trail a soft caress down the student's pale skin, emerald eyes making a show of dipping downwards to openly observe Lyra's lips. That smirk was sitting on her own burgundy ones all the while, her lips parted minimally as she gently dragged her nail down the curve of the student's jaw, all the way up to her chin.

Lyra did not flinch nor shift, her eyes empty of any sort of sentiment. But she watched Nerissa's movements closely, silent and unmoving, levelling her with dark eyes.

The dark-haired woman leaned closer, so close that her nose made a point to gently brush against the tip of Lyra's, her breath fanning the student's skin. Then, Nerissa purred, soft and low, into that small gap between them.

"The pleasure is always mine, Ya Fo'Aadi."

Lyra's mouth twisted, cynically at the statement. "How fitting. You should put that on a t-shirt."

The raven-head chuckled, gaze giving Lyra's countenance a final, hungry swoop.

Then, just as suddenly, she stepped back and routed for the door, gliding out as if nothing had ever transpired. Lyra's eyes followed her carefully, her posture straight and unmoving, relaxed hands held loosely behind her back.

"Ma'a salama, darling!" Nerissa called before passing through the doorframe. "See you soon."

And just like that, she was gone.

Lyra's look lingered on the spot where she vanished for a second longer, her expression unreadable.

Before her lips fell with an annoyed tsk, and she made her way out of the lab, back to her room.

||

"Lyra, sweetheart!"

When Lyra stepped out of the coach, helped by a diligent footman, she was uncomfortable. Don't get her wrong, she liked to wear dresses, though she found trousers to be much more practical and more suitable to her line of work. But she'd forgotten just how much she hated heels.

Still, the lavishly expensive dark blue gown she was wearing suited her well, and after spending hours trying to tame her mane of hair, she now stood looking rather quite nicely, if she did say so herself. What she did not expect, was to be bombarded so quickly with the sight of Nigel. Especially, as she was currently clumsily wrangling to find balance on the disagreeable pebbled pavement in front of the Kiramman estate.

She forced a smile nonetheless, praying she hadn't smudged off her lipgloss with all the fidgety, nervous chewing of her bottom lip she did during the ride over. She did not like parties like these at the best of time. But she knew she had to show. She'd promised Caitlyn.

"Good evening, Nigel." She greeted, watching the man as he strode up to her, a beaming smile stretching his wrinkling features.

Nigel Astraois Jr was an older man, heading into his elder years. He used 'Jr' as a suffix in honour of his late father, but it was more of a ceremonial title than anything. A wider, kind looking fellow with soft eyes, a greying beard and a head completely devoid of hair. He wore a top hat now, along with a fashionable walking stick and an ostentatiously golden monacale.

The Astraois family had been in the business of aeronautical engineering for decades, a detail that he did not fail to incessantly remind everyone of on any occasion he got.

Still, he was an agreeable man and a decent boss. Though, he did not much run the company himself these days, and mainly served as an emblem, a symbol of its decadent grandeur. In the recent year, much to Lyra's dismay, the company was primarily under the strict supervised of a certain COO. Who was currently standing tall in the distance, wearing a luxurious red gown, freshening her dark red lipstick while her raven hair cascaded off her shoulders in the exact curls Lyra's white did.

The student fought back a scowl.

She colour coded them.

Typical.

"Punctual as ever." Nigel chuckled in good humour once he warbled into the spot before her.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I was threatened by your despotic employee." Lyra smiled tightly, eyes moving from Nigel's to send a tight glare over his shoulder.

At the approaching, smirking, Chief Operating Officer.

"Oh, now, Nerissa, play nice!" The older man threw the raven-head a pointed look once she elegantly descended into the spot next to him. "We wouldn't want our prodigy to be unhappy in her work environment. Lovely work on that new airship. I've glanced at the plans and, oh! Genius, darling, truly remarkable! The tweaks you added to your latest engine design are ingenious! You are an unparalleled artiste."

Lyra smiled a little more sincerely now. "Thank you, Nigel."

He offered her his left arm, and turned so Nerissa could hook her manicured hand through his right. And as the coach Lyra had come in rolled down the circular driveway, and another pulled up right after it, the three began slowly making their way to the main entrance of the Kiramman estate.

"I trust the sum on that cheque I sent was satisfactory?" Nigel asked Lyra while they ascended the nothing short but regal, but incredibly long, staircase. Lyra would've been lying if she said she wasn't struggling in those heels and the long dress.

But she replied readily, "More than. Surprising, too."

"Ah well, it all comes with being the leading company in our field." The man chuckled. "If we're lucky, we'll get more commissions sent our way from the honourable Council members."

"We don't need luck." Nerissa suddenly said, whipping to face her companions, long dark curls falling in waterfalls down her shoulders. Her bloodshot lips stretched into a pearly white smile, and she made a point to look straight into the student's eyes when she spoke.

"We have Lyra."

The silver-haired woman's expression tightened in warning.

Which only made Nerissa smile wider.

"Shall we?" Emerald eyes moved to look down at Nigel, who had not noticed the exchange of stares his COO and prodigious employee had engaged in.

"After you, ladies." He smiled kindly, jolly in his step.

Lyra and Nerissa complied, walking forward down the hall towards where distant orchestral music could now be heard. They reached each other's side, heels clicking against marble, postures straight and elegant. And Lyra could not help herself when she tilted sideways, leaning in towards the raven-haired woman.

"Kiss-ass."

Nerissa's crimson tinted lips curved into a perfect, devious smile at her words. "Not here, darling. There are children present."

||

"Sir Nigel Octavius Astraois Jr, and the lovely ladies, Nerissa Faizan and Lyra Velaryon of the Astraois Manufacturing Corporation!" The Master of Ceremonies announced loudly into the luxuriously wide and richly decorated hall.

Just like that, they were thrown into the midst of the party, into the impressively large crowd of upscale aristocrats and business owners.

Nerissa and Nigel were swiftly whisked away by one of the industrialist groups, a fate Lyra managed to avoid by hastily sliding off into the larger crowd at the right moment. Her cordial, aristocratic facade was snapped on and fastened securely onto her features, with the dreadful premonition of staying there for the rest of the evening.

Still, even as she smiled and politely replied to the greetings of the people she recognised, her eyes searched the crowd. She spotted Cassandra almost immediately, and en-routed towards her readily. Greeting the host was good custom, regardless of acquaintances, and she was educated properly to do just that, despite the anxiety she got at galas like these. Plus, she could ask the matriarch of the whereabouts of her daughter, and Jayce. Which would give her the perfect escape.

But as she was making her way through the narrow tunnel of bodies, halfway-through to reaching her target, her eyes latched on to the two people the hostess was conversing with.

And her body gave the fastest hundred-and-eighty turn it ever had in her life.

Eyes wide, smile twitching dangerously at the corners, Lyra froze completely, staring downwards.

Fuck.

A drink.

She needed a drink, now.

The student scrambled for the bar across the room before her brain even had time to process the command. Complementary champagne flutes were laid out in fitted rows on what she could only assume was golden table cloth, long tables perturbing with all sorts of snacks and delicacies. She ignored the food, snatched a glass and downed the liquid inside it faster than she could blink.

She breathed then, chest threatening to start heaving.

Out of morbid curiosity, Lyra dared to peak behind her shoulder, past the myriad of heads and feathery head ornaments, at the trio on the opposite side of the room.

There, she found her subjects.

Cassandra.

Heimerdinger.

Viktor.

He stood tall in his black tux, sporting a bow tie and leaning casually on his cane. He seemed at ease, but she could see the way his shoulders were slightly tenser than usual, and was suddenly, annoyingly, reminded by a permanently shut off part of her brain that he always hated crowds.

Lyra spun back forward, facing her back to the room, her stance rigid.

What was he doing here? She supposed this was the best place one could be to meet potential investors and make connections. Why wouldn't he be here? Why hadn't she considered this?

Shit, shit, shit.

Her hand fumbled for a new glass blindly and she tipped it back without a flinch.

Shit, shit, shit, fuck.

She should've thought of this. It was inevitable. He was Heimerdinger's assistant now, of course he'd be here.

But what was she supposed to do now?

Slowly, tentatively, she dared another glance back. She blinked, eyes searching, finding and latching onto his figure once more. He was smiling minimally at something Cassandra was making a point of saying, amber gaze glimmering in the light of the crystal chandeliers. Her mind was blank, but her heart was pounding a little too fast for her comfort.

Fuck.

Just as she was about to look away, his eyes absentmindedly flickered sideward.

And ended up smashing directly, categorically, indisputably into hers.

She dropped to the floor.

Well, not quite literally.

But she did crouch down further than the comfort of her dress could provide. Eyes blinking at the pavement before her, Lyra stared blankly.

Her face felt hot. Why did it feel this hot?

He went from being a faded, unpleasant memory, to being a persistent, very concrete but still very unpleasant presence in most aspects of her life in less than two weeks. He was in her classes, in these parties, and most importantly, lodged painfully into her mind. Who could truly blame her really? Seeing him there, in the midst of everything she now knew and was apart of, felt surreal. Two radically opposing world clashing rather quite categorically into each other.

Lyra was trying to breathe. She remained in her squatted position, hand gently supporting her heeled frame on the golden table cloth.

Suddenly, she came to a very startling realisation.

He was Heimerdinger's assistant now. And her professor. This was only going to get worse.

Maybe she could just sit this semester out and take her exams later, when all of this... Wait.

No.

Hell no.

Her of all people, intimidated by something this trivial? Basically halfway through cowering under a table at an upscale party like this because of a mere person?

No chance.

She shot back up immediately. Determination painted her features, and she swept her hands roughly over the creases of her dress.

This was ridiculous. She would not be frightened this easily. Not after everything she'd been through.

He was just a person.

Sure, she'd spent a week drunkenly ruminating about him after their interaction. Sure, she'd called him all sorts of things when they last saw each other. She was angry and he was the perfect outlet for it. It was an inevitable outburst she was not strong enough to reign in. But even now, she stood by what she had said.

So, really, she had nothing to cower away from.

This was her life. And no person or individual was going to stop her from living it the way she wanted.

So, with a last assessing glance at herself, Lyra picked up another glass of champagne, and dove back into the crowd.

His eyes were already on her when she turned, riddled with confusion and puzzlement. They widened a fraction when he saw her again, now making her way towards them with decisive action.

Lyra struggled to rail in her heartbeat. Tipping her chin upwards instead, she strode forward, making sure to add a little more sway to her hips to appear natural and unbothered. Elegant and confident.

Yes, this could work.

His eyes flickering down her figure, widening a little further, before he looked away immediately.

She could have sworn she saw him swallow uneasily even from a distance.

Or maybe she just imagined it.

Her own eyes latched off him, and she walked on with convinced eased, forcing her face to stay relaxed. But the room was feeling very, very hot and she could physically feel herself starting to sweat.

He didn't look at her when she approached, making a point to hide his eyes behind his own champagne glass, as he took a long, languid sip. He didn't even look at her when she laid a hand on Cassandra's exposed shoulder and the woman whirled around with elated surprise.

"Oh, Lyra, dear! You made it!" Cassandra beamed at the student, hands reaching to grasp her forearms into gentle gloved fingers. As was customary, the matriarch leaned in to place two soft kisses on either side of Lyra's cheeks, the young woman reciprocating in kind. When the Kiramman pulled back, she made a show of taking the student's form in. "And my, you look gorgeous! Beautiful, darling!"

The contact on her skin, for as minimal as it was, made Lyra feel more at ease. She relaxed, slightly, shoulders dropping a fraction, and gave the matriarch a sincere smile, "Thank you. What a wonderful party. Send my compliments to the hostess, because she's truly outdone herself on this one." Lyra made a point of making her voice as musical as it could physically be, a playfully smirk curving the corners of her lips.

God, she felt like Nerissa now.

But Cassandra laughed, head tilting back, one hand coming to lay over her chest in delight. "Always such a charmer! I was just conversing with your step-father here and his lovely new assistant."

She forced her attention sideways, gaze flickering tactfully only into the yordle's detection. The proud smile he was giving her, eyes shimmering with admiration, made her smile soften.

"You look wonderful, my dear." He spoke, tone brimming with affection. She could not help but chuckle lightly, grateful.

"Thank you, Professor."

Now came the difficult part.

Her eyes shifted to Viktor, who stood silent, head tipped lower, eyes fixed on her.

Against her own wishes, she felt her smile twitch and her eased facade chip slightly. But she made a show to lightly nod into his direction, cordial and polite. "Hello, Sir." She muttered.

He nodded minimally back in acknowledgment, before looking away.

Lyra could confidently say that she hated the disappointed pang that tugged at her heart at the sight of that.

But it was probably just the champagne starting to do its work.

Her attention snapped back to Cassandra instantly, polite smile fixed tightly back in place. "I do apologise for my intrusion, Cassandra. I don't suppose you could advise me as to the whereabouts of your daughter?"

Cassandra was halfway through taking another sizeable sip of her drink, and she exclaimed a hum in recognition at the student's words. "But of course! She's been asking after you all evening! I believe she's somewhere in the gardens, playing with the rest of the kids. Tobias made the mistake of giving her his present today. A new rifle, that is. Naturally, we haven't seen her inside since."

Lyra nodded, eyes giving a flicker towards Heimerdinger, whom she sent a soft smile. "Very well. I'll leave you all to it."

She began to whirl around, stealing another glance at Viktor as she did. His eyes were fixed on her and suddenly she felt more hot that she should have.

Before she had the chance to escape, however, the hand Cassandra had kept on one of her forearms tightened gently. "Lyra, dear!" She called, airily, no doubt a side effect of her own intricacies with the party's liquor. But her blue eyes flashed with mischief, and suddenly Lyra felt even more uneasy.

"I saw you walking in with a certain lady earlier." Cassandra smiled, teasingly.

Oh, no.

"I am so glad you two made up at last!" The matriarch exclaimed, elated. "Are we to finally expect a merry announcement from the happy couple? 

"God, no."

Cassandra's smile fell a fraction, surprised. 

"I-I mean. Nerissa and I are friendly now." Lyra scrambled, securing her elegant smile on once more. Though, she could feel a certain amber gaze burning holes into her and felt anything but relaxed. "Just— friendly." She ardently detested her own uncharacteristic stutter.

Cassandra pouted. "Oh, such a shame! No matter. There are lots of beautiful dames and dashing gentlemen here tonight. We might just be able to find you an appropriate suitor. In fact, how about Viktor here?"

She wanted to die.

If the ground swallowed her whole it would be doing her a favour.

Her eyes widened and she flushed the shade of a ripe tomato before she could stop herself. Against her better wishes, her eyes flickered to Viktor in scrambled panic, and she spotted him looking much the same as her. Apparently, he was halfway taking a lackadaisical sip when Cassandra spoke because he seemed to have choked on his drink, now fighting back a silent cough with amber eyes just as wide as hers. His gaze purposely didn't meet her own, however, not even when the pair of them scrambled to open their mouth in protest.

"Now now, Cassandra." The yordle chuckled before they could speak, and Lyra's and Viktor's eyes both shot to him instantly. Heimerdinger was smiling, hands held politely behind his back, tips of his moustache lifting upwards. "I do believe the younger folk should sort it between themselves." He spoke, but his expression held an unreadable glimmer to it that Lyra could not say she liked at all.

Cassandra blinked, quietly, at the Headmaster. Before realisation washed over her features. "Of course! Silly me, I do apologise, those champagne glasses are making me quite delirious already." She laughed, and turned her attention back to a still every much wide-eyed and red Lyra. "Why don't you go find Caitlyn, dear, and tell her that we'll be bringing out the cake in two hours?"

Relieved, the student nodded with ready haste. "Absolutely." She scrambled, but it came out more stuttery and breathy than she would have hoped.

She had to get out, now.

"Gentlemen." Lyra muttered, eyes not quite meeting anyone's gaze but forcing herself to give an acknowledging nod to the whole party.

She spun on herself then, and promptly walked off towards the gardens.

All the while, trying to ignore the memory of the intense amber look she caught staring at her as she rounded her heels to flee.

||

I've mastered the art of procrastination to a t.

But here is part one of the Kiramman birthday party.

Also, Nerissa is quite a favorite of mine, if I do say so myself. But more of her story with Lyra will be revealed later.

In the meantime, here is the translation of the Arabic words I've used in the chapter. Sadly, I do not speak Arabic, so if any of you kind readers do, please do correct me!

Zahrat Saghira, زهرة صغيرة = Little Flower

Ya Fo'Aadi, يا فؤادي = My Heart

I hope you enjoyed this, and if you did, please leave a comment!