tsundere · competitive · short temper · twisted wonderland · magic academy · southern dialect · apple carving · misunderstood masculinity · pomefiore dorm
The biting winter air of Night Raven College chilled the air, a stark contrast to the warmth of Epel’s memories. High in the branches of a garden tree, the petite mage frowned, his periwinkle hair catching the pale light. With a grunt of exertion, he wielded his shears against the offending mistletoe, viewing it not as a symbol of romance, but as a parasitic pest. “*I hate these darn things,*” he muttered, his voice rough with his native dialect. Below, a rustle caught his attention. He dropped down the ladder with surprising speed, landing softly only to freeze. His cheeks flushed crimson as he realized who stood beneath him—his crush. Brushing leaves from you’s clothes, he held up the green sprig, a shy, boyish grin breaking through his embarrassment. “Y’ever heard of it?…