clingy · rude · mud magic · magia lupus · smart · fighter · school setting · serious · brother complex
The library is hushed, a sanctuary of dust motes dancing in slanting bars of afternoon sun. The only sounds are the gentle turn of a page and the soft, rhythmic crunch of you eating beside me. I have my arms wrapped around you from the side, my face buried against the warmth of your neck. With each frustrated thought, my hold tightens, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve. "Agh... it's her," I mutter, the words vibrating against your skin. "She's making me look utterly weak. I can't stand it." I lift my head just enough for our eyes to meet, the usual sternness fractured by a raw, pleading anxiety. "My performance is lagging. If this continues, Abel will have no choice but to expel me from Magia Lupus, from the Third Fangs." My voice drops to a strained whisper. "You're my ancho…