dpscheck | academy of eorzea

[francel looks up at zephirin's approach, looks down, looks up again. his gaze stops somewhere at zephirin's jaw, and he looks slightly pained, as though he is trying his best to make eye contact, but he hasn't yet succeeded. upon the keyboard, his delicate fingers tighten into fists, then relax again, though in a mechanical, claw-like way; he is relaxed only because he is telling himself to relax.

the student librarian's voice is quiet and husky, no more than a whisper.]

C-Can I help you? [well, of course, he chastises himself.] Checking those out...?

Thank you.

[ Evidently, the student librarian is painfully shy, reacting to Zephirin's presence like prey abruptly tensed to flee — it almost feels cruel to draw out the exchange beyond the immediate transaction. Zephirin's gaze travels lower, in search of a name tag, to no avail. Quietly, movements measured, as if to avoid frightening the other boy, he places his stack of books down on the counter, and the notecard next to them. He steps back an ilm then, hands at his sides. ]

Do you have time to help me find the books on this list, as well?

Ah... yes!

[strangely, the younger boy manages a bright and abrupt smile, as if some switch has just been flipped, and midnight has given way to morning light. perhaps it is the additional space that zephirin gave him — or perhaps it is the sight of the familiar notecard in zephirin's hands. he pulls zephirin's chosen books closer towards the keyboard, ensuring that no other students will mistake them for returns and swipe them from the desk while they are away. then he rises from his chair, gesturing loosely for zephirin to follow him back to the nonfiction shelves.]

I know where they are. Um, just this way...

[ Curiosity stirs anew as the student librarian's expression lights up with his unexpected smile, his unease apparently driven off. Though he could easily have pointed Zephirin to the catalog computers and the books' call numbers, ending their interaction here, in his sudden delight, he turns perfectly willing to take on the role of Zephirin's guide himself — asking for his help was the right move, then.

As he follows where he is led, it occurs to Zephirin that he may already have the notecard's writer before him, a charming notion. Pursuing a confirmation, he tests his guess. ]

I appreciate it — and the recommendations. A lot of thought went into putting that list together, I imagine.

[francel walks to the shelves with a wild rabbit’s timid demeanor, striding (practically skipping) some few paces, turning over his shoulder to see if zephirin is following him, and then hopping ahead again. he comes to a complete halt, however, when the upperclassman implicitly accuses him of being the notecard’s mysterious writer. startled, he jolts visibly; with guilt writ plain on his face, he clasps his hands against his chest, looking about as if for an escape route.]

I-I don’t – it wasn’t me!

[...on second thought, why is he trying to deny it?]

Well – it was, but – d-don’t talk to me!

[...that’s not quite what he meant to say...]

Edited 2019-04-05 01:49 (UTC)

[ The boy's mannerisms are indeed reminiscent of a rabbit, from his gait to the way he glances back at Zephirin; flustered, he appears on the verge of scampering off once again. Unfortunately, it's too late to leave more space between them so as not to corner him against the rows of shelves to either side of them, and they stand a single step apart, presumably too close for comfort, until Zephirin half-turns to draw away slightly, his back to one shelf. He cocks his head, arches a brow, admittedly bemused.

Guilt — as if the library's exceptionally helpful volunteer has committed a crime — is an odd reaction. ]

Not even to ask for your name, and to thank you?

[were zephirin any other student, francel would not be quite so flustered – not even the legendary ysayle dangoulain could elicit from him such a pronounced reaction – but, as it is, he backs up against a shelf until he finds his shoulders pressed against several copies of a world atlas, and then he knows that he has nowhere to run. zephirin is giving him space, but zephirin is looking at him. zephirin is looking at him, with a cocked brow and a vaguely amused glint in his otherwise icy eyes.

the boy’s ears droop as he hides his pink face behind his hands.]

...You don’t have to thank me. Please d-don’t look at me like that. I just... I wanted to help...

[ The two of them are nearly the same height, but everything about the student librarian's bearing makes him look small and vulnerable, all the more when he blushes and his posture gives the impression that he would prefer to disappear from sight altogether. As it's impossible for him to fade into invisibility, he remains as good as pinned in place.

Aware that watching the other boy so intently isn't helping matters, only serving to worsen his nervousness, Zephirin shuts his eyes, and moves no closer. ]

Is this better? I won't look at you unless I have your permission, but you may need to lead me the rest of the way.

[ He wears a non-expression now, unreadable, his mouth a line when he lapses into silence, listening for a reply. ]

This isn’t what I meant, either!

[the situation grows increasingly ridiculous: francel, backed against his bookshelf, hiding his face, and zephirin, eyes closed as if welcoming a kiss – now neither is looking at the other, but both of them are being absurd.

the absurdity is mostly francel’s fault, and he realizes it, so after he gathers the remnants of his dignity, he emerges from behind his palms. stuttering faintly, he eventually manages to tug at the elbow of zephirin’s sleeve, his gaze firmly fixed on his shoes.]

...I’m sorry. Please excuse me. You can look up now. I’m fine, I swear it...

[ If someone were to come across them in that moment of absurdity, the scene would undoubtedly raise a number of questions, but the nonfiction section stays secluded, shielding them from view. At the tentative touch to his arm, pulling on his sleeve, Zephirin blinks his eyes open to look down at the top of the younger boy's head, closer than before. The student librarian hasn't made eye contact once, not properly — each time near it, he refused to meet Zephirin's gaze.

The library, Zephirin considers, might be his refuge. Normally, it should be easy for him to escape to the background, hiding behind his duties; now, the conversation's focus is still on him. ]

If I promise not to thank you, despite your help, will you tell me your name?

[this, apparently, is an effective enough compromise. francel still can't bear to look into zephirin's spring-green eyes, but he nods after a brief pause, fingertips loosening and slipping away from the older boy's sleeve.]

...It's Francel... Francel de Haillenarte. I'm a second-year student...

[and one who isn't normally as tongue-tied as this, but then, he doesn't usually have the privilege of speaking with attractive and intimidating upperclassmen. biting his lip, the librarian turns away, his eyes flickering vaguely over the spines of the books on the shelves as he passes them.]

Let's find what you came here for. Um, the one on Owl's Nest is over here...

[ Zephirin keeps his word, merely committing Francel's answer to memory. For his part, Francel most likely knows far more than Zephirin's name without needing to ask — the library's user records probably include his contact details, his date of birth.

Adjusting the knot in his tie, Zephirin falls into step with Francel, reaching for each book to collect as the student librarian indicates them. The last item on the list — the biography of Archbishop Thordan VII — sits on the top shelf, wedged tightly between its neighbours. ]

May I?

[ Stretching up, leaning past Francel's head, Zephirin carefully slides the book free. ]

Yes, I – oh...

[in an instant, francel finds himself pinned between the bookshelf and zephirin, all hard muscle and uniform cloth; he still smells faintly of the rain. the young librarian’s breath catches. he has no room to move, nor would he even dare to do so. for the moment, he is lost in a romantic fantasy, one that catches him like a summer storm: by surprise, and with ferocious intensity.

when zephirin pulls back, francel hasn’t stirred. at last, his gaze meets zephirin’s, but only because the student librarian is utterly still, like a rabbit that has been callously rolled onto its back, limbs frozen in midair. zephirin’s face is too close to his own.

...his voice is not particularly high-pitched. nevertheless, a tiny squeak emerges from his throat.]

[ The book between them barely makes for a barrier; they stand so close that wisps of Francel's hair flutter with Zephirin's breaths. At this proximity, the stutter in Francel's is audible — motionless, perhaps he has in fact gone so far as to hold his breath — and every slight change in his expression becomes immediately discernible. Francel's eyes, raised to look straight at Zephirin, are a captivating dark blue, and striking to behold even wide with what regrettably seems to be fresh fear.

At length, the sound that Francel utters reminds Zephirin to place another few ilms of distance between himself and the younger boy. His own eyes linger on Francel, however, mildly contrite.

He should have waited, he supposes — and yet, subtly, some part of him disagrees. ]

Are you all right, Francel?

[ Lowering the biography, Zephirin transfers the book to the stack gathered, holding them against his hip. ]

...Yes.

[the boy answers in the tiniest of voices, mind still whirling from zephirin's proximity — his body temperature and scent seem to yet linger in francel's senses — and he scrambles for a response that approaches normalcy. what would he do in any other situation, he thinks, with any other student, or maybe a teacher? his toes curl with tension inside of his shoes.

books, right, yes, they were here for the books. they have found all of the books. what now? what is he supposed to say after this?]

Uh, um... W-Will that be all today?

[close enough.]

[ Francel, Zephirin thinks, would like his yes to be true, or at least to convince Zephirin of it, and so he relents, leaving the matter be. If Francel finds him intimidating, hardly alone in that belief, the best course of action is to retreat for now, and keep his questions to himself.

But there was that short-lived moment when Francel smiled, seemingly in his element, and the thought of him filling his notecards for students to discover — strangely reluctant, Zephirin turns to walk back to the loans desk. ]

Thank you again. [ A beat later, though not entirely serious as he acknowledges his misstep, he shakes his head. ] Ah... It seems I've broken my promise.

Edited 2019-04-06 01:10 (UTC)

...You're sly.

[blushing furiously, francel steps behind the loans desk, putting some distance between himself and zephirin; perhaps this makes him feel comfortable enough to chastise the upperclassman with all the mock-severity of a playful swat to his shoulder. quickly, francel scans the bar codes on zephirin's haul of books, then swipes his proffered student ID card. when all is said and done, he lays his card atop the stack of books, and then presents all of it to zephirin.]

Just sign here and here, please. The books are yours until next week.

[he hesitates, and then adds something he doesn't usually say:]

And, um... come again...

Edited 2019-04-06 09:33 (UTC)

[ Contrary to what some believe, Zephirin is capable of smiling, and when Francel surprises him a final time today, his mouth curves at its corners, just enough to form a visible smile, amused, even charmed. They could be friends. ]

See you next time, Francel.

[ Quaint borrowing cards signed — the digital age won't replace people with machines after all — Zephirin claims his books and takes his leave, finding himself a seat and working until a voice over the intercom informs students using the library that the doors will lock in a few minutes. By then, the rain has stopped, and to Zephirin's vague disappointment, Francel is nowhere to be seen.

He returns sooner than the due date of his books, visiting the library twice more simply to write his paper and read, but it's as if the shy student librarian was an apparition, haunting the school only on the odd rainy afternoon. From his chosen seat both times, Zephirin has a clear view of the loans desk, the students that pass it.

Francel may be away from school for any number of reasons.

Finally, a full week since he borrowed his stack of books, Zephirin brings them back near closing time, after a student council meeting. He means to leave them at the desk, this visit kept brief — today, no hidden notecards will fall into his hands. ]

[it's not that francel was away from school, exactly — but a flurry of quizzes and exams left him holed up in his room at home for a week, studying, his duties as a student librarian put on hold by the ever-accommodating urianger. in that time, the only flight of fancy the boy allowed himself was that he kept one of zephirin's signed borrowing cards, one from a newer addition to the library's reserve, the lines of it crisp and new and untouched by any other student. now and then, over trigonometry and precalculus notes, francel stroked the lines of zephirin's name with his finger and giggled to himself.

he does so now at the loans desk, no longer concerned with his exams but instead thinking of when zephirin might come in, and whether or not he'll be disappointed. francel thoroughly expects to be disappointed. how often do two students cross paths, after all, at such a large school, and with no classes or friends in common?

but then he looks up — and zephirin is there — and the boy smiles radiantly. his coveted borrowing card is underneath his hand.]

...You came back!

[francel says this with such wonder, and such vivid delight, that it seems as though no gift to him could be greater than that of zephirin's presence.]

[ Francel at his post comes into view as Zephirin steps across the threshold to make for the loans desk; before he notices Zephirin, he is clearly preoccupied with the card he traces, his mood markedly cheerier compared to what it was the previous week. Francel's greeting takes Zephirin by surprise all over again, considering the better part of his memories of their first meeting — it suggests mutual anticipation, and Francel's shyness seems no more, today's smile brighter than the last.

Perhaps it was enough that his recommendations were well received, common ground. ]

Hi, Francel — so did you.

[ That observation doubles as an admission that Francel's absence didn't go unnoticed. Drawing closer, Zephirin begins to take his books to return out from his bag, arranging them within Francel's reach.

After a moment, he elaborates: ]

I didn't see you the other times... How often do you help Mr. Augurelt?

Oh, I work here every Tuesday and Thursday after school. But after he found out that I had an upcoming exam, Mr. Augurelt told me to take last week off. Something about... “thine ephemeral pursuits in the yesteryear of academia,” or something...

[talking to zephirin is easier than expected after all the days francel spent wondering if he would come back to the library again, and he processes the upperclassman’s returns a little slower than he normally might, hoping to draw out their time together so long as no other students are in need of francel’s assistance.

it sounds as though zephirin was looking for him, but... surely francel’s misunderstood?]

I’m sorry that we missed each other.

[pausing there feels a bit awkward. he adds, unnecessarily:]

Um, I think I did well on my math test though! I’m pretty sure I scored above an 85!

Edited 2019-04-07 03:25 (UTC)

[ Francel's moving his hands to see to checking in the returns affords Zephirin a glimpse of the near-pristine borrowing card in his possession — and the single signature it bears. He connects the dots then, silent some seconds too long while his gaze wanders to Francel's fingers, following their steady motions, but he dismisses the younger boy's apology with a shake of his head. ]

Focusing on studying paid off, then. [ Zephirin looks up, and ventures to make Francel an offer that crosses his mind now. ] If you need it, I can tutor you.

[ Behind him, two other students near the loans desk with their last-minute items to borrow in hand, signaling an abrupt pause in the conversation, but both are distracted, caught up in talking to each other. Neither pays Francel any attention, even when they drop their books onto the checkout side of the counter. ]

Really? Would you?! I — oh dear.

[momentarily frazzled, both by zephirin's kind offer and by the approach of two new students, francel flounders for a moment before his brain settles on working autopilot, quickly clearing zephirin of his loans while he mechanically scans the books of the other two students. as the two au ra first-years are engaged in conversation with each other, francel thinks it fair game to continue his conversation with zephirin without engaging the two girls.]

Um...

[he glances between the au ra girls, but they are eagerly debating a... ship? what kind of ship? francel wonders, perplexed. "estysayle makes way more sense than estimeric!" esti...sail? a sailboat? "i mean, he got her flowers!"]

...I could really use some tutoring. I asked my older siblings for help, but they all said that they did this stuff years ago, and they've forgotten everything...

[ Clearing the way, Zephirin hovers beside one end of the desk, throwing the girls a dubious glance of his own for the meaning of their argument. The two Au Ra carry on as they gather up their issued books, so absorbed in their strange discussion that they don't stop to thank Francel — he is quite solid, no ghost materializing for no one save Zephirin to see, but the girls still neglect to look at him at all.

They look at Zephirin, however, when he speaks, and make him a temporary topic to debate alongside their seaworthy or capsizing ships on the way out. ]

...Let's exchange numbers, in that case.

[ Turning back to Francel, Zephirin smoothly resumes their conversation; his faint frown fades away. He readies his phone. ]

[still utterly bewildered by the girls' boating discussion ("okay, rei, how's this for size: estimeric or zephmeric?" "ugh! you know i'm a sucker for student council ships!"), francel decides at length to just forget about it, especially now that he is faced with the more pressing issue of zephirin offering him his phone number.

he has never actually had to think about what this might entail. francel understands, fundamentally, that phone numbers are socially coveted things — boys flirt with girls in the hopes of acquiring them, girls may slip their numbers into the lockers of favored admirers — but he has never had reason to use his, or even to hope that his might ever be asked for, beyond routine medical documents and school contact forms. his fingers fumble for his own phone; he slides over to his contacts page with an unpracticed uncertainty, then hands his device to zephirin.

his contacts list only family members: mom, dad, stephanivien, aurvael, chlodebaimt, laniaitte. none of his siblings' names resemble those of students from school.]

Ah, um... Here's my phone... and I'll put mine into yours.

Edited 2019-04-08 05:19 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject