@arcanewhip / cont.
it’s easy to let the sound of juste studying lull you into something almost like sleep. the flipping of paper and the scratching of the quill is something familiar, a constant companion to you both since you first started staying with the belmonts.
you had no touch for magic. not in the slightest. you were more interested in the physical parts of combat: the swordplay, the throwing knives, the whip.
oh, the belmonts, with their secrets. it makes something inside you twist like the sharp edge of a knife, sick and sour in your gut. the thought that flares in the back of your mind -- something like jealousy, maybe, or a reminder of the nightmares that plagued you these days -- makes your face twitch into a frown. you could blame it on exhaustion if you wanted. the yawn that escapes you makes that pretty easy to pull off.
“ i haven’t been here very long. i just couldn’t sleep, figured i’d come find out where you’d gone instead of trying to wander out into the garden and waking someone else. ”
juste explains his studies and you can only really nod your head along. magic. if only juste could just stick to magic and leave that silly hunting nonsense behind, he’d be so much happier.
you would be too, probably.
“ you know i don’t mind hearing you talk. i like hearing about your spells. you’re so enthusiastic about them. ” you manage a smile at that, a genuine crook of a grin as you pillow your head into your arms on the chair. the mention of how tired you look -- and feel -- makes your shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “ just haven’t been sleeping well. anxious, i think. ”