“Bite your tongue,” Freyja warned, almost visibly reeling at his ‘dead to the world’ sentiment. “She wasn’t sleeping in, you imbecile, she wasn’t even in the room. It’s not like she has any friends. Well, other than me, and, unfortunately, you, of course. But when you say you don’t have friends, you still have girls that you fuck and objectify, I’m assuming only sometimes in that order. Arah doesn’t have anyone, like, for real, anyone.”

As if she had just realized who she was talking to and that it didn’t serve her any benefit to be rambling to the enemy, Freyja scoffed and turned, nearly brushing his shoulder as she did so. She hoped it would be enough to get him to step to the side at least the slightest bit, giving her the pleasure of asserting her dominance and self-regarded superiority. “Anyway,” she called over her shoulder, “if she doesn’t return by the evening, you’ll know who sent the administration to your door. I’ll have them blow you a kiss for me, maybe it’ll make up for the one I denied you last night?”

Smirking to herself, the fire element turned the corner and escaped, narrowly avoiding some sort of biting remark. As she did, she saw the familiar figure of her boyfriend looming in the distance. With a long, confident stride, she made it across the hall in time to link arms with him, keeping up appearances despite the lack of communication they had exchanged since the night prior. Freyja was certain that he would still be mad and emotional about whatever she hadn’t done, as he usually was. But, instead of acting like a good boyfriend and engaging in emotional warfare by way of debate like she did when she was upset, he simply stuffed it until he looked like an angry cloud waiting to pour rain down on someone at the most inconvenient time.

“Smile, darling, that frown makes your face look puffy.”

Glaring down at her from his position beside her, he breathed a heavy sigh and faked a smile as the pair strutted down the hall toward their ethics in magic wielding class. Despite his desire to, he said nothing.

“I didn’t see you in the exam, where were you?”

“I took it yesterday. I had something to attend to.”

“Something that I’m not allowed to know about?”

“Something I don’t care to tell you about.”

“And why’s that?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

Reaching the class and finding their seats in the middle of the auditorium, Freyja was relieved to look down and see Arah enter. Although she appeared a bit frazzled, she didn’t seem harmed. Although, she was still wearing the clothing she had worn the night prior rather than the school uniform, so she stuck out like a sore thumb.The only thing that was saving her from being formally chastised by their professor was the fact that he was the least ethical out of all of the professors, and also that she had taken the care to throw her academy blazer on over the sweater she was wearing beneath it.

Not long after, Zane entered. She watched the relief wash over his face once he too had noticed that Arah was okay, then she watched him look for her in the crowd. Once he had spotted her in her usual spot beside Henriik, not in the seat she was assigned beside him toward the bottom of the stairs, she was unsurprised to see that he’d flashed her some sort of look that was supposed to be something. Intimidating? Self-righteous? Spiteful? Surely he’d put the latter two on his resume, although she could only think of a handful of times in her life when she’d considered him the former.

She blew him a kiss, straightened her face to that of displeasure, then made an obscene gesture that even made Henriik tense. He could be so hypocritical, so innocent, so holier than thou when he wanted to be. Any time the pair were in front of Zane was one of those moments. Perhaps it was because he thought Zane would report him for a non-existent charge such as disappointing his uncle or not living up to familial expectations. What an asshole.

Not long after they’d had their silent war across the auditorium, the professor came in and stood at the front of the stage, beginning to speak. “Today we’re going to continue our section on letting personal feelings interfere with our ability to wield magic ethically. As you all know, the purest magic is done with the purest mind, and when we’re focused on the person we’re working with, we put ourselves, that individual, and those around us in danger. Is anyone willing to admit that they know there’s someone in this class that they probably shouldn’t work together with on a spell? I’d like to do a demonstration, so I’m looking for two strangers and two individuals who agree that working together would probably end badly.”

Zane's eyes flashed. Objectify? To assume he slept around was one thing -- well, in her defense, he did let those rumors go a little crazy, so he couldn't exactly get on her for that -- but to think of all women as objects? Oh, no, Freyja was the only damn objectified woman: the object of his loathing, disgust, hatred, irritation, malice,... Were those synonyms enough? It would have to do; his brain was short circuiting trying to think of any more, and his mouth wasn't cooperating anyhow. Freyja, however, did not seem to have the same problem, as she set off on a tirade against him and in defense of Arah.

Zane wanted to interject with a scathing reply of his own, of how Arah would be better off if she could get out of Freyja's shadow and find herself a spotlight -- maybe she'd even snag some nice, decent guy -- but right when his tongue decided to formulate the right words, it occurred to him that the fiery woman's rant had a fairly tangible hint of worry to it. Zane's demeanor shifted slightly then, still obviously angry, and perhaps a little offended, but now carrying an almost uneasy tension in his body. As far as he knew, Arah never had any reason to be anywhere; she was quite predictable. Reliable and constant, just like the earth she manipulated.

Zane’s brow had begun to furrow and his eagerness to get a word in edgewise dissipated. While he would never turn down the opportunity to blast Freyja with a well-placed verbal – or physical – kick, he knew when the appropriate times to do so were, and now was not one of them. The subconscious back of his mind assured him that the academy was a safe haven from the wars and tribulations of the outside world. The only factions were those of Zane and Freyja; there were no subdued politics or stifled voices. Here, he could take everything at face value. He hated the woman in front of him, the feeling was mutual, and Arah was certainly just having an off day. The words swooned around his brain, giving him the same feeling of lazy panic that walking by drugged smoke did. It was relaxing, but at the same time, he knew it was wrong. Yet, he couldn't do anything about it. Bile rose up in the back of Zane’s throat and threatened to revolt as he swallowed hard. He resisted the urge to press his palm into his forehead; showing Freyja that a headache was getting to him was not how he wanted his day to go.

He didn't have to worry about it for long, though. Freyja had turned on her heel and, nearly pushing into him, spat one final, snide comment at him before she disappeared. Zane scowled after her. He was going to kill Edward for the game he'd instigated the previous night; that much was certain. In the meantime, he had classes to attend, and he'd need time to plot his revenge anyway. As he took his time walking to the next auditorium, Zane pondered on Arah’s situation. Freyja’s mention of Administration had him wondering now if the pair’s mutual friend had been called in to see the higher-ups. It couldn't have been about the party, though; so many of those happened each night and nothing was ever done about them. Had their unruly behavior warranted a talking to? It did seem like the academy was overly reluctant to let him, Arah, Henriik, and Freyja go. The four had been there for ages, and, frankly, Zane was tired of it. School sucked.

He was further set in the last sentiment as he reached the doorway of his next class to find Freyja slobbering all over her trophy boyfriend. How the man put up with being her cardboard cutout was a mystery to Zane; he couldn't think of many things more embarrassing. He glowered at the fire-wielding menace as her gaze locked on to his, and an immature motion of his own sent several of the younger students into gossip mode. Oh, well. He didn't mind playing to her level; there was nothing else to do around here. Zane looked away and resolved to ignore her for the rest of class, and hopefully for the rest of the day.

His whole being flooded with relief as Arah speed-walked in and sat down. She didn't look like she'd left her bedroom; missing a uniform and seemingly taken by surprise, her appearance suggested she'd woken up late if anything. Zane turned a suspicious gaze on Freyja; had she been pulling his leg? Had Arah been fine the whole time? Had he been so gullible as to fall for something so stupid? Maybe he'd ask later. His attention was stolen by the professor’s unholy words. Pure minds? Needed demonstrators? Zane had been voluntold enough last night, thank you. His fist clenched against his knee and he forced his face to go as blank as uncut stone. The young man was tired, cranky, and most certainly not in the mood to spar with anyone. He doubted Freyja would allow a potential competition to slide by, though, and he suspected the professor would have plenty to go off of for the lesson with two of the most powerful students facing off. Even if their abilities were “hindered” by hate, they would still be performing at the average student’s top level. Zane was fairly certain that malice would fuel the two of them, though, and that would lead to the utter destruction of the auditorium.

“Not today,” he muttered through gritted teeth, quiet enough that not even those sitting next to him could hear, but vocalizing at all was louder than he'd intended to be. Zane – patient, long suffering, blunt Zane – was already at the end of his rope, and it wasn't even halfway to lunchtime.