nikolas vaisey doesn't need a broom to fly (besserwisser) wrote in wished,
After he’d spent the better part of his Monday night drinking a bit too much Steaming Stout and considering the advantages of cross-breeding animals magical and non-magical in nature, Nikolas Vaisey had felt vaguely better about the current state of affairs. Admittedly, he’d been forced to finally concede with the arrival of the most recent letter from home, that this situation was indeed something his parents were taking very seriously. As much as he wanted to, Nikolas felt that he was perhaps no longer justified in treating his arranged marriage as a laughable whim. Still, Tuesday had passed pleasantly enough – the early part of it muddled, certainly, but by the time his later classes rolled around he’d actually felt quite in high spirits.
As for today, well. The previous evening’s inexplicable high had worn off, and throughout his classes Nikolas found himself persistently hounded by the news he’d received on Monday. Had this been the plan all along? Or were his parents only just now coming up with this little caveat? And what about his mother – she had never really supported the idea, had shown a certain indifference – how could she possibly be alright with this now, and make his future livelihood a condition? By the time supper was rolling around, Nikolas felt uncharacteristically infuriated and after changing out of his uniform into a jumper and track suit bottoms (that, incidentally, hardly matched), had taken to wandering through the school aimlessly before finally finding himself in the Astronomy Tower.
He’d taken a seat against a far wall, largely hidden behind a table littered with telescopes of varying sizes and quality. Next to him, the bag he usually used to carry his textbooks during the day was now merely filled with three of the remaining bottles of Simison’s, half a bag of the candied ginger his sister had sent him, and a deck of cards. While at a loss as to what exactly he had planned to do with the cards, Nikolas knew very well what his intentions for the stout and ginger were. At least the week was half over, and he’d soon have the weekend to busy himself with things he actually wanted to be doing.
He’d not been seated for more than ten minutes, though, when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and realized that someone else had take up residence in the tower. It seemed they were intent on being as quiet as possible, though he thought he detected the clinking of glass every so often. Nikolas supposed after a few more minutes that the only way to figure out who else could possibly have had the same idea as him would be to get up and investigate, and perhaps kick them out. Taking up his “provisions”, he strolled over to the door leading outside and stuck his head out – only to be dismayed by what he found. “Really?”