#// ANYTHING FOR THE BESTIES :PRAY: :PRAY: :PRAY: :BANGBANG:!!!!

[pridelessdaydreamer]

On this crisp morning (or whatever time Linhardt sees fit to exit her room for the first time in the day), a small brown paper package blocks the door of the Hevring heir's dorm room, nestled in close to protect it from the elements and from passerby alike.

Inside, cushioned by shredded paper, a copper candle holder gleams with a polish strong enough to nearly function as a mirror. Around it curls an awkwardly proportioned plush cat: an elongated forest green body with stubby limbs and thick, visible stitches holding it all together. It rests with closed eyes made of two long lines of embroidery thread. Atop both of them rests a handwritten note:

Happy Birthday Linhardt!

Your first gift was letting you sleep in as long as you want today. You're welcome. (A face is drawn next to this text, sticking its tongue out at the reader.)

I know you'll never stop staying up all night reading stuff, so this candle holder is supposed to help you strain your eyes less in the dark! Handling glasses seem like it'd be a real hassle with all the places you like to take impromptu naps, so you should try to take care of your eyesight a little, y'know?

I don't know any laws about sleepy, stubborn cats owning not being allowed to own another cat, so the last gift is just a napping buddy for you.

Eyes flutter open unusually late—though, Linhardt doesn’t realize this at first. Rather, they presume the hour to be the same as usual—reasonable, though lacking in recognition. With a slightly lesser degree of tiredness, they sit up in bed, and with a sharper mental acuity than normal, they get up and get dressed.

It is when she arrives at the door, however, that things finally start to click into place. (It is not an immediate process by any means, but now she was thinking about things—not just mindlessly going through the motions.) There is a weight behind the door that she did not expect, and upon inspection: a package. (They couldn’t imagine what for, but might as well open it.)

And so Lin reenters his room, setting down the package on his desk and then opening it. First paper, then the container, then the cushioning and a note—

Oh right. My birthday.

—and that is all that is necessary for the boy to know the source. (Well, he also signed it at the very end, but you know how it is with recognizing your best friend’s handwriting—it’s far more immediate than that, so really, why wait?)

“Hmph,” mage smirks, already endeared by the words of it alone. (There’s also an audible laugh when they see the face Caspar had drawn mid-note.) Though the other boy had the tendency to be… politely put, a bit of a fool, it was evident, the heart put into the gift they’d received—and the wisdom, they would admit. (They had actually intended to get a candlestick for themself in town soon eventually at some point.) Caspar had also gotten them a nice one. They’d have to thank him later.

Or perhaps now, she considers, eyes now paying keen attention to the cat plush. Her mind is immediately drawn back to the hamster she’d made him (that was certainly not a coincidence), and here, she laughs again—louder, full smile.

“Well, Caspar,” he muses aloud, “I’m glad to know you like it so much.” And with that resolve, cat is taken from its perch (the candlestick set upright on his desk), and Linhardt exits, navigating his way to…

…What time is it again?

Ah well. Finding Caspar wouldn’t be too much issue really anyway; classes could wait.