#[ set this around the time the 'late transfer student' would've appeared ~ ]

[madamhatter]

“They come flocking to my cauldron crying, “Spells, Azul, please!” and I help them. Yes I do.” ( I'm sorry it was too perfect now to )

disney lyrics: villain edition (pt.1) | sentence prompts | accepting

For the past four years, the sorceress played observer and outsider to the world of the Night Raven College’s students. Physically removed from her true self, the mind too displaced from memories, Myrtle Madley the head librarian was born from the shadows of where her identity once was. Kindly knitted smile and well-mannered gestures aside, her presence was never too noted -- much like a phantom who resided in an unidentifiable body for those same four years. One who hadn’t remember their name, one who failed to piece together their life before, ....even if they had one before. 

But, this new life she created for herself in the library was interesting. As she couldn’t relate and understand their everyday choices and lives, it was a source of entertainment, and learning, for she removed from life itself. 

The critically desperate or passionately invested would flock to her domain -- the library -- and busy themselves with either researching or studying. Yet, all progression of their interests came to a sudden halt. ‘Most valued the space of learning for unacademic conversation, as opposed to the honest pursuit of knowledge,’ she would say while wielding her staff, her own words were drowned by the frantic screams from fleeing students. 

Most of the topics, while not appropriate for the academic setting, were all the more revealing about the academy’s ecology. When discussing comparing the different year students, the dormitories, and their affiliations (clubs, specialties, home towns, etc.), the dynamics were far too obvious, if not comically, hard to ignore. But, then came the actual workings of these dynamics.

Internal politics weren’t her favorite subject. It was too bothersome to get involved with such meaningless wars of pride and territory. It wouldn’t matter once they graduated. Certain students were bred for it, others were not. But, it wouldn’t impact their further future either way. Only those who were getting picked on and bullied were affected in the closer future and it was conducted by these students too engrossed about power-lust and, in some cases, blood-lust.

What a misfortune it was now for the sorceress’s curse to ebb away, her older form slowly fading. If she were to morph carelessly in front of students, she’d surely be compromised. In such trying times, now having to devote a new persona that needed to further interact with these students, Sophie wished her memories hadn’t returned so soon.  

Yet, she held no final decision. It was already arranged. Certain bumps were along the road, considering the magicless perfect that was spat out into their world, but it was settled. 

Simeon’s arrangements and late introduction piqued the interest of the students -- that they couldn’t avoid -- but the rumors mill was quickly picking traction. Even in the Myrtle disguise, she heard some allegations that led to her discipline bordering vicious than stern. 

The second student to enter Ramshackle, right after the other worlder, outright absent from the opening ceremony too. Of course, speculation would be boundless and students so obsessed with knowing would dig their noses into things where they don’t belong. 

Simeon’s eyes refrained from moving upright, mind half-heartedly listening to the conversation at hand. Seated straight and properly, both of their gloved hands rested on the frame of their lap. Unmoving, unexpressive, they were far too illegible at that moment to betray just how far their thoughts were removed from the current situation.

Dissonance and echoes of seawater, muffled scratches of chairs being moved, the delicate clank of glasses being arranged, and the sharp taps of heels against the ground, Simeon finally returned to reality. 

Behind the seated student was the vibrant and lush glow of the Coral Sea, blue and teal lights spill over their figure from the vast oceanic backdrop. Large and curved dark purple seats surround the tables, chandeliers composed of wavy pieces akin to jellyfish hung from the walls and were illuminated, and a large bar occupied the right-hand side of the area.

Simeon recalled the background of the location. Mostro Lounge, a recent business venture created by the Octavinelle Dorm’s prefect once he began his first year. The headmaster had been acquainted with the idea far ahead than any of the staff members -- given the fact that said student presented the proposition and had the headmaster signing a contract within an hour. And he hadn’t even been in the school for nearly a month. 

When Sophie had learned of this, there was surely color and choice words she prepared for her superior. But, she quietly stomped out her revolt, as a year ago, she believed she wouldn’t have to be bothered by such proposals and politics. 

Yet, now, here they were, seated in the center of one of the tables of this now successfully, if not deviously rooted, business. Simeon, too, had to face the reality that the same student who’d swept the headmaster --which isn’t hard to do-- was before them, seated comfortably in a contemporary black leather armchair. 

Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle’s dorm prefect and the lead manager to the Mostro Lounge, bestowed an honor onto Simeon. 

Within a matter of a month, a query was delivered to Simeon midday as the student body was exchanging between claws in the early morning. A formal introduction and exchange of friendly words, the Octavinelle student informed them. Curtsy included, the first-year delivery boy presented the summoning in the form of a white envelope with the Octavinelle’s logo appearing on the wax seal. 

While an antiquated practice, sending letters, it made as much sense for Simeon when they realize anything digital would’ve been impossible. After all, how do you invite someone with no phone? Though, Simeon could appreciate the finer work of preparing and using a uniformed system that makes one’s brand recognizable. No doubt, the envelope couldn’t be confused for any other dorm but Octanvinelle’s. 

Though seated now before the dorm prefect, the young student had kept themselves quiet but respectful, thankful for the invitation, as being polite required to be such. Fake smile ready, Simeon played along with the delicate and purposeful chosen words that they used in reference to themselves and any questions that were trying to break the ice and acquire information about themselves. That simply couldn’t do. 

Many employees -- or should they assume volunteers -- had already begun entering the lounge or had already been there to prepare for their afternoon shift. Judging from the armbands, quite a few weren’t from the Octavinelle dormitory -- and Simeon already had their suspicions as to why they must’ve been forced to work. 

Though, the infamous Leech brothers weren’t anywhere to be found. Never had Simeon personally encountered them. All that was acquired about them was through their Myrtle identity. The one with the left dark grey strand spent some hours in the library, researching about botany and having a particular interest in fungi. The one with the right dark grey strand came in as frequently, but not as persistently as his sibling. It was on-and-off, not having a keen schedule. But, more than not, they both came to the library together, but not for the reasons that Myrtle would’ve liked them too... As she remembers, it was ‘business’ related.

"Just as the Octavinelle dorm represents, you built this establishment based around the compassion of the Great Sea Witch, no?” Pointed observation, Simeon glanced at their untouched drink. It was generously offered by the prefect for a price as loitering wasn’t permitted inside the lounge. That question alone generated some laughter from Azul, proud of how his work can be reflected by the success of the lounge itself. 

“An interesting business practice...” Simeon’s voice trails off, which was immediately picked up by the cane-wielding student. With both of his thin silver brows raised, the older student cleared their throat, clarifying, “Ah, I’m referencing how the employees aren’t exclusively belonging to your dormitory, Mister Ashengrotto. All that come here abide by the rules of the dormitory, as you’ve mentioned. The surprise itself is how peaceful it is between the workers. As I’m becoming aware of, and as you’re already aware of, in-fighting is quite popular amongst students, depending on their affiliation.” 

The man adjusted himself in his seat, far too assumed by how quickly the newcomer spoke and how right he was. The Mostro Lounge was a unique case altogether, and it was all thanks to his scheming devotion and planning.

“How do you make it possible?” 

Simeon partially regretted asking this inquiry because it seemed the businessman was waiting for this moment. 

Long-winded explanation included, Azul hadn’t spared any details about the founding of the Mostro Lounge and his capabilities as its manager, but he ventured even further into his own unique services. Almost as if Simeon’s question was the perfect segway.

Is this what I was called here for? To get into a contract? Why else would he have eagerly begun his speech that sounds far too practiced? Simeon gathered a general gist of what Azul was capable of doing. Yet, the exact magic itself was one Azul has yet to disclose. According to him, he’s able to help out those who are in desperate need, for he is willing to help for those who need it. 

“Mister Ashengrotto, I take it that you mean well for the opportunity you provide,” they roll their hand, quick to intervene before the other’s ego got the better of him. “Your work is popular and already widespread across the entire student body. That is a feat that not even your fellow prefects could claim.” 

“However, it comes only when those who need help desire it. It must be quite a time-sensitive matter.” Simeon met Azul’s eyes. “I supposed that period of time is drawing closer too, no?” 

“You must be assured that those who need it will come out of their own volition. But, it'll only be during that time...if they actually need it too..” 

Clearing their throat, Simeon glanced down, quietly pulling out a pocket watch.

“The time..It’s almost time for the lounge to open and I must make do with my limited free time to get familiar with the campus.” Simeon nods their head at the prefect, preparing themselves to leave. 

“Thank you again for welcoming me to Night Raven’s College. And, ah, best of luck with your next shift.”