#the whole ‘possessive over loved ones’ profile card trait sure does cover a lot of prospectively interesting ground

[rafent]

✦ 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 ✧

A knock, followed by the roll of wheels upon a janitor cart. “Cleaning!”

Both the knock and the call went entirely unheard by the room's single resident, echoing only in the abyss as the blanketed form continued to breathe evenly. A peaceful rise and fall of chest denoted they were still asleep, chin-length locks fanned out on the pillow, and long lashes fluttering with the invisible running motions of a dream or a nightmare. From certain angles of observation they might have been an angel. The staff tried again.

"I'm coming in!"

They - or rather, he - awoke. A naked sternum rose above the swell of a satin blanket, hair mussed in a flyaway nest of white around the face. Dandelion-headed, Rafal looked at the uniformed figure standing in his doorway dazedly, the perpetual furrow in his brow yet to make its return. 

“Apologies, er, Professor. Your door was unlocked.”

Professor? Silence. Confusion.

Then recognition—

. . .then killing intent.

His eyes hardened. Not an angel, but a devil.

“Get. Out.”

A dangerous instant that even a stroke of lightning could be hard pressed to outspeed, the high-pitched sonar of an activated dragonstone shattered eardrums. The dragon himself to shatter everything else. Windows against the walls and cracks around a door brimmed with sharp magenta light - then exploded outwards with the seismic wallop of a clawed tail that sent the servant flying.

And the rest was history.

…

“Professor Rafal, you can’t just attack everyone who comes into your room unannounced. A simple no would suffice. You’re lucky no lasting injuries were accrued.”

“Do not step foot into places you do not belong.” Rafal sniffed and examined a frayed piece of thread on his shoulder, markedly unapologetic. His glance upward was accusatory. Scathing. “The last time your minions came they deigned to throw out a handful of my treasures.”

“It was a misunderstanding. We already apologized for that.”

“Hmph.”

What were said treasures? Well, since Rafal’s arrival one could say he’d accumulated quite the miscellany:

The dirtied trowel utilized over the course of a slow and steady recovery

A used fork furtively swiped from a plate during the Ethereal Ball

Long strand of bi-colored hair procured from the ground during a snowy patrol

One half of a shattered wine bottle still dangerously sharp but regarded as if it were softer than anything

A missing quill used by one who nested in the same office as Rafal and fulfilled his paperwork, deemed all but her second home as of late

Unassuming debris in scant quantity, plucked from Pasithee's realm and - even more specifically - the companionable struggles of cleanup waged alongside three others

Unwashed teacup retained from a picnic with two people which, though contentious, had nevertheless secretly been an instance worth recalling

These were the 'treasures' in question obtained over the course of a year. Mistaken easily for clutter at that, and utterly worthless, the staff had naturally assumed to throw them away. Though to Rafal the judgment and the decision to do so had not been natural - it had been an insult of the highest order. These were things he valued; memoirs that meant something to him, in one stead or another. They were his. And now they were gone.

He would have to start all over again.

“In any case. Minions? We’re not villains, sir. We’re only here to clea—”

The dragon rose stiffly from his chair, pushing out of the office without tolerance for further argument. Started with Rafal and ended with him too. “I've said all I have to say. I will not be saying it again. Invade my territory a third time and I shall put all trespassers to death as they ask for.”

Faces looked at each other in the wake of his menacing departure. The aftermath of an uncertain silence which dissolved only on one mutual understanding.

“. . .Take him off the list then?”