Chapter Text
When he wanted to become a knight as a younger child, Easthies thought classes would be fun. Patrolling, beating up bad guys, maybe spinning those ribbon contraptions around. All in the name of justice.
He didn’t think it was going to mean sitting behind the gayest boys in class, struggling to see the board past their heads tilted together. The way they’re whispering is not subtle whatsoever. Easthies has half a mind to put his spellcasting to use and at least get them out of his line of sight, but the other half of his mind, the majority half, tells him that that would be immoral. Yes, the over-half-sized half of his brain, it would be immoral to try pushing away this young couple. Not that Easthies would know about morality, because Atwert and Galga are blocking his vision! Easthies is supposed to be learning ethics, not learning about his atelier-mate’s love life!
Tch. Just his luck that this is his assigned seat. Easthies is one cheek kiss away from becoming homophobic.
If he knew becoming part of the Knights Moralis was going to be so PDA-dense, he would’ve never joined. Or maybe he still would have, considering his prowess in all things relating to the role. Pride and confidence are very important in the line of work— a different kind of pride to the type his classmates show off directly in front of him.
Lady Vinanna thankfully dismisses them, and Easthies has something in his notes that vaguely resembles the stuff on the board, so he deems it good enough. If anyone notices his speed at packing up, they don’t mention it. It’s his need for efficiency, okay? Easthies does not rush.
He’s first out the door, walks a few paces until he’s away from the classroom, and shifts into a full sprint down the corridors in the direction of his room. Unfortunately flying is banned in the hallways, but he taps his feet together for short bursts of wind-powered speed.
The door bursts open, and his roommates are thankfully out, because nobody complains when he slams the door shut with equal force. From his bag comes a circular contraption, multi-layered, with a panel of light at the front behind a clear screen.
Now that his mandatory duties for the day are done, Easthies can finally indulge himself…
In books.
—
Previously, while scouring the library, ignoring the dour Arkrome girl who practically lives there, Easthies had found — with not a small amount of horror — that he had completely read through every single one of the good books in there.
The Great Hall has an expansive library indeed. Decades, maybe centuries of witch-society living within had amassed a truly formidable collection of all witchly and human books, only bested by the Tower of Tomes itself. Unfortunately, that doesn’t include a proportionally large amount of fiction, because witches are a stuck-up lot who only let children read educationally. Easthies was lucky to be such an intelligent individual, who understood that all types of enrichment are good.
The library has been invaded by him for years. It only makes sense that the 9-year-old Easthies had gotten through all the books he wanted to.
Trudging reluctantly along to the Arkrome girl — Adidas? Anida? Adina, that’s it — Easthies cursed his luck. She was the only other person in the library that day, and also the only other person who liked reading the useless fiction that he did.
“Miss Adina?” Easthies called quietly across from her. The girl looked up with an unimpressed stare, dark curls shadowing her face. “I need book recommendations. I’ve read through every interesting book in the library.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Even the informative texts?”
Curse her and her fancy, stuck-up vocabulary. Easthies could do that too. “Indeed.”
“Take out your CCSTD,” she said, looking back down at her book.
“Just call it a phone like the rest of us,” Easthies griped, but brought out his phone anyway.
Circular Casting Seal Telecommunications Device, or CCSTD, for short. Phone, colloquially. A relatively new contraption that connects people over ‘sealsites’, for the casting-seal-esque nature of the connections. The model was recently updated so they didn’t have to be constantly connected to a source of conjuring ink, only refilled, so no more inconvenient wires.
“Now what?” Easthies demanded.
“Type the following into your search bar: The letter A, the casting seal of light, the number three.”
A link popped up, which he clicked eagerly, bringing him to the homepage of an unfamiliar site.
“An archive?” He asked.
Adina nodded. “Fanfiction. Fan-made variants of the books you read. Layout and navigation should be intuitive,” she hummed, looking Easthies up and down. “You don’t look stupid.”
Easthies rolled his eyes. “I am not, thank you very much.”
With a dismissive wave, she turned back to her own phone and completely ignored him.
She was right, it was intuitive, very simple and interesting. The symbol key was infinitely helpful, and so was the filter system. Tags? Summaries? Even some of the most niche books had a small collection of works.
He had to give it to the Arkrome girl, she knew her stuff.
—-
He’d stuck with fanfiction ever since. It’s enlightening. It’s a way for people to explore anything and everything in fiction that doesn’t harm anyone. It’s a way for Easthies to broaden his range of comprehension. Personal experiences in author notes, different emotional interpretations, different physical interpretations, projection… It’s a world of wonder Easthies is absolutely addicted to. He’s like 70 percent sure it made him better as a person.
Easthies, 15 years old and six-seven years into his fanfiction journey, collapses on his bed, opening his seal-mail. Three whole updates for ongoing works he had subscribed to! It was an early day for him, where he could spend the last nine hours of the day in bed reading, and self-neglect wouldn’t be noticed. Not by others, and not by himself either, because he would simply be so engrossed in reading.
“They’re back!” Someone shouts from outside.
Scratch that. He’s being interrupted this very moment.
Scrambling, then— “Who? Olruggio and Qifrey?”
“Come on, come on! They have stories!”
Easthies pauses.
Olruggio and Qifrey, the most attention-grabbing witches of their generation. The prodigy, and the outsider. Black and white. Fire and water.
Easthies’ favourite IRL BL story.
After discovering and consuming way too much fanfiction for someone of his age, Easthies had begun to observe similar patterns in people he knew. Atwert and Galga for example, as a blooming childhood-friends-to-lovers mlm couple. Alaira and the various girls and boys she had relationships with, always one-sided because Alaira gave aro/ace vibes and obviously wasn’t as dedicated to the relationship. She probably hadn’t realised it yet.
Olruggio and Qifrey were the ones that interested Easthies the most. They were enemies at the beginning, but by some twist of fate, always ended up together by the end of the day. They snuck out together, they ate together, they spent time with virtually nobody else but each other. It was very obvious and very mutual. Both Qifrey and Olruggio would blush at the slightest touch, and stare at each other with stars in their eyes. An extremely slow burn, by Easthies’ standards. It’s been at least three years. The pining was almost unbearable.
They must have just come back from their trip to the Tower of Tomes. Lord Beldaruit had kicked up a great fuss about their disappearance in the middle of the night, merely a day after their success at the third test. Something about a trip to restore Qifrey’s memories. Honestly, a whole adventure with just the two of them? Prime homosexual speculation material. Prime fanfiction material.
…Easthies knows what he’s going to write next.
Admittedly, the idea of stories being told does interest him quite a bit, and it would definitely further the accuracy of the fanfic he’s already planning in his mind. He stands, sighs, fixes his robes, then follows the crowd.