December 21st, 1895 — Professor Griffith's office

"Come in" Samuel made way for Themis to come in and to cross the empty classroom into his quarters. He had made space. The stone table in the middle of his office was empty—the engraving he made the very day of their meeting was gone.

It was afternoon, not even five yet, but the windows looking over the castle grounds were blacked out with the night. "It's winter solstice," Samuel noted, and his smile in her direction was oblique. "No matter of irrelevance for beginning something anew—if you can excuse me repeating facts you know better than me."

It was a foreign feeling to see her stand in his office again. Since last winter the sphere belonging only to the two of them had shifted towards her quarters, high above everything; out of reach for anything to intrude.

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Themis Lyra

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   Themis Lyra

"I was beginning to think you'd made a sport of suspense," Themis teased as she stepped into his rooms. Her grin betrayed her eagerness to join him, her stride driving her forward with decided purpose.

Crossing into his office, she stopped short at the sight of the stone centerpiece. He'd stripped it completely of the patterns she'd diligently copied and committed to memory. She'd been back in his office since the night they changed their trajectory, but it had never been a place she would mistake for her own. Her realm had become their realm, a haven she guarded with the utmost care. It was a place where she still had the illusion of control. Here, she was an avid adventurer, freer and braver than she ever was in her own research. Something in their connection made bravery into bravado. She fed off his ambition, boldness, and her hunger to explore the unknown, drawing her back here.

Turning back to him, her eyes bright with questions, but willing to wait momentarily. "The darkest day of the year and the return to the light, a time of hope." She provided, her tone even for only a second more. "Additionally, in some cultures, it is a day of giving." She offered, her pace slightly quickened. Sheepishness was unfamiliar to her, but she didn't have much defense against her hope to please him. She handed him the leather-wrapped parcel. "I hope you don't mind."

The package contained a sketchbook in oxblood and gold binding, his initials engraved in the cover. It was the smaller item that she was most eager to show him. The box of drawing pencils was made of dark oak; alchemical symbols and his initials engraved in gold. She had taken great care in melding wood and gold, her pride in the simple, magical engraving she'd accomplished after tweaking the alchemical circle he first taught her. "I had a good teacher." She added in a hint of self-deprecation.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Lou made magic!

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