29. Visions

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Allan had never recalled being particularly thrilled at how close the Symphony Stadium had been built to the castle; it made the long nights of grading mountains and mountains of papers all the more grating. Even now, as the ink discharged out the tip of his pen, sloppily staining the document in front of him, Allan cringed at how the blaring music and condensed echoes of cheers rattled his insides.

But, of course, he didn't see a point in voicing his complaints now—nobody would be able to tell what he was saying over the noise anyhow. No, he should just stick to his work, ignore his emotions that tugged at his patience, tune out the sounds of that annoying announcer as he belched nonsensically into his voiceifier, explaining players' actions as they happened like the audience themselves didn't have eyes.

Cursing under his breath, Allan slammed his pen onto the paper, startling Lyra who had—until the moment that his forbearance broke—been sleeping from where she rested perched on a stone ledge jutting out of the architecture above him. She swung her head to the side, glaring at him with one of her giant, bright blue eyes, his frown reflecting in the mirror that was her iris.

Allan gave a nod, and he waved at the bird dismissively, hoping that would be enough to sate an argument before it could spark. He was wrong, and Lyra dove from off her perch, soared over empty seats tucked under desks, and landed right in front of him, her talons clipping on wood. Allan diffused a sigh as she hopped forward expectantly, repeatedly bopping her head up and down whilst her black-as-night features ruffled in irritation.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Allan apologized, but Lyra's mood didn't improve. "I've had a busy day today. And given how hectic our schedules tend to get as the year proceeds, well, I suppose I should be cherishing this calm before the storm, now shouldn't I?" Allan reached for the bird, half anticipating a prick of pain on his finger from one of Lyra's pecks. To his pleasant surprise, she allowed for him to pat her on the head, and he would stroke a hand down her neck and over her small body that he could entirely fit within his grasp. "Look at us, Lyra. Whoever thought we'd be doing something like this, eh?"

Lyra gave him a blank stare that only he could understand, cocking her head to ask an inquiry that didn't require words or a tongue.

"I bet that old man is laughing at us from the Eternal Gardens, huh? You know, assuming he ever made it there. He had a lot of fun in his life, didn't he?" Yes, "fun" would be an appropriate phrase to use. Aeris knew his vocabulary was large enough to choose a word more fitting his peculiar nature. "He always said he wanted to see Glyph with his own two eyes. He'd get a kick out of the place, I'd say. But the students here might...well they might not live up to his standards."

Lyra shook herself and her feathers fervently, wagging her tail as she seated herself right atop the paper he had yet to finish grading. But Allan knew not to bother her once she got comfortable. Sighing again, the sorcerer leaned back into his chair, both arms falling over the sides. 

Another explosion ignited in the distance, earning a scowl from Allan that made his face turn, and he aimed it at the spot on the wall where a window used to be. Further past the stone and barrier, there would be the Symphony Stadium itself, crammed to capacity from all those obnoxiously loud sulmos who apparently had nothing better to do this late at night.

Well, the game wouldn't last much longer, anyhow. In the best-case scenario, the crowd would have started exiting the stadium in the next hour or so. Freshmen certainly couldn't afford to drag their feet, not unless they desired to have their dreams tainted by the darkness of a nightmare. Allan snickered at that.

As his eyes caught onto the stack of sheets remaining on his desk that he had to mark, his mind suddenly wandered back to the class he had held earlier on. If he was being truthful with himself, he never expected much from them, his homeroom class didn't exactly make the best first impression on him. 

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