Michael followed the owl back to Mel's room. The bird had seemed so eager to show him, so Michael didn't have the heart to simply beam over there, which he could easily have done. He thought about the mystery of Maia as he walked, wondering how much she knew about herself and how much of her could be saved... That was a riddle.
He knocked carefully on Mel's door, while the owl perched itself happily on his shoulder. Mmm. Archangel energy.
Mel answers the door by opening it just a crack at first, suspiciously, and then smiling when she sees Michael. He has that effect on people.
'Come in!' Wow, it was a good thing she'd actually made the bed that morning. Before she opens the door properly, Mel kicks a bundle of clothing under said bed, cursing that she can't do anything about the mismatched collection of novels and spellbooks scattered about the room. 'Um, do you want anything? Tea, or coffee, or...something?'
She hopes he won't say yes, because all she has is a stash of hot chocolate (not Lola's, at that). As Mel pulls the door all the way open, the knife is visible; it is on her desk with nothing surrounding it. Mel doesn't want anything contaminated.
"No thank you, Mel, I'm fine," smiled Michael and entered her room. Some people might have thought it odd to find the headmaster in one of his student's private rooms, but that wasn't really the case at the Angel Academy... Especially not when the student in question was currently in the possession of a dark object.
Michael approached the knife. "So this is the one..." he said with a little sigh. The knife shone dully in his presence, as if protesting being near such a powerful angel. Michael still picked it up, his hand shining in a dull gold, as if he'd produced a glove out of light to shield him from the dark energy.
"Was there a fight?" he asked, holding up the knife to examine it more thoroughly. Quite a simple weapon, but devestating if it were handled by the wrong person, of course... They had several of these, kept safe in the lower levels of the school library.
'Nearly,' Mel says grimly. 'I mean--I tried to talk to her and she just ran at me with it...and then I got my swo--then I held her off,' Mel says, not sure she should have a sword in any case, 'And tried to talk to her, and she just...chucked it at me, and ran off.'
Michael's handling of the dagger makes Mel look at her own hand. She wasn't stupid enough to touch the blade, but she didn't shield her hand, and now it itches.
She pokes at her palm, dotting little jets of green healing light at it. 'She's going to have more stuff, isn't she? And sooner or later one of us is going to make a mistake.' Her voice cracks a little. She doesn't want to keep fighting if she can help it. Hogwarts was meant to be safe from all that.
Comments 18
He knocked carefully on Mel's door, while the owl perched itself happily on his shoulder. Mmm. Archangel energy.
Reply
'Come in!' Wow, it was a good thing she'd actually made the bed that morning. Before she opens the door properly, Mel kicks a bundle of clothing under said bed, cursing that she can't do anything about the mismatched collection of novels and spellbooks scattered about the room. 'Um, do you want anything? Tea, or coffee, or...something?'
She hopes he won't say yes, because all she has is a stash of hot chocolate (not Lola's, at that). As Mel pulls the door all the way open, the knife is visible; it is on her desk with nothing surrounding it. Mel doesn't want anything contaminated.
Reply
Michael approached the knife. "So this is the one..." he said with a little sigh. The knife shone dully in his presence, as if protesting being near such a powerful angel. Michael still picked it up, his hand shining in a dull gold, as if he'd produced a glove out of light to shield him from the dark energy.
"Was there a fight?" he asked, holding up the knife to examine it more thoroughly. Quite a simple weapon, but devestating if it were handled by the wrong person, of course... They had several of these, kept safe in the lower levels of the school library.
Reply
Michael's handling of the dagger makes Mel look at her own hand. She wasn't stupid enough to touch the blade, but she didn't shield her hand, and now it itches.
She pokes at her palm, dotting little jets of green healing light at it. 'She's going to have more stuff, isn't she? And sooner or later one of us is going to make a mistake.' Her voice cracks a little. She doesn't want to keep fighting if she can help it. Hogwarts was meant to be safe from all that.
Reply
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