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Indigo
Yeah. It’s sweet, but not as sweet as you!
I want to punch myself in the face the second I send the text. I hope she doesn’t reply, because I don’t know what I’d say next.
Crossing towards the Potions Tree, I meet Alitha in the lab. Though I’m not a potions professor, I like to play around with them from time to time, working on personal experiments of my own. Alitha and I have been testing some new concepts. I throw the bamboo cup away and put on a pair of gloves. I would’ve brought a treat for Alitha, but I don’t think they make vegan cranachan.
“How close are you to achieving your desired results?” Alitha asks, watching me rip pieces of fabric and pour the potion onto them.
“I’m close. It works on natural fabrics, but not synthetic blends. I think it needs some sort of honey or honey-like element,” I say.
Basic potions are easy. Basic potions that get an object to start or stop doing what it already does are the easy part. Other concepts, like permanent alterations that have nothing to do with the object's intended purpose, are much harder. You can use a simple potion to make a carrot round, or a different color, but you’d need a lot more practice to turn a carrot into a cucumber. This potion has taken memonths.It is anything but basic.
She hands me a bottle of honey, and I pour a generous amount in, mixing the substances. I pour my new concoction onto the synthetic fabric, and the fibers immediately grow together, fixing the rip I had made.
“We fucking did it,” I shout, and Alitha gestures for me to quiet down with her hand. She grabs me into a tight hug, holding me against her tall, lean form and I wrap my arms around her.
“Youdid it,” she says.
* * *
Tuesday and Wednesday go by in a blur of review packets, study halls, and office hours. Despite how busy I am, all I can think about is this weekend.
A few of my students sneak me little gifts and treats. I think, for some of them, they just want to be nice… for others, this is very clearly a bribe that won’t help them on their finals.
Just a few more days until my final date with Vega,I think to myself on the drive home.Just a few more days until it ends.
* * *
With finals happening tomorrow, today we’re having a little study party in my History 101 class. All of my students pitched in. Raven and Eden brought punch and chips. Kwon, a masculine cambion, made a holiday-winter playlist with songs like All I Want For Christmas Is You, Frosty the Snowman, Feliz Navidad, and A Moonflower Solstice. Everyone wants to study in different ways. Many brought textbooks, flashcards, and even tablets.
“What if I put on a game? It’ll quiz you about our history, and whoever wins will get ten points of extra credit,” I say.
“Yes,” shouts two of my students at once. I look over to see Wren, an androgynous-looking cambion, and Zinnia, a feminine satyr, jump out of their seats.
Wren and Zinnia are polar opposites. Wren is thin with red skin and long straight white hair and seems to prefer darkness. From their fluffy sweater, to their mini-skirt and lace-up combat boots, everything is pitch black. Even the curved horns on the top of their head are onyx. Zinnia, on the other hand, is like a cloud. Her skin is a light tan, her hair a sage green, and her clothes pastel pink. She’s much more curvaceous, with softer lines to her figure. Somehow, through all their opposition, I always see them together, even outside my classroom.
“Get out your devices then,” I say with a smile.
Frantically, Wren and Zinnia get out their phones and swiftly join the game while the other students type their names at a normal page. Zinnia taps her foot, impatient as we wait for everyone to get logged in. It’s loud—too loud—but I don’t say anything. She’s just really competitive.
“Could you please quit tapping? It’s vexatious at best,” Wren says to Zinnia, who crosses her arms.
“Buttercup, I do what I want–and I want to win,” Zinnia has a soft, southern accent as speaks. Her voice is somehow sweet yet… there’s a sinister note to it. Why is she making such a big deal out of this game?
“What is their deal?” I ask a few students sitting in row behind them.
“I don’t know, but they’re like this ineveryclass,” a serpentine, whose name Ithinkis Alya, says. Another student rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at the two. I would find it annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining. It’s like watching two cats fight.
“Wren, Zinnia, you know this is just for fun, right?” I ask.
“It is most certainly not,” Wren says. “You offered ten points extra credit to the winner. If I’m going to be number one and beat Zinnia, I need those points.”
Oh gosh… should I have offered candy instead?
The game begins and everyone seems to be having fun—everyone but Zinnia and Wren, who have furious looks on their faces as they type away. They keep trading first and second place, and I have no idea who will come out on top. They’re equally brilliant.
Anxiety fills me as I consider what could happen next. What if one of them wins and it causes the other one to have a meltdown… couldn’t that be bad for their finals? I can prevent this. I sneak Dahlia a text as I watch what might as well be an olympic-level competition. The entire class is half-assing their answers, solely focused on Zinnia and Wren.
