Work Text:
Legundo was tired.
He was always tired these days, that was not new. The dull throbbing ache in his head, however, was definitely an addition he had not been wanting to see.
A groan pulled from his chest as the throb stabbed deeper into his skull, forcing his quill to drop from his hand. A splatter of ink formed on his partially empty page, causing another grumble for a vastly different reason to spill from his lips. A muttering of frustrated nonsense sputtered from Legs’ mouth before he let his head fall into the palms of his hands. Finally, he allowed himself a sigh before closing his eyes, trying to ease the faint pulse radiating from his temples.
He needed to sleep.
But Zam was still injured, with no direct course of action as to how to help her recover for good.
He couldn’t sleep.
He forced himself back upright, wearily picking up his quill as he scanned his notes, flipping through pages to get himself back on track. Most of it was utter gibberish, with almost all of the words forming barely legible squiggles, and with what was legible not making any sense in the context of what was written.
After spending an absurd amount of time gathering his wits, Legs begun to write again. Equations and questions and ideas were strewn across pages, helplessly trying to solve the seemingly unsolvable, to no avail.
His eyelids felt heavier. His limbs grew weaker. His body yearned for the sweet release of slumber…
“Legundo?” A voice called out from his right, startling him so much he let out a high pitched squeal he didn’t even know he could produce. His cheeks warmed from embarrassment, both at the noise and at his lack of decorum in the library. His attention turned towards the source of the voice, meeting the gaze of someone he had not been expecting: Scott Boralith.
He had interacted with the man before; on their first day, a few times around the academy, during the tournament, a few times since the ice magic wielder’s return to the academy, but not much beyond that. Despite it, there was always this allure that Legs had towards Scott. Maybe it was an act of jealousy, given the pure strength the man showed in comparison to Legs’ own magic, but he couldn’t quite say that that was the exact feeling…
He blinked himself from his thoughts, finding a confused looking Scott staring down at him, purple eyes searching Legundo’s green pair, as if they were telling him something Legs hadn’t even spoken to him about yet. Scott looked down at the table, at the piles of books and stacks of papers, at the pages upon pages of scribbles and scriptures, and then back up to Legs. “Are you…studying? On a Sunday? At 3 in the morning?” Scott paused between each statement, emphasising the absurdity of the situation to Legs with a raised eyebrow rather than through elevated tone.
Legs swallowed hard, looking down at his papers nervously. “Uhm- I wouldn’t call it studying, but I suppose the other statement still stands to reason-“ Legs mumbled shakily, eyes straining in the dim library light.
Scott didn’t seem to respond for a second. Legs almost expected a scolding like his other friends would do, a chastising rant about how sleep was important, as if he hadn’t been giving the exact same speech to Graecie not too long ago. He was a hypocrite, to put it bluntly.
Scott, however, didn’t do that.
Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. The legs of the chair scraped against the marble floors, echoing through the empty halls, before fading into nothingness, leaving Legundo alone with Scott once again. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting between Scott and his texts, then around as if a camera crew were about to come out from around the corner. He expected a surprise, that this was all an elaborate plan or joke (not that it seemed in character for Scott, not in the slightest.) When no crew arrived, Scott continued to speak.
“What are you writing about, then?” His voice was gentle, a calmness Legs hadn’t heard in a voice in a while, and somehow, that eased some of his own worries if just for a minute. Legs looked down at his scrawled writing, embarrassment flooding his chest as he read through it. He chanced a glance up at Scott, worried about what he might see. However, he wasn’t expecting the sight before him: genuine curiosity. He chanced another glance after a moment and, yep, still the same curious expression as before. The candle on the table illuminated Scott’s face in an elegant way, the flame dancing in his purple irises as they watched Legs’ face, awaiting his response. Feeling empowered, for once, he began to talk.
He explained everything. About Zam. About the crystal. About his worries and fears. About his ideas and theories. About his hopes. Scott listened to every last one of them, never interrupting or interjecting with his own thoughts, just nodding and adding a quiet “right” or “uh-huh” in acknowledgment. So Legs kept going. He kept talking, and explaining, and eventually they started coming up with new ideas, and then they started talking about other things altogether: the corruption, their dragons, their time at the academy thus far, their home towns, even little bits and pieces of their pasts. Their quiet discussion went on for who knew how long, Legundo couldn’t say for sure.
What he was sure about was that one moment he’d been talking about, but when he woke up, he was tucked into bed. Beside his headboard in a neat pile were his books and notes. Upon noticing the pile, he spotted a separate note atop the stack.
“Dear Legundo,
I hope you’re able to solve these problems. You’re smart enough to do so, I’m know that for sure. Should you need assistance or extra reading materials, you know where to find me.
Kind regards, Scott.”
Legundo’s heart felt warmer than usual that day.