The son of the Vabolts, contrasted with his mother, was a mild-mannered and not very outspoken young man. Walden Vabolt had blue hair as well, but it was darker to almost navy, and was styled flat and unassuming against his scalp. He stood shorter than Ennanis—though that had more to do with the fact that Ennanis was tall by angel standards, and taller by human standards, rather than him being truly short. His eyes were an ordinary black; no sunfire lived beneath those eyelids.
He was attractive, Ennanis supposed… to people who fancied men.
On their first meeting, they held polite conversation over breakfast. Then, they held polite conversation over an aimless stroll through a park that Tia Vabolt claimed had been very beautiful before the storms hit it. Neither seemed keen on sharing much of anything personal, and thus what they mostly ended up doing was standing on broken bridges, taking turns commenting on the atrocious weather.
Over the next week, as Walden got more accustomed to Ennanis’ presence, Ennanis found herself able to ask him more questions about the state of affairs in the undercloud.
On the seventh day, Walden led Ennanis to the library of the Vabolt’s house. It wasn’t a big collection by any means, but the books that lined the shelves were clearly well-loved, their spines streaked with white, forking fold-lines, the pages marked by curling dog-ears. There was a table in the centre, similarly spread with reading material. A window along the wall opened up to a view of rolling hills, blanketed by the darkness of night.
It was strange for Ennanis to see the night this way, in such a… detached way, able to still see the trees blowing about in the winds, but unable to feel any of the blustering cold, separated from her by the pane of glass.
“Back when my mother was still trying to get me to learn Soleki, she had me learn a lot of Soleki theory,” Walden was saying lightly. “I can’t say I hated it, though. Even though I could never master the skill for myself, the theories were interesting.”
“What’s Soleki theory?”
Walden raised a surprised eyebrow. “Didn’t you ever learn Soleki theory? How did you learn to use Soleki, then?”
“Well, how do I say… Angels just use it,” Ennanis said. As early as she could remember, she’d been playing with the bands of light arcing across the mountainface, watching them shimmer and refract in the cup of her palms.
“I guess it comes naturally for angels,” Walden said. If the ungifted man was envious, he didn’t show it. “Well, I guess that makes Soleki theory, ironically, a man-made concept. Though, if you’re still interested, I’ve always dreamt of discussing Soleki theory with an angel.”
“Sure. Go ahead,” said Ennanis, drawing out a chair. She had nothing else to do anyway. Walden did the same, plopping down onto the plush cushioning. His black eyes carried a sparkle that wasn’t there before as he rifled through the pile and brought out certain selections to the top of the spread.
The angel eyed the tomes spread out on the centretable curiously. Some looked like textbooks and workbooks, thick and heavy, akin to books that taught mathematics or a language. Others were scrolls, dense and heavy with pure text dissertations, a mix of evenly-typewritten prints and hand-copied scrawls.
It was after a beat that the man blinked. He must have realised how dark it was in the room, the only light coming from the flickering candelabra he’d left on the nightstand. Embarrassed, he flushed, “Oh, sorry. We didn’t put on the lamps in this room, to save money… But I can go put them on.”
“It’s fine,” Ennanis waved at him. “I’m more used to the dark anyway.” And it was the truth.
Still, Walden turned toward the far shelf, where a few tinderboxes lay. “Well, my mother always said it was bad for your eyes to read in the dark. And it’s no way to treat a guest…”
“I’ve got it,” Ennanis said. She murmured a name under her breath.
The room brightened instantly, as if all the oil lamps had been struck alight at once. Warm light sank into the velvet carpet below their feet, while the greys and blacks of the bookstacks shifted to reds, greens, yellows.
Walden stopped in his tracks, and turned around to face the angel, whose hands were steepled, her finger brushing over the emblem of her glowing, golden ring. His gaze lingered on it, but he said nothing. He walked back and sat down at the table across from her, smoothing out the crinkled pages of the scrolls. “Sunbloods,” he began, clearing his throat “—or, well, also children whose parents believed could be sunblooded—go to special schools. They start by learning the basics of Soleki, called the Principles of Light. Soleki summoning, Solekinesis, Soleki Enhancement, and Communication.” He continued on, showing Ennanis the first few chapters of a textbook. Boxes of words, illustrated diagrams and tables covered the pages, as well as quiz sections featured at the back of every chapter. Annotations were inked in the margins, most likely the Vabolt son’s own lesson notes.
“Once you’ve mastered the Principles, then you can move on to second year, where you tackle every Principle in further depth, and you also have new subjects in the higher-difficulty side like Mending, so on…”
“.......”
“So, what do you think so far?”
“It’s… very formulaic,” Ennanis remarked.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Walden chuckled. “Well, how else do angels do it? Don’t you have any lessons at all?”
“We do have lessons, just not any theoretical ones,” Ennanis said. “The cadets get drills, I suppose, where their sergeants will demonstrate how to fire beams, or sessions in the forges. But for the most part, they just go out into the fray-”
“You drop them in the middle of a job?”
“Pretty much,” Ennanis said. “Like dropping a baby bird out of the nest, hoping they’ll figure out the rest.”
“Wow,” Walden rubbed his chin, considering as he leaned back in his chair. “What happens if they don’t, I mean, manage to figure it out?”
“...Then they get left behind,” Ennanis said.
To succeed as an angel, you had to keep flying forward. Like flocking birds, soaring over oceans during their migration, you had to do anything to maintain formation. If you caught a bad breeze, lost sight of the others in a cloud of fog, got injured or sabotaged—and didn’t make it back to the flock, then you were gone. No one would look for you, because they all had to keep flying, or be lost themselves. If an angel fell behind in performance, they failed to receive promotions. If you failed to receive promotions, you ended up in the Graveyard.
“I see. Well, our learning style may be different, but it’s pretty much the same here under the clouds,” Walden said, gazing out the rain-streaked windows. “At my school, there were other sunblood kids like me. They weren’t bad at Soleki, necessarily, but the exams were very specific. Some noble clans paid the school to pass their kids, but those who had neither the money nor natural gifts…” he shrugged. “Someone like me is privileged, to be able to drop out and still be fine. My mom just wants me to… marry into talent.”
Ennanis looked down at her grey belt. She looked back up.
“I agree,” she said. “The kingdom of Casca is a stifling place. I could never breathe when I was up there. I’d much rather be lost at sea.”
Walden studied her closely. The man looked at her; looked at the glowing ring on her finger.
“You’re not like the other angels, are you,” he noted. He sounded curious. “Just who are you?”
“An angel with no heart,” Ennanis replied.
Her cryptic answer meant nothing to Walden, of course. But he pressed no more. He folded his arms behind his head.
“What’s the real reason you agreed to my mother’s whims, anyway? Surely you have better things to be doing.”
“I have no money.”
“Pardon?”
“Dirt poor. Penniless,” Ennanis rephrased. “When this job is over, I’ll be sleeping on the streets.”
“You're joking.”
“Does it seem like I am?”
Walden glanced at Ennanis’ face, which remained its signature deadpan. It was an expression so unblinkingly bland that it could’ve been interpreted for serious, but just as much jocular, if not for the fact that the angel had not been known to make a single joke since their meeting. “What- can’t you go back to Mount Casca?”
“Part of the mission.” Ennanis said simply.
“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that,” Walden exhaled, rubbing his head. The man’s sympathy sounded sincere. All the same, he added, somewhat sheepish, “If only we had the resources to spare, the Clan of Vabolt would have gladly lent you further assistance.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t need nor wish for charity,” Ennanis assured him.
“Well, if we got married, then you could always stay,” Walden suggested, eyes thin. “You’re not so bad a conversation partner.”
Ruefully, Ennanis shook her head. “Sorry, but that wouldn’t work out.”
Walden paused in gathering up his books. “Let me guess. You’re not into humans?”
“Not into men.”
“Ah. Ahhhh,” Walden let out a chuckle. “Well, then, I hope another noblewoman propositions you, or you'll have to get comfortable under a bridge.”
For the first time since the conversation started, the trace of a smile touched Ennanis’ lips. “I’ll be as comfortable as I can.”
She reached for the books on the table, and opened one of them up, spreading the fluttering, yellowed pages out. Surprised, Walden ceased his motions of packing up; then, he smiled too, sitting back down in his chair. And so, under the warm glow of Lienna, they read into the night.
~~~