Gale had been dreading this the entire week, his weekend flush with the worry and concern of what was to come. He knew that he had done the right thing by giving Raine detention, but were her motives truly all that bad? She was a loyal friend, one that even he could be envious of; for those that were beneath her protection knew of a sacred ground that only they knew how to travel. She suited her house well, and in the strength of her compassion he knew that someday she would be a very powerful ally to have. Having been there since October the transformation was as clear to him as stars in the sky, but still he caught himself worrying about her often. This past little demonstration wasn't anything that truly surprised him, despite how much he hated to admit it was deserved. After their last little round of charms he knew something wasn't right in her fire crowned head, but wasn't the lesson of this entire thing enough to try and force him into silence? Did he care? Of course he did, but it wasn't his place to ask. Despite how much he wanted to.

Detentions were held in his office, at least for now, but suddenly as he was looking around he wished that he would have sent her an OWL explaining that it was to be held in his classroom. He felt vulnerable here, with everything that was truly his in the world displayed around the room--pictures, art, objects from his past, some that were not replaceable, but he didn't think she would go that far. Would she?

His detentions were often used to counter another lesson in life, punishment by way of self expression or inner peace, but today he had nothing. His coffee table was empty of the little treats he kept for his students, the box of tissues that he kept on hand for when there was one of the younger years breaking down missing, and even Lucas Trumble's pillow and blanket was packed away (no matter how much it broke his heart to admit). The only student that had free reign now was Eva Lawrence, but that was because she was family; the younger sister to his beloved, whose initials he wore around his neck.

With his hair tied back, little free strands of silvery white slipped along his face, outlined his jaw and framed in the glasses he had perched on his nose, Gale flipped through a book before he slipped it into the box as he packed. Sure magic would have made this whole thing go by so much faster, but it gave him something to do and kept his mind from what in the world he would even say to Raine.

Raine might have forgotten about detention that evening, had it not been for her housemates' constant tittering over the incident in Charms.

It was the least of her concerns since the start of March. A copy of the article was folded up in her back pocket at all times, weighing greater than parchment and nearly worn out of its ink from frequent perusal. Besides this there was little indication of a depressed disposition: no dark circles, red eyes, glum moods.

If anything she appeared well-rested. Only, to anyone who noticed, the Gryffindor moved about like a nervous cat: vigilant tilt to her walk and a temper quick to snap.

This was more or less her condition on approaching their professor's office; Maurice following like a second shadow. Raine paused at the archway and knocked against the open door with perfunctory tact. Her locks were braided back loosely, coming down to her shoulders in a blonde tumble. There was a mechanical, distracted flair to the way she had put herself together.

"Professor Kesali?" Raine noted the state of his office in a quick look around. Her voice was deadpan, tired. "May I enter?" she stared straight at the pale haired wizard- or rather, through him.

A great weight held his heart in advance her knock came, the voice to which he had always been able to pick apart from the rest called out like any other bird of prey, but today that little mouse in the back of his mind didn't feel the need to run. It didn't make her any less intimidating, but he certainly wasn't to cower now. He knew that look, knew the way the stalked the halls as he very much had watched it once in a face that time had almost erased. That life was long since lived, but the moments of it haunted still. Despite his best efforts to completely erase Arthur and his League from his mind, it was in Raine he found a constant reminder.

"Of course, come in. Make yourself comfortable..." He looked over his shoulder at her as he stretched to gather a few objects from one of the higher shelves, "Just...leave the door open please." He didn't know how much of the entire network of rumors got their start, but he was sure that somewhere students were going to talk about what happened in the private chambers of the Charms professor.

For a moment he let the heavy silence fall between them, giving her a chance to speak, to start a conversation that he knew was coming. One that he couldn't just skim over and take for face value. Though, there was something about Raine that he knew he could be upfront and frank with, and in this he let the silence fade as he turned on her from his position,

"I...honestly don't even know what to say to you, Raine," With a book between his hands he kept a firm grip on it, "Where do I even start? Tell me where I should start. How disappointed I am? How surprised I am? What about how you endangered your peers, but I'm the one who got the blame? Do you even think about these things? Are you even thinking at all anymore?" He motioned for the chair in front of his desk,

"If you think that no one has noticed how different you are since Christmas break than you have another thing coming. Take a seat. I want answers."

For a while, Raine had sauntered in the room and stood about awkwardly in their silence.

If she had not previously endured the dread of this detention, she certainly felt it now. Even moreso when Professor Kesali turned around to begin his reprimands. There were so many words coming out of his mouth that she simply stared at the man with a mixture of confusion and dissatisfaction; it was only at the mention of endangering her peers that she snapped to proper attention.

That's right, the rope. Merlin. It all felt like eons ago now.

Mechanically, the Gryffindor dropped into the chair he indicated and tried not to fidget. Maurice had disappeared somewhere behind her, underneath the coffee table.

"I..." she paused, looking rather put off. It felt like he had thrown the last two weeks into her face and expected a response. "I apologise, Professor." Raine didn't want to think about those two weeks any more than she wanted to be hexed. "I didn't mean to, um, disrupt your lesson. Or hurt my classmates. I assume complete responsibility."

That was par for the course with detentions, wasn't it? Finally she looked up to meet Kesali in the eye. Her expression was perfectly obedient but the gaze, as she could hardly restrain it, smacked of insolence.

"And yes. I am thinking, sir. In fact-" Raine felt her temper stirring and she breathed out heatedly. "- right now, I'm thinking about how this is an utter waste of my time."

"I didn't mean to, um, disrupt your lesson. Or hurt my classmates. I assume complete responsibility."


"Raine, you can't accept full responsibility, but I do appreciate your apology." He put the book back in the box he was packing and went to sit with her. However, he didn't sit across from her as a Professor probably should. He didn't want to use the big desk as a space between them, but he also didn't want to invade her personal space. Instead, Gale pulled one of his table chairs over and sat astride it so that he could fold his arms over the back,

"I wasn't at my best, that was for sure," He smiled sheepishly, though it faded when that anger started to show again in his student. That worried him. Enough that he felt a little pain in his heart at it's placement there.

"And yes. I am thinking, sir. In fact- [...] - right now, I'm thinking about how this is an utter waste of my time."

"Is it? You think I want to keep you here for an hour? I have half a mind to just make you go back to your dorm so that you can take a nap, because you are so damn tired, but I'm not supposed to say anything or do anything." He forced a breath through his teeth to try and stop himself, but he just couldn't help it.

"Goddamn it," He huffed and crossed his arms now over his chest as he sat back, "I'm sick of this shit," He puffed air through the hair that hung around his face, and with a better collection of himself continued,

"Do you know that Professor Reid once made me feel a few inches tall for suggesting she help me with sewing a few of the first and second years dresses for the Yule Ball? I wonder what she would say to this hmm? Don't be ridiculous, Professor." He did his best uptight pure blood impression he could, his words were snappy and short, "Raine Almasy, is one of our best students. If she goes off the deep end, she is on her own. Let her burn everything down. It's just a little fire. I eat it for breakfast and shit diamonds." He wasn't going about this the right way and sat back in his chair a moment, holding onto the back as if it were a cage as he looked a few books on the shelves that he almost felt he shouldn't have even brought in this school.

A nap! Of all things!

Raine opened her mouth indignantly, ready to fire a sharp retort but her jaws snapped shut almost at once: he had started swearing and she knew not to interrupt such things in anyone who didn't already blaspheme like a sailor. There was something disarming about professors when they let down their guards.

Trishna, she knew, could be rather insightful. One couldn't tell with Storm - he seemed to only have one mode (deadly) - and their Librarian wasn't the bad sort with a secret. But Kesali... he was all over the place. His lack of restraint was almost offensive to her ingrained rigour.

"I wander what she would say to this hmm?" The wizard continued and she fidgeted in the chair, completely unaccustomed to the act of faculty members complaining about each other. Her nose wrinkled at the imitation, moreso at the mention of burning everything down. Was that how people viewed her? Setting things on fire all the time?

And then, abruptly: "It's just a little fire. I eat it for breakfast and shit diamonds."

Raine laughed without meaning to but quickly recovered, clearing her throat. She considered Kesali- this time she did it closely and observantly. He wasn't going to let it go. The man actually wanted to talk. The article in her pocket felt heavier all of a sudden.

"I'm not going to set everything on fire-" she clarified in a firm voice after a brief pause. "- and I've not, um, gone off the deep end. Really, professor. Taking circumstance into consideration..." a scornful gesture indicated that she didn't want to discuss the circumstance. "I haven't done anything terrible at all."

Imprecise: that she hadn't been caught doing anything terrible was closer to the truth. Raine folded her arms before giving him a headstrong look. "Would you feel better-" or rather, would he let her go, "- if I promised not to do it again? I'm good to my word."

"Would you feel better- [...]- if I promised not to do it again? I'm good to my word."


Gale gave her a very pointed look, raising his nearly perfectly sculpted brow as if it question her completely. It would have been the sassiest thing he ever did, if his eye patch wasn't there to mask half of the expression.

"No." He spoke very matter-of-factly, "It would not. Because, what happened a few weeks ago, didn't just happen because of what I said. You were at a boiling point, no pun intended, Raine. I can see it as clear as day on you because I stared at that face for almost 5 years." His voice was as direct as he could make it, words exactly on point and without conviction as he had nothing to try and convince her of.

"Despite the fact that you are sitting here before me, you are not really here. Your mind isn't in the clouds either, so I am not accusing you of being a pathetic dreamer. You know exactly what you are doing, and when it must be done. You are carrying a weight on your shoulders that even I can not carry for you because only you can even lift it. And no...I'm not saying that I'm weak, because I'm going to be very honest with you...are you ready?" He didn't even wait for her to answer, but hoped at least she would nod.

"I didn't just fight in the war here at school, Miss Almasy. I was in love with a boy who was a precious son of an underground terrorist organization, he had killed many people by the time he was your age. He walked like you do, blew up just the same. This school could not contain him, nor could it protect him. My father sold me into his father's care by the time I finished my third year. My summers were spent a servant in their household, earning my keep and the luxury of the training that his people went through. So I know my share about double lives," He lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned over the chair a little so that she could better hear him.

"I know darn well that when the time comes nothing that I do, or anyone at this school will prevent you from doing exactly what you feel is right, even if society deems it improper. But if blowing up at me helps you then by all means I can take it." He smiled a little,

"Let's just leave the other students out of this next time alright?" Even lower his voice went and with it a grin that could rival even the Cheshire Cat's, "I'm not really as crazy as I let on to be, but it keeps you on your toes doesn't it? And in that it keeps my secrets safe." Gale looked at the open door and cast a silencing spell on it,

"Now....spill it. Do I need to start you on a few lessons on self defense?" He motioned to the swords and knives on the walls, "And if so...what for?"

Playing by the book was not doing her any favours: she apologized and he accepted, she made assurances and he threw them aside. This wasn't anything like getting out of trouble with her Governess. He knew her respect was false.

Raine sat up straight and rigid, ready to jump in the moment he asked if she was ready- but there wasn't a chance. The story that followed clammed up her lips and she stared at Kesali as if though he were a madman. Underground terrorist organization? Double lives? If it weren't coming from the lips of (what she hoped to be) a fully grown adult, the words might easily have been a delusion. Something the third or fourth years would dream up, fancying the romantic dangers of a dramatic lifestyle. Except this wasn't that.

It was his grin that made her push her chair back in revulsion.

"I didn't realize-" her voice dripped with chilling enmity. "-  that my motives were so transparent." From the way he told it, or rather the way she heard it, perhaps half the school supposed some fiery rage in the Gryffindor's bleached head. Vengeance! Anger! She paused and wisely took a moment to push aside the self-loathing.

That sort of thing was like poison.

"Professor Storm gives me additional lessons, outside the curriculum." Raine managed to say once she recovered. It wouldn't do to describe the spells that their Defences teachers taught her; she wasn't entirely certain of his character- much less the magics. "I don't need... I'm not a child, alright?"

This was a sticking point for her and it was obvious because she had dropped the sirs, the respectful tone. Raine glanced from the knives on the wall (apparently not decorative) to the pale wizard, glowering. Hands on the chair arms, she looked ready to bolt. The witch held firm.

"If I want lessons, I know to ask for it. I don't see how a sword-" manically, she thought of Roger's Swiss army knife at the bottom of her trunk. "-  is any better than a wand." The stiff lip softened momentarily and her gaze wavered. Something from Kesali's story wasn't lost on her.

If he was so willing to offer it than surely she could push on.

"The boy you fell in love with." Raine tried to imagine this figure she was accused of resembling, an absolute stranger to her and possibly wrangled from the imagination of a lunatic, "What happened to him?"

"I didn't realize-' [...] '-  that my motives were so transparent."

When she pushed her chair back he wanted desperately to roll his eyes, but he figured that would have a few other flames go up.

"I can't say that they are," He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, "You just haven't denied anything I have been accusing you of. And the fact that Storm of all people is giving you extra lessons, then that is all the proof that I need."


"If I want lessons, I know to ask for it. I don't see how a sword- [...] - is any better than a wand."

Gale in the middle of her question got up to retrieve a book hidden on the end of his shelf, and smirked into the pages as he flipped through them, "I used to ask the same thing." He lit up at the thought, looking back at Raine, "Professor Storm was the first wizard I ever knew, or at least thought I knew. He was given refuge for a night in our caravans and was wounded very badly. I remember the very first time I ever saw him use magic I thought there was no other way to do anything else again.

The night pressed on, and it wouldn't be until the early hours of the morning would the child wake between the sleeping figures of authority--roused by the heavy sounds of their slumber, and annoyed. What was he doing asleep here?! How did this even happen!? His father snored, heavily, and with a nose as big as that it was no wonder. Gale couldn't get him to stop, even when he plugged his nostrils. And whhhhhere was his rabbit? Oh this wouldn't do, not at all.

With dark circles under his eyes, lines from the stress of the early hour deepening the socket that held them, and furrowed brows, Nightingale looked pissed. His hair wild atop his head, his father's nightshirt covering his bony knees, and annoyance written in the hard lines of his mouth, Gale got up. He stumbled his way over the camp, stepping over some of the logs around the fire while falling over the rest. He didn't care what was in his way, or where they thought he was going--he was going to his bed. However, just when the morning welcomed him in, the dawning of the night before sank in, and there was a man in his bed that made it all true.

A wizard. A real wizard was in his bed! My what big eyes he had, ears, and even teeth (or what he could tell from pushing back the man's lips to see.) He looked like an ordinary man, and one that looked tired--worn in every single way. But he was beautiful, even while sleeping on his stuffed friend. (To which he rescued promptly) And just as he turned to leave the man's demeanor changed, he struggled through a dream that became a nightmare, and Gale squeezed his stuffed friend before returning to the man's side.

"He's dreaming, scary things," The boy whispered as he ran a hand back through the man's hair, and studied his face to see if he was going to wake up.

Merlin!

He woke up.

"I'm not Merlin! I'm Gale!" He answered in his little bit of panic as the bear stirred from his slumber. "What am I doing? What are you doing? You are asleep in my bed, and was snuggling my rabbit! Like something was coming after it, have you been drinking?" He leaned in close to the man again, "You don't look like you have magic. You don't have magic skin. Nor do you sparkle. I heard that magic sparkles. I see that your eyes sparkle. Is that anger? Your eyes look angry. Or is that pain? Are you in pain? Magic pain?" He plopped on the bed's edge to help steady himself as he studied Ignan further,

"Can your magic help your pain? How do you do your magic? You used a stick. Is that a wand? What does it do? Did you find it? Where can I get one? Can I see it? Where is it? Can I use it? It's early in the morning, by the way, I know you asked, is this the time that you normally wake up? I don't. No one does. No one wakes up this early, not around here. Your eyes look sparkly again, are you mad?"

[1]

"It wasn't until Arthur did I ever think back on how thankful I was that I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks," He sat back down and put the book out for Raine to see. The book was full of articles from the war, pictures, and little illustrations of different symbols. "They believed that magic was everything, anyone without it wasn't worth anything, but were very insistent on if it is taken away they could somehow get it back. Bishop, his father, would always say, "Wands can be broken boys, but so can bones." Too many rely heavily on it, and never think of what will happen if in the midst of a war they find themselves without a wand."

Gale turned the book back to him, flipping the page to study the picture, "He was killed during the battle. Same explosion that cost me my eye, it was the doors I think. Splinters of wood. But it all happened so fast, I can hardly remember. Just the fire, all I can truly remember is the fire," from this he looked at Raine and smiled, he wouldn't admit how much she reminded him of Arthur, because when Gale was thankful when Arthur died. He wouldn't feel the same about Raine, should that day ever come.

"I suppose I harbor a lot of guilt, and take it out by wanting to be there for you all. He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me, and my loyalty to this damn school. He would probably roll over in his grave if he knew I was a Professor, but I also suppose this is why I feel rather protective of you. I know damn well that I can't prevent you from going off and doing what you feel is right, but if there is anything that can be done while you are here beneath my shelter. I wish to do it." Gale ran a hand through his hair, nervously, and shut the book.

"I have a lot of contacts outside this school. Friends on the other side." Leaning forward again, "And I certainly don't think you are a child. Forgive me, if that stepped on a few nerves."

1.	Wolves and Wounds

What did he mean by  'Storm,of all people'?

Raine let her shoulders fall as the professor explained, moving away to a shelf in that mad way of his. He couldn't sit still- truth be told neither could she but faculty talk was fascinating; peeking through the curtains at intermission and observing a completely different set of lives in motion.

"Wounded?" Raine echoed, as if though trying to kill Professor Storm was implausible (in spite of their trying in each and every one of his NEWT lessons). A hundred unwise questions tumbled through her head.

Better not try. Perhaps questions could be posed later, to Storm himself. Already Kesali had sat back down, carrying a tome. He proffered it so eagerly she didn't dare refuse. The Gryffindor realized, guiltily as well as belatedly, that he was trying to share something supposedly valuable. Governess McGregor would have been ashamed of her behaviour.

At any rate, to decline knowledge was a fool's errand.

Her gaze dropped and she forced herself to be interested, inclining forwards for a glimpse at the scrapbook. Raine listened while the articles stared back, smirking when Kesali quoted the person named Bishop- she nodded approvingly without realizing it. Then the book was gone, shut. History.

"So he died." Raine sat back and sighed heatedly. Fire. Always back to fire in a blazing circle. It made her blood boil just thinking about it. "I wond-- no. Actually. Nevermind," the subject hadn't been easy for the older wizard to discuss. She pulled her legs up onto the chair, folding them.

Madman or not, Kesali was being earnest so she owed him the same.

"I know what people think, they think I want to kill Arthur Lemon. I don't want to kill him professor. I'm not angry." Raine stared at Kesali with jaw drawn tight. "I'm afraid. And that's better incentive than anger, isn't it?" she knew he was a survivor of sorts and would understand that.

"If you want to teach me, I'll take it. I'll take whatever I can get."

Wounded?

"Yes," He said with a small smile, "Hard to imagine that he isn't completely made of stone. They would not tell me exactly what happened, my father was more interested in teaching me how I could have pulled his kidney out with the gash he had on his side, than of what was the matter." He squinted trying to remember, "Something about a tree I believe. I remember thinking it so funny to picture such a man up in a tree, and I pulled splinters out."

"I know what people think, they think I want to kill Arthur Lemon. I don't want to kill him professor. I'm not angry."

Nightingale, returned from his thoughts then, seeing that they were shared. He could understand if he knew all of the information, but from what he gathered from the papers and from rumors he could try and put the puzzle together,

"I couldn't imagine you wanting to kill anyone, Raine, truly. Your anger is great, your rage to not be reckoned with, but I would like to think you a little better than some mindless criminal to take a life so easy. Death is the easy way out, and this is about vengeance is it not? Why give anyone the satisfaction of the afterlife when you can make their life on earth hell." He said this so easily that it was almost as if he were quoting it somewhere, but it was thoughts like this that he was brought up on. He knew nothing else.

"A lesson I learned a long time ago about this school is that, I'm not here to always make you the good guy, nor am I to push you towards a darker path. That's up to you. When you leave and walk out that door, Mr. Frodo, you are on your own. It won't matter how many hugs I have given you, or cookies I've baked. My lessons won't matter if you never use them, but what I think that many of the other professors forget is that we can't shape you into anything other than what you want to be." With this he leaned forward and put his head over his hands as they folded together,

"I guess the way I look at it, is that you are an adult enough to know your limits, and what you want. So sit there and lie to me all you want, tell me you are interested in my stories, that you are not angry at Arthur Lemon, but at the end of the day you know the truth, and you know what is best for you." With a deep breath he opened the desk to pull out a small set of throwing knives,

"Just don't depend on magic, little phoenix," He put the set before her, "Because just like everything else in this god forsaken world, it might not always be there for you."

It was entertaining to know that other professors had similar ideas about Storm being more stone than he was flesh and blood. That she shared this opinion with Kesali was slightly disheartening.

Raine did not like the turn this conversation was taking. He was right about select things, wrong about others. His heart was in the correct place, father would say. However: that he thought she was lying made her even more irritable because - again in spite of the earlier apology - it felt like she was being treated as a child. Perhaps she had grandeur delusions about adulthood. Perhaps you never stop being treated like a child and this was as good as it would ever be.

The thought depressed her immeasurably though she said nothing.

"Mr? Frodo?" he was certainly aware she was not male, and that her name wasn't Frodo. "Nevermind. I don't... nevermind." Sasha could explain later if it occurred for her to ask. "I know that I'm responsible for myself." For a second it seemed as if though Kesali was drawing his address to an end, but then the knives came out.

On instinct alone, she withdrew her arms and stared.

Stared like someone had lit a fire on the desk. Raine looked from the pale face of her professor to the glistening tips of the throwing knives (wondering if Gracie used such things as well). She knew what a gun was, and this was very much the same as handing an angry person a loaded gun. The Gryffindor was quiet as she reached forward to gently harvest one of the knives in her left hand, testing its weight.

"I fence, you know-" she said in a thoughtful voice, holding the weapon upright and running a finger very carefully along its edge. A fine trickle of blood slid down the hand without hurting; she knew how sharp it was now. "- and I'm very good. It isn't the same thing but it's a start. Please don't worry about me." Raine held the knife out towards Kesali by the handle, smiling faintly. "I'll come to you when I need help, if I need it."

That, she knew at once, was a better promise than trying to stay out of trouble. Nobody could keep that one.

"Fencing is a great place to start, actually I wouldn't consider it a place to start at all, but a launching point. You know form and technique, how to breathe and when to move. It's a lot like dancing...just a little more unpredictable, and something I was never very good at." He held up his hand to stop her from returning the knives, "Keep them. Practice. On a bed post please, not another student. I really like my job, Raine, I don't want to lose it." Folding his hands he rested his chin to the top again,

"Despite what some may think. I really enjoy it here. It's an adjustment for sure, but I'll learn," At that, he felt as though he was just giving himself a pep talk truly, and his admission was more of a confession as if it were a sin.

"And I like you, I've always liked you. You are one of the few students that will be up front with me, and let me be right back. But what happened in class can not happen again alright? I plan on making classes a lot harder, and things are going to be tough. Don't take it personal," He smiled a little.

"I do well enough on my own with nearly getting fired every other day, I don't need any more angry letters about burned children, or little clubs to get me fired. You have to know this hasn't been easy, being told to just stand in the sidelines and watch you all burn out. Despite what every one thinks of Storm he has feelings just like I do, and they get hurt. We have bad days. We have good ones. We may be wizards, but we are also humans. Same bleeding heart that a muggle has. We care. Well...most of us," he would never forget how Aileen Reid acted with the dance lessons. He was sure that woman was made of stone; hateful things that crawled out of shadows--things with eight legs and a hundred ugly eyes. But, Maker, how she was beautiful.

"I would hope so. Because if I do end up getting fired, it's going to be because I go down in a fire, and I'd like to think you to have front row seats," He smirked and dismissed her.

"You can go. Just please...bed posts, walls...not students, alright? Theo could use a few less toes though, but I'll deny where they came from."

It took more than a lioness' share of patience to bite back a response to his pronouncement on the art of fencing. Of course it made perfect sense to her that he was never very good at it; anybody who was might have a better opinion.

But this champion's critique on their professor's ability with a sabre flew right out of the window when she realized he was giving (or loaning?) her the throwing knives. Somehow she had forgotten that there was a character most generous underneath all of his striking melodramatics. It was also, the Gryffindor supposed, quite touching that he liked her.

"I won't," she gently put to bed the knife and closed the box with perfunctory reference. "It's never personal." Not even her sister's murder had been personal. Or at least not personal to anyone but Arthur Lemon.

The seriousness of her expression cracked right through with skepticism just a second after, however. Storm. Feelings. If Kesali was using extremes as an example to prove his point, at least he had chosen well. Raine had long accepted that their teachers were flawed and (relatively) human though she wrinkled her nose at the idea of having 'front row seats' to any sort of fire.

At least not one she hadn't personally set.

"Walls, not students-" she repeated while standing to retrieve the set of knives. "- and possibly Whitman. Yes sir." He was certainly more capable of defending himself against them than most of their classmates. The witch tucked the box underneath her arm, turning to give Kesali a succinct nod.

A younger version might have actually curtsied. "Thank you." Raine met him in the eye to convey that she understood the importance of being gifted something dangerous; that it indicated trust as much as it did generosity. "Good evening, professor."

And then she left.