The sun was high up in the sky, there were no clouds as far as the eye could see, and the line of trees planted to each side of the walkway offered the exact amount of shade that young alchemist Vera Lindt needed for her day to be as bright as they came. It would be, too, had it not been for the reason she was walking the quiet streets of Sundial's residential area.

"Merlin, even the shopping district's practically empty today. Tuesdays really do suck," she commented, to no one in particular. Her agouti-shaped familiar, peacefully walking alongside her, would be the most likely receiver of her idle chat.

You're just upset your aunt's staying at your lab, chided in the ever opportune agouti. You're—ah, what was the word they use nowadays—salty?

It was true, as it happened; Aunt Mireya was to stay for a whole fortnight at their house, and so the guest room she had refurbished into her very own alchemical lab, of sorts, had to be relinquished for the time being. But that didn't mean she was eager to admit to that fact. She huffed in indignation, and made to walk slightly faster, or as fast as her short legs could take her, to escape her familiar's words.

Of course, increasing the physical distance between them would do little to achieve that, but she could pretend, right?

Her eyes scanned the painteresque boulevard in search of her favorite bakery supplier, but instead landed on a quaint little shop on whose display a bright morpho butterfly rested. She approached. The butterfly fluttered. It was marking the hour.

Now that's interesting.

Vera couldn't deny it. She, too, was intrigued. She turned, intending to enter the establishment and maybe chat with whoever was attending it, ask how they'd managed such a pretty enchantment. Or was it an illusion? Sometimes the limits that defined the two blurred.

Someone stood by the door. Someone taller than her. Although, well, that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. By any means. Vera tried to peek over the stranger's shoulder, but the top of her head barely reached that high. Realizing she was getting too close—too close for comfort—only after she noticed a lock of her own brown hair falling over the man's blue coat, she stepped back and to the side.

"What are you looking at?" came her inquisitive voice, then. Vera tried to follow the young man's gaze, but her field of vision was now obstructed by the entrance door's wooden frame. And, before he could even answer her first question, she added, "Were you thinking of going in? I must admit I often come here, but never noticed this shop before. Is it new, do you think?"

After only a fraction of a moment, she proceeded to answer herself and produce yet another. Turning to look now at him, she corrected, "No, that shouldn't be, it doesn't smell of new. But then, they do sell antiques here, don't they? I don't imagine their smell would be very new."

Vera would be lying if she said she wasn't the slightest bit disappointed. She was. It was always hard, to have your heart poured out straight out of your chest and on a silver platter, only for it to go unnoticed. Granted, this situation wasn't as emotional as she was making it out to be in her head, but the brunette would argue that it was exactly how it felt.

She didn't let herself deflate at Percy's confession that he wasn't listening to her, though. He was distracted by the magical contraptions inside the pretty antiques shop—likely even more than she was. She could not fault her new acquaintance for that.

Well, she tried not to fault him for it, at any rate. She tried a gentle smile. "Don't you worry, I was just blabbering."

Vera's gaze follows his finger, and lands on a beautiful representation of the sea on a long piece of navy blue cloth. A little gasp escapes her lips. "It really is beautiful," she nods. "It just looks so real! Is it what the sea really looks like?" The witch has never seen the bottom of a lake, much less the depths of the sea, but she decides that this is probably what it looks like to those brave enough to swim in it.

Later, she takes the young man's acknowledging of her earlier inquiries with a pleased, if also surprised, smile. "Oh, I didn't even consider the possibility of a reopening. Yes, yes, you must be right. And the clean attic smell—that was exactly what I was thinking!"

She hears her familiar laugh in his own rodent-like way, a sound that's more like a snicker or a hiss than a human smile. Vera knows, though, that it really is laughter; she knows what he's thinking. We found quite a personality here. Reminds me a bit of you, he tells her. Vera glances at the agouti in mild confusion, and before she can answer, or answer Percy's next question, he's already closing in on the door.

"Vera Lindt," she answers, with a little curtsy of her own. It's an automatic reaction to his bow, not even an afterthought; she guesses the education her parents invested so much effort into paid off. She ponders for a moment, before continuing, "Wannabe alchemist. I'm not sure if I'll ever be great at it, but dreams are meant to be pursued, are they not?" In all fairness, she would probably had much more like had she pursued enchantment, what with her entire family being outstanding enchanters.

"I like your positivity, Percy. It's really quite uplifting," she adds. "And I do like surrounding myself with positive people, and being positive in turn. There really ought to be more people with this kind of mindset; it would make everything so much better, so much happier. Don't you think?" Her hand is reaching past his and to the door's handle, a handle that appeared only once she was close enough. Another mystery to add to the long list. "Let's go in."

In she went. A total of five seconds passed in which she stood completely still. Her mouth dropped. The beauty and wonder the could see outside was multiplied tenfold—paper cranes midflight, chandeliers flickering flames on as they stepped under them, mirrors that showed glimpses of the most beautiful sceneries in all of Salem, each of them live.

"You said you were apprenticing in illusion, didn't you, Percy? Merlin," she exhaled as one paper crane flew past her. "I don't suppose you know how the little trick with the door's handle was made, do you? And all of these?" Vera's hands are extended in amazement, her feet itching to take her everywhere. It's almost as if she's six years old again and her parents are taking her to the zoo for the first time.

Vera smiles at Percy's joke about mermaids, at the thought of the half-human being of myth and old sailor's tales awaiting discovery in the depths of the sea. It was an enchanting thought, even if Vera was terrified of deep waters and would rather keep well away from it. Vera found herself smiling and giggling on cue at a lot of the things he says, in fact. It was really nice, to find someone as unabashedly positive and optimistic and talkative as her.

She did tilt her head curiously at his admission of never before having smelled a clean attic—had he never been in an attic, or had he just not utilized his sense of smell? Either way, she limited herself to a "In that case, you'll just have to trust me when I say this is indeed what a clean attic smells like," for there was a whole room full of marvelous trinkets and magical gadgets to go through.

Percy's explanation on how the trick with the handle was made has her marveling at the illusionary arts. He explains it in a way that even her, so withdrawn from the jargon sure to be utilized in the field, can understand it, and for this she is quite grateful. She wouldn't have known what to do if he'd started indiscriminately throwing words she'd never before heard here and there, like they do in magical congresses.

"That sounds amazing! Can you do that trick, too? Would it work on human parts? But imagine if the mana was used irresponsibly and provoked accidents and even brawls... that wouldn't be very good."

She's very eager to learn of how the paper cranes were enchanted, as well, but laughs along with him. It's contagious, that laughter. She doesn't notice the woman staring disapprovingly at the pair until after Percy's mood shift. Her head turns very ostentatiously towards the spot he'd been looking at, and then quickly back.

"Oh, Percy, I couldn't possibly accept a gift from you after having just met! Not unless you let me offer something in return, of course," she answers. It's clear he's been raised as a good, proper gentleman, which is heartwarming, but Vera simply cannot allow him to spend his money on her. Surely, he'd have other needs for those coins.

Laughing lightly, she takes the bottle from between his fingers and holds it high up in the air, so that its warm-colored liquid shines under the chandelier's light. "Trust me, I've seen real alchemists drop vials so many times I would hardly be able to call anyone an alchemist if they hadn't at some point done the same," she reassures him. "Myself included."

She remembers those first months of apprenticeship she'd gone through, the many times during which she broke her materials, rather fondly. "Of course, there are enchantments applied to most vials to prevent them from breaking in the off-chance they do fall. I know that now." Vera's cheeks color at this last part; if only the scholars at Lux University had thought to share this secret earlier in their courses.

"Besides," she adds with a smile, shrugging off any past embarrassments, "I think that, if you applied yourself with the same passion with which you speak of illusion, you'd be well on your way to success."

A thought crosses her mind as she finishes this last sentence. It makes her frown lightly. "Actually..." she begins, and her expression looks so serious she might as well be in a much more gruesome place and not in this pretty little antiques shop, and in good company. "I take that bad. You would make a terrible alchemist," she jokes with a scowl so fake it can't begin to conceal the smile behind it, and relishes preemptively at the confusion that would surely cross his face at her teasing.

"Do you know what this potion is? Look at the way the liquid swirls under the light." Just for clarity's sake, she holds the vial a little closer to him, so he can see what she did. And then she shakes it lightly, hoping to show him the way the potion changes—not a translucent liquid anymore, but dark powder-like dust fills it now. The dust starts popping inside the glass, hectic and sparkling and loud. "It's Sheerfire Dust."

Vera nods in understanding. The way he explains the invisible handle makes a lot of sense, as does the scroll he mentions. It's a lot like enchantment, she realizes, in which a witch also uses their mana to affect the way something works or looks like. Her mind briefly takes her to memories from almost a decade ago, when she was being taught how to control minor enchantments.

No, she shakes her head. She was an alchemist now. There was no room for enchantments in her life, at least not for the time being.

"I can see that," she agrees with him almost instantly. Percy really didn't seem like a jerk, at all. He was so nice. "I can't help picturing, though, you know, someone being really insidious and veiling something—anything—under a coat of mana, and then someone else tripping because of it. I really do hope it doesn't happen often."

She considers her hypothetical scenario for a moment. "Although, that would explain why I used to trip so often on my way to Lux University," she jokes.

The illusionist's mention of the shopkeeper has Vera turning her face in her direction again. Again, she makes no effort at being furtive. Vera makes a mental note not to cross the old lady any further.

"You need skills at mana manipulation, while we need skills at correctly measuring ingredients. The two may be different, but I do think each is difficult on its own. You illusionists are a marvel on your own, for sure."

When Percy responds to her teasing with a some flair of his own, Vera can't help it anymore and lets her giggles take over. "Oh, yes, the entire witchcraft community is lucky that is the case," she adds once she's calmed down, the hint of a smile grazing her lips.

"Yes, actually, I do have one of these potions back home." She notices the way he's inching back and away from her, and decides to put the dust back on its shelf. Carefully, so that it doesn't fall or break. "It was one of the first ones I ever brewed myself, and as I'm sure you've noticed the result is quite pretty, so I like to keep it in a reinforced vial, inside a doubly-reinforced glass case."

She shifts towards the back of the shop, slowly, giving Percy time to catch on her meaning: Let's move on. "As surprising as it sounds, however, we don't really brew that many potions anymore, so it's not very hard to label and categorize them. New educational practices focus on us learning the recipes like the backs of our hands, rather than trying and failing to produce as many potions as we can—it can be such a waste, you understand."

Vera is surprised to find an entire shelf filled with books. Most of them seem to be children's books, judging from their thickness and the colorful covers adorning them. "As for which ones I take with me..." she continues, stopping in front of one book that caught her attention. Her fingers make their way to its spine, caressing it softly before picking it up. "I hope you won't be disappointed to learn that I do not usually take any with me. Granted, this is mostly because I haven't yet learned how to brew any potions I would consider useful to carry around."

A short pause follows the brunette boy's declaration that he would teach anyone who used magic irresponsibly to jeopardize others a lesson. Vera looks up at him, surprised at the fervor with which he speaks. She'd meant her words as a funny anecdote, not as something for him to be upset over, but she's glad there are people as righteous as him around. "Thank you," she offers simply, but the expression that go with these words are full of meaning. She would be proud to call him her friend.

There is a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks when Percy calls her pretty. She's certainly aware that she is not a displeasing sight to behold, but there's something special about being told so—she is by no means used to this whole compliment thing, what with the adjectives most often used to describe her being 'chatty' and 'energetic' and sometimes plain 'obnoxious.' And dangerous, too, now, she is woefully reminded by her familiar.

"Dangerous how?" she asks, laughing lightly in a strange mix of nervousness and confusion that she hopes to pass off as unassuming amusement.

She smiles to herself. Just from the short time they'd spent together, she was learning that Percy really could be too endearing. "You speak as if the possibility was so slim, Percy." Her mind takes her back to the many evenings she spent with her Opa, holed in his studio, watching him work on his papers. "Anyone can come up with the latest magical breakthrough. You just need a little imagination—of which you, my dear sir, do seem to have plenty."

Vera glances over at Percy, noticing the distracted way with which he answers her last explanation, the one regarding the usual contents of her bag. She's not happy with it, and in a rush to defend herself and simultaneously appear more interesting, to catch his attention again, she adds, "I just like to carry around more utilitarian scrolls, like the levitation one, or the illumination scroll."

But then he's calling for her, trying to catch her attention, and the slight annoyance she felt only seconds ago is forgotten because the scene playing before her eyes is breathtaking. She stares in awe even after his fingers pass the page and a new scene starts to play. She can listen to Percy's commentary on the book as he closes it with a soft thud, but she can't quite process the information. Her mind was too busy trying to record every single moment of the animation.

"E-eh?" comes her reply when he asks what she's got in her hands. She shakes the dreamy state she's in away, before looking down at the book she'd picked up. "Oh, this one's just a fairy tale. Look, The Twelve Dancing Princesses," she says, pointing at the pretty picture on the book's hardcover. "I remember I used to ask my nanny to read this one to me often," she admits, although she hadn't realized she remembered this until the words were formed on her lips. "I think there was another one I liked even more, but I can't seem to recall its title."

When she opens the book, twelve little princesses dressed in the cutest tutus rise from slumber and break into a beautiful, amazingly coordinated ballet dance.

"It's so amazing, what illusion can do," she muses, nodding at Percy's explanation and not quite sure if she wants to let go of this piece of her childhood that she'd just come to remember. Her hold on the book tightens as she considers taking it home. Doing so would help them get on that scary shopkeeper lady's good side, too, wouldn't it?

Whatever it was Vera was expecting when she asked what exactly Percy had meant by calling her dangerous, it wasn't this. She kinda should have, though. From what little she'd seen of him, he had a preference for dramatic flair. Like any good entertainer, she mused, and realized that probably was his focus as an illusionist. "Careful, Percy. With words as grand as those, you can't blame me if I start thinking you a clairvoyant."

She's laughing again, this time because of the sheer contrast between his gentle but serious tone and the words with which he chooses to end his speech. "Yes, kicking ass is something I wouldn't mind excelling at."

Vera's still staring down at the book in her hands, torn between taking it or not, when Percy suggests leaving soon. She looks up suddenly, seeks any of the grandfather clocks she's sure they passes through before, and nods when she noticed the hour. It certainly doesn't feel like a lot of time has passed, but it's been almost fifty minutes now since they first got in, and Vera had yet to buy the groceries she was meaning to.

"It sounds like your mom cares about you a lot," she muses at him. Vera doesn't really remember much about her mother; only that she was beautiful and kind and was the one to teach her how to bend mana to her will back when she was small and hadn't decided to drop her innate affinity for Alchemy. "Trying to read you bedtime stories at fifteen would be a bit much, though," she laughs, "Please tell me they at least weren't fairy tales anymore."

She can't help thinking that his mom sounds lovely, though. She sounded like she was scared her little boy was growing up too fast, which was terribly endearing. At least, that was what she got from his anecdote, it was what her father told her whenever she caught him staring at her with an expression akin to nostalgia. Vera always followed it with a hug so tight she felt even his bones.

She's about to object, to say he really needn't buy anything even if she was buying something herself, but he grabs an arrangement of delicate-looking tubes from the front of the shop before she can even catch up with him. He's asking her what she thinks of the trinket he's picked out, and the shopkeeper's standing right there, so there really is little she can say other than, "Yes, that's very pretty. I think it's a great choice."

To her relief, the wind chimes really are very pretty, so she doesn't have to worry about a lie coming off as too fake. "I'll take this book, too, if you would be so kind," she adds, handing the book in question to the shopkeeper.

While Vera waits for her to wrap up their purchases, she finds herself smiling contently. The decision ended up being rather rash, but she did not regret it. Even if she already had the same book back home, an animated one would be a lovely addition to the family library. Her little cousins would no doubt beg to be read its charming story.

"I did have some plans for today, actually," comes Vera's voice again, remembering Percy's question from just before he went to grab his wind chimes. "They may sound awfully boring, though, and I will not blame you if you decide to say so. Just before being distracted by the magical art of illusion, I was meaning to buy some ingredients at the bakery shop a few doors down the block."

Percy needed to stop it with his hand gestures and overly done expressions. Vera was certain that she would die of laughter otherwise. "You never know. Maybe you can pick it up as second affinity," she suggests, once she's made absolutely sure that she's not going to explode into a giggling fit. "Who's to say you won't like it even more than illusion?" Her eyes widen in mock surprise and the promise of a what-if. She may not be doing as good a job as him at exaggeration, but something was better than nothing.

Far from the jealousy she thought she would feel, Vera is quite glad that Percy thinks of his mom fondly. From the tone with which he speaks of her, she can tell he feels as strongly about the woman who gave birth to him as she probably felt about him. She smiles the most genuine, if not biggest, of smiles at this. It fills her with a happiness so great she's not sure what to do with it, which is also odd since it's not happiness directly her own.

He ends his short speech on a sour note, and it leaves her so confused that she's no longer sure of what would be a good follow-up. Vera is left to ponder long and hard about this topic as she tucks her new parcel under her coat and follows Percy out, although not before offering him a simple, "They sound like very loving parents."

Later, when they're out and on their way to the bakery shop she'd been meaning to shop at, she will revisit the topic with him, but for now she hopes he understands that he shouldn't blame himself for his parents' decision.

Vera offers him a soft "Thank you," when he hands her the book she'd just purchased. It's not terribly heavy, but the light weight gives her a distinctive sense of reassurance she's afraid to let go of.

The way Percy concludes that she bakes is quite comical, and so she lets herself laugh some more before answering. "I'm starting to suspect that all these compliments have one purpose only: getting me to bake something for you. But no, of course I don't mind. I'd love to have your company for a little longer, in fact." She smiles at him. "And, for the record, you needn't buy me with compliments. I'll happily share my next batch of cupcakes with you."

It is once they've both settled into a slow but steady pace, and her laughter has calmed down into smiles and knowing glances, that Vera finally gathers the courage to say what she'd been itching to do before: "Your parents' sacrifice is no fault of yours, Percy. They did what they thought best in order to lead a happier life—not only for you, but for themselves as well." She looks up at him, wondering what thoughts could possibly be passing through his mind. "And reaching novice rank is no easy feat, either, let me tell you."