It started off with a harmless itch. Subconsciously scratching his cheek, Aedan went on normally with his chores mixing new potions that he was determined to master, not bothered by the the way his skin seemed to burn afterwards. Still it itched and burned on, causing the blond to start wondering if maybe a mosquito had made its’ way inside the house and gotten him, as he finished up and made his way out of the dungeons, in search of Laurence to meet up with the light guardian for their regular sparring session.
Once he had gotten to the Wharf he knew something was up, because the itching wouldn’t go away and actually had started to spread all over his face, leaving him irritated and aggressive as he spotted his friend already waiting at the edge of the platform. Laurence on the other hand made a face when he saw the wizard, first surprised, then suppressed laughter, while also a bit concerned, covering his mouth in polite restraint. “Dude, who did you piss off enough to get hexed?” he asked with amusement making his eyes dance, though it only served to make Aedan all the more angry. “The fuck ye talkin’ ‘bout?” the Irishman snarled in response, hand reaching up to scratch his itching face once more, only to be stopped by the swift hand of Laurence, who shook his head. “You’ve got acne.”
Such a simple statement should have been clear immediately and not taken a good minute to process, because this was Aedan. Smart Aedan who never had gotten acne, so it would have been the logical conclusion (as Laurence had rightly guessed) that it was a hex from another wizard. Since it was so hard to believe for the blond to accept this truth, he stepped forward to the edge of the platform to take a look at the flat surface of one of the pools, and see his own reflection, where there was the unmovable proof that the American had been absolutely right.
Red angry pustules and pimples marred the pale skin of the former dancer, giving him an almost comical look if not for the pure rage boiling underneath the surface, prompting him to straighten up slowly and put both hands into his pockets, and remaining in that position for a good while.
Normally when Aedan and Laurence allowed for a moment of silence to pass between them, it would be comfortable with the knowledge that there were no words necessary, that they understood the need for silence. But now was different, and it left the guardian shifting uncomfortably because on one hand he wanted to ask what his friend was thinking, but on the other hand that look promised a world of pain and he wasn’t so sure that he would be spared if he opened his mouth now. Instead he waited patiently for Aedan to make the first move, which surprisingly happened real soon, only slightly startled by the sudden way the Irishman took off towards the common room, probably in search of the door that would lead to the Firewing that would lead him to the culprit.
“What are you going to do?” Laurence asked, knowing full well that the question of whether Aedan knew who had done this was completely redundant, because the way the former dancer was moving implied that he knew very well who the culprit was. “Kill my cousin.”
Well, he’d learned by now that Aedan tended to the dramatic on occasion, but this seemed like an almost plausible plan of action, which was why the light user followed along, though he also had to admit that a sick part of him was very curious about finding out who had managed to prank Aedan so hard, and what would happen to the poor soul. And he wouldn’t be disappointed.
As soon as the Irishman spotted a large, buff redhead, the water wizard started to run at full speed towards the man, which already was a pretty impressive sight, but what happened after that was what burned itself into Laurence’s memory:
With a running leap Aedan launched himself at Gordon, shouting at the top of his lungs “YE MUTHERF*CKIN’ B*ST*RD! I’LL F*CKIN’ RIP YER B*LLS OFF YE F*CKIN’-” that was the moment the former dancer collided with the mountain of a man, wrestling him to the ground and suddenly there were two voices shouting, as Aedan apparently had shoved two of the icicles he could create down Gordon’s pants, and started blowing his cold breath down the back of the ginger’s shirt.
Like children, the guardian thought, crossing his arms and watching in amusement while the two boys continued to wrestle.