grandhighwizard | You gotta trust your mastermind

These things had to be done right. Playing with someone was a pleasant distraction, and like many things in Rhys's life, it was a mixture of spur of the moment decision (he'd certainly never intended to start pursuing the Ancient Runes professor, no matter what he looked like, until he idly needled the man and found out how fascinatingly easy he was to poke) and careful planning to get exactly what he wanted.

So he prepared the herbal tea mixture quite carefully. Blueberry-pomegranate he could do - he had seeds and infusions, and a few black tea leaves, and just a pinch of this and that, all put in a nice little tea ball. It was a tasty mix, with the added benefit that it would render the drinker rather open to suggestion. Not ridiculously so, but just enough that the person would be more willing than usual to go along with requests. Which was just what Rhys needed - Onikous might be oblivious to some things, but best to take no chances. He wanted the younger man thinking this was all his idea.

That morning in the Great Hall, he made sure to get to breakfast in plenty of time to sit down next to the Rune professor, setting a cup of hot water next to the man, and the tea ball dropped gently into the mug, as he settled into his own chair.

"Try that. I made it with you in mind, and I'd like to see if it suits. I can always tweak the formula, if you don't like it."

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Cyrus did not like to be late for anything. In fact, he had shown up at Rhys's quarters about fifteen minutes prior to the scheduled time, still completely unaware of what sort of affects were happening to cause him to be so compliant. He considered knocking several times, but he wound up deciding it would be best to wait until Rhys actually came to greet him.

Normally, during the school day, Rhys wore black robes. They occasionally had purple embroidery or trim, but they were fairly simple. He tended to wear rather more jewelry than other wizards, in the form of rings and odd amulets, but otherwise he looked fairly forbidding. The man who opened the door to Cy looked rather different.

The Potions professor had his hair down again, and wore a loose linen tunic with an open collar in a deep indigo, nearly the same color as his eyes. His trousers were a flowing silk that flared from the knees down, in black, with odd circular patterns in that same indigo dyed into the silk. The clothing emphasized his tall, powerful frame, and broad shoulders, but also dated him a bit - wizards didn't really dress that way much anymore. He had been a young man in the 60s and 70s, and tended to favor clothing reminiscent of that era.

He was also barefoot.

"Onikous," he greeted Cy, with a slow, lazy smile, opening the door wider and stepping to one side, to allow the younger man in. "Welcome."

In an odd sort of way, Cyrus felt under dressed. He dressed incredibly casually for a professor, whether he was teaching or not. He barely cut it in terms of formal attire usually. His robes were usually very standard. Black, grey or occasionally some odd shade of mahogany that stood for the rare flicker of color among his wardrobe.

But like always, Cyrus was dressed in what he considered to be the most fashionable and functional of clothes for him--straight black slacks, white button down with the sleeves rolled up, light grey suit vest, and a tie. This was formal. And this was casual for him.

Cyrus gave Rhys a bit of a once over--for the second time--and concluded that he was probably under dressed for the occasion. He would wear these clothes to the Great Hall for dinner most every night, but this didn't feel all that appropriate.

Cyrus smiled faintly and stepped in, looking a little embarrassed at this point. "I trust you had a relatively normal day?" he asked, as if to make even more small talk.

"Hell no," said Rhys cheerfully. "Thank Myrddin. I had no less than three explosions today. It's always amusing to watch the students scrambling around after, trying to avoid the fumes. Children are so high strung."

He led Cy down the the short hall to his 'living' room. There was a small work room attached, a toilet, and the bed chamber, of course, but this was his public room. It was immediately quite obvious that the Potions professor liked color. There was a small couch here, draped in multiple colors of cloth, and an entire wall decorated entirely with masks, of all different types and colors and cultures. Some were death masks, some harlequin masks, some masks of goats with spiraled horns. There were also multiple bookshelves here, stuffed full to near bulging with various tomes and scrolls - Rhys was an avid reader.

Another wall held a strange painting of a multicolored moth, and a collection of juggling clubs, the kind that might be used in a circus. And then there was the table in the middle of the room, neatly set for two, the candles glowing serenely already and a supper that had been prepared by the house elves set out.

"And what about you, my dear boy?"

Cyrus actually has to blink, shielding his eyes a fair bit. He's become so accustomed to the neutrality of the castle's colors and his own quarters that he's not used to seeing so much bright liveliness in one place--especially indoors. He managed a smile as he can't necessarily agree with the concept of children being high strung--anyone would run from fumes that might potentially kill them.

Cyrus shrugged a bit, almost as if he was bored. "There's a very eager young girl in one of my classes, she always wants to help me with handing out assignments and the like. Keeps asking to come to my office for additional lessons. I haven't really met anyone that eager to learn about runes since, well, myself actually." He laughed a tiny bit. He's utterly oblivious to the fact the girl very obviously is interested in him.

Rhys laughed more than a tiny bit - he chortled, completely amused. "Oh, so you have a student with a crush, do you? I'm not in the least surprised, you do seem the type to attract them."

He then held out one of the chairs for his guest, indicating he should sit, before perusing his wine selection.

Cyrus took a seat rather quickly once the chair was offered to him, eyes scanning the room, taking in the brightness and the paintings once more. Impressive stuff, he's got collected in here. Not what Cyrus would expect from a teacher. Let alone a potions one.

"Do you think so?" he asked, inclining his head to watch the man for a moment. "I'm not really the sort that attracts people easily."

"Mmm. And where, exactly, did you get that impression?" the older man asked, as he sauntered back over to the table and neatly removed the cork from a wine bottle with a tap of his wand. He started pouring for them both without bothering to ask if Cy wanted any. "Did someone tell you that?"

"What? No. It's just the kind of person I am." He looked a bit surprised at the glass of wine being poured for him, and murmured a quiet 'I don't drink'. But he just managed a gentle little smile for the man.

"I'm not the sort of person that attracts well, anyone for that matter. I prefer to stay invisible."

"One glass of wine isn't going to hurt you," Rhys said, smiling, as he moved to sit across from Cy, and took the covers off the plates. It wasn't anything different than what they'd served in the Great Hall, but the potions professor had made sure to specify that the house elves bring things they'd seen the younger man favor particularly.

"And you do a piss poor job of staying invisible, if that's your goal," he added. "Were you unattractive when you were younger? I guess that could explain some of it - not everyone notices when they grow into being handsome."

Rhys's tone of voice was casual, as though they were having a conversation about the weather, as opposed to the Runes professor's general level of physical attractiveness.

"I'm not totally partial to drinking, but I suppose I could manage a single glass." He said this quietly, eyeing the glass for a moment, somewhat worried. He gets so wild when he drinks sometimes. Cyrus actually looked rather pleased to see the food. He'd always been a somewhat picky eater, so seeing that there was food he enjoyed a fair bit laid out before them made him relatively pleased.

He shrugged. "I had thick glasses, an inhaler, braces and I was always a skinny kid." he said as he started in with the food. "Aside for the braces, I'm still the same way. I still have an atrocious lips that resurfaces and I have asthma attacks rather frequently too. No one wants that."

And then he hesitated--and decided to take a sip of the wine.

It was a quite nice wine, actually. A full-bodied red, with a fruity sort of bouquet, and the taste of berries a subtle part of the mix. Rhys took a slow swallow of his own, obviously savoring the flavor, before he started ticking off Cy's qualities.

"I have no idea what an inhaler is - some sort of Muggle appliance? - but quite a few people wear glasses, you might have noticed. A slender build is nothing to be ashamed of, and the lisp is ... interesting." The older man smiled with rather too many teeth again. Sometimes it was so hard to play nice, when all he wanted to do was just start poking at his dinner companion again, to make him blush and stammer.

"You've a quite pleasant face, and the most amazing eyes I've seen in some time, glasses or not. You're intelligent, well-read, and polite. I don't really know what you imagine most people's standards are, but aside from 15 year old girls, most of us find a few flaws here and there simply add to the appeal, the overall ... color."

It was a nice wine. Cyrus couldn't even tell it was alcohol, barely any bite to it. But he sipped slowly, it made him look like an adult, after all.

"It helps me breathe. I have an enchantment on mine to keep them from breaking within the castle walls. My lungs don't fare well, so I need a medication to help my lungs keep from closing up too much. And then Cyrus finds himself stammering again. "N-No, I'm very scrawny. You can almost see my ribs."

And just like that, Cyrus begins to lisp once more. "I-I don't like my eyeth. I wath pi-icked on them a lot when I-I wath a ki-id." Cyrus began to sink into his shoulders. "I-I really am not that interethting."

Rhys bypassed the obvious invitation for innuendo, I can't almost see your ribs, why don't you show me? No, he really had other things to focus on, and that stammer and lisp was like blood in the water to a shark.

"Children mock anything different. But there aren't any children here, are there? And I personally think they're extraordinary. Aren't you going to eat?" And that much was sincere, Rhys did think that Cy's eyes were by far his most fascinating feature, gold and blue ...

He'd started eating but the conversation distracted him to the point where he'd forgotten to put his next few bites into his mouth. He resumed eating after he fought off his stammer again, taking another sip of the wine.

"Th-thank you si-ir."

The older man grinned, starting in on his own food. He was an enthusiastic eater - he seemed to do most physical things with some relish, actually. "Really, we're eating together in my chambers, alone ... I think you can call me Rhys."

Not that he minded the 'sir'. It was amusing, and made him wonder if Cy had a thing about authority figures. Or older men. Either way, it was yet another thing to try and pry out of the man.

He was starting to stammer again and he had to fight off the flush he felt burning into his cheeks. Another bit of his meal, and another sip of wine. Maybe he would need this drink.

"If you say tho...Reeth--er, Rhys. Th-Sorry."

"I do say so," Rhys told him, watching Cy the way a hawk watching a scurrying mouse, before sipping his own wine, and going back to his food. "Now tell me ... what did you do before becoming a professor?"

Because that should give him some interesting insight into the younger man ...

Cyrus took another bite of his meal, and then proceeded to freeze midway through his next bite. He smiled faintly and set his fork down, and took another sip of the wine. Liquid confidence, that's what this was. And it was horrible that he was relying on it--oh, the wine was gone now. Fuck.

"Well, I attended a muggle university, focusing on mythological studies and folklore." he said quietly, trying to avoid looking directly at the older man. "I was receiving training in advanced runic magic as well, but it was a bit challenging to balance them all. But it was a solid eight years of schooling, plus a few more courses taken prior to that--my god, I've spent nearly ten years studying." He glanced up--realizing he was starting to ramble.

"Oh, yes, but long story short. I was a student. This is...actually my first job."

The younger man's wineglass was smoothly refilled, without question or comment, though Rhys was raising his eyebrows at Cy. "And who did you study under for the runic work? I understand many people often go abroad for those studies, though it seems a shame, when we have such a rich culture of magical language and writings here ... "

"A number of people, actually. I did have a number of tutors here in Scotland, but I only remained here for a year or two." And like that, Cyrus was sipping his wine again.

"What about you? What did you do?"

"As you've pointed out, I'm a good deal older than you," Rhys said, with a sly smile. "So I have a bit longer of a history. But I suppose I can give you the condensed version."

He leaned on one hand, gesturing idly with his knife as he spoke. "I apprenticed at an apothecary right out of school, for several years, actually, in Cardiff. I started painting professionally then, as well. This was in the sixties, so things were ... interesting, then. There was a family emergency, however, and I went home to take care of my sister for some time. After that, I became involved in the Ministry, magical law enforcement at first, and eventually the Wizengamot. All this nonsense with the war made me rethink my priorities, however, and I came here when the position opened up."

He grinned, spearing a piece of meat with the point of his knife, and eating it delicately off the blade. "It sounds so dry when I put it like that, doesn't it? I could tell you much more interesting stories, but it might make you blush."

However, even though Rhys was giving him the brief version of the story, he seemed to have Cyrus's attention. His eyes had lit up to the point where he was almost beaming.

"Wizengamot, really?" he asked, finding that he had finished off a fair bit of his meal, causing him to return to the wine yet again. "You've done quite a lot, haven't you. And yet, here you are, teaching instead!"

And Cyrus actually laughed.

That laugh pleased the older man inordinately. It not only meant the wine was working, but that Cy was capable of laughter, which he'd been starting to wonder about. "Twenty years, yes. I have something of a reputation, if you follow politics."

The Potions professor sipped his own wine, much more slowly than his young companion was going through his. "But you talk about teaching as though it isn't an honorable profession," he added archly. "Why are you here, then?"

"Well, I don't follow politics, actually. I avoid it as much as possible." In fact, aside for his father's dead as a repercussion of the recent war, he would not have ever really known about the extremities of the war entirely.

With his plate now cleaned off, Cyrus leans back in his seat, finishing off the other glass of wine. "I say that because you very obviously have done greater things. It's as if this was you...being bored."

He doesn't feel as if he's sharp witted anymore. This is one reason he does not drink.

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Grand Highblood

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