Augenblick-German origin; lit; eyes-gaze (augen-blick); the one split-second or the instant you see of pure beauty of something outstanding or special. It's that one special moment - that special "Augenblick". It is just one look, one gaze with the eyes.

The attic smelt of soot and cloves. With a finger, Leon swipes the edge of the worktable littered with ingredients both fragrant and foul, hand coming away clean. His charge really was particular with cleanliness -even a smear of oil none to be felt- , and it is with that thought and a bemused smile that the magician-in-training turns back to the bubbling cauldron, throwing in an entire vial of pink concoction, -bottle and all -, into the brewing mess, enjoying the puff of smoke that looms momentarily over the black rim before dissipating.

He can hear faint noises of cluttering and conversation below, punctured by periodic raised tones of voice. Something about how much resistance to fire a dragon's tongue had compared to the small precious snowberries of the North.

Rolling his eyes as the argument grew louder, he sneaked a peek at the crinkled slip of paper placed next to a vial of gray ashes. The recipe for petrified salamander stares back at him, pined into place by a bottle of said amphibian corpses, but he pays it no mind, pulling out a sachet from his pocket and dumping its contents into the cauldron. His most prized possession, but if the spell worked...

The liquid in the cauldron fizzes, hissing violently before evaporating, a small pile of black powdery residue taking its place at the bottom of the metal pot. Carefully Leon scoops up the powder into small paper sachets, folding them away neatly before muttering a quick incantation. The surface of the cauldron shimmers once, clean again, and he grabs the sheet of paper and bottle of salamanders as he heads down the flight of steps.

Downstairs the noises of arguing increases further, and he has to bend down to avoid getting smacked by a flying stalk of parsley. The kitchen counter clatters, and Leon looks up to find his old teacher back facing him as he finished the last of his insult.

"-way more properties than your standard Western junk!"

"Hey teach." The yelling stops immediately, two sets of faces turning to look at him with mouths both half-opened in mid argument.

"Leon!" The man furthest from him speaks first, blonde hair shimmering from the dim light that shines in through the kitchen window. "It's about time you came down. Brewing a few salamanders shouldn't take you too long."

"Hmph, back at my place all you needed to do was to boil everything in a pot of paralysing agent. Gets the job done simple and fast."

"I'm teaching him the basics, Yao." Green eyes glance exasperatedly at the older man clothed in a flowing red coat, a loose ponytail hanging over one shoulder. The latter snorts indignantly, the intricate snitching of ancient symbols on his clothes - an oriental dragon, surrounded by peonies - reflecting shadows as he turns around fully to face Leon.

"Jia Long, Arthur hasn't been treating you badly since the last time I came has he?"

"Hey!"

Ignoring the protest of his warlock charge and the use of his other name, Leon shrugs, playing with the bottle in his hands. His old teacher could be a little overbearing sometimes even if he meant well. "Nothing different from the usual."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

The apprentice sneaks a look outside when the bickering starts up again. As he predicted, the sun was already beginning its descent. With a quick hum he tosses the bottle of petrified salamanders and sheet of paper at the warlock, paying no mind to the surprised exclamation as his charge catches the items with both hands.

"I'm going for a walk."

"Don't be long now." Arthur's voice held a hint of disapproval before lightening up. Behind him he could hear Yao muttering about youngsters and their lack of manners. "And don't throw things at your teachers, Leon."

"Mm." The rush of wind that greets his face when he opens the door of the cabin is cool and comforting. Pulling his cloak over him, Leon closes the door and hurried down the stone steps, walking faster when he hears the muffled voice of the warlock offering to prepare dinner from behind the thin wooden door.

"I don't supposed you mind having salamander for dinner Yao? They taste like frog, except less well, slimy."

Cries of "Arthur that's a waste of perfectly good ingredients! But that's not the point- how did you and Jia Long even survive with that kind of diet!?" echo behind him before abruptly ceasing - no doubt from the protective hearing spells casted into place -, and Leon breathes a sigh of relief as he crunches through leaf litter towards the direction of the sinking sun.

xx

xx

The beach is empty like always once he spots it, the sand green and water clear even from afar. The late afternoon sun's shine was lacklustre, but Leon knew it wouldn't be long before warmer oranges and darker purples will lit the sky. With careful maneuvers he leaves the edge of the manmade path, weaving away from warm sand to softer, muddier land.

When Leon spies mangrove roots sprouting from the ground, his pace quickens, suppressed eagerness in every step as he hops and weaves his way through the small stubs, then taller roots before finally navigating the sturdier yet fragile branches of the mangrove trees. The spell he had casted on himself beforehand made every step lighter and quicker, and it is not long before he emerges on the other side of the mangrove forest, the ends of his cloak flaring slightly when he touches down on the ground.

The sandy clearing borders the side of a rocky cliff, and hence rocks and stones were splayed out haphazardly. In the midst of it all sits a small shack, partially hidden by the form of a giant rock. Only if one stands at a certain angle beneath the waves could they see it at first glance when they exit the mangrove forest.

Leon is almost certain the house was built in a way to avoid detection, but at the moment it suited him and its current occupants just fine. Walking around the rock, he does not take more than a few steps forward before the door of the shack flings open and a petite girl appears from within, running towards him with open arms and a happy laugh of his name on her tongue.

"Hello Michèle."

A brief smile lights his face when he feels her arms wrap round his chest. Tentatively he puts one arm around her, and his smile deepens when he hears her laugh breathily before letting go. "You are here early today." She says and he nods with pride.

"I finished early. The assignment was easy today."

He leads her up one of the many high rising rocks that litter the sand, and there they stay, swapping stories and daily happenings as the sun sets. When the last ray sinks beneath the clouds, he tugs her down to the edge of the rolling waves. "I have something to show you," he mutters, and amber eyes flicker with curiosity when Leon pulls the sachets out from his pocket, holding one on his outstretched palm.

Ready? His eyes ask, and when she motions yes, he mumbles verses of ancient magic. Gold lights his copper eyes, and with a deep breath he blows at the sachet with a strong puff. With a fizzy bang the packet shoots into the air and explodes in a series of bright colours, yellows and reds and greens, sparks glinting and lighting their surroundings before dissipating as gravity pulls them back down.

The sky is coloured with fading lavender and darkening blue, and the contrast simply brings more life into the sparks when they come to life. With a flourish, Leon sprouts more of the tiny fireworks, and the ensuring sparks and brightness causes a pleased smile to form over his mouth. None of the pleasure over his spell's success can compare however, to the awed look on Michèle 's face.

"These are for the village's celebration in a fortnight's time." When she turns to look at him he continues, suddenly bashful as he stares at a spot on her long-sleeved dress. "I hope they are like, up to standard."

"They pass with flying colours." She grins at him, and he sniggers at the unintentional pun that comes out of her mouth.

"Mister Charge says that every year on the day when the North Star is brightest, the world holds a celebration and everyone gets to make one wish, and that wish will like, come true if you are good enough." Leon shrugs. Personally he saw no point in wishing. Why wish when there was magic readily available to help you? But it didn't matter, for what impossible wishes magic cannot grant, the common folk pray for anyway. His warlock charge said once that the rituals were nothing more than habit, and that it only serves to keep the spirit of tradition alive, but yet they continue to do so, knowing that it is but a fool's thought. He did not understand.

"That nice." There a trace of wistfulness in her voice as Michèle turns her gaze to the sea, and he thinks he hears her hum a little under her breath. Although he wishes very much to ask, he thinks he already knows the answer. He still remembers the countless times he'd try to coax her to sing, noticing the quiet choppy hums she would make and the yearning in wild ambers as she parts her mouth, only to close them soundlessly, defeated. But at every single inquiry she would shake her head without fail, sadness in her eyes as she sighs.

"I can't sing." She had told him before, as they sat watching the glittering waters sparkle during sunset. And all would have been well, except that she was a siren. A siren who had bore the brunt of the curse that was supposed to be inflicted on another a long time ago. And now she had lost the gift that made her, her.

Michèle had been vague in her explanation, and he had not pried further, but in the aftermath it is hard not to notice her subtle glances to the sea or the way her form would visibly stiffen whenever their ears pick up on the lonely song of the shack's other occupant; another stranded creature with a past just as tragic.

Without her power to sing she couldn't even be considered half siren, and that has caused a rift between her and her fellow kind that she cannot breach, no matter how many times she goes out to sea and tries to belong. The blood of the fae still runs deep within her, and her amber eyes still shine, free and feral and wild. But without an outlet she is stuck waiting and longing for a day that might never come.

Time will kill her, Lien had told him once, and he holds no doubt that what she said was the truth.

Peaceful silence envelopes the both them, but it is clear both of their minds are preoccupied with other concerns. It isn't long before Leon parts from her with a promise to visit again, and when she waves at him before he enters the mangrove he finds himself waving back, the subsequent smile on her lips bringing him euphoria for a short moment.

The trip back was uneventful, although he had to use extra care to avoid tripping over pointy roots and slim branches under the night sky. When the last of the mangrove roots disappear, he breaks the spell casted over his feet, walking with purpose down the sand towards the splashing sounds of waves he cannot see.

In the distance a single glowing light illuminates the darkness, moving closer to him, and Leon slows his pace when the figure of a woman comes into view. She stops as well, the lantern in her grip swaying gently. Slowly he approaches closer, raising a hand in greeting. The figure lowers her head in reply, the ends of her cape brushing her clothed garb.

"You know, her only wish is to sing again."

Golden eyes stare unwaveringly at the ocean, and Leon releases a sigh, unaware that he had been holding a breath. "I know."

The woman's eyes glance at the magician before flickering back to inky blackness. There was longing within her too, hidden somewhere deep within her brooding self, and Leon wonders how two people can have the exact same want but completely different dilemmas. To be born from siren and human is a tragedy in the making, for the child is then stuck between two planes, belonging in neither. To be able to sing but unable to harmonize, to live on land but long for the sea at the same time,.. magic blood does not run through her veins, and thus she has nothing but a voice and an ache. Worst still, was that this is a curse none could lift.

Time will not kill her, but was living a lifetime of restless aching really worth it?

"It's late. You have people waiting for you, right?" Lien blinks, looking at him, and Leon releases a sheepish smile when he realises the time. With a shake of her head, she directs him East towards land, bidding him goodbye as she starts toward the mangrove forest.

"Have dinner with us next time. Michèle will be glad to see you."

When Leon feels the crunching of grass and leaves replace soft sand beneath his feet, he halts, pausing as the distant voice of singing fills his ears. A lone melody, mournful and sweet, but one that does not earn a response. The memory of blooming lotuses in the pond at his old teacher's home flits across his mind before disappearing quickly.

There were thoughts in his head now, and with quick strides Leon hurries back to the cottage in the forest, plotting and contemplating.

xx

xx

Curses are usually best broken by the caster themselves, but having a stronger, more powerful spell and wizard break the curse was also not unheard of. If Arthur really was as great a warlock as his old teacher claimed him to be, then surely, surely he must have a spell for breaking a curse as strong as hers.

His investigations start slowly. It takes time for him to find and peek at pages of Arthur's spell book without the latter noticing, and it takes even longer for him to find the right pages of spells to look at. A small section of the tome was locked off, and he suspects that only with a special incantation could that part of the book be opened. This he leaves alone; each of them have their own secrets to keep after all.

Part of him feels guilty for flipping through the tome; Leon knows how much his charge treasures his book and respects privacy, but he knows better than to ask him for help. Arthur never really liked faeries, especially those that reside in the waters, for there had been an incident. (He had overheard Yao bringing it up once the first time they had step foot into the cottage. The matter was never spoken of again.)

It takes quite a while to flip through and find the right spell, and between making sure the warlock does not find out and practising it to himself over and over it takes him a few days before he finds the time to return to the beach. The spell needed stamina and vast knowledge of the inside-outs of the curse. The latter Leon knows well enough, but late night hours are still spent pouring over books in the study and brewing potions that brought up both his physical and spiritual strength. By the end of the week, he can feel rising power flowing through him, the pulsing core of energies concentrated in his chest and begging to be released. It was almost too painful to bear.

If Arthur notices, he does not mention it, going about his duties per usual. The chance comes when he leaves one afternoon with Yao to pick some wild mushrooms, leaving his book of spells behind. Inhaling the last dissipating aromas of frankincense, Leon tucks the tome under his arm and hastens down the stone steps, feet short of breaking into a run as he heads to the beach.

The waves slosh in a repeating cycle, nudging him along as he traverses the mangrove forest briskly. The sandy clearing is empty when he catches sight the humble shack. With a quick murmur of phrases the suppressed energies within him spread and overflow, and Leon lets his awareness spread, tendrils of invisible chakra seeping into earth and water.

A searching spell, and it proves effective immediately when he senses the tug of magic being returned. There is a sudden splashing of water in front of him, and he blinks away golden irises temporarily when his gaze meets soft amber.

"Leon? What's wrong?" Concern tinges Michèle's words when she looks at him, salty droplets trickling down her face and dripping from her clothes. He had never called her through a spell before. Leon grabs her wrist quickly, pulling her further up the shore onto a flatter patch of sand.

"Leon?" Confusion laces her voice, stronger now, and the apprentice has to bite back the sudden anxiety that overtakes him when he turns to look at her, instinctively clutching the tome in his hands tighter. There's a nagging feeling within him that whatever he attempts must be done quick and fast.

"I can break your curse." Her breath hitches, and he almost lets go of his hold on her. "But you have to trust me. Michèle." He utters her name like a beg, and the graveness in his voice does not go unheard by her.

Her nod comes immediately, and relief clouds his mind for a moment before he instructs her to stand still, fingers squeezing her wrist in reassurance before letting go. The spell he needed would take time to set up, so with renewed determination he begins to work, pulling out vials and scraps from within his cloak. Seaweed, quartz, Mermaid's tears, a patch of dried Selkie's coat,.. he thinks he sees Michèle's eyes widen in fascination and horror at some of the items, but he does not stop to check, muttering verses as he combines ingredients together and sets them aside in preparation for the spell circle.

He has never attempted a spell circle before, his charge stating that those were lumped and taught together with more complicated magics, for it is only the powerful spells that needed a circle to balance, control and contain. With a focused frown he murmurs out the beginnings of the circle boundaries, gold circling his irises until they glowed with dragon fire.

He is scarcely aware of the door to the shack opening, another pair of golden eyes peeking out to watch the ritual curiously. The spell circle takes shape, glowing blue and expanding until it encompasses Michèle. With steady hands he pushes the ingredients into formation, unscrewing vials of potions and pouring the liquid round the circle. The bottle of Mermaid's tears is last, and with a low hum the circle vibrates and absorbs the rest of the ingredients, changing colour to turquoise.

Picking up the tome, Leon flips the page and starts to chant, the verses and incantations causing the spell book to glow and levitate. The effects are almost instantaneous as his body buckles under the weight of the conjuration, and with a grim grit of his teeth Leon lets the violent rush of swirling in his chest pass. The pressures gathers and ebbs in a painful rhythm, and with deep panting breaths he forces himself to continue, visualising the curse seal over the siren's body as he mutters ancient commands to break.

A strong wind begins to blow, and dark clouds mask the evening sun from view as it sinks lower, casting restless shadows on the beach. Leon feels a chill pervading into his bones, grunting uncomfortably as he weaves magic around him. Michèle too is breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut as the spell took its toll on her. The gust turns icy cold suddenly, and Leon freezes when he senses tendrils of magic in the surroundings that was not his own.

"So this was where you were." Disbelief and anger cuts through the air, and Leon swerves around in horror to gaze into green. Standing in front of them, the warlock stares, lips pursed and eyes hard-lined as he gives his apprentice a once over. "What are you doing with my book Leon?"

"Teach, I-" But Arthur was not listening anymore, eyes looking past him to stare at...

Leon sees his jaw turns slack before clamping back shut in livid anger, eyes hardening with newfound hatred. With rising confusion he turns to look back at Michèle, who had also stiffened up and gone deathly pale. The bad feeling in his stomach increases when he looks back and forth between the warlock and his friend, unconsciously moving closer to shield her from his view.

"You! Aren't you-"

"You." Fear and recognition lights Michèle's voice as she trembles.

"-Francis's little wretch!"

The roar of anger shakes both of them into stunned silence, and the next thing he is aware of is that Arthur is chanting. The spell circle beneath Michèle cracks, losing its glow, and Leon gives a grunt of exclamation when the spell book forces itself out from his hand, flying back into the hands of its rightful owner.

"Arthur, listen to me. I can explain..!" He raises an arm in front of him, attempting to placate his charge. A hurtful hex is sent his way, his face morphing into shock when he blocks it with a wave of his own magic. The warlock only growls, incensed, sending stunning spells in quick succession over and over at his apprentice, who blocks them with a conjured shield. A spark catches on the cloth down his arm warningly, and Leon flinches as the fabric tears to expose his flesh.

"Move Leon." The warlock says, fixing glowing emeralds at the siren. "Stay away from that siren! I won't repeat myself again. Move or I will-"

A sudden yell of pain from him cuts his words off, and he bowls over sharply, clutching his head in agony. Above him Lien stands, slender hands shaking as she gripped the handle of a wooden paddle firmly, and Leon breathes in sharply in surprise when she pulls the book out from Arthur's grasp, throwing it towards him.

"Finish it!" There was a hardness and determination to her voice that was normally controlled and calm. The book lands in his hands.

"Lien.." Michèle parts her mouth, eyes brimming with an emotion that the woman almost smiles sadly at before turning to him seriously.

"Finish the spell, apprentice!"

Arthur groans again, and hurriedly Leon flips open the pages to continue with his casting. The cracks of the circle had barely been mended when the former recovers and stands up shakily, palming the bruise on his head gingerly. A shadow falls on him, and he looks up to see Lien standing in front of him, an apologetic but firm look on her face.

"I'm sorry warlock, but I cannot allow you to stop them."

For a second his eyes widen, scrutinising her form and taking her in before narrowing again. "Halfling." She almost starts at his observations, for how could he have known? But there is no time to ponder when his next words hit her. "Stay out of this, or I won't be responsible for what happens to you."

The air crackles with energy again, and Lien sucks in a breath when he summons fire, eyes hard as the flaming spheres hover around him. Leon glances back once in worry, but a rush of his magic being consumed turns him back, sweat trickling down his face as he winces.

The warlock locks eyes with her expectantly, but the half siren's only response is to step in front of the duo in a feeble attempt to protect them. Disappointment and anger flashes in his eyes, and with an almost sorry look he mutters a verse she cannot understand, throwing the fiery embers straight towards her.

Michèle shouts in alarm, but before the fiery green tongues of flame can hit their target a wave of water rises up to extinguish them, forming a shield in the process. The abrupt hissing of water causes Lien to open her eyes tentatively. Steam rises and dissipates into the air, but a presence close by makes her turn her head slowly around. Her gaze meets a frown on thin lips before lifting to find brown eyes glaring with disapproval at the warlock opposite them.

Her breath catches.

"Arthur, what are you doing aiming at innocent people, much less your apprentice? Have you gone mad?!" The voice of his old teacher rings through the surrounding beach, and Leon has never felt relief so potent so quickly. Yao stares at Arthur with furrowed brows, glancing to the woman next to him.

He jolts back, staggering with one foot behind him. "..Lien?"

"Cousin..?" Incredibility clouds her voice.

"Innocent? There's nothing innocent about her!" The following yell makes the both of them turn their attention back to the warlock. Arthur was fuming, but the sight of the fellow warlock makes him pause, flickers of flames swirling around him. With a frown, Yao walks forward until he is the one that stands in the latter's way.

"She's not involved in this. Don't punish her because of something Francis did."

"She was the one that decided to jump into my curse head first!"

"So you plan to subject her to more pain because of a selfless act she did? She sacrificed herself for someone dear to her. The least you could do is admire or respect her for that!"

"I'm not that kind of person Yao!" Bursts of fire smash into the barrier of sand that Yao animates. With an irritated huff the older magic user flicks his hands and murmurs incantations. Waves on the beach slosh impatiently before lifting suspended in the air, compressing into tiny spearheads before lunging themselves at the warlock.

"Goodness.. do you really want to do this right now Arthur?!" Yao mutters to himself as the warlock blocks and continues with his rant.

"Dammit! All I wanted was to see that smile off that blasted frog! I never wanted her there." A storm of fire rains down on the sand, singeing rocks and stones. But a circle of water surrounding the four leaves them safe and unharmed.

"But she was. Are you going to say that she deserved it then?"

The flames falter with their assault, stopping stop of landing in the sea. With an angry scowl the warlock retracts his hands and the balls of fire disappear. His shoulders were heaving. Green eyes flash dangerously, but Yao merely drops his barriers and meets his stare down.

"I know it's not her fault, but I just felt so bitter when I saw her. She reminds me of my failure."

"For revenge?" Yao shakes his head. "Aiya, you hold grudges too easily, my friend."

The warlock only grunts, now more miffed than angry, but keeps his tongue. There were things better left said when not in the company of others. For now, he knows he has gone too far.

"You know, in some ways I feel that she does deserve it. Francis is not worth saving. If she was foolish enough to save him.." He shrugs, eyes staring past the wizard to watch the spell circle glow and shift. "I see no need to lift the curse."

"So you rather risk the life of our student while he tries then?"

Arthur shoots him a glare, but in moments his eyes glow and the spell circle vibrates in tandem to his movements. Leon glances back tiredly once when his charge's chanting joins his, but he does not waver. With a sigh the mangrove trees bend over, bringing with them the start of a gentle breeze that signal the curse breaking.

The air is silent when Michèle sighs audibly, tan hands coming to grip her throat before opening her eyes, feral and wild and free, the essence of her power returning. Gently she fixes her eyes at the occupants of the beach, lingering last at Leon's weary face.

"Thank you."

xx

xx

The gulls are cawing loudly when he returns to the beach. Stepping around a pile of sand, Leon adjusts the hood of his new cloak, fingers absentmindedly brushing one of his pockets and feeling the budge of an item stick out. The walk to the mangrove forest is peaceful, but he slows when he hears the whinnies and neighs of horses nearby.

He rounds a bend and sees a couple of horses grazing at grass that borders sand, their saddles baring emblems of the neighbouring kingdom, and with a raised eyebrow he walks closer, curious. The figure of the half siren comes into view when he looms closer, her expression dark and unamused as she converses with a man decked in an elegant cloak which pattern and style reminds him a bit too much of his charge's fashion taste.

A guard stands beside the cloaked man, clearly waiting for further instruction, but he gestures to the cloaked man when he sees him approaching. Lien turns as well, and Leon sees her eyes lighten, the defensive language of her body easing slightly when she spots him.

The cloaked man blinks at from beneath his hood, assessing him with indigo irises, and Leon catches the wink of metal in his hair and whiff of magic emitting from his form.

"Your sense of clothing are orthodox. You do not look like you belong in the village." He says finally. It sounded like both an observation and question, but Leon does not bat an eyelid, returning the cool stare with one of his own.

"You are like, one to talk mister."

Lien snorts softly, earning the attention of all three men, but she fixes golden eyes only on Leon, and the apprentice had to swallow the urge to break his persona and laugh along with her. Mouth twitching, she glances momentarily towards the trees in the distance before back at him; a silent urging, and he almost grins cheekily at her implications, observing from the corner of his eye indigo orbs staring in surprise and curiosity.

"She's waiting, Leon. Go on." I will take care of this.

Her cryptic words raises more puzzled reactions from the two strangers, but before the cloaked man can open his mouth Leon hums and breaks forward into a quick stride. He is halfway down the beach when he hears the guard clamber for him, stopping only at the command from the cloaked man. Ah, he had wondered why that bluish-grey cloak stood out so much to him. He vaguely remembers his charge saying that he was expecting company. Perhaps..?

He worries not when he enters the mangroves, knowing that Lien can more than take care of herself.

It does not take long before he is pushing himself out from the last of the mangroves, trying not to look too ruffled in company as his fingers comb through messy burgundy hair. Michèle is surprisingly not in the water, back towards him as she stares at the orange sun. It was evening again, but there was a life to her that was not present before.

At the sound of his cloak rustling she twists her head round, lighting up when she sees him. Yet there was a sort of uncertainty with her; her smile is frazzled and her eyes nervous. Quietly he withdraws the amulet from his pocket, placing the string over her head and laying the charm over her neck gently.

"It's a healing charm," he explains. "Supposed to keep you like, calm and healthy." He pauses, before adding in a softer tone; "Arthur sends his regards."

Michèle nods, hands brushing the amulet resting over her chest, giving a more truthful smile as she thanks him. They sit side by side, watching the sun, as he waits for her to share her troubles. She begins, and he listens.

"I haven't sang in such a long time, and I know its irrational of me but," here the siren frowns softly, fingers playing with the seams of her shirt, watching Leon blink in surprise. Not singing even after that night; just how long had she been holding it in? "I don't know. I am hesitant to. After all these years.."

"Would it help if I sat here with you?"

Michèle looks at him then, unreadable, and it is a long while before she lowers her eyes tentatively and turns back to the ocean. When she next opens her mouth she starts to sing; soft, shy humming that slowly forms words and verses of a faerie language he recognises but could not understand. Her voice picks up in confidence, and soon enough she is singing the soul searing song that personifies her very being; the heartsong and unique melody of every siren.

When the last note faints she turns to look at him shyly, the mesmerised look on his face tempting her to duck her head embarrassingly.

"Was it good?"

"More than good." He grins. "It was stunning."

This time she laughs breathlessly, red flushing her cheeks. "I'm really glad. Thank you for all you have done for me."

"Mm, you are welcome."

In the silence that follow, Michèle finds his pinkie brush against her own. With a hesitant gulp she pokes him back playfully and hears him laugh, sneaking peeks from the corner of her eyes when he brings their hands together as they stare at the bright waters glimmering a thousand shades of the rainbow.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Leon tilts his head towards her when he hears the question. Michèle smiles widely at him, and he feels his chest getting heavy. "You granted my wish, now let me grant yours."

"It's not so easy like that." He thinks back to the rose petals and basil leaves he glimpsed lying plentifully in the attic and flushes, ashamed.

"A kiss" he says at last, and Michèle blinks in confusion, lips parting wordlessly as she mouths back.

"A..kiss..?"

He nods, looking at his hands. The smallest, unexpected pressure against his cheek startles him then, and Leon almost jumps away, breath coming in shaky exhales. Michèle pulls back before he can, swallowing nervously.

"A kiss..," she reaffirms, suddenly unable to look at him.

A hand reaches to grab her suddenly, turning her around to face him. Nervousness reflects off Leon's face as he licks his lips, looking down at his hand on her wrist. "Can I?" It was a tentative question, but not all vague as the siren thought it to be. When she hums in confused consent, his lips bent down to press against her own in a soft peck, awkward and fumbling, but sweet and true.

They separate with red cheeks, looking at each other with uneven smiles and awkward laughter. In the end he speaks first, copper eyes staring thoughtfully at the ocean as the blush fades from his face.

"You will come back some time, won't you?"

"Of course I will. Did you think I wouldn't? I would never leave you behind." She returns his hopeful look reassuringly and he grins again, boyishly.

"Heh, good. Because I have like, many more cool tricks to show you."

Leon squeezes her hands, and they continue to watch the sun set over the gleaming ocean.

xx

xx

A/N

Done for the aphsecretsanta 2015 event! Main prompt I used was siren. Everything else just came naturally.

I spent 5 days doing this immediately after wrapping up another project and let me tell you guys I have never felt so productive and distant from real time for 8 days straight it was surreal. Thanks to my friends who sent me references to all witchcraft ingredients hahaha.

Dragon's tongue and Snowberries are actual items taken from the Skyrim universe that resists fire. Basil leaves and rose petals are common ingredients used to make love potions/spells.

Finally I got around to writing HongSey that isn't their nyo forms and end in tragedy too! Didn't wanna make it too sad because no one deserves to have their heart ripped out during Christmas season. :D

I got to say, this was an interesting cast of characters I chose to work with. Exploring the dynamics of Yao and Arthur and writing their bickering was something I enjoyed very much. (Interestingly enough I didn't have much of a problem writing conversations for this piece of work lol.) I hope I managed to show you all other aspects of the side-relationships between characters like Leon-Lien and pre/post fight of Arthur-Michèle even if their conversations are brief or just implied.

Makes you wonder more about France and Norway and how they tie in with the others though hahaha ;)

Overall this is a story that can definitely be build more upon; there is a reason Lukas was introduced, and his actions and influence to the plot will tie in with the older warlocks and Lien in a separate character arc. It isn't the end of Francis and Michèle and Lien is still stuck in half siren limbo, but I digress. After all that's said and done I'm going to probably leave this au like this for individual interpretation. (People read this for the romance anyway pssh enjoy the kisses peeps.)

Have a Merry Christmas everyone, and happy holidays! I hope this point in time spells out the end of my writers block :D !