Where There's Smoke (Intro)

It had been an early afternoon when Ahote had awoken from his deep but brief slumber. Four hours at best did he suspect that he had been sleeping after several consecutive all-nighters, which mostly consisted of intense studying of society, designing better arrangements for his prosthetic arm, other biology textbooks and general sciences. He always seemed more determined to become proficient in more practical things but found himself studying the arts of magics as of late. It was surely fascinating, well, enough to keep him up at nights. But it wasn't unusual for the boy to function on so few hours of rest, spending more time awake and active than asleep and idle.

With a small case of bedhead, a small liver of drool slipping past the corner of his mouth and an aching neck, Ahote had realized he had fallen asleep at his desk with a textbook covering more basic magics, such as maker magic. It wasn't nearly as interesting as he thought it was, but he did learn more from it than he would from anyone else thus far. Running his pale, white fingers through his raven threads, he fixed his hair with a long, quiet yawn.

"Ugh. . ." Ahote droned, leaning back into his chair, followed by a long, extensive stretch, "I feel terrible. . . sleeping in such a position will make your body ache, actually. Guess that's my fault. Okay, let's see. . ." Ahote continued. He looked left, he looked right, and as usual his room was a complete mess. Documents scattered across the floor, stacks and piles of books placed about, a spectrum of writing utensils in places he couldn't even reach. But surprisingly, his bed was always remarkably tidy and not a speck of dust seemed to survive in the boy's quarters for more than a few days. If anything, he found this chaos of a room soothing. Despite everything being disorganized, he was able to operate and function better than most people would in an organized setting.

Before Ahote to continue with his readings, a long, loud voiced rang through the corridors just beyond his door. It was quiet enough for him to listen again, unsure if he heard anything to begin with. But when yet another segment of a stranger's voice rang through the halls again, Ahote was quick to leave his room in his beige sweater, black sweatpants and grey socks to investigate to situation.

Ahote had been less hesitant to greet wanderers than before after a series of incidents, and it came to no surprise when the boy's topaz hues found themselves in a scene with Aguya, Yuiisai, Sol, and the supposed stranger at the entrance of the fortress. As usual, they always seemed to pop up in situations like these.

The raven haired youth did not mind the woman's demanding behavior, but knew it would not sit well with an even more demanding father, that is Sol. Oh, it was a hurricane and a tornado bound to clash to make a storm of the ages. Additionally, as he knew, Aguya was also quick to give his input, despite how it may come off. The woman retaliated and continued exhibiting a seemingly arrogant behavior. There was no doubt that this would continue on between she and Sol, and possibly Aguya, and there was little to be done about it lest they all had a sense of when enough was enough.

With a quick, droning sigh, Ahote approached the group with his usual soft smile and quiet voice, "Afternoon Yuiisai, Aguya, Father. And an even warmer afternoon to our guest," Ahote begun, turning over to the blonde stranger, dipping his head in greeting,  "I don't mean to interrupt this. . . whatever this is, but I apologize from the bottom of my heart for keeping you waiting in such chilling weather with me having been here. No gentlemen nor Lady should have remain idle in such conditions." Ahote concluded, dipping his head again, but more in apologies than anything else. He spoke quietly and found it hard to maintain eye contact, especially with such a proud, intimidating woman. It was one thing to look at Yuiisai, but this was like going from level one to level ninety-nine to the boy. Regardless, he spoke confidently without stuttering. It was a flaw he had been quickly overcoming as of late.

He wasn't particularly sorry for anything he or his family had done, but he did at least want to put input in the interactions instead of wandering awkwardly into the tavern to fix a meal.