With nothing else in his feeble life going for him, Alistair took his usual almost aimless-like walk to the library in search of more. His black-gloved hands found the enormous (almost unnecessary) pockets of his cloak as he marched onward. He would curse himself shortly after arriving to the library to check the time, as he still had another twenty minutes or so before it actually opened. But rather than trudge the whole way back to his house, the young witch rested against the building and lost himself in thought. What spells should he attempt? The idea of black magic lingered in his head a few times. A dark and dangerous practice, sure, but not like there would be anyone left to be hurt but himself if things were to go wrong. Summoning was going better than he had ever imagined, so that was another option to delve into.

In the middle of these thoughts, however, Alistair heard one of his least favorite things—another human. Ugh, did he despise having to even share the same library. That’s why he travelled in the earliest of day or the darkest of night. Avoiding people was somewhat of a practice at this point. His eyes were transfixed on this.. mail carrier?

An eyebrow was raised as his lips curled back in disgust, waiting for the other to hopefully turn. Of course they didn’t. Oddly enough, they /did/ proceed to fall on their face. Acting on instinct, Alistair uncrossed his arms and zoomed toward the one lying on the ground. Without thinking much, he seized the smaller looking one by the back of the shirt and pulled them up, pausing for a moment briefly transfixed on their face. After that one or two second delay, Alistair set them down as they regained their own balance. Had his spells finally made him grow stronger than he once was? He didn’t remember having enough strength to pick a full-grown person up with ease.

“What was that for?” he huffed, fixing his gaze from the bloodied ground to the person in front of him. His eyes bore holes into the other’s eyes. How /dare/ he come at this time?

Not being able to find the words he wanted fast enough, he let out a simple, “what do you want?” (He was attempting to ask what business he had at the library, but the last time he actually talked to someone was… oh god a year ago? Maybe?) Normally, no conversation would have been made, but he was just growing completely annoyed and couldn’t fight back the urge to lash out, he supposed.