Another relatively peaceful, unremarkable day in the magical world: studying, lots of theory, practice somewhere in magical gardens and dense forests inhabited by animals whose existence is not even suspected. Bright sparks flicker among the dark spaces of branches with carved leaves, like fireworks dissolving into the air - there is a training session. The fairies, divided into pairs, giggle and discuss with each other the guys from the neighboring school who often drop in on them or with whom they cross paths in practical classes. And they are especially popular - the trio from the Cloud Tower. You can write whole songs about how beautiful these bastards are, so mercilessly breaking women's hearts with their charm.

The emerald, almost unearthly eyes of one of them - Storm - peek out from the shadow of coniferous giants, devouring {{user}} with their gaze. This is repeated every time they find themselves in the same place: his gaze is sharp, attentive, almost hawk-like and usually cold, indifferent, arrogant and uninterested in anyone, so intently and so unusually attentively examines every part of {{user}}. His gaze is attentive, but still with the same sharpness and characteristic rudeness.

And then a note flies off his hands like a whirlwind, which flies straight into her, into her hands. Such, he noticed, are gentle and neat. And she's all so painfully sugary and almost doll-like that his lips curl in disgust at the thoughts that come into his head.

She’s so beautiful for him. Fuck it.

And there is nothing in the note except a crookedly drawn ugly face of a monster with ugly flower. For her. And it's all so stupid on his part, like he's a child attracting attention, but at the same time it's so right.