daily grind, r

They'd convinced him to go outside, those siblings of his. He's always had some sort of inexplainable trust towards them, and they use that to their advantage - and that's good, he supposes, it proves that the while the Zaqar bloodline has given way to a generation of mundanes, they at least still possess the mind that their family is reknowned for. Except while they're smart, they're also gullible, human in the way they expose themselves for the world to see, weaknesses and strengths that would make any potential competitor giddy with delight. Cael smiles at the humans(his people, he supposes he should call them, but do they deserve it?) as he strolls through the streets, waving his hands while the apathy churns inside of him like a slow drug - this, among others, is the reason why house zaqar will do nothing but crumble under one of his siblings' rule. Of that much, he's certain.

He locks himself in one of the upper rooms when he gets back, ignores anyone that knocks until they go away. In a way, they're all the same, the rest of his family - the only one that he even wants to contemplate having a discussion with is mother, and she busies herself with so much outside affairs that he only catches glimpses of her throughout the day. Books of magic spells and lore of the family's past are all that can keep him occupied, these days, and even that starts to get dull when it becomes nothing more than another routine.

There's a large stack of paperwork on the desk. Cael stares at it, stifles the yawn that leaks through the cracks in his lips as he sits down to finish up the book lying beside it. It's one of the more interesting ones that speak of betrayals within the house itself, the work of servants and traitors in a time when witches were regarded as simply gifted, not gods. Their names don't matter much, not really - what interests him is what drove them to turn against the family in the first place.

Yet despite everything, many are already dead, and the ones still alive aren't interesting enough to warrant searching for. After all, they could very well be human, and the effort of taking such a risk makes his insides curl and twist with a sickening sense of premature disappointment. It's so much easier with the servants. Cael traces over one of the summoning circles written on the page and hums idly, gesturing at the replica painted on the ground lazily with one hand, like a king getting ready to pass divine judgement.

He's studied summoning enough to know its potential - sometimes fatal - consequences, and the effort required to craft a larger, protective ward is better than the risk of losing books containing thousands of years of family lore. "Come forth." And as the circle underneath his finger begins to glow in tandem with the one on the ground he leans forward, ever so slightly, the gleam in his eyes the only indication that he's even curious at all.

ZAYNAB IQBAL i rly hope this is okay...let me know by skype if theres anything i need to fix!