Worn and yellowed pages met once more as another tome slammed shut, propelled by the gray paw of a particularly frustrated tabby. With a grumble, said tabby rose to all fours and moved the book he'd been reading to a stack situated firmly near his bed. Alaric, who was slowly feeling the beginnings of a headache, returned to his bed to rest for a few moments.

    Whether he knew it or not, his headache was being brought upon by a pent-up frustration that manifested itself in occasional mood swings. A frustration perhaps created by his ignorance of the practice that he was trying oh so hard to study. No matter how much he pored over tomes and committed the information to memory, he was not going to be able to do anything with that information without some actual practice. He had considered asking Moth and Selby for their assistance, but eventually he came to the conclusion that asking them would not be best. They were probably busy enough as it was with all their children running around.

    So who did that leave him with? Caustic, perhaps; after all, he was a doctor of sorts. Perhaps he had had some kind of medical training? No. That was a stupid thought. Being a doctor did not equate to medical knowledge. Alaric knew that—why did he think it?

    He was left with one recourse. Rumors of a certain hermit owl were not necessarily abundant, but Alaric had heard them enough times to know that the owl had knowledge of medicine and was self-taught. Before, the tabby had only considered paying Isaac a visit. Tonight, though, he made up his mind: he was going to Isaac's home and ask for help.

    His rest was over. Alaric drew himself to his feet and padded towards his door. He exited swiftly, locking the door on his way out, and made his way over to the owl's house. He noted briefly that dusk had come and gone, but Alaric did not think this mattered; owls were nocturnal, right?

    Within minutes, Alaric stood on Isaac's threshold. Swallowing his pride, the tabby tried his best to knock on the door. "Hello?" came his voice, breaking whatever silence the owl may have been enjoying.

    To call his dwelling a home would be an inaccurate statement. The residence occupied by the solitary owl could be described as a shack. In fact, it was a shack, abandoned an eternity ago by the evacuating populace, still precariously balancing on wood-rotted beams and infested with foliage. Repairs with what little the owl could scavenge were visibly attempted, forming a patchwork of essential functions for a shelter. Safety, insulation, protection, storage, and privacy. Albeit recently the privacy of the makeshift house expanded to fit another, his newfound hospitality for a lover evident in the opened windows and tidied interior.

    The silence was no longer commonplace with Zora around, save for the frequent occasion she decided to roam the surrounding forest. Isaac cared not to question her ways, settling for an hour or two of seclusion as he idled. Despite being summoned for a vague purpose, there wasn't much to do. No tasks, no research. Nothing but lounging and reading and waiting to distract from the tedium. Oh, how he loathed it. Restlessness would compel him to heed the fairy's wanderings and step outside for possible yet dull conversation or to unearth an uncompleted journal only for him to glare at the aged pages without knowing what to add. Frustration was among one of the few emotions his mind could spark, stemming from anger boiling his tar-black blood.

    When the knock sounded, Isaac flinched with surprise, clawed wings releasing the journal with a quiet thud as his head swiveled to the door. Zora never knocked. She didn't need to. It had to have been an unexpected visitor. He grimaced, knowing fully well this meant his location had been exposed to the general public. A sharp tsk escaped his beak before his wing swept the journal aside. At least this would be a task to complete.

    The door creaked open to expose the worn doctor, his black claws hooked around the knob. Grey-blue eyes scrutinized the person before him, brow drawing in suspicion. Familiarity registered with the tabby's face, seen in passing yet without any name that he could recall. Expression beyond a fatigued scowl absent from his face, a rasped huff left him, bitter with the final moments of dark smoke lining his lungs. "What do you want?"

    To say that Alaric was surprised by the owl's distaste for him would have been a lie. The displeasure at having a visitor was all too evident on the avian's face, and if the tabby had not been determined to find a teacher of some sort, he would have formulated some sort of excuse on the spot as to why he disturbed what he could only assume was Isaac's peace and quiet before quickly absconding from the scene. This did not happen, though, and despite Isaac's abrasion, Alaric remained firmly rooted to the ground he stood on.

    The tabby's own icy blue hues met the owl's gray-blues. Isaac, whose plumage consisted solidly of the shades of nighttime, was admittedly quite difficult to see, and Alaric probably would not have been able to locate the doctor's face were it not for the fact that it was stark white. It was almost as if Isaac himself was a representation of yin and yang, the nexus that connected the dual spirituality of all things in the universe as explained by an ancient human culture that he could not be bothered to remember the name of.

    What did he want, though? Oh yes, he had not explained that yet. It would be an unusual thing to simply show up on the doctor's doorstep without explaining what exactly he wanted out of this interaction. Not a moment would pass before Alaric answered the other male's question.

    "You are experienced with medicine, correct? Would it be possible for you to teach me?" The tabby avoided any sort of formalities or superfluities, as he did not see the purpose in them and he suspected that Isaac was of the same opinion.