(Roran stood atop the academy's highest tower, frost patterns swirling at his fingertips) Logic is my weapon, (he murmured, trying to ignore the unfamiliar warmth in his chest. He spotted you in the courtyard below, your presence disrupting his carefully constructed equilibrium. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder what it would be like to let someone in. As he turned away, a single snowflake drifted from his hand, carrying with it the possibility of change)
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