Silent Depression

The way Owen explained it . . . comforted Ambrose. He had honestly never thought of it that way before. Still . . . it wasn't the same sort of 'twisted.' Ambrose let it go, though, taking what he could from the large boy. His manner calmed even more, now almost relaxed.

Ambrose sighed, defeated. Well, it was worth a try.

". . . Nevermind," he told the boy, about to tell him further to 'forget it' but remembering that the large boy didn't like such commands. "It's . . . difficult to explain." He then shut up completely. Awkward.

Owen was surprised that Ambrose didn't take any offence at his words, seeing as owen had implied that he might've been anything that he had listed. Maybe they were getting on better times. Maybe this would be a rare opportunity to form some sort of alliance with someone who wasn't a complete jerkass.

Then he remembered - Ambrose had still been a bit of a dick to him. His frown returned.

The awkwardness didn't go unnoticed by Owen, and he sat silently for a moment. "So.." he twiddled his thumbs, trying to break the pause. "What happened with these god-- eh, 'powers that be' anyway? They didn't get rid of the curse did they?" Well, apparently not, but he thought he'd ask anyway.

Very awkward. At least the large boy was using the proper termonology now.

"No," Ambrose sighed. "They find the curse too entertaining."

It was a bit more complicated than that. . . . The curse would only break when he accepted the higher power (either that, or the bitch would remove the curse or be killed-- that wouldn't happen, though), and Ambrose was obviously not going to accept the diatoma any time soon.

. . . Wasn't he?

Ambrose . . . honestly didn't know anymore. He seeped back into thought.

At Ambrose's words, Owen's mouth made a sort of 'o' shape, which probably would have been more effective if one half of his face wasn't gruesomely stretched. "Well..." He raised a hand to cushion the back of his head as it leaned against the tree. "That settles it. The 'powers that be' are complete jackasses." A grin of bitter humour formed on his face.

"You'd think someone high and mighty would have better stuff to do with their time than pick on a few dumb mortals, huh?" He shrugged his shoulders in lazy defeat.

He noticed Ambrose seemed a bit distant, and he tilted his head a little. "Somethin' wrong?"

He was liking this boy more and more. "Complete jackasses." The Powers would take offense to this, and would probably make him pay later . . . but, what the hell. It was the truth.

Owen's continuation of his comment, though, made Ambrose only seep further into his thoughts. 'A few dumb mortals' . . . Simular words could be used to describe Ambrose's perception of most people here at the castle. He had probably used those exact words before, if he cared to remember it.

Something was definately wrong. The problem was with whom: Them, or . . . himself.

Ambrose's agreement was followed by a slight nod of approval, and he stared off again. However, Ambrose's silence persisted for longer than he preferred, especially when he didn't answer his question. Either he didn't know what to say, or something was wrong, and Owen had reason to believe that it was probably the latter.

"You know, that mirror reflection guy?" Well, Owen hadn't gotten a particularly good look at it, so he wasn't even sure if it was a guy - just a dark figure. "Was he... one of 'em? Or's that something else?" He glanced down tot he mirror again, not entirely willing to pick it up and display again, lest another freak-out happens.

Hit square on the nail, didn't he?

Ambrose didn't need to answer that; he did, however, need to answer the large boy's. He flinched at Owen's words, though, biting his lip slightly . . . It was always an uncomfortable topic. He honestly didn't know if he would ever be comfortable with the idea, no matter how long it was with him.

"He's one of Them, yeah," Ambrose replied cautiously, his face turned away from Owen and towards a random nearby tree. "He's . . . the worst, out of all of the Powers That Be. By far."

What was the worst part was how completely true it was.

Owen wondered why Ambrose was flinching, and he simply stared for a moment, observing the red-haired boy's unusual behaviour. Maybe it was a touchy subject. Well, of course it was, that had already been established by their earlier confrontation.

Owen was surprised that his guess was actually correct - it never usually was - but he curious enough to want to know more. It wasn't every day he met someone whom he could actually relate to in some way.

"Why's he the worst? What'd he do?" he asked, trying to peer around to see Ambrose's face from where he was sitting, although he clearly couldn't. But he was really too comfy to move from his spot...

The Powers That Be, previously silent due to the tension, giggled and snorted at such questions. They were obviously not going to be of any help.

Ambrose figeted a little, moving his face more into the shadows as Owen peered-in for a look. "He . . . took away my previous life." He picked-up a handful of dirt absentmindily in his hands. "Snatched away what I held dear, and . . . made it fall into pieces." The dirt crumbs fell through his fingers and onto the forest floor once more.

"Honestly . . . the curse was worse," he admitted, his face slightly red in both rage and embarrassment. It was the truth, though, and this boy deserved the truth. After all, They were in this together.

. . . 'they'. He had meant to lowercase that.

Owen found that he was mentally preparing himself for anything Ambrose was about to say. The boy seemed to be taking this completely seriously, so Owen was at least somewhat inclined to do the same.

Although, despite this, Owen couldn't quite understand what he meant, well, at least not as well as Ambrose did. It was all so... tragically vague. But he didn't want to keep asking 'what do you mean?' to him. As important as it seemed, Owen didn't really want to make the atmosphere any more unsettled.

Finally, he found the incentive to stand up, walking tentatively towards Ambrose. Twigs crumpled beneath his bare-footed steps. "Hey..." He reached an arm, hoping to tentatively place it on his shoulder. "It's okay." He grinned half-heartedly, he was never really good at cheering others, especially when he could hardly cheer himself. "At least we both got the same problem going... huh?" Although it probably wasn't even the same - it sounded wildly different. It was worth a try.

Ambrose squinted his eyes towards the large boy as he approached. Was he serious? All doubt around Owen's intentions, though, vanished as he offered the hand.

The boy really had no idea what was going with the red-head. Ambrose knew this, and yet . . . he felt like he could now trust the large boy. At least he was willing to listen, willing to lend and arm and--


LUPPA.

Owen might already be involved with Them, but to involve him further with the Powers That Be . . . Was that wise? If the large boy got close to him, allied with him, wouldn't that automatically make him a target? People that Ambrose got involved with often got burned. Or, worse.

And yet, Ambrose took the hand, knowing that Owen was going to be hurt by this later. He . . . would take full responcibility for that, when the time came. Perhaps They would be merciful, for once.

"Yeah," Ambrose eventually agreed.

If there had been any risk at all with the alliance that Owen was offering, then he was simply not aware of it. In fact, he saw only benefits. It seemed hapless, but maybe just maybe they'd be able to find away around their situation. There was a chance.

When Ambrose didn't reject his approaches, his smile soon became a genuine one. Really, he didn't have many allies. The thought was an endearing one, and it didn't fail to give Owen a rare ray of hope in his mind. "Cool," he said simply - overflowing with gratitude, and hardly able to express any of it on the outside.

Releasing his hold from Ambrose, he turned back towards the mirror, lifting it up from where he'd left. "Whad'you said we have another look at the mirror?" He continued quickly, so as there not to be any sort of confusion. "I mean, it might not show that... other guy. It might show something else. It changes."

He blinked, feeling the need to drop in extra assurance. "And if it shows him again... then at least you know what to expect, eh?" Today was apparently a day for taking unnecessary risks.

Ambrose caught Owen's wide grin and managed to wear one himself. It wasn't easy, though. Nevertheless . . . an ally. That was something, right? Except, of course, he sealed the poor boy's fate. He'd best be happy while he can.

Another look at the mirror . . . Ambrose was more than relunctant to do this. Still, one look at Owen's face and he knew he had to say yes. The large boy probably wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

Ambrose hoped for change. He knew, somehow, somewhere, that there would be none.

"Let's give it a shot."

Owen quite honestly wouldn't have blamed Ambrose if he'd rejected. In fact, it probably would have been easier for Owen if he did - less risk, after all.

He was holding the mirror towards himself, and he couldn't help but chance a glance down for himself. He peered at his own reflection - there appeared to be no notable change. In fact, he merely appeared exactly as he did now. It annoyed him - why was the mirror being so unresponsive with him lately?

But as the boy agreed to be shown, he huffed in slight defeat. "Please," he begged. "Don't freak out at me for whatever it shows." He finally turned around the mirror to face him, before screwing his eyes tightly shut to await his reaction.

Ambrose understood such sediment; he thus agreed with a slight nod of his head, then turning towards the mirror.

The looking-glass at first appeared just as he did: dark red hair that faded like dried blood into brown, brown eyes, pale skin . . . There was nothing unusual about the reflection at all. It was just him, staring. Ambrose blinked--

The reflection blinked back. A second later after Ambrose.

The figure started to shift and change. The hair became more of a bright red, even though the eyes remained brown. A grin started to form on the figure the likes of which Ambrose had never seen for himself until now. That was his grin, the smile of the perfect thief. It took his sneer and twisted it, making it longer, thinner, like the edge of a butcher knife. Then, all of the color save for his skin faded into the black, until Entropy itself stared right back at him.

It spoke.

"STOP RESISTING."

And the entire mirror went dark.

The red-haired boy scooted away from the mirror until thudding against a tree, his entire body shaking. Fear. This . . . was fear. The feeling of dread that meant he was completely screwed.

Ambrose didn't immediately shriek and pounce on Owen to start gouging his eyes out - that was at least a good sign. Actually, judging by his reaction, or the lack of it, maybe nothing was happening at all. It sometimes did that. Just to disappoint.

He finally opened his eyes to see Ambrose backed up against a tree. He blinked momentarily, before glancing down at the mirror. The mirror looked ordinary to him, no real change at all. He looked back at Ambrose, confusion written all over his face. He seemed frightened, and Owen wasn't sure what to say.

"Wh..." he started with hesitation. "...What did you see?" Some comfort.

Some comfort indeed. The Powers doubted that comfort would reach the boy at this point in time, though.

Ambrose gathered his thoughts, unsure of what exactly he saw. He was almost detached to it, and yet the imagry pulled at him like nothing before. Either way, it completely terrified him. He was still shaking.

"It . . . was him," Ambrose informed Owen with a shutter, "except, not really him, it was-- it was me at first, and then . . ." Ambrose really was a wreck, so much so that the majority of the Powers That Be felt some sort of sympathy towards him. Their feelings of compassion calmed him down just enough to state firmly, "I turned into him. I was him."

Maybe asking Ambrose about it wasn't the wisest idea. After all, he seemed After all, he seemed pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal. Placing the mirror on the ground and out of sight, he wandered closer to Ambrose, but still keeping a fair distance between them.

Needless to say, his description was pretty surprising, yet at the same time, expected. "You... turned into him?" he echoed. Although he wasn't really aware of Ambrose's predicament, he'd seen a similar thing occur when Rein had looked into his mirror, so perhaps he could try reassuring him.

"Hey... I, uh, don't think anything in the mirror actually has to be real. I mean, uh... It might just be a trick, y'know? Playin' with your head," he finished, gesturing to his own noggin. Owen never actually held much faith in his own words - he really didn't have a single clue.

Ambrose could only nod in confirmation to Owen's first question; the rest of the large boy's reassurances whirled in his already-crowded brain.

The red-haired boy had never been one for optomisim, but never quite a pessimist, either. He took the facts as they were and acessed from there. What the hell were the 'facts,' though? What did he have to base off his fear besides a delierous, sadistic mirror that was possibly related to the Powers That Be? A bad feeling?

A bad feeling. The worst feeling, wrenching inside his gut. That symbosis of dread and guilt and . . . fear. Definately fear.

Ambrose curled his legs close to hims chest, wrapping his arms around the knees. The fetal position wouldn't help anything, but it was comfortable. It helped him calm down enough to think properly. The shaking subsided, but the feeling remained.

Fear. Fear for something he had never properly met before and yet was the closest to.

He could say nothing to confirm the boy's reassurances, kind as they were.

Owen gnawed his bottom lip in worry as he stared at Ambrose. Perhaps showing him the mirror again wasn't the greatest idea he'd ever had, considering his state. But he'd agreed to it, after all, so it wasn't entirely his fault.

With one last grudging glance back at the mirror, he stepped closer to Ambrose, and if he didn't resist, he would try to seat himself next to the red-haired boy.

"Hey," he began tentatively. Still unsure how to calm the boy, seeing as most of his reassurance seemed to flop. But he had to try. "It'll be okay..." he said lamely. It felt especially ironic that it was coming from himself, seeing as he often never practised what he preached. Things were never okay. But they could at least pretend that they were.

Ambrose wasn't sure about Owen's words. In fact, he thought quite the opposite. Things were never really 'okay'; that was just the waking reality of his life since the Powers That Be came in. Still, he had to move forward. There had to be a way . . .

Pretend that things were okay. Then, they would be. Denial had worked before-- it would work again. It had to.

Ambrose slowly got up from his spot on the ground, inhaling deeply before tellling Owen softly, ". . . I'm fine."

The hell he was.

Whew. His approaches hadn't been batted off. But Owen wasn't prepared to get any more intimate than that - he still didn't know if the boy was in any stable mindset.

"Good," he nodded, mostly out of a lack of anything else to say. Even as he stood, Owen remained where he was, twiddling his pointed thumbs. He glanced around cautiously.

"Y'know..." he started. "I actually came out here... so I could like... turn back. Y'know, into an actual human." He paused as if realising something. "Wait... you said early about... humanity an' stuff, right?" His eyes seemed to lighten at the idea. "You're a human too?!"

Ambrose felt a sense of relief when Owen didn't pry. It was best not to get the large boy any more involved than he should be. As the boy began to ramble, though, the red-haired boy's eyes also lit up. No way . . .

He wasn't the only human!?

"Of course I am!" was Ambrose's immediately reply, shouting not in anger but rather excitment. He had wadded through in this accursed schoold tails, ears, horns, and all of that crap, and now finally, finally, he found someone that was somewhat human, like him!

The Powers didn't have the heart to re-break the news to Their Entropy, so They remained mercifully silent. Oftentimes, ignorance was the best thing one could give. Feigning ignorance, anyways. It was always in the back of the boy's mind.

"Finally-- you're the only other human I've seen here," Ambrose admitted, now completely truthful to both the boy and himself. He had to wonder, though, if Owen was now the only human left at the academy. Best not to dwell on such thoughts, though.

Owen's curiosity had successfully managed to take the other's boy mind off... whatever had happened. Which was a good thing of course, and Owen praised himself for asking, even if the result was unprecedented. But what gladdened him even more was the fact that Ambrose was indeed another human. Such a sight had been so rare within the castle walls.

"Same here," he remarked, followed by a sigh of relief. "Never thought I fit in with all these freaks here. Y'know, those demons, fire using monsters with wings and those animal-turning... Kinda feel out of place after a while," he groaned. And it wasn't like he felt any less out of place back in his human home - it had been all too strange being able to understand the words of every animal around him.

"Finally... I ain't the only one. Everyone hates humans here. Even though they're so much better than 'em..." he bitterly grumbled looking aside.

Ambrose nodded along to Owen's words at first, grateful for the agreement. They really were all freaks-- but, as Ndale said on the beach, normalcy was in the eye of the beholder, so maybe not so much. There was, of course, the other students playing with fire (Ambrose could somewhat tell who the large boy was referring to, but didn't say anything), although . . . that wasn't really uncommon, where he was now standing. There was surely a Power That Be that was the deity of Fire or Flames, so that would make sense. There was that constant dread of being out-of-place; the red-haired boy gave quite agreement to that one hundred percent. The last point Owen made, though, was something Ambrose could simply not agree with.

"Humans aren't 'better,'" he corrected glumly, casting his eyes now towards the general direction of the castle. "Believe me, I tried that argument once. It was a science project. Humans only have the majority-- otherwise, we would all be dead."

'Dead'-- what a strange word.