The Real Thing

Grateful for the silence, the music teacher continued, his head still cradled carefully in his arms. Like it would shatter with any sudden movement.

". . . Kayla," he breathed, as if he was back there-- he was back there, for a brief moment: the crowds, the scattered chairs and tables and HIM. He grabbed onto the scarred head more, praying not to be teleported there again. Again . . . "I was so happy all of a sudden, so euphoric-- I could do anything!" Even now, his mouth contorted into a smile. A twisted smile.

"I . . . was on top of the world. Me, of all people. I didn't even stop to question it. All I knew was that I saw this woman, and I wanted her. I grabbed onto her arm, she asked what I was doing, pulling it away rather forcefully, knowing that grin, and I . . . I told her, 'That arm is mine.'

"And then, it was. Blood and all."

A shiver went down his spine-- the sense of taste came back to him in a flash. That was the first time . . . he tasted it. Blood. Denskith immediately regretted such thoughts, though, grabbing onto his head tighter and tighter. He was past all of that, he was past--!

"I couldn't help myself-- yes, I could have-- no, not really--!" He felt the urge to scream in frustration once more but used his remaining willpower to hold back. Please. . . ! His voice rushed once more, faster and faster, but it was imprecise, jagged in volume. Shaky. "The arm was in my hands, Kayla was on the other side of the room, she could only watch in horror as I . . . as I. . . !"

Tears were flowing down his flushed face.

"WHY DON'T I REGRET IT!?"
Despite the pain it caused, the disturbance and the horror it gave to others, if there was one thing Denskith could never regret, it was that taste. The taste of blood, the euphoria-- the complete and undeniable bliss it gave . . . With one drop, all of his thought would fade away. He could breathe. That first time was the first taste of that joy. He had been fighting withdrawal ever since.

The boy completely collapsed onto the ground, knees giving way and hands still holding tighter than ever onto his precious, precious head. His voice was now just sobs, nothing indistinguishable. Regardless of all effort, the confessional was forced to an end.

He felt a lump in his throat, though his expression didn't change from that of attentive sympathy. Good Lord, that was indeed a memory that could haunt one for years. Cannibalism wasn't something... easy to live with. Richard, of course, was way past caring, if he ever did at all. But he could understand the feeling even if he had never felt it himself, always having taken care to not eat in front of those who could be disturbed by the sight. And not take arms off people.

The counselor sighed, then walked towards a cupboard to fetch Denskith a box of Kleenex. He returned to the man and squatted down next to him, offering him the tissues, and reached to gently place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Shhh, it's alright." he said quietly. "It's alright. It's in the past, Denskith. You can't change it, you can only accept it."
He paused, quirking a brow, as if only now registering what exactly had the teacher said. "What do you mean by not regretting it?"
By his standards, Denskith wasn't exactly the image of 'not regretting'. Was he lamenting the fact that despite the horror of his deeds he did not feel guilty? Richard wasn't sure if the man had honestly that much to beat himself over. Sure, it was unwise of him to come out the night the serum would start to work, but other than that, was he to blame?
He supposed it didn't make that much of a difference - if Denskith felt like it was all his fault, then that was all that mattered. Richard's business was to help him move on from that, not judge whether or not his problems have a sound reason or not. But still, he wondered...

If it was in the past . . . then, why was it so vivid? Regardless of details, though, the teacher quickly snatched-up a tissue with one hand, making sure that his scarred one remained determinedly on his head, and blew his nose loudly. Again, the main thought in his sea of them what simply how embarrassing this was. The comforting hand was nice, though.

He waited for a time, attempting to calm down before answering. The voice was still shaky when first starting, but at least he could speak moderately properly. "B-b-because, I could n-n-'ever regret the t-taste. I just can't. No matter--" A loud sniffle, the grabbing of another Kleenex. "--how horrible the means. I just . . . can't." Never regret. That blood was the highlight of the evening. That, and Wolfgang.

"Aren't we all freaks, Kayla?" Another flashback, however brief; his words rang in the teacher's head, along with that wolfish grin of resignation and of sorrow.

". . . Wolfgang managed to stop me before . . . I tasted my fill." He hated the Resistance leader for such intervention but at the same time understood and was even thankful. Half-and-half. "Kayla was about to retaliate-- Phoenix serum, one of flames and rage-- when he c-came. If he hadn't shown-up in time, I . . . would have died." There was no use avoiding the word; being the Resistance forced one to get used to the idea. Death. It would eventually happen to you. . . . It was just a matter of when.

A thought then occurred to Denskith, something that struck him as odd and rather . . . bizarre. These people didn't know who Wolfgang was! Of course they wouldn't, but, in Windor, just his name scared the scientists away. The one monster they could never control. The one human in all of Windor, if such a thing was possible. But, it wasn't.

His heart lightned at the thought of the Resistance leader; Wolfgang always knew what to do. His very name was an automatic symbol of hope. "Wolfgang-- he's the Resistance leader in Windor, fighting for our humanity. Was," he corrected himself, his hand easing slightly off his head. That's right-- such times were behind them now. Windor was peaceful. "He's the reason . . . for everything," the teacher breathed, his lop-sided grin growing wider and wider. It was such a broad answer-- but, it was true! He was responsible for all the good that had come to Windor . . . and, a lot of the bad, too, although indirectly. That's why he worked so hard.

"Wolfgang . . . was one of the original experiments. Is."
A tense that would never change, no matter what was done.

Richard waited patiently for the man to cool down and listened, gears turning in his head as he tried to understand. His own need for blood didn't work like that, it was just, well... hunger. A severe, burning hunger, if allowed to grow, but satisfying it wasn't a sensual or ecstatic experience. It was just eating, or quenching a thirst. But there was something else that Denskith's situation reminded him of... what was it?

Ah, of course. People addicted to various substances... They never regretted using in itself, it was the side effects and the impact on their lives that made them miserable. So many faces, so many locations, so many seedy bars and drinks shared, and the stories were all the same. He smiled bitterly. And to think he came here in hopes of seeing something new...

It was a bit different, though. In the past, he was nothing but a random stranger in the night, sitting in places that seemed dark despite being brightly lit, listening to lost people's sorrows. A confidant for one night, bringing a moment of relief, never to be seen again.
And now here he was, in a pleasantly furnished, warm office of his own, and the person in front of him was very likely somebody he'd meet again. Yes, it was different. But not enough for Richard to shake off a lingering shadow of disappointment.

Of course, none of this diminished the sympathy he had for Denskith. When he saw an opportune moment he removed his hand from the teacher's shoulder and instead offered it to help him get up. Maybe now he'll be more willing to sit down in the couch.
He was glad that Denskith himself seemed to segue into a subject that made him happier; Richard wasn't sure if he could stand to watch much more tears.
"Tell me more about this man who saved your life."

Denskith stared at the hand in brief surprise before taking-up the offer, finally feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch with the vampire. It was a rather odd sight to see him sit down: his knees were higher-up than they should be. It made a nice resting spot for his arms, though.

'The man who saved his life' . . . Yes, that was accurate enough. He owed everything to Wolfgang.
"The odd thing is, he's about the same age as me-- wiser beyond his years, though," he quickly explained. His eyes quickly made contact with Richard's in the process; he quickly brought them back down, slightly embarrassed but pressing forwards with his description. "He has this aura . . . Hard to explain, really. It's more a presence than anything else, a demand. As soon as he walked into a room, he would get stares. Nothing like mine: with respect, no matter whose side the starer was on, Resistance or Natives. People could complain about him, but never disrespect.

"Wolfgang was-- still is-- fairly quiet. He never liked speaking up or interrupting others-- only when it was necessary." Denskith chuckled softly to himself. "He had to do that with me a lot, back when I was still new to my command ability. Lots of . . . close calls."

His lopsided smile faded away slightly, unsure of where he was going with this. Why was he describing Wolfgang in so much detail again? It was necessary, but . . . the leader probably wasn't going to like it, if he ever caught wind. Which, he would.

". . . His sister," Denskith pressed forward. "His sister . . . is the one with the vampire serum. Both he and her had extensive experimentation on them--" He shouldn't be talking about this. A small headache was forming, and his mouth was dry. He should just stop right now, not say anything more, why was he still talking about this, Wolfgang would get mad, not if he knew Richard--!

"--werewolf serum," he blurted out, unable to stop the words from coming but immediately regretting it. What if the vampire took offense?

Despite his best efforts, a corner of his lips did twitch upwards as Denskith sat down. It would take him a while to get used to the sight of those flesh-and-bone stilts, for sure.

Richard did not show any signs of acknowledging the brief eye contact, afraid that it could stilt further progress. He just kept his attentive gaze on the teacher's face as he spoke. So, Wolfgang was a charismatic, admirable, caring leader, or at least that's how Denskith saw him. Well, good for him... As difficult as it seemed to be for the scarred man to push out his words, Richard saw his story from an outsider's point of view. The events he spoke of happened in some distant location, had nothing to do with him, and never would. The fact that there existed some sort of 'vampire serum' did bother him slightly, but still, he didn't feel involved in the subject too much.

This changed slightly when Denskith spat out the two last words. His brow creased with surprise. Really, he should have guessed, what else could somebody with a name like Wolfgang be...?
"So that's why you were asking. That's..."
Richard stared blankly at the music teacher for a while. A sister and a brother, an almost-vampire and a kind-of-werewolf. Various adjectives that could describe his feelings on the matter moved through his head. 'Repulsive' was the word that resurfaced the most, along with 'preposterous' and 'unwholesome'. It was just the kind of thing that shouldn't happen.
Finally, he took a breath and decided on a word.
"...Risky."
The vampire's expression was serious, but not angry. There was no room for anger in situations like this; they called for composure - and for justice to be served.

The music teacher solemnly nodded to his words. Yes . . . 'Risky' was indeed the word.
"That was the idea," he noted softly.

The vampire and werewolf serums: one of the original projects the scientists came up with. The two legendary creatures were always at each other's necks-- not to make a pun out of this. Why not try to foster artificial hatred between peoples? And, what better research subjects than a defenseless, clingy girl and her over-protective big brother? It was too perfect an opportunity to miss. Too perfect.

"To develop an 'artificial hatred' . . . They were lucky," Denskith tried to say in a happier tone but failing miserably. How could one be happy when they were so close? "The white coats were so close to succeeding, but they managed to pull through alright." He attempted a full smile, despite the pain it brought to his scars. "The two even escaped toge--"

A sharp pain went through his head; the teacher clung onto his head violently, wincing, but immediately relaxing and smiling lopsidedly and apologetically.
"Sorry about that . . . The headaches come and go," he explained with chagrin. He had been getting a lot of those tonight, of all nights. . . . It made him wonder, sometimes.

He nodded, looking down to his hands that he was now wringing out a bit. It seemed like he did have something more to say to help Denskith's friends... He gave the man a glance at the mention of his pain and shook his head. It was the nth time the teacher grasped at his temples that night. It was a bit worrisome, but at the moment, there were other problems that Richard needed to speak about.

"I'm glad that they managed to work out their difficulties, but... that's not all that I meant." he said, then sighed, scratching the side of his face uneasily. "I feel like I should warn you of this."

Richard didn't feel terribly comfortable telling him about this, but he supposed it was hardly classified information. It was something that anybody could guess at if they really thought about the implications of the situation.

"Denskith, I'm a tolerant man, you know. But others of either of the 'original' species might not be so forgiving."
Tolerant, indeed... But if he actually saw the unlucky pair before him, would the fact that he knew it was not their fault make a difference to him? Would he resist the want to purge the world of the abomination...?

He wasn't sure.

Richard's grave tone made the music teacher flinch slightly, awaiting such dreaded words . . . but, when the 'news' was actually voiced, he could only sigh.

"We know.
We all know; you're the only one I've told so far here--" Anywhere outside the community, really. If one counted all that had been told, it would take one hand, including the vampire. "--and, Windor is successfully isolated from anyone not in on the experiments. So long as no one talks, we're safe." Which, they wouldn't. Ever. Even the Natives had agreed to that unspoken rule-- how could they brag when they would only be labeled as freaks--? monsters-- freaks all the same-- why change the terminology, then? It was just denying the inevitable truth. They were monsters to the monsters, as Richard proved well enough.

Denskith lowered his gaze to the ground.
"I doubt--" He stopped himself and restarted; there was no need to be hesitant with something that was already the truth. It wasn't a command, anyways. "No original would want to see us, and we never want to see them. If I saw a true siren . . ."

His voice faded out, the teacher honestly not knowing what he would do in such a situation: run away? explain his atrocity? There was no such thing as a 'good option.'
A freak amongst freaks. The true monster.

He nodded, but didn't seem at all relieved. "Very wise. But secrets are not so easily kept. If your friends ever leave the safety of Windor and stumble upon an actual vampire or werewolf, well..." He tapped the side of his nose. "They will know. And what will happen next is anybody's guess."

Richard sighed heavily. Yes, as long as nobody talks, as long as nobody leaves the town. Denskith did both of those things.
"I can't speak for other originals, Denskith." He shook his head. "But for me, it's not the whole artificially created copy issue that bothers me, it's the fact that a sister and a brother..."
He grimaced slightly, letting the man finish the sentence for himself. Vampires and werewolves were both creatures that started their life as humans, in most cases; in theory, it was possible for siblings to become one of each. However, such a thing was completely inconceivable, and sooner or later would end in bloodshed... if not between the two, then caused by others enraged at the crime.

But maybe Richard was only indifferent towards the idea because the person he had before him wasn't a copy of his own species. Maybe if he saw the woman with vampire serum, his attitude would change.
No matter.

"Siren... so that's what a Lorelei is?" he cocked his head slightly and stifled a chuckle.
"In fact, I do believe there is a siren at the school, or rather, a person of siren descent, if her words and files are to be believed."

. . . Richard was referring to him, wasn't he? Someone who left Windor, met a real vampire . . . He was suddenly very conscious about how he smelled. Wolfgang was smart, though, and wasn't going to leave Windor anytime soon. His little sister's survival depended on it.
"It's not even their fault," he noted hoarsely, hands clasped and resting on his pale forehead. Not even their fault . . . and yet, it was their mess to deal with. What a twisted world.

The vampire did not have to remind Denskith how unnatural they were, how they all were. And how that must remain a secret.
". . . You're the first I've told. And, the last."
He would tell no one else of Windor-- their conversation merely underlined the fact.

The music teacher was thankful for a change in topic, but really, anything but this would have been better. His face flushed at the chuckle, barely catching due to his trained ears. Yes, that was the usual reaction . . . When Richard mentioned the possibility of someone else having Siren blood, however, he merely groaned, his head flopping onto the peak of his long legs. Was she in his class--? of course she would be in Music, she wouldn't be much of a siren if she wasn't-- but, but, she could be avoiding it-- don't get your hopes up. Not after Windor.

"May I never meet her," was all Denskith could think to say, asides his rushing train of thought.

He only shook his head sadly. Of course it wasn't, but the world was full of people punished for things that weren't their doing. This would be no different - and neither vampires nor werewolves were particularly known for their mercy and understanding.

Deciding to spare Denskith the stress, he kept his further doubt to himself. What if he wasn't the only one who left the town, and what if they decided to confide in somebody less trustworthy than Richard? The thought was saddening and entirely unhelpful, so he kept it to himself. It was out of Denskith's influence, so why should he worry about it...?

And if the man had that thought of that himself, giving voice to it was even less necessary. There were enough things to be concerned with already... The atmosphere in the room was somber and the lack of music only amplified the effect. How he despised being confined by the night hours sometimes, awake when everybody else slumbered in dead silence.

Richard watched the music teacher's reaction with sympathy. "I hate to say this... This castle may be large, but the chances of you stumbling upon her sooner or later anyway are just as big."
He folded his hands in his lap and hesitated for a moment.
"Do you want me to describe her to you, or would you rather not know?"

His thoughts still heavy on the others in Windor-- how were they? Was Wolfgang and his sister, Quearl, all right? He needed to contact them soon, just to make sure-- Denskith took-up the alternate conversation offered by Richard which was, honestly, not that much better, if at all. Especially with Richard's statement . . .

He ruffled his hands through the strands of his blonde hair rather frantically, attempting to come up with an answer. "I . . . don't know? I don't want to see her, most definitely-- but, if she could provide me information on sirens, give me more background-- not that I have most of this figured-out already, along with most of the others in Windor, but really, it's just getting the source first-hand, knowing for sure that it's not another one of the white-coat's lies . . . I'm babbling," he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed. He managed to chuckle, though, a rare feat in an attempt to recover conversation. "Forget I said all of--"

--that.
The words came without Denskith thinking about them. A command-- and, he wasn't singing. No. NO. NOT THIS MAN-- VAMPIRE-- CREATURE. NOT HIM! His blue eyes were wide in absolute horror, staring-up at the counselor, helpless . . .

"No . . . No, I DIDN'T MEAN--!"

This made twice. Aisling.
Did he have any control over this? Or, was it all in his head?

(( So, obligatory notes for when this happens: commands without song gain total control over the body, meaning that, if Denskith doesn't include everything from cell duplication to breathing to heart beats in that command without pause/delay, then everything shuts down. ))

He nodded as he hummed in thought. Yes, it was a difficult decision to make... But Richard believed that avoiding confrontation hardly ever helped. Fate has a mean sense of humor, and the teacher would most likely stumble into Larita as soon as he decided he never wanted to meet her. However, he wasn't at all sure if the 'siren' that she was had anything to do with Lorelei - maybe they were just namesakes and all the bother was for nothing. Before he could give voice to those concerns, though... everything faded.

It felt kind of like being suspended in thick jelly that blocked out all movement and perception, apart from the vision of some indiscernible blurry shapes. Had it been that, though, he would still be accompanied by the sounds of his own body, the relentless heartbeat that always thumped away at the edge of his consciousness. But that was gone too. The only thing he heard was a brief, distant whine that was likely Denskith's voice.

It felt kind of like dying, really.

Was that what happened? Had he overstayed his welcome on the mortal plane? Well - of course he did, but he didn't expect to expire all of a sudden like this. Or maybe he was turned to ashes, like all of those other vampires at his hand? If so, he hoped his consciousness would fade soon. Being stuck in a featureless limbo like this for all eternity was something he wouldn't wish upon anybody... Not even Katherine.

Would he meet them all in the afterlife?

Damn.

By this point, Denskith was standing-up, facing the man directly for a better view of the atrocity he had committed. Panic flooded over him-- okay, calm down calm down calm down, you fixed Aisling, right--? but, this was different! He commanded an original, an original! and that was something not easily forgiven, especially by himself. It was a mistake-- he didn't have the right to in the first place-- an honest-to-God mistake-- he looks like he's in pain-- STOP THE PAIN.

Okay, okay, think: what worked with Aisling.
Singing. Singing always did something.

The problem was, Denskith didn't want to sing right now, and he had never sung without wanting to. Selfish, but true. Even if the note was a mistake, deep down, he really wanted to. A song that he always wanted to sing . . . Think, think!

No time. He would just have to make it up as he went. An aria. He carefully chose a key . . .

"You find yourself slipping out of the darkness and back to re-a-lity. . . !"

He didn't know if the voice would reach, nor did he know if the song would work if he was being forced. Regardless, Denskith had to try. For Richard.

"Re-a-lity . . . Come back to re-a-lity . . ."

It felt like forever. Richard pictured himself twiddling his thumbs.

Some vague blurs moved within his field of vision, but they were about as shapely as the mass inside of a lava lamp.

After some time, which could have been a second or a year, the forms began to sharpen, just as if somebody had turned up the contrast in a TV. What stuck out the most was a column, right in front of him, which slowly began to take the shape of a person. He tried to see the face, but it hovered somewhere up higher above him, and he was unable to move his eyes to look at it. Still, it definitely wasn't Kathy; her luscious curly hair reached down to her waist and he would be able to see a black strand or two for sure. Unless she tied it back to spite him, knowing full well he told her not to do it... No. The silhouette was that of a man. It was a bit of a relief, but he still cringed inside with anticipation. If this was some twisted, bland version of an afterlife, she would be far from the only person with a score to settle.

Singing... wait, that voice...

And then reality snapped back into place. His heart beat heavily in his chest, restarting with a thud that made his blood vessels resonate painfully. A familiar feeling, but one he hadn't experienced in a while. Richard blinked as his eyes focused on Denskith, quickly traveling up to his face. Something about the scene told him that it was the man's doing, and for a moment he debated seizing him by the throat and hoisting him up, just to dangle for a little bit. Just a little bit. But if the teacher was capable of causing a blackout like that, it wouldn't be the smartest thing to do.
Besides... he was actually more disturbed than angry.

Richard rubbed his face in his hands, then took a deep breath and looked into Denskith's eyes again with a calmness that seemed somehow out of place.

"What the f*** just happened?" he asked coolly, sounding just slightly more hoarse than usual.

Denskith could only wait in helpless anticipation. Was he coming back? Did he just kill the counselor of AALC oh God, that was IT, they were going to FIRE him-- Thankfully, though, before the music teacher could get into full-panic mode, Richard eyes came back into focus. Oh, good. Good. He was still alive. He was still--!

His face fell at the f-word. Ah. Well, that was probably a good use of such a word. Still rather unpleasant, though. The tone that Richard spoke in, however, was even more disturbing than the word itself.

He had been through this conversation times before in the Resistance. It was never a pleasant one.
"Um."
He never knew how to start it, either. Breathe, Denskith. Regardless of preparation, though, the words simply spilled out of his mouth in a frazzled rush.

"The command ability with the lorelei serum works best when the commands are sung, but when I ever speak a command to someone, then it's still effective and people-- creatures-- everyone follows it but then if I speak a command I gain control over everything breathing heartbeat cell-division the usual and if I don't speak every little command needed to the creature living--!"

He took this opportunity to both breathe and slow down.

"--they'll die."
Too many times before.
"Since you're-- I assume-- immortal," he continued heart beat finally slowing down in relief, "then, you weren't effected." A crooked, half-smile formed onto his shaking face. "You . . . survived."

Such a fact could not be stressed enough.
"I'm so happy," he whispered in a soft voice. And truly, he was.
He didn't kill anyone again.

He felt a bit sore, and a slight dizziness set in as his blood began moving again, but both sensations soon dissipated - as they always did - and he listened to Denskith's frantic explanation intently. His face did not betray any emotion, up until the point when the other said 'not effected' - at those words he couldn't help but smile wryly.

Indeed.

What could he say? 'It's okay'? 'Be more careful next time'? 'I'm glad I'm already dead'? He couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound incredibly lame. That aside, what alarmed him the most wasn't really Denskith's fault; accidents do happen, and all the teacher did was provide for him a room he filled with a personal hell all by himself. What amazed Richard was how quickly his mind strayed there - since when was he so worried about ghosts of his past coming back to haunt him? It hardly fit a counselor to have hidden issues like that. He supposed that it was the environment's fault - even the most skeptical person would begin to rethink some things after seeing demons and spirits with their own eyes...

The vampire chuckled weakly and gave Denskith a tired smile. "Yes, I survived."

He leaned back in the seat and remained silent for a moment, staring at Denskith's face as if searching it for something. What an amazing weapon of mass destruction this man was... able to kill any living thing with one word. Cause of death - unexplained, sudden failure of all vital organs, suspicious but entirely untraceable.

How ironic that a person like this should be a shivering, fragile mess...

"I sincerely hope it won't happen again." he finally said, a hint of sternness hidden under his composure. "To me or anybody else."

The music teacher kept his wary smile, looking-up into Richard's eyes in honest happiness as he wiped something from his own eyes. He didn't hurt anyone. If anything, it was a miracle. It was a miracle-- vampires were wondrous creatures, indeed. The power of an original . . . It was only becoming more and more apparent to him. The sternness was thus taken as if the voice came from the highest authority possible, minus Wolfgang, of course.

"Y-yes!" Denskith immediately replied to the 'order,' snapping into a semi-attention. It had become an automatic action after his time in the Resistance: straighten the back, face forward, stare never wavering from the commanding officer . . . Of course, once he was a commanding officer, it became rather awkward. He could never quite shake the habit, regardless.
"Of course! It will never happen again!" A promise that he could never keep, he knew, but had to make regardless. "It's my fault entirely, I know what I should be looking out for and the key words, I promise to fix this right away--!"

He paused mid-thought, eyes widening slowly but surely. Wait. WAIT.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" was the next immediate statement coming from Denskith's mouth. Regardless of apologies or promises, he still made a wonderfully-immortal vampire stop. And stopping was, he assumed, painful. "A-anything?"

He had to make it up to Richard, somehow. Somehow . . .

Denskith's reaction earned him a raised eyebrow. He recognized that the man had been drilled - of course he did - and it was a funny feeling to see that kind of behavior in front of him again. But unlike the beginning of the meeting, where Denskith's respect bothered him, he was now fine with it. It was convenient.

He didn't answer for a moment, letting silence reign.

Now that the beat of his heart returned to its steady, comforting pace, he could think again. So that's how commanding worked. There was no resisting, no discussion, the target just obeyed. It was a terrifying power, and he could think of a million uses for it. And yet, what Denskith chose was being a music teacher in a quaint little community, far away from everything that mattered, and kept worrying about hurting others...

What a good person he was. That was convenient as well.

Of course, the smile he gave Denskith as he shook his head was nothing but warm, but a twinkle in his eye betrayed how pleased he was with this turnout.
"There is nothing I would request of you presently." he said. "But one day, there might be, and I will come to ask for your aid. It might be tomorrow, it might be in twenty years, or it might not happen until your dying day - but remember about it."

Denskith waited anxiously in the silence. The vampire was putting great thought into this-- he was being smart. He was a smart man-- creature-- ORIGINAL. It slowly dawned onto the music teacher that maybe, just maybe, he should not have said that. It was too late to retract the words, however. The vampire spoke--!

The weight of Richard's words seeped slowly onto the teacher's shoulders, his attention stance slinking down into one of weariness. As soon as Denskith caught such shameful posture from himself, though, he snapped back up, only able to give a curt nod to the counselor. Yes. Yes, he would remember: he had made an offer, a promise. And, promises were not things to be broken. Ever. Trust was a rare commodity, especially in Windor.

The heaviness continued at his eyes, the lids drooping. He . . . hadn't realized just how late it was. What time was it: four? six o'clock? Easily an eternity could have passed, so much had happened tonight. Has happened. So much . . . A yawn escaped awkwardly from Denskith's lips, unable to suppress it.

"My apologizes," he immediately told the original, face once again flushing in horrid embarrassment. How rude of him! He might as well admit, though: "It is . . . rather late," he settled.

So much . . . Too much.
He should leave before another accident occurred.

The unhesitant agreement to his request made Richard wish he had bargained for more... but in the long term, that kind of greedy behavior didn't pay off. And when your lifespan has no limit, long term is the only thing that matters.

He looked at the man with sympathy. Actually, they hadn't been talking for all that long - but an emotional roller-coaster like the one Denskith just rode had to be exhausting. "It's absolutely understandable." he said as he got up, stretching his shoulders a little. "You should rest. We don't need teachers falling asleep in the middle of class... This school is crazy enough as it is." He chuckled. "I really wish I wasn't confined to nighttime hours."

The price to pay for breaking that rule was too high, though. He had forgotten already how horrid it was to feel your heart struggle to beat... How on Earth did he manage to withstand it for all those centuries? Having that kind of a drive seemed so alien to him now.

Anyway.

The vampire smiled and offered Denskith a hand to shake. "It was truly a pleasure to meet you."
And it was... but he had to admit he was looking forward to the man leaving; his visit unearthed a few things Richard had to ponder over in solitude. And to think he planned to spend the night doing nothing but listening to some old records...
Funny how life turns out.

Rest . . . Even the very word sounded peaceful, blissful. A reprieve from all they discussed. His eyelids kept drooping, the teacher forcing them back open as soon as they fully closed.

"The nighttime does seem rather lonely," Denskith managed as the hand was offered to him, his face still flushed with the compliment. A pleasure to meet him. A pleasure to meet him! No one had ever said that to him before! He clasped the vampire's hand with his scarred one, careful that the burns did not grace the original's skin. Shaking with his scarred arm was a sign of trust, of belief that the person would not purposefully harm him.

"Perhaps," Denskith continued, his voice raised in tone due to hopefulness, "if I have no class the following day . . . I could visit once more?"

What had occurred today was painful, there was no doubt. But, he did not regret meeting the original. He couldn't. Richard was too understanding to hold regret towards.

He would like to sing for the vampire again.

Funny that the person to treat him with the most deference out of the whole school would end up being a teacher... He shook Denskith's hand firmly, but carefully, mindful of the scars. It seemed to be unnecessary though, as the man was, obviously, used to paying attention to them.

He gave a casual shrug in response to the comment.

"Not necessarily. However, it does get a bit boring in places as quiet as this." He sighed, mind wandering to the big, bustling cities that never slept. Why did he ever think he could find his place outside them? The bad sides of staying at the Academy were beginning to outweigh the good; and Denskith with his power helped tip the scales. Honestly, the only thing that still kept Richard there was the fact that moving with all of his things was such a bother... and he was lazy. But there was no denying he longed to leave behind the dusty castle together with its miserable, monstrous inhabitants inside and answer the call of Las Vegas.

Of course, his rather solemn thoughts weren't allowed to affect his expression, and he nodded with an amiable smile.
"Of course. My door is always open."
He glanced towards the gramophone, realizing he had lied. After Denskith left, he would lock the door to allow himself some time alone with the music to think over both the past and the future.

The academy-- quiet? Although Denskith had not been here for long, it seemed a rather contradictory word . . . Then again, compared to the war in Windor, everything was quiet. A stand-still.

The music teacher was glad with Richard's answer; it would be nice to sing in front of an audience every once and a while. A benefit for most of them, he hoped, although Denskith knew it was wrong to assume. At the very least, it was not a burden to the vampire. Probably.

Without another word, and with the largest half-grin ever seen, the pseudo-siren left the original be, closing the door softly behind him. Continuing to smile to himself, the music teacher skipped-off to his room.