Refining Powers

Would it work? Owen doubted it. Would he try? He didn't have much of a choice.

Owen made his best attempt to remain undetected as he bumbled down the corridors, a mirror held beneath an arm. The hoodie (originally white, but now a rather sickly shade of greyish yellow) he wore was still splattered with that dried up blood from an event he remembered too well, and the hood was pulled so far over his head that it was only the bottom half of it that remained visible. The mirror was heavy, but no great hindrance on his trip. And that chest wound was steadily healing too - it at least didn't sting unless direct pressure was applied. It was time to test out that mirror for good too.

Firstly, it had to be somewhere large. It was the first mistake that Owen had made, initiating the shattering sequence in his room right there. He'd no losses greater than a torn pillowcase and some tears in his jeans, but it wasn't a risk he was willing to repeat. And secondly, somewhere where no other people were present. For all too obvious reasons.

And finally, he'd reached the ground floor of ballroom - vast and empty, exactly how he wanted it. The bright sunlight of midday filtered through the tall, thin windows. The drinking bar was unoccupied , but several empty glasses stood atop the counter. So there would be target practise too - perfect.

But first, he would have to prepare this mirror. With something of a sigh, he commanded the mirror in a clear voice: "Float in front of me." His voice seemed to echo slightly in the large room. The mirror would successfully slip free of his grasp and, as instructed, remained still and airborne before him. The reflection wasn't even altering reality. A finger pressed against the glance, and he mumbled again: "Break."

And it did - with as much force and vigour that would catch Owen by surprise every time. A thunderous crack formed across the reflection, before snapping off completely, continuing to break up into smaller and smaller shards. In fact, the boy found that he'd have to duck out of the way of the dramatic shattering - the shards seemed mindless of his own presence. The stone frame had been reduced to dust, and merely scattered across the ground. The shards floated, as if awaiting his next command.

He did take a few seconds to consider exactly what he'd do next - he'd certainly not attack right away. Not until he was at least certain that these shards would follow his will. "Float above my hand," he instructed, holding out his left (albeit slightly scarred) hand. The shards immediately, and almost eagerly gathered atop it, swirling around each other like some frenzied atom. Yes, it was all working quite nicely.

For once.

Leon was beginning to feel more and more confident the more he practiced. His energy wasn't as effective as it had been before. He couldn't seem to cast really anything while he was flying. There were ways around it though. There was a technique to it. A style, almost. Leon actually found it to be entertaining the more he worked with it. The irony of it made him want to laugh.

Leon had spent the past several hours circling around the outside walls of the ballroom. The ballroom was large and empty, and ideal place to practice his phase spell a bit more... recklessly. Not oranges or acorns this time. His ultimate goal was to phase through one wall of the ballroom, fly through it, and then phase through the opposite wall back outside, all without touching ground. It was a work in progress, and rather high hopes at that, but maybe if he aimed high in the beginning he'd hit just low of that. Low, but still higher than he would had his initial goal been weaker.

He directed himself to fly high above the roof of the ballroom. Once he was high enough, he brought himself around towards the balcony side of the ballroom before dropping backwards into a nose-dive. He felt he could collect more momentum this way, however the downfall was that he couldn't use the walls of the ballroom as a reference for how far he was falling. Bending his back further, he completed the drawn-out flip and leveled out, flying directly towards the wall. His distance from the walls was good. He wouldn't lose momentum before entering the ballroom, and this lessened his chances of simply missing the spell altogether and face-planting with the wall. However, he could already tell that he was much too low.

With only a few seconds to spare before collision, Leon retracted his and aimed a phase spell for the wall, uttering the Latin words aloud for increased effect. It had become dangerous for him not to say it aloud. What a hassle. Though he managed to make it through the spell okay, his feet barely cleared the railing of the balcony once he was inside. If he'd gone a little higher, he would have had more time to call his wings once more and glide through the ballroom the way he wanted to. As it was, he would hit the ground floor of the ballroom before he'd be able to level out his flight.

Leon summoned his wings anyway, though, if only to soften the blow of his landing. Regardless, he would still land rather harshly, catching himself with his hands and knees. By now, the palms of his hands were scraped beyond recognition and a tear had formed in the right knee of his jeans. At the very least the ballroom floor was smooth, so it could have been worse. However the smooth surface had left his exposed knee shiny with a burn-like abrasion. His wings had continued forward, following Newton's law of motion, continued forward, slamming into the floor. It caused some amount of pain in Leon's shoulders, but he knew very well that his wings could take a beating.

Not having noticed Owen yet, Leon pushed off of his palms so he was sitting on his knees. He threw his neck back, somewhat in frustration, though he wasn't quite at that point yet before standing. He ran each of his hands over the palm of the other in some attempt to relieve the pain, but it did nothing for him. He shook out his wings before retracting them entirely. Leon dusted his hands on his pants and began walking towards the wall which separated him from the courtyard.


((I was assuming that Owen was somewhere behind Leon and that's why he didn't see him but ^^; ))

The swirling of shards upon his palm continued nicely, at least, they didn't spin out of control like Owen had half-expected them to. "Circle me," he'd say, and the shards would seamlessly droop down towards his feet, where they'd swirl around his feet, gradually sloping upwards in a sort of tornado. Not one of them scored his already battle worn jeans, in fact, they were doing exactly as he'd envisioned, without even giving the precise instructions. How vague could he possibly be...?

Unfortunately, a loud thud nearby interrupted his thoughts, and he whipped his head around in alarm to see-- oh no. As soon as his thoughts had strayed from the shards, they froze in mid-air, before noisily clattering to the ground as ordinary shards would. But Owen was hardly aware of it, his eyes were too busy focused on that one figure who'd come to haunt many of his thoughts. Why why why?! Why, for just a while, couldn't he leave him alone? He'd followed him here, he was sure of it.

Even if that blasted demon hadn't appeared to notice him yet, Owen was certain that it wouldn't last long. Spinning to face the the drinking bar, the boy made a mad dash for it, too intent on running to notice whether he'd stepped on a shard or not. He practically flew at the counter with surprising force in his bid to hide - though he hardly made it over top. Clambering ungracefully over the surface, he heaved himself over to the other side, where he would then duck down behind the bar, praying that Leon hadn't seen him in time. And if he did, then... maybe he'd ignore him. Maybe he'd decide to just leave him. Glancing at the display of bottles around him, the boy was already formulating a plan on just camping here forever if he had to.

Leon stopped abruptly at the sound of glass hitting the floor. He turned in the the direction the sound had come from and found himself looking at Owens back. He'd recognize the wide frame anywhere. He shook his head disappointedly. Once the boy made it over the bar, he let 'tch'.

He took a step forward, however stopped short, remembering his disfigured face. The hesitation didn't last long though. He didn't care if Owen saw him. It wasn't as if Owen was clever enough to find a way to use it against him. Frankly, he'd gotten over it. It would heal. Even if it took a while, it would heal. He continued moving forward at a steady pace, the sound of his footsteps resonating off the walls of the ballroom. What had Owen broken now?

Upon reaching the pile of broken glass, Leon look down over it. Down into it. Though his fractured reflection didn't show much, he could tell that it was off kilter somehow. The glass didn't show the burns that now ran across face. His eyebrows creased, and he used a foot to arrange the broken mirror in a way that would show his reflection better.

One piece was moved up to complete the reflection of his bloodshot eye, however the eye wasn't red in the glass. His fists clenched at his sides as he looked into the eye. His own eye? It couldn't be. But the rest of the mirror showed his face, however with some signs of aging. His eye in the glass was pure white, to where it was difficult to tell the end of the white from the beginning of the iris. His pupil hovered in the center, the contrast making it look smaller than it would otherwise.

Demon eyes didn't revert back to white. He hated the color white.. Leon kicked a foot through the glass, scattering the reflection once more. He shook his head, chalking the vision up to his imagination or maybe even to Feign. The image pissed him off to no end.. Whatever.

Leon turned back towards the bar, shaking his head again. He began to make a run for it, aiming a phase spell at the wall behind it just before he reached the bar. One foot was placed on the edge of the bar as he vaulted over it and through the spell. A few of the bottle on the bar had been disturbed, and fell over the side to where Owen was. Once outside, Leon released his wings and began to ascend. He could feel himself tiring. He didn't care. He'd keep going until he was drained, regardless of Owen's presence in the ballroom.

Owen made his best attempt to stifle his heavy breath by clamming his hand over his mouth, terror coursing through his nerves. Terror that he'd often suppressed in fear of revealing his cowardly side. But what did it matter now? Leon had seen it enough times anyway to continue juggling that lie.

He was almost whimpering at the noise of the footsteps, approaching, getting closer and closer. Oh god. He'd seen him, and now he was coming to kill him - or worse. Reaching to grasp a bottle from one of the lower cabinets, Owen froze with the anticipation of expecting Leon to lean over the bar any moment. The moment he did, he'd bludgeon that bastard and get the hell out of here. But then the footsteps had stopped, and there was no sign of him. What was going on? Seconds stretched out for far too long, and his grip on the the bottle tightened. It was the anticipation of it, he found, that was a thousand times worse than the actual thing. He had no idea what Leon was going to do, when he was going to do it. And his mind - as cruel as it was - would always continue to envision the worst case scenarios.

The silence finally ended with the fast thudding of footsteps. He was running. Despite his best attempts to put on a brave face and ready himself for an attack, it took merely the sight of Leon flinging himself over the counter for him to lose composure again. The bottle was dropped, thudding loudly to the ground like the other bottles, and Owen resumed a foetal stance - coiling both arms over his head. Why why why!? He'd scowled straight into the scum's eyes before, so why was it now that fear gripped him? Yet, when he tried to seek an answer in his mind, he could only hear Leon's words. Pathetic. Then he'd drive a burning pole into his chest, or claw down his forearm, or set demonic fire to him, all while wearing that smirk. A few too many times that he'd been pushed over the edge.

Then it ticked. This wasn't Leon. There was no Leon. Merely a figment of his imagination, coming back to haunt him. Yes. A cruel game his mind was playing on him. A hallucination designed to horrify. It was funny that he'd been fooled by such a ploy. Hahaha. A chuckle escaped his lips as he began to clamber shakily to his feet. He glanced around the ball. No Leon. It was all just a... game...

"Come to me," he commanded, his voice but a whisper. The shards floated up towards his outstretched hands, gathering as an orb atop them. Back to practise.

Now outside the ballroom, Leon began to ascend. He'd try again. He had to pull up higher this time, give himself plenty of time to pull out his wings once more.

He circled the ballroom once. In about 5 minutes, Leon was preparing for a second shot. He flew high above the ballroom, so far level. As he passed over the end of the roof, he calculated about how long he should let himself drop before leveling again. 4 seconds later, he went into another nosedive. This time he pulled up much sooner. Too soon. He ended up level with the roof now and for a moment he considered simply pulling up and trying again. He would begin to fall once he pulled his wings back in though and figured this would account for the error.

To adjust, he retracted his wings a bit earlier than he had before, so he would lower a bit more. This was the tactic he'd have to get used to, adjusting to height as well as speed an angle on a whim. It would be a bit tough, but he was sure he'd get the hang of it.

Leon planted the phase spell and aimed his body to go through it. This time around, he cleared the balcony rail with no effort, however he came in dangerously close to the ceiling and felt his back grazing it. This attempt was also a failure. He was quickly losing his forward momentum, but was close to the ceiling to be able to release his wings. By the time he had enough space to do this, his angle would be too steep to rise again without flapping, and that wasn't a good idea indoors. Being too low didn't work. Being too high didn't work. He had to be at just the right height for it to work.

Once he'd lowered a bit from the ceiling, he summoned his wings, but kept them close, lowering to the floor more gently than he had earlier. Once his feet were on the ground, he fully extended his wings up behind him before retracting them. He waited a moment then turned to look behind him, only to find that Owen was still there. He kept his expression neutral as he waited for the other boy to make any kind of action.

The orb of shards that Owen had gathered above his hand differed slightly from the first. Instead of being, smooth, calm and seamless, its movements had started to become erratic and irregular. Its shape was distorted and the tiny shards would occasionally chink together. In every sense of it, it seemed it was almost out of control. But if Owen had at all noticed the odd way the mirror was behaving, his expression didn't change at all to signify it.

A wide, joyless grin spread across his face. Practise. That's what he needed. Just a little practise, then he'd be able to tackle anybody, even his worst nightmares. Then he looked towards the bar, and the few green bottles that remained standing. "Destroy 'em," he commanded. Almost immediately, like tiny, sharp, torpedoes, they fired directly towards the bottles... and missing entirely. It wasn't as if Owen had lost concentration during this, and he stared in disbelief as some merely stuck into the wooden table, some meaninglessly attacked the wall and some just dropped to the floor as if they forgot that they were attacking at all.

"Destroy them!" he ordered again, raising his voice. Almost reluctantly, the shards would pick themselves up before zooming off again - in entirely different directions. To the ceiling, to the opposite wall - anywhere but the designated area. Until finally, one stray shard inadvertently sped in the correct direction, and finally stabbed straight through one bottle with a loud shatter. A smirk twitched at his lips. Good enough.

It was then he noticed another shape land yet again within the ballroom. His instincts screamed at him to flee yet again, and despite being poised to run, he remained still. Frozen. Staring at his enemy. Because, after all, he was merely an illusion of the mind, a revisiting nightmare. He wasn't real. Because if it was Leon, then wouldn't he have tried to tear him apart already? Burn his flesh or something? The real Leon wouldn't merely just leave him alone.

Owen didn't hesitate for a moment. He raised his arm, pointing directly at Leon, his voice raised. "Stab that bastard through the---" He cut himself off. The shards didn't move from their scattered positions. Owen noticed something a little odd about his supposed figment of his imagination. His face was... well... completely messed up. The new sight left him baffled, and the boy could merely stand and stare at the demon, stark bewilderment showing plainly on his expression.

Leon remained expressionless. Who was Owen talking to? Who was he trying to order? He paid the boy's baffled expression no mind. His burns, his bloodshot eye? He'd stopped caring. He'd prefer red over white the white he'd seen in the mirror anyway. If Owen got some sense of joy out of seeing him like this, whatever.

What was Owen even doing here? In an empty ballroom? Had he run out of places to sulk already? Leon couldn't count on Owen to keep his cool though. With this thought alone, Leon could feel the anger building in his chest. Why did Owen have to be so weak? He was sick and tired of Owen, and he just wanted him gone. He didn't want to deal with him, didn't want to have to see his face. He wanted him out of the ballroom.

Leon did manage to keep the anger from showing on his marred face though. He pocketed his hands, maintaining an air of calm. "What are you looking at?"

The boy only continued to stare intrusively at the other boy, brown eyes peering at the gruesome details of his marred face. What had happened? Subconciously, he felt his arm arm raising to the right side of his own face. Where a similar devastation had occoured. A new game his mind was playing? To mar Leon's face so freakishly like his own? Was he meant to be scared? Happy? Owen, still not sure what he was meant to be feeling about this new scenario, merely looked on blankly until Leon's voice broke his thoughts.

He couldn't stop himself from flinching at merely hearing that voice - not that he'd forgotten the sound of it resonating within his mind, but that it sounded just that many times worse in real-- No! He wasn't real. How could he possibly forget?

"Nothing," he delayedly chuckled, not even laughing at anything at all. "You're not even there." Deliberately turning his back towards him, he outstretched both arms, murmuring a command under his breath. The shards began to lift theirselves up from their various positions in the room, drifting through the air towards the boy, where they'd float above his hands. Though, even despite his confidence that there was no Leon, a shiver owuld still crawl up his spine. It was a signal that he tried to ignore, but couldn't resist peeking over his shoulder anyway.

"You don't s..scare me." It was questionable whether he was speaking to himself or to the demon.

"Is that a fact?" There was more he could have said, but he didn't want to instigate any further. Besides, if Owen felt that the best way to avoid starting up any trouble was to trick himself into believing that Leon wasn't there in the first place, then it was for the better. Didn't he himself use a similar method half the time?

Leon couldn't quite make out what Owen had said, but he did see the glass shards accumulate around Owens hand. Looking back to the floor, he noticed the shards he'd looked into earlier were gone. It seemed Owen had gained a new ability... A part of him wondered if Owen had somehow been responsible for what he'd seen in the glass earlier..

He raised a brow at Owen's last statement. Well it was about time he said it. It was about time Leon was able to feel even the slightest hint of respect for the other boy. "Good." Maybe he could practice in relative peace regardless of Owen's presence.

Leon made his way to the wall on the courtyard side of the ballroom. He put a hand on the wall and focused on forming another phase spell, getting a feel for how much energy he had left.. Maybe he had a few more solid tries left in him. At least one more. He dropped through the spelling, pulling himself into the air for another attempt.

This time, Leon came in at a more ideal height on the balcony side, though still a bit on the low side. He was able to clear the balcony rail with only some trouble and was definitely low enough from the ceiling to release his wings again. He kept them close, only using them to continue forward and prevent himself from dropping too soon. He still continued to lower though, his momentum waning.

The first half of this exercise had become second nature. Gather momentum, pull in wings, cast. Now he'd forgotten its purpose in the first place, attempting to cast while his wings were still out. By the time he realized it wouldn't work he was to close to the other wall to try again and had to pull back on his wings to keep from crashing into it altogether. Instead he softened the blow and used his wings to lower himself back to the floor slowly.

Of course it was a fact. Owen was undeniably certain that it was - in fact, so certain, that he was inclined to believe that Leon hadn't spoken at all. Just a voice in his head. An annoying voice. If he ignored it, it would go away.

He turned his concentration back towards the floating shards, which were all waiting still before him, waiting for his next command. He checked over his shoulder once more - no Leon - and with a smirk, continued his practise. "Attack the bottles," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room.

But they remained floating above their hands, and peering closely, he could see that they were beginning to merge together again. He could see a face in the reflection, staring back at him with sullen, leering eyes. It wasn't his.

Leon.

"Piss off!" The words sent the shards splintering and collapsing to the ground. Oh, it was clever. Jabbing at his sanity like that. But he was fine, and he wasn't about to let some stupid mirror get the better of him - magical or not.

But just then, he heard another noise near him, and he whipped his head around to find, to no surprise, Leon standing there. By now, he'd grown sick of that sight to a phenomenal degree. Ignoring wouldn't work, of course it didn't. When did it ever work? It only called for one action.

"Leave. Me. Alone!" The words were practically growled as the shards rose into the air again, flinging themselves at the boy. Yet, their course seemed slightly crooked. If Leon remained standing exactly where he was, the shards would miss. By an inch.

Leon wasn't going to pay Owen any mind. It seemed to him that Owen was content to simply pretend he wasn't there. If that was the case, then Leon was perfectly fine doing the same. After all, that's all he really wanted at this point. He wanted to just leave him the hell alone. He was perfectly capable of peaceful coexistence with the boy as long as did that one thing, or rather did nothing.

He looked over his shoulder as Owen spoke though, and his eyebrows creased at the words. He hadn't done anything to him. He hadn't a damn thing. What was Owen fuming over? His widened just a bit as he watched the shards of glass hurtle towards him. He raised his hands in front of him, entwining his finger in a way which he naturally expected to provide him with more power and control to his energy. The Guardian Spell was uttered aloud, translating literally to 'guardian of the spirit'. However, his spell failed, having forgotten that it would no longer work as long as he had his out. Though he could feel the energy collecting in his veins, the barrier failed to materialize.

The glass missed him though, by pure chance or perhaps it was Owen's clumsiness. Either way, it was now a definite that Owen had gained a new ability. The ability to manipulate glass, was it? Well, he could certainly see the merit in having such an ability now. It wasn't something he felt like dealing with right now. He had been spending energy all day. He didn't need to get angry right now. It would be difficult for him to defend himself if he let this go any further.

Leon kept his expression blank. What was it Owen had said earlier? "Calm down, Owen. I'm not here, remember?" He did wonder if Owen had actually lost his mind, if he actually believed that the demon wasn't really there in front of him. All the better if he didn't. He pulled his wings in, and casted a phase spell on the wall behind him. He backed through it and let his wings take over once he was on the verge of falling out.

The first half of his stunt was done once more, automatically. He had aim and height down pat by now. Once inside though, he stopped himself, bringing his feet in front him to catch himself on the railing of the balcony. Owen was playing with glass down there. The thought crossed his mind that he should just go somewhere else. If a stray shard of glass managed to clip one of his wings, Leon knew himself well enough to realize that he would definitely lose his temper.

As the shards missed their target, Owen simply stared, frozen. He was right, he wasn't there. He wasn't there at all. In fact, he seemed to disappear before his very eyes... he was gone.

His heart, however, did not stop pounding inside his chest. Something was still desperately wrong. Even if Leon was just a figment of his imagination, it didn't mean that he was going to leave him alone. He was going to come back and haunt him; again and again and again. He was gone now, but he'd return. He always did.

Owen found himself unable to rest his mind long enough to continue his practise, in fact, he merely kept looking around the room as if expecting the demon to appear at any moment. The shards, which had been thrown to the other side of the room, gathered theirselves up again and drifted towards Owen, floating nearby and awaiting his command.

Hearing a noise, he looked up to find Leon perched upon the railing. Brows creasing, he couldn't help but tug at his own hair. "Why'd you always hafta come back?!" There was the distinct sense of desperation in his voice. "You just...!" He jabbed an accusatory finger at him. "You just wanna see me hurt, and then you'll be happy, won't you, you sick freak!"

He stretched his right arm to the side, to which a singular shard of the mirror flicked out and sped towards it. There was the sound of ripping as it tore through the clothing on his upper arm. Moments later, a very visible, red gash had appeared.

His gaze was cold as he stared. "Are you happy now?"

Leon looked over the railing and down on the boy on the lower level. The hint of desperation in his voice assured him ever further that Owen was truly losing his mind. Once again he found himself wondering what it was Jami saw in this in that mass of flesh and bone that dared call itself an intelligent life form. Leon merely shook his head disappointingly.

He reacted quickly as the glass shards began to move though, releasing his wings and preparing to leap off the balcony in one direction or another. When he saw that the glass wasn't coming towards him however, he relaxed. His wings came to hover just over his shoulders, his position perched up on the balcony making him look similar to a gargoyle. He shook his head again.

"I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything." He kept his voice calm, simply stating the two true facts. The thought occurred to Leon that he really didn't have to say or do anything. His presence alone was enough make Owen uncomfortable. Well, guess what, the school wasn't that big. Leon wasn't going to spend the rest of his stay here carefully avoiding this kid, nor should he be expected to. He'd avoid a confrontation as long as Owen himself didn't do anything to directly instigate it. One thing he wouldn't do, is allow Owen to make any sort of attack on him, this was also something that shouldn't be expected of him.

The sting of the wound was drowned out by Owen's everlasting hatred for the boy on the balcony. The cut was long, but it was neither deep nor deadly, though the red that poured might make it appear otherwise. However, his stare didn't waver once from the boy - until he spoke.

Didn't say anything. Didn't do anything. Just how did that answer his question? He may as well have added 'yet' at the end of his words. But it wasn't what Owen asked at all.

"I said," he started, his tone filled with spite, "are you happy?"

And it didn't just apply to now. Was Leon happy with what he'd done? What he'd reduced him to? Every jab, every twist at his dignity. Was he pleased with himself? Did it make him feel better to know that there were always others more pathetic than him? His expression revealed little of the anger that festered within.

The shards floated behind him, ready for his command.

Leon didn't much care for the deeper meaning in the question, not even bothering to make note of it. He didn't care about generalities anyway. He just knew that right now in this moment he'd done nothing to incite Owen to hurt himself, and if anybody asked, that's what he would say. What's passed has passed. It was old news.

Leon eyed the glass shards hovering just behind Owen. He resisted the urge to shake his head, keeping his disapproval from showing on his face. He shifted positions, now sitting on the balcony rail rather then perched on top of it. It was inoffensive position, hopefully showing Owen that the demon had no intentions of becoming aggressive.

"Why do you ask? My happiness means nothing to you." Or at least it shouldn't. "Are you happy?" It was almost a rhetorical question, obviously he wasn't. Of course, he didn't much care for Owen's happiness either, but he was still hoping to get an answer.

Leon kept his wings close. Though he himself wasn't planning to become aggressive, it looked like Owen was.

Owen wasn't one to take in subtle hints like poise - it was irrelevant in comparison to what thoughts dwelt in the horrible demon's mind. But at his offensively stupid question, Owen had to stop himself from yelling outright. Directing his anger into tightening his fists, he stared Leon down, like a bull that was moments from charging.

Did Leon think he was being clever, dancing around the question like some ballerina? Tiptoeing around it like it were a landmine? Was he scared of it? He probably thought he was being so smart right now, answering a question with not just one, but two other questions. Pretending that he knew what his intentions were. Well he didn't. He'd never understood.

Owen didn't even bother in answering him. It was just one thing he wanted to know. One stupid, easy thing.

"Answer the f**king question."

The shards twitched, increasingly irritable.

For a moment Leon just looked at Owen. Long enough for one to think that he was just not going to say anything. He was seriously considering the question though. "Am I happy?" He spoke up only to let Owen know that he was actually considering the question, then went quiet again as he though about how exactly to word his answer.

The question wasn't specific enough. Owen didn't clarify if he meant right this moment or in general, though Leon felt like it was a bit of both. Regardless, because Owen didn't specify this, that meant Leon was free to choose which he wanted to answer. Right this moment he wasn't happy at all. Probably because of Owen's incessant need to start trouble with him when he wasn't doing a damn thing to offend him. This kid needed help. In general, the answer was the same though. How could he be happy while he still at this stupid school or while this stupid kid was still causing trouble? How could he be happy when his powers had just been capped and his face had been marred?

Leon looked back at Owen and the glass shards hovering behind him. There were a dozen different wrong ways to answer the question. If he simply said yes then it would make him sadistic, tell Owen that all he wanted was for him to be hurt. If he said no, then Owen it think it meant he wasn't happy yet, but that he would be if Owen hurt himself even more. Right now, Owen was so volatile that he'd take either answer the wrong way. There had to be a right answer though.

"No. Happiness is for the future. I will be happy. Will you?" Leon had always subscribed to this philosophy. He always ceded to the fact that he hadn't actually lived an enjoyable life in the past 30 years. He could live later though. He lived for the future.

On the chance that Leon had already forgotten what was asked of him, Owen opened his mouth, prepared to repeat the question yet again, when he finally spoke up. At last, it looked like he was actually going to get an answer. Though from the amount of time he was taking with it, Owen could sense that the answer probably wasn't going to be as straightforward as he wanted it to be.

It's all he wanted. A straight 'yes' or 'no' answer. No fence-sitting, no pandering. Honest and simple.
And when he did finally speak, Owen had to pause to consider his answer. Oh, those words alone could be interpreted in so many different ways. So he wasn't happy now... but when would he be? What did he want? He squinted. Was it that he hadn't demolished his dignity enough? Did he want more?

Of course he did. This was Leon.

"You don't... d-deserve to be," he mumbled off-handedly to himself, eyes flickering towards the floor. He took long, if not just as long as Leon did mulling over the reflected question. And soon, he realised that for as long as this wretched being continued evade the eyes of Karma, he'd never obtain his peace of mind. True, his face had been marred, but it was far from beyond recognition. But even then, Leon still seemed to hold the same high and mighty attitude that he'd had just before, like it had barely even affected him beyond the appearance. And he knew that it'd take little more than a papercut to himself before he harboured feelings of guilt and self depreciation. The unfairness of it made him want to scream.

"I.... I will..." He trailed off numbly, eyes avoiding the demon's. "...never be happy." And with just that, he abruptly turned away. His anger faded, his head bowed too low to catch a glimpse of his expression. He broke out in a full-on sprint towards the nearest door, shards following in a spiral-like single file after him. He could not stand another minute here.

((If Leon does not make any attempt to stop him, then assume that Owen leaves.))

Leon continued to look towards Owen with a blank expression. He had a sense of insecurity at the length it took Owen to respond and he began to consider whether it was the right thing to say or not. Knowing Owen, he'd likely find some way to twist his words into something they were not. In fact, that's probably what he was doing now, looking for some way to give his words a darker meaning.

He didn't want to have to defend them though. That was the purpose in considering them for so long. Owen wouldn't listen anyway. Owen's words when he finally did speak were the absolute truth though. Leon was a demon both figuratively and metaphorically. There were a lot of people who didn't think he deserved to be happy, not that he felt their opinions changed anything to begin with.

Owen was just going to keep running away, and that was going to solve nothing. Once the boy turned his back on him, he extended his wings and dropped from the balcony, wasting precious seconds in an attempt to keep it silent and prevent Owen from mistaking it as an attack. Once on the same level as the boy, he retracted his wings.

He took another second to consider just how he should say what he wanted to say. He didn't want to just run away, in fact, he was surprised by how far out of his way he was going for this. There were things he had to say to Owen, and he didn't want the boy to leave until they were said.

He settled for a tone that wasn't but was loud enough to hopefully catch Owen's attention. "I still have another question for you." He didn't wait for Owen to respond this time, not with the chance that he would just ignore him and keep running. "What do you actually want?"

The door was barely within his reach, yet at the same time, it was so far away. Within seconds, he'd be out of there, away from Leon, delaying the inevitable tormenting that would have surely arrived. He'd be within the comfort of his own dorm again, locking away his worries until another day...

Except that didn't happen. He'd stopping running. That voice, as grating as it was, seemed to have rooted him to the spot for a moment more. ...What did he want?

Shards slowed down to yet another standstill as he paused in thought. Why did Leon want to know anyway? He certainly couldn't see him be willing to do him any favours - he'd made that fact pretty clear throughout the past year. He glanced over his shoulder at the figure that stood just underneath the balcony.

"What I want," he started, "is for you to just... piss off. You and your fuckin' prissy wings and your stupid face. Why is that so hard for you to get?"

Why bother waiting for a reply if all he was going to get was some snarky comeback?
But he waited anyway. Curiosity killed him.

Good, he'd stopped. Leon had had just about enough of this too. How hard was it to get an annoying human kid to leave you alone?

Leon began to walk towards Owen, not too quickly not too slowly, not intending to intimidate or threaten. "That's all you want? Really?" The question was asked doubtfully. He'd tried that already. It hadn't worked. "Well, believe me I'd love to get off this stupid island and out of your hair for good at the first possible chance, but I can't."

Leon stopped walking once he was just a few feet away from the boy. "I get the feeling that's not all you want anyway, though." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So, next?"

Unsurprisingly, Owen was wary of Leon as he started to approach. Whether he'd seen trudging with a butcher's knife or a skipping with bunch of flowers made no difference; Leon was not to be trusted.

He sneered plainly at his words. Lies lies lies. If he wanted to leave, he could just go. He had wings, he could fly away. But instead, he chose to personally haunt him constantly, just lingering around every corner, always watching...

He seemed determined to know his inner secrets - for what purpose? Mockery? He snorted, still trying to maintain some impressive sense of arrogance. And then he actually thought about the question...

'What do you want to be when you grow up, Owen?'
As a kid, he easily could've answered this question. He wanted to be a rockstar maybe, or a motorcyclist, or a superhero, even. But now, in retrospect, all of these ambitions just looked... stupid. Pointless. Impossible.
There was nothing else that came to mind as he thought. No goal that he could ever hope to achieve, at least not without being hideously optimistic about it.

Finally, he spoke.
"I don't know."
No bitter undertones, no anger. Just a blank faced look.

The sneer wasn't much appreciated. As if Owen didn't believe him. The stupid kid didn't realize that that was all Leon even wanted for himself at the moment.

Just the amount of time Owen was taking to answer the question was enough to tell him that the boy was severely overthinking it. He'd thought the answer should have been obvious. Hell, he thought he had been leading Owen to the answer. He was just too thick. He'd expected too much. That seemed to happen a lot when it came to Owen.

Leon raised a single brow. "You don't know? So you don't want to see me get what's coming to me?" He gave a slight scoff. "I thought the idea of revenge would appeal to you, Owen."

Revenge? Now that the thought crossed his mind, a contemplative look took over his face. There was no denying that he had wanted to see Leon perish. He had wanted, more than anything, to wipe that smug little smirk off his face. Permanently. He’d wanted him to sink lower than Owen had ever sank before. To suffer as he had did. And from time to time, he’d wishfully daydream of his comeuppance, the day when justice when finally delivered.

Yet now… as he looked at him, with his mutilated face, Owen could feel no such satisfaction. Sure, it was a nasty, painful looking sight, yet Owen felt almost apathetic to it. Like he didn’t even care.

And he had been realizing over this course of time that what he truly wanted was forever out of reach. That it was stupid to express any sort of hope in it any longer. He’d failed far more times than he’d even tried. Simply put, Leon was never going to get what was coming to him.

Ever.

“What’s the point,” he flatly remarked. “You’d just get your own back.”
His gaze avoiding Leon, he squinted angrily. “I’m not a monster like you anyway.”