Arturo Christobel DeGari's Story

When it came to newcomers, excitement usually got the better of Kyle a majority of the time. And when it did, he usually got frowned upon and either scolded, got awkward glances, or received extremely blunt and verbal grunts of disgust. Everyone was different so each reaction was painfully and awfully unique, but that never stopped him from his bubbly first impressions.

With Kyle's first misconception of Silas' name, he half expected him to be long and lanky with all sorts of imperfections and oddities about him, like some sort of unfruitful vine. And he was half right, he supposed. He certainly was tall...er. Taller. Taller than him. Was that considered tall? As soon as the man had laid eyes on him, Kyle's beaming personality burst through his shining teeth in his toothy grin. He took good care of his teeth, unlike his hair. He didn't want to seem like he was decaying anymore than he probably did. And yellow teeth and bad breathe wouldn't help his case. The case that he wasn't falling apart that is. Because he wasn't, honestly. He couldn't even remember the last time something came off of him.

Well, that was a lie, because he remembered the time he was dismembered. He just didn't actually see it though, so he supposed that was the last time something came off of him. And he hoped nothing would come off of him again.

Kyle remained where he was, even after Silas managed a hello to him through the door. But he didn't stay long after Pell invited him inside in which Kyle pulled himself into the doorway. About to step inside, a warm sensation ran through his hair, and with brows furrowed, the blonde turned quickly to the student who walked past him. He should have known. But once he was done, and Aden sat himself on the bed beside the purple haired, fair young lady, Kyle scurried his way into the room, shifting his weight between his uneven legs starring at the man. His smile only faded slightly as he observed him with impatient eyes. He waved his hand in a short fit of rambunctiousness, but his hands quickly grasped each other, playing with one another like some sort of game.

He looked very different than the other witches here at the school, and Kyle didn't particularly know what to think about it. And thus far, he acted a little different too. Still not knowing what to think. But he liked it. At least he thought he did. "Hi." He finally managed to say, holding out his left hand, which was usually less disturbing than his mix and matched right hand. "I'm Kyle." He's perfected that introduction. Kyle did try his best after all to seem like he can communicate normally, no matter how frustrating it was. And since he says it so much, the line, along with a few other phrases and instructions, had started to come naturally to him. Now all he had to do was do that with... just about everything else. "Silas?" His head quirked to the side ever so slightly as he pointed to the man himself. He hoped he said it right.

Glancing over his shoulder at Pell with his quirky, scarred lips still pulled into an enthusiastic smile, he listened to her call to Jacqueline who he had just passed in the hall, then make a small announcement about grocery shopping. Something Kyle didn't like to do much of. Again, the faces and disgust usually got him flustered, and that wasn't a good thing by any means. Kyle merely shook his head, looking at Pell but hand still stuck out to Silas.

Though, one would have thought there was some sort of party going on in the room, because it wasn't long before yet another person entered the room. And with every party, there was a party crasher. Kyle's smile melted away like ice in the sun and his discoloured eyes looked away from the man in the doorway. Eyebrow's twitching between raised and furrowed, Kyle stayed still like a statue until the man's request was complete. Once it rung through the air, the young man returned his gaze to Silas, bringing up another friendly smile onto his face.

"Tour?" The poor guy probably needed some help getting around. People usually did.

Jacqueline watched as the students came and went. Not a word uttered, she was odd that way, despite how her appearance was, she was like a spider, beautiful yet terrifying, and silence and patience.
”Jax!”
A grin twerked up her the edge of her lips. Pell. She turned and made her way into Pell’s room where a few people had already gathered. Jacqueline smiled at the others, soft but wolfish. ”Oui?” She answered her lavander haired cousin. “Wanna’ run into town with me? Last minute shopping shit for Ceremony. ‘Sides, kinda’ want to scale that new boutique, corner store, thing.”Pell asked in her sweet country twang.
Jacqueline mused over this, it was their off day and while she would likely have gone off to study some place, she wouldn’t mind an outing. She loved the French quarter and wouldn’t mind seeing it.
“Certainly.” She said with a shrug, her accent making each syllable more pronounced. "Aden!" Pell spoke suddenly and Jacqueline merely arched an eyebrow. She swore sometimes her cousin had the attention span of a three year old, "He's new. Don't be such a bitch." Jacqueline snickered as she walked inside, leaning against the wall now. “And, I could use a really freaking stiff drink,” Pell added and Jacqueline cocked her head. “Don’ you t’ink it’s a bit early for dz’at?” She asked her incredulously. Not that Pell was listening to her, as her attention was back on Aden again and went on about cigarettes.
Jacqueline much preferred the smell of burning sage then burning tobacco, her gaze wondered then to the blonde boy and the dashing fellow he was speaking to. Curiosity was building in her mind as she gazed at them but it faded quickly as there was knock at the door behind her before it opened.
Arturo Degari, a lovely piece of man who reeked of magic appeared.
" Good Afternoon everyone. Would you mind either putting those cigarettes out or stepping outside with them. Cigarettes both stink the house and are a fire hazard we don't want the school burning down do we?" He suggested, though it was more of a command.
She turned her eyes to him, allowing her gaze to travel slowly up his body.
“It is like telling a fish not to swim.” She told him only her head turning toward him. “Or a wolf not to ‘owl.” She added with a sensual grin. It was a shame he was Fiona’s play thing, Jacqueline would have nothing more than to see who much of an animal he really was. “You shouldn’t waste your breat’ on t'e meaningless, Mon'ami”

Lazarus rolled around in bed for a while, trying to sleep. He had slept all day prior to going to the school. It was surprising, actually, that he couldn't shut his eyes. Most of his days consisted of eating, drinking, and sleeping, with the occasional working on natural medicinal concoctions. He would need to work or off some energy first before sleep or at least stay up a bit longer, maybe check out the house a bit.

This place is weird, Lazarus kept thinking as he looked around, especially at the portraits. Not so much because it was a coven, Lazarus was from an old European House, which was as weird as it came, but because the coven was trying to mask itself as a normal boarding school. It was doing a poor job of appealing as normal school to other witches or even hunters. Especially with its long list of supremes hanging on the walls. In Europe there were versions of supremes in every coven, eventually answering to a grand supreme in either the west or the east. However, none were nearly as powerful as Fiona Good. This coven was renowned for power as well as a history of power vacuums during times of instability. That's just the way the American covens were though.

As he continued to walk around, Laz heard a lot of sound coming from one of the dorm rooms. Upon walking in front of the opened door room he found a ton of students inside. There were three that caught his attention particularly. The boy he had seen on the balcony prior to entering the house, a blonde guy who looked as sluggish as the dead, and an attractive beige skinned girl with gorgeous hazel eyes.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room?" He asked the group of people.

Jacqueline watched her maudlin cousin storm out of her own room, just as the dark haired boy entered. She sighed heavly. It didn't take much to set Pell off, it never has and there were countless times Jacqueline run off after her before she did something foolish, but quite frankly, Jacqueline wasn't sure she was up to the task at the moment, she gotten very little sleep, which made for very little patience. Arturo put her in a nasty mood, and while she meant to met up with her to shop, she wasn't about to do it at the moment, not until she calmed a bit.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room? The dark haired boy asked and Jacqueline looked at him.

"You must be new." She mused aloud. He was a handsome one, a dark sort of handsome that got girls in trouble. Not unlike Arturo, only as far as Jacqueline was concerned, this lad was accessible and not soaked in magic.

"Dz'is be my cousin's room, now dz'at she's gone, I suggest everyone who does not live 'ere. Vacate. comme maintenant" She said and the tone on her voice, whether they all spoke French or not, told them she meant, 'Like now.'

She gestured to the door before walking out herself. "I am Jacqueline by dz'e way." She said offering her hand to the new boy. " Jacqueline Lavaeu-Ayers. My friends call me, Jacq" She told him.

To Silas's knowledge, he had been called a "freak" to his face exactly three times in his lifetime(Auntie Lavinia always hinted that there had been another, but he hadn't the foggiest idea when that could have been and she certainly wasn't talking). The first had been as a child in the distant memory of Baltimore. A neighbor boy had given him a once-over, judged his little suit and matching cravat poorly, and had thrown the word like a casual bullet- unthinkingly and painful (His mother had refused to make him apologize, tossing out a casual "boys will be boys" cliche. The verbal lashing his aunt had given them- the boy, the mother, and her husband when he eventually came out to see what the ruckus was- has been said to linger over their previous neighborhood as a warning to all disrespectful parents). The second had been an older woman at one of his aunt's parties, too drunk to censor herself (she was never seen within their social circle again). The third, distressingly enough, had been the first date he'd ever been on (a girl, much to the general public's shock), apparently distressed by his refusal to hold hands and the vague, "freaky vibe" he gave off.

Those are, of course, only instances where he's been told he was a freak or, if people were feeling more charitable, was acting like one. The instances where he knew that was what people were thinking, well, he'd quickly lost track of those. They'd been more frequent in Baltimore and sporadic throughout his young adult-hood. Strange looks, leaning away, round-about comments, and pinched facial expressions- yes, he'd become quite the connoisseur. So, that was why he could say with some certainty that he had already made an extremely poor first impression with his roommate and her collection of friends.

Pell was kind about it- really, she was, especially since he hadn't given his own avoidance of skin-to-skin contact the gravity it deserved when slipping on his gloves. And, really, when had telling someone not be be offended ever really work? Her friend with the cigarette, Aden as Silas would later learn from Pell's scoffed reprimand, was decidedly less so. He descended like a particularly rude crow, all black clothes and tattooed flesh, sweeping into the room with a self-assured swagger that Silas was slightly envious of. Silas shifted stiffly on his bed, partially due to the heat (the air conditioning was slowly soothing that ailment right now, although he could feel the sweat cooling unpleasantly under his clothing) and partially due to the general discomfort that was being Silas in a house full of new people. Of course he was for real, Silas thought quite uncharitably, because he hardly thought that anyone would still be wearing a suit in this weather if they weren't terribly committed to being themselves. Or maybe this was more hazing, a more gentle approach than Madison's verbally violent tirade.

There were more people now, apparently materializing into existence since he'd seen none of them during his initial arrival. There was another girl, exceedingly pretty like many of the girls here but in a different way that the fae-like Pell and apparently provocatively testing the boundaries of decency in her outfit. Silas averted his eyes on instinct when her eyes flickered over to him, hands clasped together tightly in his lap as the beginnings of a blush dusted his cheeks. It was probably the way she moved that did it, aware of how she looked and embracing it bodily. Her arrival was followed by a broad and casual invitation from Pell, something about Ceremony meals and boutiques to drag the straggling students out into town.

Before anyone could answer, another person, a man in all senses of the word with a mix of height and muscles that would have sent Auntie Lavinia's female friends into a flurry of tittering giggles and fanning motions. Definitely not a student, Silas decided as the man leveled a casual warning about cigarette smoke on those in the room (good on him for that because the only foul smelling smoke he'd ever gotten used to was his Aunt's incense). And, really, was everyone here a model or something? Silas found himself craving the presence of Ms. Snow's, his aunt, his prior social circle, all attractive in their own, unique way, in a way that he was used to, and in a way didn't make him feel like a gangly mess in nice clothes that were starting to wrinkle from a long day of traveling.

Okay, perhaps they weren't all model-like, he was forced to admit when their first guest (the only one for both himself and Pell if only because the others seemed intent on ignoring him or, in the case of Aden, poking at him) finally spoke. But even he was admittedly attractive if in a slightly raggedy-andy sort of way. He finally spoke amidst the chaos of people apparently using his new room as a social hot-spot, words slow-coming and simple, gestures applied in such a way that this could easily be a silent pantomime and Silas still would have understood the implications. It wasn't really off-putting and Silas found himself standing once again, moving to shake the other boy's hand. Perhaps it was desperation on his part, but the very fact that he'd met someone who seemed genuinely glad that he was here and not simply tolerant or curious was one of the highlights of his week let alone his day.

"Yes, I'm Silas. I'm very delighted to meet you, Kyle," He said, the same enthusiasm that had been dramatically tamped down by Madison's verbal lashing, Pell's casually cool demeanor, and the general attitudes of his new classmates bubbling back to the surface. The handshake was far less awkward that his greeting with Pell if only because the gloves were already on his hands and he didn't look like a particularly insane and paranoid germaphobe.

There was a moment when Kyle's smile and friendly gaze died on his face leaving Silas confused and a bit weary- had it been something that he'd done?- before it reappeared, much to Silas's relief. The offer of a tour was a ray of sunshine during a dreary day, a way to find out about the place he would be staying and, alternatively, an excuse not to tag along with the town outing. It wasn't that he didn't like Pell, no, she was a very lovely person as was everyone here probably, but he didn't want to try her her patience by tagging along like a particularly lost puppy, a responsibility rather than a friend to pal around with at this point.

"Yes, please," he replied, smile growing larger in his relief. "I'd love a tour."

Oh, bother, and now there was someone else in their room, another Adonis-like man sweeping in with a line so casually fitting the situation that Silas was left with lingering traces of envy. And then no one was putting out their cigarettes which was a shame, really, and left Silas wanting to inch towards the window and crack it open just a bit (either that or pull out one of the incense sticks or scented candles Auntie Lavinia had stashed away in his luggage). He might have too if it weren't for the fact that the curtains were on fire. Well, were on fire in the past tense. Right now they were just ash on the floor.

The room went silent, the cacophony of predominantly Southern voices fading. The only movement in the room was Pell, sucking on her cigarettes before letting the noxious fumes flow into the only real adult in the room's face before crushing the burning stick in her hands. Silas could practically smell the singed flesh it left behind as Pell sashayed from the room, a purse in her unhurt hand and a lingering jab. To say that he was stunned wouldn't be fair- he'd seen far worse from people he knew far better, but he was left in a bit of a daze. This entire day had left him in a bit of a daze, this entire week as well. And now his roommate, arguably the person he knew best at this point, had somehow incinerated their curtains and left her gaggle of acquaintances and friends in their shared room without a second glance.

The only other girl in the room, the only one to have truly been invited in apart from Kyle, quickly ordered everyone out (most likely to follow after Pell on her trek into town) and if Silas had been more comfortable in the situation or knew her any better he would have thanked her heartily for saying what he didn't have the courage to say himself. But he didn't know her and her attention was on prettier prizes than Silas.

He had three choices now, that much was clear. One, he could hide in his room until he couldn't anymore. Two, he could follow Pell and probably the crowd into the world outside in search of new curtains. Or, three, he could see if the only person he trusted to not either leave him stranded somewhere or lock him in a closet for fun was still up for that tour and, if not, go with plan two. And if that didn't work, plan one still existed.

"I don't suppose," He said, words a little abrupt at first before he finally shook off the last remnants of surprise, "I can still have that tour?" He turned to Kyle, eyes full of hope like a puppy begging for scraps.

Life was an exciting thing for the Spencer boy. Just about as exciting as the sun washing the rain away on a gloomy day. Anything that had an ounce of the altering substance almost always brought the widest grin on his face. But what usually pushed him over the top into bubbly giggles was when a bunch of it was all together at once. And seeing as the academy wasn't the most social of places, it was a rare sight to see when one observed more than three students together in the same vicinity, let along interacting. No matter how rebellious it was. All the talk and murmurs and walking in and out replaced Kyle's introductory smile with a beaming grin. It was all so precious, and Kyle was exceptionally glad that Silas got to experience it all first hand. Because until ceremony, there wasn't a very good chance this "party" would happen again.

But Kyle was often times oblivious to just how cruel some statements or judgements could be. Most of the time, sarcasm flew right over his scarred head and it never came back, and unless their judgements were worn on their faces, Kyle never actually noted opinions are sass until much later when contemplating the day's events. So at the moment, the undead really didn't actually realize how destructive the group could have been to the poor newcomer. Kyle was used to their banter and petty fights after all. So when Silas stood up, confirming Kyle's original suspicions about the young man being tall, he didn't fully comprehend the man's desperateness to find something friendly to hold onto. He simply took it as excitement to be here, and Kyle was more than happy to see that he was.

And that he wasn't overly terrified of his appearance.

A major concern that the blonde always had when introducing himself to someone new, especially new to the academy, was that he might scare them away. Literally. His grotesque, Frankensteinian appearance never did an ounce of good when it came to first impressions, and more often than not it tampered with his otherwise friendly introductions. And Kyle didn't like it one bit. Usually by now, the scrunched up nose and the heavily creased eyebrows, which were often symptoms of disgust, usually were present on the unfamiliar face. If they hadn't already made an excuse to leave that is, making their way down the hall in a much too hasty manner. So it truly meant a lot to Kyle to see that someone was actually, dare he say it, excited to see him. And it only made his white toothy grin last that much longer.

Though Kyle would have preferred to actually shake the man's hand, not his glove. Gloves were good at holding in heat, but they were awful creations when it came to trying to gather it from the outside. That was always Kyle's favourite part of hand shakes. The warmth. Kyle could swear that people avoided contact with him like he was the personification of the plague. He may look it sometimes, but he wasn't at all, and no on knew just how infuriating it was to be that person that no one wanted to be around.

But maybe Silas had his reason to wear gloves. If Kyle produced any heat of his own, he too would invest in gloves, and wear them proudly he might add. But maybe Silas was cold too? He was wearing an awful lot of clothes compared to everyone else who always complained about the moist weather. The suit was nothing like the thick sweat Kyle wore, but it was still a lot to wear nonetheless. Was Silas dead? Kyle's duel coloured eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his gaze fixed onto his neck. Only if Kyle could read someone's pulse just by looking at them. That would make things so much easier.

Once the all too firm handshake was complete, so was Kyle's narrowed stare. He looked back into the gleeful and desperate hazel eyes of the man with a little too much longing in his own.

"Yes, I'm Silas. I'm very delighted to meet you, Kyle."

If once was clairvoyant, or if one could see the insides of someone's brain, on might be able to see or hear the ticking and turning clogs inside Kyle's head. It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly Silas had said, but Kyle was no genius, and words weren't exactly his specialty. He understood most of the phrase, and it made Kyle happy no less, but he was puzzled by one word that was placed directly in the middle of the sentence.

The tongue of the Spender boy visibly flicked inside his mouth as he attempted to silently mimic the word. But it was harder than it seemed. Delighted. He knew what that meant. Of course he did. He just needed a second. Did he have a second? Trying to put two and two together to make four, the pale skinned young man started replacing the difficult word with words he did know. Sad, tired, mad. No, none of those. Happy. That had to be it. No one could be upset to see someone with a smile like that on their face. Delighted equals happy. Okay. Put that into his mind dictionary.


Although the translation in his mind was slow, and his face slowly starts to become blank as he tried to think, the success of his understanding made him laugh with joy. Not only that but he was also glad that someone was actually happy to meet him. Or should he say delighted?

The commotion in the room that Kyle was overjoyed to see appeared to have drawn Silas' attention away from the matter at hand, despite him agreeing to allow him to show him around. Which Kyle didn't blame him. He was rather distracted too. The heat from the spontaneously combusted curtains were absorbed by his sweater in the best possibly way. He smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest to conserve it. Heat was a beautiful thing, was it not?

However, as quickly as this fire was sparked, it died just as so, ending it's prideful life in a pile of ashes and dust on the floor. One of which he'd probably have to clean up later. Kyle sighed softly. That's okay, he supposed. At least he got something from the poor pile of ashes. But now everyone appeared to be leaving. It was similar to the tides of the ocean the way that people piled in than swam out of places. But Jacq was right, after all. Kyle respected people's spaces, hence why he didn't enter the room until invited, and he didn't want to overstay his welcome, despite Pell no longer being present. Kyle didn't particularly like it when people entered his room unannounced, though that happened a lot quite frankly. But it would probably be worse if he had a roommate. But for violent reasons, he didn't have a roommate, and it was probably for the better.

As Kyle's narrowed mind started to wonder off it's path, Jacqueline made her announcement and short introduction, snapping Kyle out of his daze. His unbeating heart jolted in his chest as she offered his fragile hand to Lazarus, earning a smile from the zombie face passing by him. She really was elegant in everything she did, unlike the klutz of a blonde standing next to the pair. But it was nice to know that he wasn't forgotten in the midst of her ensnaring gestures, because Silas apparently remembered the tour that Kyle had offered a few moments prior.

Almost snapping his neck with the speed he turned to Silas, Kyle nodded vigorously. Why wouldn't he? They might have to leave the room, but that doesn't mean he wasn't up for it. It was his job after all. Limping his uneven way past Jacqueline with a calm smile, he past the threshold of Pell's doorway, hoping the vine of a man would follow him. But apparently not only will Kyle be directing a lost vine around, he was going to be dragging along a thunder cloud too. Hopefully this didn't end too bad. Kyle turned to Aden and nodded with approval. Kyle might need some help explaining things anyway. He could always use an extra pair of hands.

Just don't sew them onto him.

Pell Laveau

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Pell hadn’t so much as blinked as far as accidental onlookers went. But she could feel their flitting eyes and immediate reserve they executed. If she was that concerned, or out for the attention, she would have gasped and clutched herself like something out of a Betty Boop animation. Maybe even throw in the fanning of the hand, making squeaky noises that might imply she was embarrassed, or something. But Pell wasn’t quite on that level of humility. Sometimes, she acted more like a shameless boy than a girl. Let alone a witch from an aseptic bloodline.

She glanced out while Silas and Hale pressed themselves into the hall, as though there were some sort of laser alarm system at the foot of the doorway they dared not touch. Kyle bounced in and right out again. Typical, for him. At least in the case of unanticipated nudity. Hale looked slightly less shocked, but still red in the face. Hale could not see it as anything less than a chuckle marathon. By now, he was a frequent audience member. He might have laughed with others, but Pell knew that in his solitary mistaken viewings before, he would sort of gawk and stumble away. Hale’s square jaw tensed, fighting back a smile. Silas on the other hand… If his cheeks had bloomed a more fervent color of rose, they might have swelled and popped, too. He was panicked and debased. It looked as though he was blaming himself. Pell had cast him a lukewarm expression, then a small smirk at its edge, “It’s okay, really, Abernathy.” Playfully, she waved a manilla folder with his title on it. That was something she would save for post-Ceremony entertainment. Pell might not have confessed it, but he was very strange and interesting. Which naturally, made a girl like herself, intrigued and committed to figuring out just what the hell was up with the guy.

Medium cooked steak was in the air. The scent was hot and fresh. If it weren’t for Greyson being so alluring and hard to pull from, Pell would have flew to the dining room like a rock from a slingshot. Naked, too. But in spite of her devotion to bloody meat, she cocked her hip at an angle to rest it on her door frame while she talked, or more so, watched, Greyson. Clothed. In the distance she could hear Hale guffawing and shouting out to Rowe about punctuality. Rowe ferociously yelled back and corrected the teacher. An arched brow quirked above gunmetal eyes. Pell grinned. The lavender haired girl edged from her room, reaching in a wayside manner to yank Violet with her. “Stick around as long as you like,” Pell crooned, looking over the array of color in the fresh meat’s locks. “We’ve got plenty of room.” Pausing, the Laveau girl’s scrutiny passed between her closet and Violet. “Oh…”

Her white teeth flashed toward Greyson, who had her doubts about anyone who came in at Pell’s heels. Or, at all, really. Greyson didn’t get excited over newbies. She didn’t even bat an eye sarcastically. She just had her usually cold regard, with some ice in the daggers shot from her stare. Pell liked it, low-key. When the boys were out of sight, she snapped her fingers in response to Violet’s question about Ceremony. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she piped up suddenly as Greyson was stripped of everything but her bra and panties, “I don’t have time to sift through my closet with you and if you’re coming, you need to follow dress code.” Pell wasted no more time in the effort. Something black, something that would ‘fit’ to Violet’s style, even if just barely. In a matter of seconds, ebony garb manifested itself, sheer at the torso to give glimpses of Violet’s pale skin.

“Now you’re set,” Pell continued, wandering into the hallway and following Greyson’s finger which had only moments ago grazed Pell’s cheek. The girl must have looked like a little puppy in that moment. Snapping out of it, she watched Greyson go. It was a good opportunity to give Violet a moment to gather herself and maybe take a look at her reflection. The dorm hall became busy. In passing, Jacqueline might have noticed Pell with the new girl, but probably not. She had a bit of candy on her own arm, strolling around the school with her usual smooth demeanor, that cool dialect of hers probably wrapping him around her finger. He seemed content with the idea of her tour and it being more exclusive than the ones given by Kyle, head sort of bobbing happily, shaggy hair shifting as he listened to Jacqueline speak. Pell choked back a snide sexual remark at her own cousin, figuring she could save it for the wine segment of dinner. Besides, even if Jacqueline didn’t acknowledge Pell, she knew she was there, knew what she was thinking.

Pell jerked her head in the direction of the stairs, knowing Violet would follow. She kept her at arm’s length, though. Didn’t want to lose her. “So this is Robichaux,” she briefed, “Established in some… Late 1800’s, maybe. It’s a school for witches. We have class schedules, our own rooms, freedom to roam if you’re legal, and every Wednesday we have ‘Ceremony.’ It’s kind of how we stay in touch with our roots. Or, at least that’s how I see it.”

Once they made it to the main floor, the dusky luster from candles had taken the place of electricity. Hundreds of smells were in the air. Most notably: sage, Delmonico, garlic, and a dash of Merlot. Even some Louisiana fruit aroma had crept through the windows. Pell loved these kind of nights, knowing that the fresh air was coming in, but nothing was getting out. It was a liberating sort of evening. Most of the students and household dreaded it. It forced them to maintain some kind of prompt schedule. To Pell it was an excuse to get drunk and set shit on fire, plainly. But of course there were other perks. Say… Like the possibility of yet another new student, learning advanced spells if Fiona herself was drunk enough, and just letting loose.

The vibrant duo approached the mouth of the dining room, where Hale and Kyle now stood side by side. Kyle’s sandy hair frisked itself as he eagerly requested permission to personally serve new students. And more specifically, Silas. Mostly everyone would be rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. But Pell hoped that he’d keep that virtue and that people would embrace it. It helped him feel alive. Judging from Hale’s taut regard, there would be no special treatment or excepting meal serving. She frowned at his disapproval, but understood that there was good reason behind it. Hale encouraged and always backed proactive behaviors. Unfortunately, he was under strict surveillance especially during Ceremony hours. There was always business to attend to on Wednesday’s, and he followed protocol. It was bizarre to see him so upright and obedient. Pell might have even scoffed and giggled as she walked by him to find her seat at the center of the table, beside Greyson rather than parallel, to let Violet sit on the other side and have a taste of the ‘finer things’. If she did decide to stick around, she might not sit at this area for a long, long time.

Soon the seats were filled, and voices were low. Even Arturo's growling had ceased. The candle chandelier swung slowly above the buffet and its consumers. But no one dared touch a fork. Cordelia stood, glass of wine in hand, clouded eyes blinking as she waited for total silence. And then she dimpled politely, “Welcome to Ceremony. I know we have a few newcomers, and a visitor,” her smile wavered, probably in the event of Pell being so rushed she forgot to ask permission, “So let me be the first to say, don’t be scared.” A short laugh followed, and she went on, “I’ll save the long speech, I know you all must be starved. Regulations are the same. This area is sealed until midnight. You will not be able to leave unless asking permission.” Emphasis sunk into the last two words. Bowing her head, she smoothed her skirt and took a seat, “Dig in."

Mr. B

Cordelia had seated herself and made casual conversation while Hale eagerly helped himself to first a glass of Merlot, then of Bourbon. By the time she had acquainted herself with the new arrivals, asked Violet how long she knew she was ‘different’ and explained house rules, Hale had relaxed and relocated to a newly empty spot between Silas and Violet. Across the table Greyson and Pell eyed him suspiciously. He paid no mind. His usual uncanny sparkling smile was set in place, eyes slightly glassy, attire ironed to a paragon. Overhead, a primitive and ornate candle chandelier began to sway, surely the work of Pell’s boredom. Hale pivoted, resting one leg on the opposite knee as he turned to face Silas.

“… So, I’m thinking from your rather distressed body language - you are having second thoughts, hm?” A virile hand raised a glass, golden liquid sloshing. The routine grin had slackened into a sort of meticulous and stagnant smile, dimples fluctuating against the expression. In the background Cordelia’s distinct voice crooned with intrigue over new arrivals. Hale kept his gaze away from her and set it on a worthy understudy, writhing probably at the idea of wearing all black and feeling slightly isolated. Now the dining area was aglow with fieriness and laughter. Plates were clearing and conversation buzzed on while sorcery was at play, free and elated. Candles blew out and relit spontaneously. Wares moved about the table on their own. “Was it what I said? About the women being in charge?” Hearty chuckle released, Hale rocked on the embellished woodwork chair. Another swallow of fire water, another casual question and content regard on his lips.

“And you?” Hale jerked his head toward the rainbow trout, yes, that’s what he would call her, now. The flimsy inky fabric of her shirt was revealing but modest. Certainly a fitting choice for Ceremony. “Are you frightened by this?” His eyes lit up with mirth as he finished the beverage. “I suppose being ‘locked in’ is a little much for a newbie, but the nice thing is, it’s more of a perimeter type of screen. So, you can still step out and wander the grounds without being seen, without having to worry. You just can’t go beyond the gates. Which I,” he grinned and slid the glass onto the crimson table cloth, “Enjoy thoroughly.” The vague riddle was answered by the pack of cigarettes pushing themselves from the pocket of his slacks.

“Silas here is new, as well. So you have that in common, along with being helplessly thrown into a coven.” Patting his sweater, Hale tittered again. If anything was frightening to the craft immigrants, it was probably good old Mr. B and his preternatural way of being amused. Even about the grim, nudity, and the plain unusual. He could feel Fiona’s cold stare from the far end of the table. She was not so easily amused. That, and she had probably taken notice that Aden was nowhere to be found.

Everyone had scarfed down their meals and helped themselves happily to wine. Slowly they dispersed into the sitting room, where portraits hung and great pillars burned orange. Violet, Silas, Hale and Rowe lingered. The latter wasn’t long lasting. He was more of a lone wolf, McDermott. Hale had taken it upon himself to be his sort of guardian, but Rowe was not a fan of the supervision. It always showed in his tone and his narrowed eyes. Fortunately, not much fazed Mr. B in the way of standoffish people. He pervaded the known limits of those types of folk. Rowe cordoned himself off, hadn’t many friends, or any, at all. At least not that Hale had noticed or seen. Call it charity, call it Council work, but Hale did it for his own reasons. Perhaps empathizing. Who could say? The Council scout was tight lipped about his garnered impressions of others and his ultimate intentions. That was how he maintained his position at the academy.

Rowe split off, probably to go into the courtyard. Kyle wasn’t far from the dining room table, naturally fascinated with newcomers. Fiona lit a cigarette and rose with a glass of rusty liquid in hand. She wrinkled her nose and muttered to Hale in passing, “Don’t let your guard down. There is something in this house.” With that, she meandered into the sitting room to enjoy or manipulate students as they played with their birth-given gifts. A cerebral cackle left her mouth as she passed her guard dog and set her sights on Jacqueline and Pell, two curiosities worth all of her attention. Fiona had certainly tried her hardest to gather Pell’s trust, which proved to be less taxing than the chore of getting her cousin’s. A work in progress, much like all jobs at Robichaux. Pell soon disappeared, bored to death probably and needing her space for a secret cigarette and half a bottle of Apothic to herself. Hale only knew this because she so often followed the same patterns.

He didn’t tense at Fiona’s warning. He simply carried on conversation with remarks like, “Oh, please tell me more about your origins!” and “Do either of you see yourselves here for the long haul?” Truth be told, he was deeply fascinated with fear reading, certainly when it chose someone discrete and timid such as Silas.

Rowe
Rowe being uncomfortable was an understatement. It wasn't like he felt like he wasn't supposed to be there, he just didn't know what to do with himself. And he wasn't hungry again. The food around made his stomach turn, like he was looking at swamp muck rather than freshly cooked meals. Cordelia was sitting at the head of the table, chatting up Hale, while the other students finished up and began to split up to do their own thing. Rowe himself also go up, but didn't really leave the table. He just stood there for a minute before picking up his mostly empty glass. It was only water, he had a feeling anything else wouldn't agree with him.

Someone was looking at him, he could tell. He glances around casually, not trying to seem like he was looking for anything. It was just Hale, he decided, who always seemed to be interested in his tendency to be alone. Rowe tried to act like he had taken no notice of Hale, avoiding attracting more of his attention. It's not that he didn't like Hale, the man was kind for the most part and had good intentions. He just wished he'd be lest interested in helping Rowe. He didn't need help. In fact, he hated getting help. It was like an admittance of weakness. Rowe slowly put his glass back on the table and began to walk out of the room, unsure where exactly he was going. Most everyone else had already dispersed, leaving only a few lingerers about. Fiona had finally made an appearance as well, with her usual caustic and cold attitude. Rowe had been avoiding her eyes since she showed up, he didn't like being someone in her sight. She was the type to use people as pawns, and Rowe would go to great lengths to not be one of those pawns.

After a lonely walk about he found himself out in the courtyard. He walked off near the fence, to where there were some bushes and sat in front of them on the grass. He hadn't looked around to see if anyone was around, but he could usually tell when no one was around. It was when he was alone, really alone, that he started to feel anxious and like he was being watched. Really at this point it was more a numb feeling in the back of his head, but it still bothered him and at times made him rather irritable. Right now he felt more shut off and distant, but he didn't mind that feeling. It kept his powers under control for one.

Rowe found himself staring at a spider as it crawled along a branch in the bush. It was pretty big, about half a hand wide, and he immediately felt the need to get away from it. He hated things with more than four legs. Instead though, he found himself put his hand out and coaxing the creature onto his hand. He could vaguely hear people in the house behind him but didn't pay any mind. Rowe's eyes turned cold as he stared at the thing crawling around his fingers and then up his hand. His first thought was to try and kill it, but nothing happened at first as he stared intently at it. His inability to use his powers at will sparked anger in him, and just before he was about to crush the damned spider in his hand its body convulsed and actually ripped apart on its own. Rowe slowly brushed off the remaining parts of the spider that were on his hand and started to stand as he heard the door to outside open. Turning, he saw it was Pell. He wasn't quite sure why she would be outside, she tended to be a crowd pleaser. People seemed to just like her, whether she liked them or not. He looked at her carefully, unsure if he should try to sneak off without her noticing or walk into her line of sight.

Fiona
Fiona loved being fashionably late. Especially since no one would dare say anything to her, besides her pesky daughter. Head Mistress or not, Fiona was still Supreme, and therefore could do whatever the hell she wanted. She was dressed in her typical black outfit and had a glass in hand, filled with whatever alcoholic beverage she happened to find laying about the building. She hadn't even waited till Ceremony started to fill her own glass, and had showed up with it already half empty. By the time most students were going off to execute their own plans for the night though, Fiona felt something was wrong. Off, somehow. She had been getting feelings like that a lot recently, feelings of paranoia. Usually it was just that her powers were fading, or that someone else was going to become Supreme. She'd have moments of such surety that she would be replaced, but then the feeling would be gone by morning. But this was a different feeling than those, this wasn't about her own power, but like the presence of something darker was headed their way.

She found herself standing and wandering over to Hale, mumbling to him, “Don’t let your guard down. There is something in this house,” before walking on to the next room. There were students here and there, but she was too distracted by the feeling that something was wrong. So instead she went to find Arturo, the guard dog. She smiled smugly, remembering the powerful magic that kept him bound to her will. She loved anything that reminded her of her power, and that spell was a certain pride of hers. She eventually found him, standing around with candles lit. Fiona glanced about, her expression seemingly uninterested.

"I need you to monitor the house. Something might be wrong, and on the off chance there's a problem I don't want it having any advantage over us," she said to him, though the way she said 'us' clearly meant just herself.

With phantom white fingers rubbing the black cuffs of his crisp jacket, the enthusiastic blonde listened with too much attentiveness as Hale gave him the response that he was familiar with, yet hated. Again with the whole maid thing, he really didn't like having to sit and eat when he could be doing something to make something- he didn't really know- special? Not that getting a meal served was very special, but it was something. Better than doing nothing. But as always Kyle merely nodded with a simple smile and left Hale be. He was a busy man after all, and the undead was never fond of making a big deal over requests. And because of such, he's never really asked why either. So sometimes when he laid down at night the thought lingered in his mind like a small math bubble that he couldn't pop. But then it would float away because knowing how things worked around here, which was hardly ever consistent, it could be because of any little thing. Literally, anything at all. Any excuse at all was good enough for pretty much everyone here except him. Whether that was because he was dead or not, he didn't know, but nevertheless he tried not to question it.

That usually led no where. Especially no place good.

But as Kyle scurried along his way with his shoes clunking like weights on the floors, he did what he could to help Arturo light the candles throughout the coven, even though most of the work had already been done. Why did everyone have to do his job for him? Again, Butler. Butler. But no matter. What was done was done and he wasn't about to go around tampering Arturo's handy work. That would just be childish. So instead he finished up what very little he had done and headed back for the dining room and took a free seat. Most everyone had already took a seat before he did, so he didn't have to wait around too long like he normally did. He liked letting people sit where they wanted to. Which was typically in the same spot most days since people were creatures of habit, but there were one- no, two- newcomers today. He didn't think the rainbow in these thunder clouds would stay or dinner, but he was glad she did. Even though he didn't even know her name.

He should probably introduce himself once everyone's done eating.

Sitting in his seat with his pearly white plate only slightly dirtied by a couple of mouthfuls of meats and vegetables, the butler smile widely at the cheerful conversations that filled the room. As usual, the young man didn't speak an entire word unless he was directly spoken too, which frankly didn't happen all too much. But despite the lack of verbal communication, Kyle felt just as connected to the group and it's chit chat as if he was. He laughed when others did, nodded eagerly at stories and comments, and even maintained eye contact which hardly was ever returned. He was basically the the closest thing someone could get to a wallflower without feeling excluded in any way.

Playing with the sparkling silverware next to his plate and tentatively nibbling at his food, Kyle perked his head ever so slightly as one of the conversations switched to the newcomers and their comfortability. Naturally, he took special note of their responses and twirled his fork in his meaty food and took a few gulps of his beverage.

Kyle had gotten into a habit of hardly ever finishing his food. In that aspect, as much as he hated to admit it, he was like a child. However, it wasn't because he was a picky eater. He was very open minded about new ideas and foods and like some adventurers says, he's willing to try everything once. But seeing as he wasn't sure if eating was necessarily essential for him or not, unlike all the souls in the room, he felt like he would be wasting food. Kyle never actually tested whether he could last without food, but he had thought about it. Because food was supposed to give you energy by nutrience being absorbed into the blood stream and then that was distributed throughout the body and such, but seeing that he didn't have any stream of blood flowing through his veins, he wasn't sure if it would make a difference. He didn't even know how it worked at all. He defied the basic law of nature that privileged the living to die and stay dead, and he lived despite having no heart beat. Yet he was still stronger than most people. That didn't make any sense. He wasn't sure if he would be surprised or not if he could go without eating either. Did he just defy all logic or was he still human in some way?

Maybe that's why he still ate, even if it wasn't a lot. Why he hadn't tested it out at all. Because he felt more human doing so. He felt more... Real.

Or maybe it was just a bad habit.

Ignoring the thoughts in his head, Kyle filled his wonder with the tasty words of the dinner table, having froze briefly as the candles went out. His mind was as blank as the darkness, but once the flames lit again, that didn't last long and he was full of giddy once again.

For those who paid attention, the evening in actuality was very delightful. The meal was far beyond delectable for the new blood, conversation was plentiful, and the sheer independence was almost exhausting Kyle's smile. Then again, witches were after all independent creatures. All alphas and no betas essentially. So naturally they all dispersed like cockroaches under a heat lamp once their meal was over. All except the new life, of course. The poor souls had no clue what to do.

Thankfully Hale picked them up before they got lost. Or worse.

Listening to the light conversation that Hale created amongst those left at the dinner table, Kyle proudly listened while also synchronizing his fork and food with dance. Prodding at the cooled steak to join the rest of his food, Kyle didn't even have a chance to glance up before he was dragged out of his chair and forced to stand. The firm and hardy grip on his iced shoulder held him in his place like a guide, and once Kyle's googled and rolling eyes looked everywhere but the person before him, he finally zeroed in on what exactly was going on.

Shaken briefly like trying to unhitch your backpack from the corner of her bed, Mr. B promptly instructed, or rather, demanded more social behavior which brought about a flat face from the undead boy. At first he was confused about the whole aspect of "freely" communicating. Was he acting like he couldn't talk freely? Did he looked tongue tied or oppressed? That was certainly concerning, seeing as he was trying his best to make the coven and it's member appear at least on some level friendly. Maybe that's why Silas was timid at the table. Kyle started to frown as his contemplations went on.

He wasn't quite sure how to take it. Because in his mind, no matter how correct it as, there was three types of interactions. Or communications. Or languages. Or whatever it was called. There was verbal communication, which was what Kyle had the most complications with. That's where you talk or sing and grunt and so forth. Then there was body language. Facial expressions, hand gestures, dance, things like that, which really was a type of communication, he was sure of it. But then there was listening. For reasons that Kyle could no longer recall, he had always considered listening an interaction. Whether they were talking to you or not, he's always felt like he was communicating when he listened. But it was apparent that it wasn't the same for everyone with Hale's small correction. Which was weird because it really felt like interactions for him. But then again, it felt that way because connections that weren't really connection were made in his head and those supposed connections influenced action and feeling and so on and so forth. So Maybe Hale was right. He wasn't interacting very much.

Kyle's eyebrows started to furrow as he started to confuse himself with this turn around. And once that fluster was sorted out, it started to make him raise his eyebrows with realization. But not nearly as much as Mr B's... compliment?

At first, much like the rest of this short interaction, Kyle was confused on whether it really was a compliment or not. It was nice to know he wasn't an ornament, but he never thought of himself as one. If he was, he'd be some decoration all right. But that popped up the thought that there was a reason Hale would say that. Did other people think of him as an ornament? Did he act like an ornament? Self awareness wasn't entirely a thing for Kyle, so this whole interact more thing was starting to scare him. Because apparently he isn't interacting and looking like a display with him being completely oblivious, or so it seemed.

But there was always a silver lining, and Mr. B usually made a point of bringing that out, and that lining brought a grin on his face. In Kyle's mismatching eyes, interaction was as precious as a compliment here, and being who he was... well, that made things even harder to get. People couldn't exactly come up to him and tell him he looked good that day because he always looked like he got run over by a lawn mower. They couldn't exactly have a casual conversation with him either because at some point he'd end up needing help with a word or need to slow down. So thinking that someone here actually wanted to talk to him was just shy of a miracle. Not to mention someone wanting to get to know him. To actually know him and he felt and thought, not just "know" him. Despite all his tenancies and difficulties. That was something Kyle could hardly believe.

After all, Hale sometimes exaggerated to make a point. It made sense.

But a good kinda of sense. And whether it was true or not, it still brought a smile to Kyle's face and he appreciated that. With the giddy in his still heart bubbling every slightly, he returned an acknowledging nod to his superior and turned back to the table of people who were still sitting down. That's right he stood up. Kyle flicked his tongue in his mouth, almost preparing himself to say something, but bit it instead because he realized that he had no clue what to say. Having been ejected from the conversation briefly, he lost track of what they were talking about in the first place. Besides, what could he say? It's not like he had anything interesting to talk about that wouldn't make them puke. Unless they wanted to hear about the time where he had to clean up rat guts from his clothes when he squashed it for eating some of the plants in the greenhouse. That sounded appetizing.

Kyle simply returned to his seat instead, briefly watching Hale beat his ear before the two both joined in on the conversation. Hale was always good about interjecting himself into colloquies like that. And like it was before, Kyle listened to the banter that Mr. B went off on as he looked at his food with only minor interest. But this time, instead of prodding and poking, Kyle, almost violently, stabbed the steak and pushed it around that way. He managed to take a few pieces onto his fork as well, but after a bit of them sitting on the piece of metal, he pushed them off, leaving the steak behind before gathering them all up again and rinsing to repeat it all. Exceptionally predictable. It was almost an exercise even. There was a point in which he raised it to his lips and his teeth slid it off the fork, but as soon as he did such, his wrist was jolted and Kyle shook from the sudden warmth and contact of Hale's hand.

He paused his chewing and looked at him with shock. Arturo? Check the premises? What was going on? Was something wrong? Kyle nodded and set his fork down, scooting out of his seat and leaving the small dinner party without a moments hesitation. Not including the initial one, of course. But rushing around like a stiff board on wheels, Kyle must have searched the main floor at least twice before actually finding the guy. It was so Arturo too. Party crasher when you didn't want him around and the invisible man when you do.

Walking over to the trapped animal, Kyle took a deep breath in, speaking Arturo's name first before starting," We need to-" He paused, placing his hands on his hips. Come'on, just copy what Hale said. "-search the-" Come'on, come'on, spit it out you bag of slugs,"-the property." The entire thing was rather slurred, and "property" especially sounded like a failed attempt at some sort of foreign accent indecipherable to even the most geographically educated person. But he got the point, he was sure. He hoped.

Arturo went off as Kyle had expected and Kyle himself went on his own way. He didn't return to the table though, thinking it might be better to lend Arturo a hand. Better to be safe than sorry, and two heads are better than one and everything like that. So walking around for a bit, Kyle first went to the greenhouse. That was a place he was sure Arturo wouldn't check until later. Or at least not first. He didn't know, maybe it was just habit, that's where he always was if he wasn't doing something. But after checking the place as if searching for a lost item, he departed and went back into the academy.

Kyle must have either missed something or been in the greenhouse for longer than he thought because upon finding a few other members of the coven, things must have happened. There was a new person starring down Pell, a few seconds later someone was screaming help and- Wait a minute...

That was Jacquelin screaming.

Kyle jolted into an upright position, when originally it was a confused slouch making him look like the hunchback. His head jerked around, looking towards the dining, half expecting a camera angle to change like in a dramatic action movie. He forgot about the new kid and Pell, who he didn't realize did not look like herself whatsoever, and without a single thought in his slow, dumb mind, he charged around the corner and practically skid to a stop upon his arrival. He didn't make it in time for her vague explanation, merely and simply looking at Jacqueline like a deer in head lights.

Maybe it was just him, but Kyle was starting to think that this night was turning into a disaster. First it was rude introductions, then it was the cut off of the tour, then it was him not interacting. And stepping away from things involving him, the curtains were torched, apparently something or someone was on the property when they shouldn't be, and now Jacqueline was screaming for heaven knows what and he still hadn't gotten anyone to tell him exactly what is going on. Was this not confusing and stressful for anyone else?! Finally Kyle simply exclaimed:

"What's wrong?!"

Rowe
"You okay?"
Rowe jerked back a bit, genuinely surprised to hear a new voice. Almost all at once any anger he had been feeling before vanished, he couldn't even really tell why he was so pissed off in the first place. His eyes focused on the person who had spoken. Greyson. It took a moment before he realized that Pell was kind of having a seizure, or the fact that her nose was bleeding. He felt himself involuntarily tense up, wondering if he had done that. Of course you did dick head, he thought to himself, grinding his teeth. Greyson had said something else but he wasn't paying attention. He was too busy having a mental struggle with himself over how to help Pell. And how to explain to others what happened. What had happened? He wasn't even sure. If someone thought he was just going to start lashing out at people... well, he didn't know what would happen really. He didn't want to know.

Pell got back up, seeming to recover but seeming really shaken. Actually, she looked petrified. Rowe shifted uneasily, eyeing her. Had he made that look in her eyes appear. No, he decided. It had been something else. She saw, or thought she saw, something. He was sure of it. But he didn't really have a chance to comment on it.

“Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” Pell yelled in his general direction, whatever fear he had seen before disappearing and being replaced with some rage he was sure he didn't want to face. But since her next words were telling him to not go near her, he supposed he wouldn't have to face it. He didn't feel any better.

She stumbled off, and Rowe saw some guy help her before he let himself turn away and start freaking out. Rowe ran a shaky hand through his hair, eyes darting as he tried to think about why he lost it. He was vaguely aware that Greyson might still be there, but wasn't really paying all that much attention to the fact. He was too wrapped up in his panic. "Fuck!" he screamed, hitting himself on the head with his fists. He kept swearing under his breath before finally just falling silent, going numb. He wondered if he was going to have to leave. Or if Pell would even say anything. She was a proud person, he wasn't sure she'd run to the Supreme or anything. Still, could he really let himself be around people, most of whom barely knew him, and trust he wouldn't pull another stunt like that?

Someone screamed. Loudly. Rowe looked up, but wasn't all that shocked by the sound. He still felt kind of numb to his surroundings, and it took him a moment to realize that he should be worried someone was hurt as others disappeared inside, but he found that he didn't have the will to go and look if everything was okay. Pell was with everyone else, and she had said to stay away. So that's what he did.

Fiona
Fiona sipped at her drink, eyes scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary while her face remained incredibly passive. It wouldn't help to let anyone think she was worried that something was wrong. Well, she wasn't really worried actually, so she didn't have to mask that. More she had to hide he interest in her surroundings, which would seem out of place from her usual nonchalance.

Her interest was proven justified though, when a sudden scream cut through the walls of the academy building. Fiona tensed very slightly, but other than that she showed no reaction to the sound. Still holding her glass, Fiona walked toward the noise, head held high with purpose. It was time to see what was amiss in her academy, and get rid of it if need be.

When she got there, Kyle had already shown up and looked like he was trying to help the screamer. Jacqueline. Other students and some staff also gathered in the room, trying to see what the commotion was. Fiona stared down her nose at Jacqueline, who was in tears and repeating something about Madison. "...Madison's dead," she finally caught the girl say, causing Fiona to raise an eyebrow. Dead? Good riddance, she thought, not phased by the death of the younger girl. The only thing Fiona was now interested in was how the girl died. And, if still around, would it kill anyone else.

"Make sure she's okay," Fiona said out loud, to no one specifically but more to everyone gathered in the room, and motioned to Jacqueline. Fiona began to turn, but then paused and called out, "Hale! Arturo! Gather the students and make sure they don't leave your sight!"
With that she turned and marched up to Madison's room, having to see her death for herself. And, by any luck, get an idea of what happened to the girl.

There were some things in this world that Kyle would never understand. Things such as how life began and the purpose behind it all. Things like why people hurt one another and why he couldn’t control his temper sometimes. But if there was one thing that the young man would understand better than anyone present in the eventful ceremony, it was death.

Blinking at Jacqueline as if he was staring at something he shouldn’t be, the stressed, bugged eyes and tense muscles loosened gently until his posture resembled a more comprehensive nature rather than attentive. His open mouth closed and his lips relaxed into a common line, his shoulders which were pushed back gave in and slouched as if out of habit. Kyle wasn’t quite sure what the others were doing, only vaguely aware of what was in his immediate vicinity, such as the tears that had started to shed and fall on bloodied fabric and on the swept floor.

Upon his first inspection of the young woman, he figured she had hurt herself with the blood upon her being and her screaming. That’s what people did after all, scream when they get hurt. But she stammered and whimpered, the blatant trauma sparkling in the building up of tears. When you amputate your own hand, that’s when you become traumatized. When your femur is protruding out of your thigh, that’s when you start to become traumatized. She obviously didn’t have anything broken and nothing looked amputated. You don’t traumatize yourself from a cut.

Kyle found himself becoming more confused as he tried to figure out what had happened while he was gone, and the stuttering hadn’t helped. But as Jacqueline screamed in fear and disgust of the moist red that spread onto her face, Kyle’s hand rose to take her hand or arm to perhaps help her calm down. Make sure she didn’t flail or something. But she backed up before he could and she used the wall to sit down. She went on and explained that Madison was the producer of the blood that was now across her face and that she was dead in her room. That was when the tears came in her eyes and that was when Kyle felt like sighing with relief.

It was just a dead body.

Kyle’s tone and body language significantly changed once that connection was made. It had changed briefly before, but this time it was almost as if he thought a burglar was in the house and it was discovered it was just the cat. His balled hands let go of their form and his stiff, lopsided legs bent slightly at the knee, letting go of the locks he had put on them. His chin even lowered a notch, closing his eyes in silence. You could visibly see the pressure melt away.

And being the only dead person did produce a lot of pressure, believe it or not.

It was interesting though. Madison wasn’t liked by anyone, hated by most to be more accurate. She was sassy in a pretentious way and self-seeking, only interested in others when she could use them as her toys. More specifically, toys for adult use. Yet she cried. Jacqueline cried for her. Life was a hard thing to pin down, but at that moment, he felt like he could see it. Maybe that was the purpose of death. The reason he was walking around here. To bring out the humanity in people. To show the life.

With Jacqueline’s sobs ringing in his ears, Kyle looked at the others in the room, observing their version of utter shock or complete indifference (or something in between) before looking at the table. There were a few unused table napkins left and he took a few steps and gathered one or two in his light hands. It was at that time when Fiona commanded someone to look after the weeping girl, which he didn’t hesitate to do, even though he had already started. He leaned over the table to grab another small bunch of the napkins and took a few steps back and knelt beside the traumatized young woman weeping in blood. He gave her one of the napkins, perhaps to clean off her own face or her other hand, but he kept one and took her left hand in his and started to let the napkin seep up the red pigment that only produced minor stains on her hands. A good wash would get it out in no time he was sure. The clothes, he didn’t know. He didn’t have to clean blood from clothe in a while. Which was a good thing he supposed. He made sure however to get all of the liquid, even in the cracks and wrinkles of her fingers and palm, having to uncurl a finger or two along the way.

He paused briefly in this process once to think whether he should have helped Hale and Arturo gather the students and help take care of Madison first. Taken her to wherever Fiona and all them wanted her. But death was a funny thing. It was patient. It didn’t matter now how long Madison sat there. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. Unless someone wanted to resurrect the bitch, he figured she would be fine just waiting there. Because really, once you’re dead, people don’t realize that you’re completely independent. You’re unattached. You don’t care about others, you don’t care about waiting, or yourself. You just sit there patiently decaying until someone comes along and screws it up. Then you just turn into a dumb meat sack who walks around with no place to belong. Besides, Fiona probably wanted to assess the damage. They didn’t need him, they were fine.

On the other hand, Jacqueline was not.

In an incomprehensible way, Kyle was jealous of Madison.

He hasn't seen the corpse yet, but he already knew that once he did he would be jealous. He would be confused and frustrated. Because in reality, everyone knows she's not worth resurrecting. No one would want to and everyone would pity the poor soul that did if they must. She wasn't worth the time to put back together and get her ticking again, so she didn't have to worry about it anymore. She just had to be dead. She was forever at rest.

By why did the bitch deserve to rest?

Why did she get to stay dead? Why did she get to have a rest despite her abuse? Why was she free from her burden when he was brought back like Frankenstein's monster, even though he clearly deserved it more? Dammit, Kyle put up with everything. He put up with pathetically stupid frat boys, he put up with his mother, he put up with not knowing what happened to him and why he was brought back to life. He put up with life after death! Yet that snobby pig who couldn't stand it when she wasn't the center of attention and couldn't put up with her hair being cut wrong got cut slack. Everyone would simply say that life wasn't fair, he was sure. But guess what.

Death wasn't fair either.

Forcing the infuriating thoughts to the back of his mind for later food for thought, the corpse continued to wash Jacqueline's hand the best he could without hurting her. He tend to forget his strength sometimes, especially when he as upset, so he was being extra careful to not grip her hand in any way as an extra precaution. And good thing too, because he almost jolted when he felt a hand land on his arm. Somehow he managed to keep himself together, but he could have swore it was someone scolding him or something for not going about business as he should be, even though he hasn't been told what to do by anyone. But it was simply Greyson, probably wanting to help. At least he hoped. She needed all the help she could get, he was sure.

Kyle looked up at the young woman with a default smile on his face, but he didn't linger to long, returning his foggy gaze to Jacquelin's hands. But really, the warmth of the lady's contact kept the smile on his face and started to overwhelm his angry thoughts. The cold thoughts melted into puddles and any thought of Madison had left his short term brain. He simply went on his way cleaning up the blood, switching hands and napkins to soak up the excess before Greyson offered to help. Without a second going by, Kyle nodded and helped Jacqueline up the best he could. But along the way, he did wonder if they should have stayed with Arturo and Hale, seeing as Fiona just told them to keep everyone in their sight.

But it was funny how you don't notice how many people actually are in this place until you need to leave a crowded area in a hurry. Greyson did a good job of dispersing the crowd so they could take her to her room so it didn't take all that much more time. Once they got to her room, it was almost like he gawked at it's interior, as if he never saw the colour purple before. Of course he had, and it wasn't the colour at all that really surprised him, in actuality. It was just how well decorated it was. It was like it was an entirely different place. Kyle knew his room was about as plain as a bag of potatoes, but this was a lot nicer than many students' rooms. Was that just because their rooms had clothes all over the place or piles of ash under the window? Well, whatever it was that was different, it was spectacular.

The pair had set the traumatized witch on her bed, and it seems as soon as they did, Greyson left to do whatever Greyson did. Whether she was going to be back or not, he wasn't sure. Why was it that people left as soon as their task was done? Kyle simply ignored it and went on with what he figured was best. Starting with giving her the rest of the napkins he had taken with him up to her room. After that though, he wasn't sure.

Was she okay enough to do it on her own? Did she want to be alone or for him to stay? Did she even know what she wanted or what to do? Kyle, conflicted by his own thoughts, decided to wait until she said something otherwise. If she wanted him to leave, he will. If she wanted him to help then he would.

"T-T'ank you."

What?

Kyle blinked. Then smiled simply and nodded. He's always thought saying 'You're welcome' took away from the sincerity of it. Like he was taking credit for something because he wanted to be recognized. Smiles were worth more than a thousand words in his eyes. But Greyson came in just after that with two bowls of water and a towel. Much better than some napkins or sure. Why didn't he think of that? Because he was too busy thinking about a thank you.

Gripping his hands behind his back, Kyle watched Greyson set the bowls on the table, expecting her to help Jacqueline clean of her face and the rest of her hands. But she had surprisingly turned to him and held out the rags, asking if he would do it. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable saying yes. Maybe it was because he'd be cleaning a woman's face, maybe it was because he was just caught off guard, but no matter what it was, he hesitated. And it only took the few seconds he waited for Jacqueline to to step up and do it herself.

It was clear it wasn't easy for her, though. Her hands still shook as she wrung out the rags as she washed off the blood, and Kyle felt somewhat helpless just watching. Kinda like watching an amputee going up the stairs but they refuse help. It was awful, but if she wanted to do it herself, he wasn't going to take that away from her. He didn't realize it though, but even when he thought he had accepted it, he had managed to inch closer without even himself noticing. By the time she was sobbing, causing Kyle's smile to disappear, he was already close enough to sit beside her on the bed. His hands refused to move from his lap, even when he told them too, but they couldn't stay still forever and they finally gave in. Subtly, Kyle tried to stop her from continuing. Perhaps so he could help her or to simply get her to stop all together.

Because really, when you're traumatized, it really wasn't the best time to worry about your appearance, let alone having to work on it yourself. When you're traumatized, you're suppose to just stop what you're doing and just relax. That's why when someone witnesses a murder, the police give them a blanket and just have them sit. They don't make them go back inside and clean up the floor. It just doesn't happen. So why should she be forced to clean up by herself?

That was the logic behind it anyway.

The touch stirred her. She hadn't expected it, and it gave her pause. His hands were cool, but soft, gentle, like a whisper. It was enough to make her look up and realize, she'd been scrubbing too hard. Her hands and face were nearly raw, red and sore, and his oddly cool hands were nice.

She wanted to be strong, she wanted to swallow this down, but she couldn't. She wanted--needed something, someone to tell her it was going to be okay, Madison wasn't suffering anymore, that surely the pain she was in was over and Jacqueline herself was going to be fine. Or maybe, she just needed not to be alone.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder,and sobbed, unabashed.

Kyle was cool, she thought, not cool as in an okay person, but literally, cool, to the touch, which was perfect for her at that moment. Like a cool rain after a hot day. That coolness eased her aching head, soothed her raw rubbed face, and cooled the fever that rose in her panic and stress.

Her hands came around him, and curled into his chest an after a moment, her sobbing slow into a soft sad weep, her chest huffing a bit as she breathed.

She didn't know why he was still there, she hardly knew him, she'd seen him around enough, and honestly today was the first time she'd truly noticed him, he was a friend of Pell's which that was a loose term given her cousin's social circle was pretty much the diameter of a period, she didn't know why, nor care, he was kind enough to help her, look after her, he hadn't left her side since he'd found her, and he didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, after stopping her manic scrubbing, he seemed content enough to just be there she was grateful for it. She needed someone there. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to think about what she saw.

All that blood....

The image flashed through her mind and she whimpered against him.

She was awfully glad he was there.

A moment or two longer, she moved away, the panic had faded, and the sobbing ceased, She set her hands in her lap, her head down, but not before wiping away a few linger tears.

"Sorry," the french girl said softly, a southern belle once again "I... shouldn't 'ave done dz'at...but t'ank... you, ." She wiping a few more before looking up at him, and then to Greyson, she'd completely forgotten about her. "You... too." She said, small hiccup like huff still escaping her chest, she used to do that as a child, crying and hiccup gasp, but only when she cried very hard, she hadn't done that in years, but today, was just awful.