Jason Doe - 24 - Student at Ipswich
I've always wondered what it would be like to live in the fantasies I've read of but now - now I'm not so sure if I want what I've wished upon myself. This time I can't see how it ends, this time I can't be the spectator. This time the fantasy
is real
Curious nature and a desire for fresh air would be the reason as to why the normally materialistic blonde had ventured outside tonight without her little cellular device nor any sort of lighting. Foolish by nature – not that she would ever admit that – she was ruled with impulsiveness, and oftentimes, she would not question the reasoning behind her need to follow through with the things her mind comes up with. To her, it makes life rather interesting. Which was no different tonight for when the moment she desired to peer up at the stars, she did so. And when she wanted to head farther into trees that surrounded them to do so, she did. Now as she looked back upon her rash decision, she truly did regret it. Darkness surrounded her, and she had long lost the direction in which she came in from.
After groping around in the darkness for quite some time – in reality it was only ten minutes – Adrian finally found the clearing she had been looking for, and the school was just in sight. This was it. She was going to make it back into her precious bed before the sun come up. She was going to hug the little old teddy bear wit – all thoughts vanished out of her head as she mindlessly tripped over a small root, and she tumbled out with a small curse. ❝Fuck.❞
When a curse responded to his question all signs of fear quickly left him as he looked for the source of the word. It was clear, in tone, that whoever had uttered the phrase wasn't actually someone stalking him through the night but it was someone that might actually need his help. When he saw her there, her blonde hair disheveled as she sat on the ground, Jason quickly swallowed his breath and moved over to her. "Are you... are you alright?" He kept his voice quiet as he approached her. It wasn't that he was afraid or nervous, he just didn't want to be loud and get him and this stranger into any unnecessary trouble. Kneeling down beside her he ignored the thoughts of warning that were blaring through his mind, letting him know he recognized her, as he offered her a hand. "Let me help you up?"
He stood tall, his hand still offered to her, as he looked around to see what could have possibly tripped her. When he saw the little root near her foot he couldn't help but relate to her, knowing he probably would have done the exact same thing. You'd think they'd be more in-tune with nature since that's where their powers came from, but for Jason that was hardly the case. "Oh, and I don't mean to be rude but what are you doing coming from..." he leaned back and looked across the clearing to the woods before continuing "... the woods, I'm guessing, this late at night? Couldn't sleep either?"
Perhaps the question Colton asked was a bit of a waste, Clearly, the boy wouldn’t be alright after getting punched in the face, but it did seem like the right question at the time. He had watched the man touch his face, and Colton thought he should probably have felt sympathetic but he didn’t. This man had been spewing filth about his friends and family, and deserved it. “Well, would you have hit me if I had talked about your family?”
Colton was trying to make Jason see reason. “I am sorry I hit you, really.” Unsure of what was to come next, Colton stared at the man with slight disdain. He didn’t like him at all, and wasn’t about to pretend too either. Yet, Colton couldn’t predict that the man would try and hit him back. The swing was wild and untrained. If Colton could compare it to anything, it would be that of a wet noodle. He dodged it easily, but was on the defensive nonetheless.
"I’m not going to fight you." The words were firm and his expression was stoic. "I’m not some savage. Besides, a lion does not concern himself with the opinions of sheep." He didn’t believe that at all, but he hoped it would deter the young man. The opinions of others were a crucial part in Colton’s life, but he would not falter. Colton didn’t want it to get back to his parents that he had been fighting. It may have brought disgrace to his family.
"Look, this got very out of hand," he looked around and sighed, "We’ve already caused to much of a scene. If you really want to fight me, then we can do it later." Colton narrowed his eyes at Jason, "But I hope you’re smarter than that."
It was embarrassing enough to be in the wrong, but to actually swing out to punch someone and not make contact? If there was ever a time to use his power as a cowardly escape tactic now would be the perfect time. What made matter's even worse? Everything Colton said in defense of himself made Jason feel guilty for holding it against him. Of course he would have acted the same way if the other had started talking down to him while dragging his friends and family through the mud in a feeble attempt to hurt his feelings. He had been childish and though he wouldn't admit to it, he deserved the punch. "Whatever... but for the record I didn't really call out your friends, besides calling you all a cult, I called out those idiots that treat you like royalty."
He was defeated, his posture slumping over as Colton continued to speak to him like he was a child. They caused a scene, he was nothing but a lamb, he hoped Jason was smarter than the way he was acting; Each little remark was said with so much class it made him sick. Taking a step back, Jason brought a hand to his face and turned his back to the stronger witch. "Is that really all you think of me? That I'm a lamb, a weak little lamb for you to prey on? You're no lion," He glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes cold and vacant "you're a lamb, like me, that thinks they're fooling the world."
"I don't want to fight you, no that'd just give you even more illusion to add to your sick need for power because I know I'd lose but you wouldn't win. Not really." He turned back around to face Colton with a broken, emotionless smile. "It's been a pleasure meeting you sire," he melodramatically scoops down and bows to the man before moving over to his previous seat to collect his seat, "but I'm sure you have more important people to attend to. Do me a favor though, when their pining all over you and gushing just to share the same air you breath... remember it's not you they love. Just like you, their puppets to the illusion of power you built around yourself, nothing else." His words were bitter and quiet as he shoved the old book back into his bookbag and rose to leave. "Really, it's been a pleasure. I'll see you around your majesty." He swung the bag over his shoulder and turned to find the door, keeping his eyes closed in order to ignore the eyes on them, Yeah, he definitely wanted to be invisible now.
He was unlike most of his classmates, that much was painfully evident to her without any questioning whatsoever. Not a single one of her students actively wanted to go out and pick up a book when they could go out and lure someone into their bed. Then again that was simply youth at it’s best. Wild and free, terribly vain. Her own youth was a distant memory, her vanity was still gracefully in check. Enough to keep her physically younger than most of her students. “I will keep that secret safe,” She assured, denying any and all want to wink as if she were but a child again, a kitten looking for trouble to bat between her paws. She was no longer young. She was older than most of the dust that surrounded them, dirtying the air. It was probably unhealthy, but she enjoyed the smell of it. It reminded her of her roots,of her age, of her childhood. Although the conversation that they were having was doing a good enough job of just that. She had met each author that he spoke of. Bored eyes glazing over as she peered at Poe while he blathered on about ravens, as if she really cared about them. He was speaking in English before she had even learned the language, without a single care that she was simply staring at the contours of his face waiting for him to be quiet, she could see the age collecting on the man’s face as she waited, hoping he would crumble to ashes sooner rather than later. But she had outlived Poe, she had outlived most great classical authors. Seen their works be published, first editions be handed out like gold while she smiled sweetly knowing just how fake they were. Age came with a fine layer of disdain she supposed. Or perhaps that was the feline in her. Erica did not care to investigate. “All fine authors, however, Poe has never been a favorite of mine. Word repetition is something that I tend to find slightly reprehensible,” As she spoke quiet hints of laughter trekked through her words, settling themselves nicely between each and every letter. Nothing too much and nothing too soft. Everything was measured and perfect. She had learned decades ago how to hold herself, always with the manner and posture of the seventeen hundreds.
His question took her off of her guard in a way that unsettled her just slightly. However Erica assumed that she would simply have to get used to the young man and the fact that he did not quite behave the way that she was used to youth behaving. Never had a young man asked to be lead to reading. They asked to be lead between legs and found home there. He was a confusing boy, however Erica tended to be far more helpful than most would assume her to be. It was simply what familiars were there for,for the right price, or perhaps the right creature. “Well, I would always suggest reading one of the thousands of bibles if you’re looking for religious lore, however that could be to broad as well,” She mused glancing up at the books, an odd reverence in her eyes that seemed to filter out when she looked upon other beings. They carried age and died, there was no room for her to hold them dear. However things like art, and books, and architecture, things like lore and teachings they remained no matter the decades that past. She found an adoration for that which aged with her. What was the point in that which decayed? She wasn’t sure. “The Divine Comedy or perhaps Paradise Lost. They are very obvious classics. However even things by Lovecraft have mentions to religious lore, speaking about Hastur. Although contemporary literature cannot exactly be trusted in terms of how they portray the original notions of the story. But all myth is myth, the tales can be twisted without much of a fuss. I’m lecturing you as if you’re my student,” For once laughter actually bubbled out of her instead of fluttered quietly around her words. Eyes lighting up with a confusing sort of glee, although that reverence faded the very second that her eyes met the student before her. One of the few that she did not tower over in her heels. “In the end, if you have not yet read them, Paradise Lost as well as the Divine Comedy are the best suggestions, however morbid and hell based they may be,” It was easy to lose herself on a tangent, a cat carried away by an oddly interesting thread of yarn. Something that held her attention such as speaking about that which she enjoyed. Not region per se, the lore that revolved around it however was astounding. It aged, it branched off, it had more lives than she could imagine and it just continued to grow exponentially. Very little could amaze her quite like that.
“Poe wasn’t always my favorite either but there was something about his writing that just felt… raw. You’re right about the word repetition, and I agree that sometimes it gets a little old, but I think that’s just what makes him so relatable for most of the people who enjoy his work. His eloquence isn’t this distant, romantic twisting of words that we could only dream of achieving ourselves. It’s like our own thoughts, constantly mimicking themselves in an attempt for us to just hear ourselves.” Jason smiled softly as he slowed his ramblings. It was strange to find someone here that he could actually open up just enough to let his own thoughts come spilling out to. Normally he found the people here so taxing so he would just bury himself in another book instead of reaching out of his little shell and letting them see that he wasn’t really some quiet mouse of a man. His mind was constantly filled by all these ideas and thoughts he just felt they were things no one wanted to talk about. Why would one of his fellow witches want to have a conversation on their favorite pieces of art, on how men could capture the raw beauty of nature with a simple stroke of a brush and no magic? Why would they want to sit and discuss why Sylvia Plath, or even Poe, were authors that people often ignored because it might be considered a dark subject matter. No, around here they all rather spend their time with lips pressed against the theoretical asses of the glorious Covenant Four—that’s why he never made the first move in a conversation. They had to prove to him that they were capable of a meaningful conversation because he didn’t need to look up from his current read just to play along with the small talk.
“I’ve read some of the bibles and it’s not that I find them vague, I mean I do, but I actually find myself angered by them because people hold so much truth to things that are so easily interpreted differently. So many wars have been fought over such a small collection of pages…” he mumbled with a slight laugh as he realized just how much he sounded like his mother. Jason looked up at the woman he was speaking with and finally took in her appearance. She had this beauty to her that ageless but it was the way she carried herself, the air about her, that only convinced him to open up to her more; she seemed almost regal. “I don’t mind the lecturing, really. The more you do the more I’m tempted to talk to someone, maybe the Dean, about getting into one of your classes. It’s been a really long time since anyone has actually spoken the way you speak. Everyone seems so hung up on the short and sweet responses that the art of talking itself seems to be dying.” He offered a small smile as his nervous tendencies, like fidgeting with his clothing and the books faded away. Jason was quickly growing comfortable around her and it was all over books. With a twinge of guilt he remembered his conversation with Colton and the way he was almost willing to let him by just because he had a library; books really were one of his weaknesses. “I haven’t read Dante’s Inferno or Paradise Lost, so I think I’ll start with both of those. Surprisingly, I like morbid. It takes a skilled hand to capture that kind of emotion. Thank you for the help by the way, in case I forget later.”
It’s a strange oddly cold night, ink blue darkness is spilling over the forest suffocating the mansion, like jaws swallowing the building whole. Town lights flicker, and dim one by one as the residents fall for slumber.
The wind is digging ice daggers in the ground, whistling songs with screams across the windows, drumming with long slender fingers. . The clock shows exactly 11:00 pm. When suddenly your phone rings with a voice mail. The sender is shown as nothing but gibberish, a scrambled mix of numbers and letters. And the message is nothing but noise.
Wrapped tightly in his cocoon of blankets Jason sat on his bed and continued to read Of Mice and Men in the somber blue glow of the weather outside. The room was empty and cold, void of any signs of life other than his own, so he pushed himself as close to the wall as he could and focused on the words scrawled out on the pages before him. Nature seemed to be groaning around him, begging for anyone to listen to it's cries as the frost and winds bore down upon them all. It was like a scene out of some cheesy horror movie, the boy alone in his room hiding behind a book as the eerie sounds dance through the darkness to scare him. The only thing is? Jason hated horror movies and as brave as he was trying to be he was definitely frightened. Even his obnoxious roommate wasn't around for him to distract himself with.
His phone suddenly rang out, breaking the silence and causing himself to lose his place in the book. It was the middle of the night and hardly anyone knew his number so he instantly sprang from the bed, stumbling over all the sheets, as he scrambled to his discarded pants pocket that currently housed the ringing device. Quickly pulling it free he paused when the name scrawled across the screen wasn't a name at all. The strange collection of symbols and numbers didn't seem real to him but he couldn't bring himself to answer the phone. Instead the young witch sat there, holding the phone in front of him, waiting for the caller to hang up. The few short minutes felt like hours to him as his fear took over. In all the stories he had read moments like this always led to two things; he was either going to receive some cryptic message or it was going to be a voicemail from his mother and he was going to have to seek help because his own sleep deprivation was causing him to have minor bouts of paranoia.
The ringing finally stopped as the familiar buzz of a voicemail took over. Slowly unlocking his phone, he held it to his ear and listened as the phone dialed. "You have one new message. Call from..." and that was the last thing he heard from the phone. He was frozen in silence as the noise gurgled out of his phone, filling the room with it's strange grumbling. He couldn't even bring himself to hang up. Jason sat there in silence, eyes on his phone as the message played out it's chilling tones. The only comfort he was given was the beeping of his phone letting him no his battery was finally dying. He had no idea how long he had been sitting there, a prisoner to his own strange fears, but as soon as the device was dead he sauntered over to his bed and slid under his covers. "I need a new phone... that a more sleep." The blonde mumbled to himself as he rebuilt the cocoon around him and waited for the morning, or slumber, to find him.
I remember all of these promises I made to you, and I’m sorry I haven’t kept my end of the deal. I’ve lost myself up here, swallowed by books and school, but I want to start acting on them again.
I know I said I’d write you, and I know I failed you for about four years now but if you’re still out there… this is me writing to you. Tommy, Katherine, Sarah, John… please, please still be there. I need you four now more than I ever thought I could. School isn’t what I expected it would but then again it’s not your normal school. Everyone here is on the same kind of scholarship really, so everyone here is pompous. Well, not all of them but most of them. Tommy, there’s this one group of about four people that cleverly call themselves the Four that you would absolutely love. Kings and Queens I tell you, Kings and Queens. Sarah—you would love the library here. They have every book you could ever imagine, some I’ve never even heard of. I just, I miss you guys and I want you to know I’ll be home soon. Not much longer till I get to take my final… exam… and if I pass I’m home bound.
Lying wasn’t easy, especially to people you cared about. Letting the pen fall to the windowsill, Jason untangled his body and let the journal fall to the floor. He had no idea where any of them lived, where any of them were in their lives now. Writing to them made him feel like a child to scared to let go of an imaginary friend. He was hanging on to the ghosts of his past but what was he supposed to do? He didn’t belong here, not like the rest of them. Each one from a different family, each one knowing about their powers and not stumbling into them on accident; deep down he was jealous of them all. Even the Covenant Four.
Just thinking of their names made him think of his little scuffle with Colton Stanford. The name alone made his face hurt. Of all the four, he was the one Jason chose to unleash his anger on and he learned the hard way just how strong he was. What scared him though wasn’t the witches strength, it was the fact that even when the blonde knew he was in the wrong he wanted to keep tempting the other; he wanted to see just how far he could push him. If Jason were a cat his curiosity would surely have him killed.
Scooping the pen and journal up, he quickly sat back down and began writing again as his memories started flowing through him.
Tommy, do you remember that one time you and I went to the art museum? They were showcasing some of Frida Kahlo’s works. We spent hours debating what she was trying to convey with her piece What I Saw In The Water… I know it’s probably silly but I constantly think about that day. The way you so stubbornly tried to make me see what you saw, the way you so patiently spoke about it as if it was your painting and not hers. No one really talks like that out here. It’s all point-blank or just void of any actual emotion. You’re going to make fun of me when you read this, but I actually miss having people like you around. You always kept me on my toes.
It was more than that though, at least to Jason. Here he was quiet and reserved but back home when he was growing up with his mother and his few friends he was light and playful. His brilliant mind was always spewing out these facts and fantasies that all of his friends would sit for hours and listen to. There was no hierarchal battle, there was no power to be sought out; everyone was equal—mostly. Putting the pen and journal down again, Jason moved over to his bed and slid under the covers. His eyes glanced towards the darkened ceiling as he listened to Drake’s snoring. He knew he wasn’t going to send the letter, he wasn’t even going to finish writing it he had just wanted to clear his mind. For you see, it wasn’t the paintings or the friends he remembered or missed. It was being in love. Jason remembered being in love. With art, with Tommy, with life in general; he was once so full of love.
His eyes began to flutter between the realm of awake and asleep as his mind began to quiet. He could remember how to love again, even here, but right now he needed to focus on more important things. He needed to survive the horrible four, but even they weren’t the top of his list. No, he was nearing the time for his Rite and he needed nature to will him to pass for if he fails forgetting life and love will be the last of his troubles.
His eyes finally succumbed to his exhaustion as his mind grew dark. Today he remembered being in love, tomorrow—tomorrow he would remember something else, something more terrifying than he realized. Jason would remember that he has yet to truly learn the gift nature has granted him and that magic comes with a price—one he wasn’t so willing to pay.
Power. This stranger had figured himself out so easily, and it scared him. Surely if this man could figure him out, his friends would be able to aswell. You really aren’t anything without your fantasy of power. It was true. Without his power, Colton was nothing. It defined his very being, and he depended on it now more than ever. “Shut up. Just shut up!" The words spewed forth like venom before he added, “Stop acting like you know anything about me." There was so much anger and tension in the room that it was palpable.
At first, Colton thought he had finally gotten through to him. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. His threat was a bit much, but he didn’t care. Yet when Jason started talking again, he became infuriated. It felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He truly did feel like he was suffocating for most of his life, and he hated the truth being shoved in his face. The proximity of the man did him no favors, and like a volcano, fiery and destructive, he erupted.
"Don’t ever talk about my family again." He seethed grabbing the man’s shirt with his left hand. “You don’t know my family. You don’t know anything!" His rage was boiling over, and he smiled wickedly. This felt wonderful. With his right hand free, he punched Jason on the left side of his face. Immediately, he let go of the man’s shirt and regretted his decision. Why couldn’t he control himself?
"Are you alright?" There was a new tone in his voice. It was sympathetic and concerned. His headache was in full force, but he tried his best to cover up the pain. This was unacceptable, and it should never had escalated. Colton looked around the room at the curious and concerned eyes.
Colton was right, when it came down to the cold hard facts Jason knew nothing about him. Sure he knew the rumors of his family, he'd seen the way he used to act around his friends and the people that always floated around behind them but he didn't actually know him. They were still strangers. "What is there to know?" Jason tried to come back at him with more animosity but it was clear he was already losing his edge. He was starting to feel guilty for everything he's said; he was normally the defender not the attacker.
A sharp breath left his lips as the powerful witch took hold of him by his collar. He should have stepped away, he should have kept his space but now he was trapped. Jason could make himself disappear but Colton would still feel him, he was truly stuck. The idiotic blonde was about to scream that he's read plenty about his hallowed family when he stopped himself; distracted by the wicked grin that painted itself onto the face before him.
Pain. Pain was something the young man was never accustomed to. Not the pain of weighted words bearing down on him and definitely not the pain of a fist colliding with his face. First his vision blurred as his eyes instinctively filled with water, then came the waves of burning. His face felt like it was on fire as the pain took over the left side of his features. "Shit" the word fell from his lips as he stumbled backwards, a shaking hand gingerly touching the point of impact. "Shit."
His blue eyes flashed up to Colton, cold and angry, as he answered the question. "Am I alright? You just hit me! You just... you hit me!" Jason began pacing as he tried to clear his mind and figure this out logically. It was obvious through Colton's tone that he regretted hitting him, but no one had ever hit Jason before. He didn't know if he was supposed to hit back or just walk away and forget it ever happened. With his cheek throbbing, the pain still coursing through him, he clenched his right hand into a fist and swung wildly.
"You don’t know my friends." Colton shouted at the man in front of him before quickly adding “And we’re not some…cult." For some reason, Colton felt that he had to justify himself. Every word that stumbled out of Jason’s mouth infuriated him more and more. “Nobody uses me. My friends wouldn’t do that," he paused and smirked wickedly, “Jealousy doesn’t look very good on you, Jason. There’s no need to take your frustrations out on me just because nobody cares who you are." As the words left his lips, he knew they were harsh, but he cared little. Nobody insulted his friends for they meant the world to him.
No. Colton had let it slip, essentially showing all of his cards to Jason. He internally kicked himself. How could he be so reckless? Why couldn’t he just control himself? The pounding of a headache and his shaking hand were beginning to become to much for him to contain. Colton knew he should have walked away and cooled off, but he would not be belittled and berated. Yet, Jason’s words had truth to them. Colton craved power and the control that came with it. Did he want people to bow at his feet?
Deep down inside, he knew what the answer was no matter how much he hated to admit it. “It’s…It’s not like that." Colton uttered more so trying to convince himself of the simple fact. Still, there was a dangerous edge to his voice. Everything single word Jason had said had only frustrated him, and now he has the audacity to stand face to face with him.
"If I hear you say one more word about me or my friends, I will drag you outside and bury you alive." Like ice cold and deathly, his words were spoken with a chilling calm. Under those words, a molten lava was brewing ready to explode. There were only two people who could ever talk to him that way, and Jason was not one of them. His face was a stoic shell of anger, and he would not yield.
"Neither do you!" Jason countered blindly. He wasn't one to be calling someone out on their friends but he really wasn't running on his own thoughts anymore. Everything he was spitting with acid was just childish, thoughtless hatred that had no foundation. "You aren't a cult? Really? All your missing is are the matching robes. From the way some of you talk I'm sure you've had your fair share of virgin sacrifices." That one was going a little far, but there was no longer a line he couldn't cross. Neither of them were holding back and that was clear as the next words that left Colton's lips wounded him more than they should have. You could see it, the sudden loss of light from his eyes, as they sank in. "You don't know anything about me, let alone who cares."
He could get out of this easily, just hit him hard with his words and suddenly disappear and make his great escape. The only problem? He wasn't like Colton and the rest of them, he didn't have the family to help train him in his power; he didn't have their magical pedigree—that and he didn't want to be the coward that his father was. You could only run from so many problems before they found you again.
He thought he was fighting a losing battle but then Colton showed signs that he actually had hit some kind of nerve in him. Quickly going over what he had just said he wanted to remember so he could use it again and again until the man left him alone. It kept coming back to power. Everything was so terribly clear, but Jason was too blind to realize what he was actually saying. "It's not like what? It's not like you have this sick obsession with power? You must think I'm some uneducated fool that can't see right through you, which is sad really. That's why you're so mad at me, because I won't be your little puppet." A weak laugh of disbelief rolled of his lips as he took a step away and turned his back to the man. "You really aren't anything without your fantasy of power."
Then the threat came and Jason froze in place. "You will drag me outside and... bury me alive..." he repeated the words with bated breath as he realized he'd gone to far; but there was no turning back now. Now facing him again Jason waltzed right up to him, their bodies almost touching, and looked him dead in the eye. "Why? So you can finally say you're not the only one suffocating in this little world your family built for you here? I see you for what you are and I'm not afraid." Hopefully he was close enough that Colton wouldn't see him trembling. He didn't want to die, not like this. Not when someone had finally seen him.
Sometimes it entertained her to play the pretty Parisian, a beautiful young woman with a thick accent. It was how do you say…irresistible to deny. Just another form of trickery that she entertained herself with when she could think of nothing better to do with her endless amount of time. And perhaps that was simply because of the awkward combination of senses that filtered through her thoughts at any given point. Human and feline intertwined, something that still confounded her to a point. Although she so favored a quote that she had read once, anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets. Truer words had never before existed to her. They had caused her face to light up in delight a sharp laughter spilling from her when she had first read them. However that was a rarity, Erica was more than content to keep her features trained in a steady sense of mischief and calm combined together with an odd sense of lethargy. Something that was settled so pleasantly across her features. Although the tail end of his words brought a single brow up as she regarded the boy with a vague smirk, a soft huff of laughter escaping her. Nothing to alert a single soul who could not spot the slight jerk of her body that went along with the laugh. “As a Western Religions professor, you could say that I find myself here often enough," She replied with an impish sort of glee tinting her words. “One can never read enough religious lore, or enough lore in general to be frank," The French accent that clung to her words was faint enough to be lost as she spoke in perfect English. If anything she could be taken as English. And she prided herself on that, an innate ability to blend with the time and the location. She had never seen a cat who could not make itself at home in a new place.
"A home away from home, within your place of residence? A bit of an oxymoron I suppose but to each their own," She did not count herself as having a home. Perhaps a nice field where the sun shined down on her golden fur while she dozed, only half aware of the world around her. Or maybe up on the high shelves of the library, watching quietly, hidden in the shadows as she simply observed the inner workings of people as they assumed no one to be near them. Something absolutely amazed her about the simplicities of what people did when they thought no one was watching. But she wasn’t thinking on that at the moment, nor was she thinking about the dukes of Hell she was meant to be teaching about sooner than not. She was focused on the conversation with the odd creature before her. “And people do enter the library, you simply need to know where to look for them. That is the trick to finding anything and anyone," She knew this trick well, if only because she used it to her advantage when hiding from others. It was a true accomplishment to get a hold of her when she wanted to be invisible. A cat too slippery for the hands of most. Then again who actually could grapple a cat into their grasp? Not a soul that she had ever met. “Was there a particular someone or perhaps book that you were seeking out?" She questioned with a light laugh, something airy, and something that portrayed the image that she had to keep up when on school grounds. A teacher who so deeply cared for her students education, rather than a teacher who would rather be sleeping.
When the woman, who he had thought young enough to be a student like him, mentioned being a Western Religions professor he suddenly knew why he’d recognized her. She was the one professor, the one class he never actually took. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to he’d just always found himself coming up with some excuse to get out of it. He’d heard the stories of her classes. The coursework was difficult at best but that wasn’t here fault, most people probably didn’t care to learn about something steeped in history and religion. To most people, at least people Jason knew and talked to, god was just an idea that people bowed to. “You’re probably right, I haven’t had my fill of lore’s yet at least.” He tried his best to smile playfully but something about this woman made him uncomfortable. It was the way she spoke, the way her eyes were full of life and mystery—she knew things, she had seen things he could only imagine. That had to be it. “A place of residence isn’t always a home. For me it’s more of a feeling, something internal. You can live in countless of places but still only have one home.” His fingers abandoned the books he’d been fidgeting with and moved to the sleeve of his left arm. Pulling at the light blue fabric, he nervously pulled out it as he stood there with her; a small glimpse of his inked skin beneath showing itself.
“Oh, I figured people came in here but between you and me? I prefer not being able to find them. When I come here I want to be lost in the pages of Poe, or Wilde, or Shelley not the personal dramas of my fellow students.” This time his smile was a bit more spiteful than kind. He used the library as an escape from all of them. The way they would all spend their days worried about the most trivial things, did you see that jacket Adrian had today? Like oh my god it was so cute! Omg, omg, Colton looked at me. He actually looked at me. It wasn’t just the talk of those obnoxious Four that bothered him, it was the way none of them seemed to talk of broken homes. Everything was perfect for them, they even knew so much more about their craft than he did all because they had their parents there to teach them everything. His mother Ellen tried her hardest to let him understand, but a drowning soul is never truly capable of teaching another how to swim. “I was looking for something to read, to expand my knowledge of religions actually. The most I’ve really read is Philosophy of Religion but really it was too broad to answer all of the questions I have so I guess I just wanted to start somewhere, anywhere, and expand from there.” Looking up, for one of the first times since they’d begun speaking, he met her eyes with his own. “You’d probably be the perfect person to ask then, now that I think about it. What would you recommend?” There was a childish excitement to his voice and his demeanor as he seemed to lightly bounce with anticipation. She could introduce him to some wonderful histories, she could help him find all the answers he’s needed in regards to religion and all he had to do was ask. Maybe talking to people in a library wasn’t as disgustingly bothersome as he’d thought
Whispers swam through the shadow's as the witch walked through the throng of people unseen. It was simple really, just keep your head low and don't stop until you get where you're going and people will hardly notice you. It's the one's full of life and laughter that seem to draw people to them, they are the ones that create the perfect distraction for Jason. He'd had his fair share of drama for the week. It was strange to see people gathered in the common room at this hour but they were probably much like him; unable to sleep and to restless to lie and wait for the blessing to take them so he opted for a walk. Managing to get through the building unseen it wasn't until he was outside when he realized he wasn't actually alone. Someone else was out there.
"...Hello?"
He nervously ran a hand through his blonde hair as he waited for the shadow's to answer.
All but slinking through the library surrounded by the lovely thickness of silence, it provided her time to simply fall away from her own thoughts. She was far older than her features would ever allow her to portray and she was vainly contented with that fact, unwilling to appear as a wrinkled old woman when she could whisk about as a wraith like young facade of a young adult. She looked younger than most of her students, however they knew what she was, and they knew that she had seen the religions that she taught grow and morph. Evolve with the times while chunks of it remained untouched by the cruel claws of time. She could understand those classical piece better than her students who simply inquired about why how such a concept could possibly exist. It is easy to believe in something when a political figure head threatens to lop off your head if you do not comply. She had accepted that her words could not be trusted long ago, however a king with an executioner at his disposal would never once lie to you when it came to the matters of life and death. She had to conjure up the thoughts to create a lesson plan of some form. However as per usual, Erica was not interested in planning, nor was she interested in teaching. She enjoyed speaking and learning, she enjoyed wisdom. However, she did not love forcing young minds to wrap around concepts far beyond them simply because she was a familiar attempting to blend in with their population. It wasn’t as if it was extremely difficult. It was simply that it took far too much effort to get the whole of them to listen to her. Especially when she knew very well that she was meant to be simply posing as a professor, not actually being one. But she far to akin to her feline mentality. She had to do her best, and to be better than others. A high and mighty sort of game that she played, batting others between her paws as she watched with bored eyes. It was something to pass the time when she had time to spare between naps. However it wasn’t like she could very easily do it with the students, she was meant to help the witches, not smile coyly as she held herself above them.
Running long fingers trained to be graceful through centuries of life the familiar sought out books to teach with. It wasn’t as if she did not know the ins and outs of Western Religion. Simply that she would prefer to let students read while she contemplated taking little cat naps at her desk. It was better than actually standing up and lecturing a single soul. She was unsure as to how anyone made it through that particular crucible alive. A frown slid across her lips as she continued to come up with no actual form of success. At this rate it was beginning to become clear that she wouldn’t be finding a book in the least. Something that was darkening her doorstep more than she would like to admit. Sure she could name each angel in heaven and their demon correspondents, that didn’t mean that she wanted to. It simply meant that she could. Although her steps soon enough came to a halt, the clicking of her heels no longer ringing through an otherwise silent library. Something to feel guilty about at a later date. For now she was far too petulant considering her inability to find a book to really care that the slow steps that she took could be heard throughout the whole of the room. Eyes scanning a new shelf only to find the same thing that she had found in the previous shelf, a thick layer of dust and failure. This was beginning to become tedious, perhaps something could be found in town.
She would simply have to go out to find a stack of books big enough to make up for her inability to find one here. Actually…she would curl up and nap on a windowsill before she did anything else, and then she would go into town with the intent to buy. Or perhaps more than one nap, yes, she’d just get the books tomorrow. Footsteps caught her attention however as she glanced over her shoulder through the blonde curls that fell around her at all times. "Quel choc," She mused easily, the French flitting across her tongue perfectly, the way that it had when she was just a young woman in the busy streets of Paris, peering down disdainfully upon the world from her perch. “I thought that I was the only one to really know this school even had a library," She spoke with an oddly wicked light to her eyes, something erring on cunning. She could be called a snake in the grass if not for all of the fur.
Home—home is supposed to be the place where you feel you truly belong; where you’re surrounded by faces that all feel warm to you. Wandering through the aisles, calloused fingers tracing over beautiful spines, Jason lost himself in the only home he’d ever really known; the library. Here he wasn’t the bastard child, he wasn’t his mortal mother’s biggest burden even though she’d never admit it. No, sometimes he was narrator to a whirlwind romance, sometimes he was simply riding along watching the adventure of a hero play out before. Today felt like a day to live in reality though, not fantasy, so the young blonde found himself pushing deeper and deeper into the books written of sound mind and honest voice. There were so many choices, so many histories to immerse himself in that he knew it’d take more than one day. The library was quiet, it was always quiet, so if he truly wanted to he could probably hide himself away in one of the corners and only leave when he had his fair share of knowledge. A smirk played on his features as he questioned people quietly to himself. How could so many people avoid this place? Was it because they couldn’t or didn’t find the will to read? To him, they were all missing out on one of life’s greatest gifts. You could travel the world if you wanted to and you wouldn’t even have to leave your favorite chair.
He finally stopped walking when he found himself in the religious histories section. Jason could almost hear his mother teaching him about religion when he was a little boy.
“Sweetheart, darling, I know it’s boring to you but I need to tell you about him. I know all the kids in the neighborhood go to church every Sunday, dressed all nice and pretty, and come back with their parents. I know they tell you stories about what they learn in church, about a man rising from the dead or being swallowed by a whale. I don’t want you to believe in that. I don’t want you to rely on an idea. Religion is something you choose to believe in sweetheart, gods and all of it combined. I want you to promise me that when you’re older you will believe in what makes you happy, not what some old book tells you is right or wrong.”
She would go on for hours like that, destroying everything modern society would say about religion. Standing there, looking over all the different histories to learn, Jason took his mother’s teachings with a grain of salt. He couldn’t claim that he didn’t believe in something, most days he just didn’t know what it was. As much as his mother hated it he actually found it comforting. To be able to just think to yourself, to call it a prayer, and know you aren’t alone in the shadows—how could he turn his back on that?
The young witch wanted more, he wanted to find something deep in religious history to challenge himself with, so he turned the corner. Instead of finding more choices he was greeted with a phrase that sounded French and a pair of wicked, but welcoming eyes. “I, uh, sorry… I’m not used to running into people here either. I was actually started to think of this library as my home away from home.” Jason smiled softly; his own meek eyes fell to the books beside him as he avoided her stare. “It’s kind of sad actually, that more people don’t come in here. Then again I like it that way. I don’t have to share my books with all of them.” His laugh was gentle, as he nervously toyed with one of the books; pulling and pushing it in and out of place. “Do you come here often?"
Unsure of whether the question was rhetorical or not, Colton nodded “Uh yeah, I just thought it might help…with a few…things." His voice dwindled and he gave Jason an uneasy smile. Colton was beginning to think the tension that he thought he imagined might have been real. He was trying to think about what may have caused it. Perhaps the man had thought he stepped on his foot on purpose? Maybe, but it just didn’t seem to fit. Colton’s suspicions were confirmed when Jason began to talk once more.
Self-consciously, Colton crossed his arms over his chest, balling his hands into tight fist. His words sounded so angry as if Colton had insulted him. Had he? Quickly, he went over the conversation in his mind, but could find little that seemed to cause the anger. This only made Colton more and more agitated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about." He seethed before adding, “And don’t call me Col. Only my friends can call me that, and you’re no friend of mine, clearly." He looked the man up and down judgmentally.
His next set of words infuriated Colton so much that a small tremor passed through the room. It was just a small shake, but noticeable nonetheless. “You think I need an audience for power? I don’t need anybody for that! I possess more power over one of the most purest elements unlike you." Colton was practically boiling. Who was he to tell Colton he didn’t have power? Who was he at all compared to him!? Nobody. With the power he could wield, he felt he was above everybody.
"I don’t give a damn what you think. If you’re fool enough to believe that then go ahead. You not liking me sure as hell won’t keep me up at night." No, Colton had other problems that would do that for him. He looked away from the man, and tried to control himself. The muscles in his neck and jaw were tense while his mind tried to stop the anger that coursed through his veins.
“Only your friends? What, the ones you reward with a smile because you know just talking to them would make their lives, or are you referring to the rest of your—your cult.” Jason was quickly losing what little control he had over his general dislike for everything Covenant Four. Colton wasn’t even his biggest problem, he was just the closest thing to him to absorb the blows. “I know I’m not your friend Colton, trust me that’s abundantly clear, but for once do you think you could consider why someone wouldn’t like you? I know it must be such a foreign idea to you but you should seriously consider it. At least I’m not playing into your ego to use you like the rest of them.”
In a way, Jason was subtly calling him an idiot. One of his biggest problems with the Four was the fact that they roamed the halls like some modern day royalty; feeding off of the attention they were given. What did they do to deserve it? Abuse their names, abuse their talents; real class acts that were so lost in their own vanities that they thought the attention was a good thing. Even a fool should be able to see when they were being played.
Consumed by his thoughts the blonde was pulled back to reality as a tremor shook the room. It wasn’t anything powerful in the sense that other students would have felt it and been concerned but it was strong enough for him to know he’d struck a nerve. Power. “You think power is in control? So what, the more people who fall on their knees for you the more powerful you become because you control them? Because you control one of the purest elements you think you are some kind of false god? I’ve read of men like you and they all meet the same, pitiful and weak fate. You are not powerful and you can not scare me.”
That, however was a lie. Jason was terrified. The way the room shook, without Colton even trying, was a sign enough that he was way out of his league but he couldn’t back down; he wouldn’t. Inching closer with a swallow of his breath, Doe tried to make himself look like he truly wasn’t afraid of Colton.
Colton was elated that the man thought his book of choice was a great pick. All throughout his life, he had it conditioned in him that he needed to impress people with his vast achievements and interests. This did not excluded people whom may not have been at the same social standing as him, so he grinned at the man’s slight acceptance. Colton scratched the scruff that was starting to form on his chin, and listened to the man intently. Well, he tried to listen as best he could without having to bury the nagging thought of power in his mind.
The humor in the man’s voice was evident, and Colton laughed at his words. “That’s actually quite a good point." He now wished he had brought some books with him, but the thought of going back to his manor was dreadful. His parents constantly breathing down his neck was not worth getting a few books. Besides, if he really needed some new reading material he could go to the library.
Shaking, his hand was shaking, and at the moment Colton wasn’t sure if it was from lack of sleep or need of power. He nonchalantly clasped his hands together in front of him hoping Jason wouldn’t notice. “I…actually had no real destination. I was just walking to clear my mind." The words came out a bit disjointed, but he just smiled. He was not ready to share any unnecessary details with this new acquaintance.
"I’m sorry, am I keeping you from reading or…something?" Oh how terribly rude he must have been. Clearly, Jason wanted to read, and Colton was keeping him from it. He shifted uneasily in his place as he gripped his hand to stop it from shaking. It seemed with every passing day, his problem was getting harder and harder to hide.
A good point, that’s what he was calling it? It was a mere observation and nothing more. This wasn’t some battle of wits where the person he made the most ‘good points’ could go back to their room and celebrate their victory in solitude. Or was it? Maybe Colton was actually testing him to see if he was smart; to see if he was good enough to talk too. Jason let his head fall to the side, mild annoyance building in his eyes, as he truly studied the Ipswich royalty. Tall, handsome features, stubble, tired eyes. This was one of the great four that everyone pined for? A man who couldn’t even value what he had?
“You were walking to clear your mind?” Call it petty, but Jason just couldn’t fathom a reason he would need to clear his mind. What, did he not have enough people praising him for a family name? Was he struggling to calm his aching thoughts because Daddy’s name wasn’t enough anymore for him? There could be a small chance Colton actually had a problem, but that idea made him too human and if Jason knew anything about them it’s that they never lowered the pride enough to claim such a thing as humanity.
His mind was racing with noisy thoughts of retorts to use, but his eyes were too distracted by the shaking hands. The other was clearly trying everything he could to make it stop but it seemed to have a mind of his own. Rationality long gone, Jason assumed the shaking was a sign of discomfort that he was most likely causing. “What’s wrong Col,” he nodded at the clasped hands before looking up at him with a new, cold edge “is it that much of a struggle to talk to someone who doesn’t think you hung the moon? Should I bow, would that make you more comfortable?”
Out of frustration Jason allowed himself to be consumed by the heat of his emotions. Pushing out of the chair, he rose to his feet and meet him eye-to-eye. “Or is it simply the fact that you have no power here without your throng of worshipers. You know, for a moment there you actually had me. I thought that if you knew about Poe and Tolkien you might be more convoluted than I thought but you—you aren’t are you?" He gave an aggravated sigh as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Your hand is shaking, like talking to me is taxing to you—you—you pompous ass.”
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