That day started off with the general pull from the swamp mud on Markus's hooves, the gigantic water horse wasn't a fan of late mornings and embracing them usually left tangles in his mane and pockets in his glamour. It was never good to appear to the locals as an oversized horse with red eyes, in fact, it had some mixed results. Glamouring was easy, he just had to work out the small kinks in his appearance, like the fact that he was an oversized, muddy black stallion but once that was mostly conquered, it was smooth sailing. Every few months he changed his appearance up but this month it was a boy with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, he had the usual mahogany tint and he had about five foot nine inches on him. The last form had been a redhead with blazing green eyes, he really liked to keep these things interesting. Focusing on his glamour as he trotted forward, it began to cloak him in a human's face and body. The human form always felt strange, he could never get used to the way they walked which often resulted in a weird limping gate. The limp and his sometimes distorted voice were just side effects of his confusion in the human world. He'd never quite gotten the hang of it and was more than sure that he probably never would, honestly humans were strange and he had only ever watched them drown throughout his life.

Interacting with them was a whole other thing, it made him uncomfortable. Humans were much different than any creature that the Fae could offer, they were fragile and they died within moments of being alive. He'd never understood them and he'd never understood the need for peace with them either, there were reasons why the two creatures had never meshed together positively.

The boy strolled into the school, only to met with his blond friend, the two kept pace with one another as they made a beeline for the cafeteria. His friend never said much and often kept an empty look on his face, it would have made him uneasy if he wasn't so used to it by now. He didn't expect much out of the beam of light, sometimes he was glad that he even got the half-normal replies to his queries. The only time the boy seemed alive was when he was talking to Markus and sometimes not even then. Known for his silences and blank staring, the wisp was definitely much of a people person and Markus was fine with that. It didn't ever effect him unless he was craving conversation and living in the depths of a pond left him with a lot of silences, he was used to it but sometimes he tried anyway.

"Hey," he offered, smiling brightly to the blond boy.

The boy glanced to him and furrowed his eyebrows, his blue eyes seemed genuinely perplexed and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Hello."

The voice that spoke back to Markus was his own voice and it caught him off guard as it always did. He hated when the wisp did this but it was a normal thing, the other faery didn't like to try to make his own voice and he tended to leech the voice of whoever spoke to him. It was unnerving and it made his spine crawl, trying not to shudder, the kelpie slid into a seat in the cafeteria. There was no reason for him to grab breakfast and he slouched in the seat as he glanced to his partner in crime.

"Why do you do that?" he said in exasperation.

E.D's eyebrows pushed down and he shrugged again. "Do what?"

"That voice thing! I've told you a billion times, it bugs me on like an aesthetic level." tugging the collar of his shirt with a face, the boy leaned back in his seat. "Why don't you copy someone around here?"

"Who?"

"Anyone! Just not me."

"I don't hear anyone." the blond shrugged. "When I do, I'll copy them instead."

"Good." grimacing, he shifted his weight to one side and took a look around the cafeteria as the students began to fill in. The early morning had taken it's toll and most seemed groggy or drained, some however were completely unaffected by the drag of the rising sun. The kelpie didn't know how they did it, it was much to early for his brain to work on any level outside of easy functions. Rubbing his mahogany eyes, he took in the sounds of conversation as it floated around him and released a sharp yawn. "God, I hate waking up."

"Me too." Was that a hint of morbid humor?

"Not today, Tinkerbell." he muttered just as E.D contracted the tiniest of a smile.

Ira was irate. So irate in fact she found no mirth in the pun which found itself floating around her mind, despite her usual predispositions towards such tawdry humor. She found herself travelling, an activity she had always found loathsome, especially when crossing realms. She had been called back to damnation to handle a chronic failure of a spirifer, and had been forced to cross the border between worlds twice in as many days. Despite her familiarity with the proceedings, the bureaucracy always frustrated her immensely. A barrage of questions, a requirement of oaths, reprimands and reminders for the better part of an hour, flanked by hours of interminable driving or uncomfortable minutes of magical teleportation. She was finally on her way back to Valor, awake at an hour she had not seen in years thanks to complications and controversies, driving along the motorway back to her day job.

Fortunately for her psyche, the roil of expensive engineering and the lilting cadences of relaxing music let her mind drift and wander as she drove. She had not taken to modern human technology as avidly as other denizens of perdition, but when she had found the funds for indulgence she had made sure to keep up with the auto industry's myriad developments. Cars were useless in hell, of course, but six figures of metal beneath one's feet made mundane travel much more acceptable. Her mind immediately found its way to her lesson plan for the day, or the lack thereof. She'd had no time, and despite her efforts at duplicating Abraham Lincoln, she had not managed to sketch one down on an envelope during her obnoxious travel. She'd have to wing it today, and hope the higher-ups didn't look to closely at her activities.

She finally pulled into the parking garage of Valor scant few minutes before the day began, thanking providence that she had a free period at the start of the day. She grabbed her comically large suitcases out of the comically small boot of her bright red car, thankful for both devilish physique and space-expanding magics as she carried a sturdy, if worn, iron trunk she could most likely fit inside without a great deal of difficulty. She drew the occasional stare, some mirthful and some not, but she paid them little mind. Rushing to her small quarters, she changed from the comfortable travel attire of trousers and a blouse to a much more elegant, and much more revealing, dress, deciding to indulge in the manufactured beauty of her figure.

Sufficiently fashionable, she walked with a much more elegant, confident gait to the staff room, and immediately deposited herself smoothly at her vibrantly decorated desk, thumbing on her computer as she retrieved a textbook, some paper and a pen, hoping to get a vague semblance of preparedness together before she was forced to lecture for nearly an hour.

For Dakoth this was just another day of worthless blathering and learning that he had done for the time he spent in Hell, literally and to make it worse he had to deal with the petty humans of this world even though he had some of their blood mixed in his, why did he come to the real world anyways

Oh yeah that's right Satans angry at him for trying to overthrow Hell and take complete control over everything!

Dakoth groaned as he sat at his desk waiting for this dreary day to begin all he wanted was to go to his room or do something other than this.

He could always blow everyone to bits but he did not want to end up angering some people here and he did not want to blow his cover so he sat there staring of into space waiting as all the imbeciles around him went about all of their normal things like flirting with girls or telling stupid jokes.

And Dakoth just sat there and drew on a piece of paper he actually got sick of it at times hell he even got lonely but now one wants to be friends with a weird guy who doesn't really talk to people and in generally antisocial but he wanted friends and he found that weird because demons don't make friends at all maybe like every billionth year but it was a once in a blue moon thing, and today might be the day.

Besides the fact everyone tries to avoid him at times.

Sephtis sighed as he woke up for the morning. While there were people here that were up and ready to go to class, he was not one of those people. He was only attending this school because his grandmother forced him to. If it was not for his love of him grandmother he would have said no. While he was a student here, unless he was forced to go to class he had no intention of going to them. While people like him were accepted in this town, he knew that he would not have anywhere to go if he left this place. With his bloodline he would be nothing more than a target for the hunters. One that would only become more wanted as he fought them. It was much better to stay in this school and pretend to be interested when he needed to be.

He eventually made his way out of his room dressed for the day. When ever he had woke up late he knew that his grandmother would not have left him something out for him. He was going to have to make his way to the school if he wanted to eat. He made his way to the school taking note of the people that ignored him and the ones that avoided his path. He had grown used to having people avoid him. Unless he smiled he was not very inviting to talk to. His gold eyes and white hair were not natural.

When he finally arrive at the entrance he made his way straight to the cafeteria. A quick meal and then he could go and hide until lunch. He still had a couple places where the teachers still did not know where to find him. He grabbed his breakfast and found a seat alone. While he did have people that tried to be his friends at first, it ended when they learned of his darker side. The part he could not control that well. He knew that there would be a group of people that would be more than willing to be friends with him, but he was not ready to be friends with those kind of people. One day but not just yet. He wanted to pretend to be a human for a little longer.

He looked around the room his gaze stopping on the other people in the room. While he did not purposely do it his gaze was often mistaken as a glare. He wondered how many here would actually go to class. His gaze stopped for a little longer when he saw a pair that he always saw together. One pair that he tended to avoid for some reason. After a couple moments he started to play for the remainder of the food on his plate. Maybe things would be different if he had someone to talk to, but then he would have to stop being a Warlock.

What had made Aoife decide to reside in a school that housed the creatures she had trained to kill, was but a simple reason: It was something different. Her first years as a hunter in her earlier lifetimes were filled with hate and the deepest blood lust for vengeance. As the centuries came and went and the creatures of the world slowly evolved and eventually regained what slim ‘humanity’ they could, Aoife began to refine her hunting strategy. Of course there was still a need to hunt. But now, these creatures had families, children. But she knew there were still those who were not as humane with their actions and she knew there was no saving them.

Here she would lay low. She had not made contact with the Hunter Headquarters in 3 lifetimes and would not make the change now. They were corrupt and killed mercilessly and Aoife had done away with that close-minded sensibility centuries ago. The humans had their own way of discriminating and bigotry, and Aoife would have no part in that. The idea that a person could be anything less than another solely based on the colour of their skin is one of the dumbest things the humans have done. She had been alive for many a time and had seen some terrible things. Aoife had begun to wonder if it weren’t creatures humanity should be afraid of and not humanity itself.

But those were thoughts for anouther time and place entirely. She had vowed not to take anouther life unless it was absolutely necessary. She knew that if she were to be found out as being a hunter it would be more than just trouble for her. So she decided to play the role she was given before she had trained to be a hunter. An Old Soul with Vamperic ancestral origins. It would explain her powers and skills. And no one should know about her Hunter status.

Aoife had been standing in the shower for some time she realized. She often times tended to zone out in thought, but that was a normal occurrence for Awakened Old Souls. They had lifetimes of memories to sift through with piles of information and names. She had gotten better at organizing her thoughts, but would still occasionally get lost in thought if she let her mind wonder.

She dried off her body and made her way out of the little bathroom and into her bedroom to dress herself for the day. Opting for thick black stretch fabric pants, a dark green tank top, and her staple leather jacket, Aoife then went to do something with her long mane of hair. It was an odd choice to some for a Hunter to have such long hair given their line of work and the close combat dangers it could bring, but Aoife was not just a run of the mill hunter. She knew how to take care of herself and her hair was not a problem. One sleek pony tail later and Aoife was strapping one of her daggers onto her person to hide it as discreetly as possible. She would never leave without having some sort of weaponry on her person. Her nerves wouldn’t allow it.

With one last look around her room, Aoife grabbed her messenger bag and walked out, closing and locking her door behind her.
“Off to class” she said aloud to no one in particular.

Wesley was born into royalty, as many of the born vampires were but he'd never really been made for royalty. With a starving artist heart and a gentleness to his eyes, he'd been kind of a shame since the day he was born. His parents had been high nobles, very cruel and very sharp, as had his brother and sister. It had been just shy of the early 1800s when the young man had aged and he had taken to following his older brother around everywhere, drawn by the way they both interacted with humans. He'd heard a lot of rumors about his family and many who just assumed that their palor was due to some family illness. Oh the poor darling children! They had grown used to stares and they had discovered ways to feed without leaving a trail. That was the hardest part, feeding. They had developed many ways but they couldn't linger long in any one place without rousing suspicion from the locals. Especially with the way his siblings seemed to be developing with time.

His brother, a man of dark curls and hazel eyes, a man with a quick silver smile and a hooked nose. He'd taken a path of killing to survive, rather than sticking to the occasional meal and then a few dinners of very raw meat. He'd watched his brother grow brutal over time, coming home with his chin dripping black and his eyes burning in the night. He'd watched his beautiful face become something twisted and grotesque, and yet still somehow too beautiful for words. That was the trouble with vampirism, nothing destroyed the beauty trapped in your features. He'd watched the council become aware of his actions and he'd watched them take him away, kicking and screaming and snarling like a caged tiger. He'd never seen his brother again after that but his darling sister was a different story.

His sister, soft blonde hair and very playful golden-brown eyes. Often flouncing around in beautiful dresses and gaudy jewelry, she loved to show off. She was too stunning for anyone to not allow her the right, long legs and soft skin, flushed only with pink along her cheekbones. Men had loved her, and he had been constantly worried that she would dance with the wrong person and he would discover her secret. She fell in love easily, a soft heart for a soft girl but she often chose the worst men, men with loud voices and big hands. The red tint of alcohol left on their faces, crude words and brisk movements. She'd been enthralled by them, some soft words about how she thought that humanity really showed itself in these people and he'd been disgusted.

She had gotten married though for a century or two, he'd painted their portraits at their wedding for her and now they hung above her banister. Sometimes she called him, her voice floating in and out of the receiver like a ghost. She said sad things, complained about being alive for so long and sometimes told him she could hear her husband whispering to her. Honestly, it made him sad for her but he'd long since stopped visiting her. Her house was big and empty and dust cloaked everything. Rotten food filled the fridge and sometimes he'd find a lone rat scavenging for a morsel or two. It was too much for him to bother with. He had a job now, he couldn't worry about his older sister and the sadness that seemed to cling to her. It was ridiculous to let her occupy his thoughts. Upon entering the building, he straightened his tie over the white silk shirt that he had chosen. The gray over shirt was casual and the dark dress pants were a mistake, his dress shoes were brown, honestly it was surprise that over the years he had been alive, he still hadn't learned to dress himself.

Adjusting his gray tie a few times, he caught sight of the economics teacher. The lower demon, her name was uhhh? Ira. Ira! Her classroom door shut just as he remembered and he blinked at it, gathering his courage and straightening his shoulders. He strolled into the room with his somewhat ridiculous attire and a smile gracing his face, he'd only ever seen her in passing and it wasn't like him to just leave a person all on their own. "Hello. Ira, isn't it? We haven't really ever talked much." a soft laugh, nervous. "I'm Wesley, I teach art."

A gesture at his outfit as if that explained, being an art teacher was no excuse for that vomit-worthy garb but he seemed to want to blame it. "I thought maybe you could use some company."

Ira was just settling into her languid procrastination when she was interrupted by a man's voice. She immediately discarded her half-baked lesson plan, her still-torpid mind grasping at any promise of excitement or salvation from monotonous boredom. She turned her chair and faced the man, extricating herself from her slumped posture and adopting one much more becoming. Absentmindedly flattening her dress, she responded in a voice like bell-chimes, letting tinges of the inferno drip into her timbre. She found it distasteful and vulgar, but evidently some found it impressive or, flames forbid, attractive.

"Indeed we haven't, Wesley. It is a pleasure to finally make your proper acquaintance, especially on the account of such a generous offer. I was afraid that I would go mad from the work. It's happened more than once, in truth." She smiled broadly, and gestured to a spare chair that had been floating around the office for some years no, no-one willing to remove it or claim ownership. Continuing, she spoke again, her eyes never breaking contact in the interim.

"So, you teach art. How are you finding the students, receptive? I've had my share of troubles shaping young minds, as it were, but I would imagine art would be a much more desirable subject for adolescents, isn't it?"

For most of that class Dakoth had been asleep but he was aware of things around him like the lesson and what it was but he was more over just looking over every single student and judging them learning a bit about them from there actions but he opened his eyes so he wouldn't look like he was slacking off or anything, and everynow and then he kind of glanced over at the pretty girl who everyone called Ira who was talking to their art teacher, Dakoth loved art but he kind of was hitting on Ira but he kept it to himself.

Dakoth started drawing a infant in the palm of a hand that was mottled with stars he thought it symbolized power and birth and the beginning of a legacy.

He looked around and groaned, he couldn't find a clock so he put his hand up probably for the very first time in class he actually would speak to anyone or maybe the beginning.

"Excuse me Sir,"

Dakoth said his voice not very loud but audible enough for a teacher.

"Do you have the time?"

Dakoth noticed probably this was the first time on earth he spoke and his voice sounded weak and shy unlike when he tried to overthrow hell when he bellowed and cackled with evil delight Dakoth thought he should probably make some friends or at least find something in common with someone.

"Oh and what was your name again Sir?"

Dakoth said lightly to the Art teacher he almost sounded like a Dove but he was a Dove from hell, and Dakoth was going to probably man up later.

He waited for the class to laugh at his complete incompetence.

No answer....Dakoth awoke slumbering against his locker in the hallway where everyone bustled about doing there own things.

"Just a dream!"

Dakota mumbled to himself as he stretched and then got some other school supplies out of his locker and prepared for class.

It wasn’t the ringing of his electronic alarm clock to wake Alf up that morning. Or, any morning at all since last month. It was a wood dryad, who drawn pleasure from shrilling at the very same hour every morning like an off-key bird, yet with a mellifluous voice.
He decided to call her Silly in the end, since she had no names of her own, and mostly because she behaved like a spoiler petty princess. Before the time she took a liking of the Old Jack, the oak his grandfather -called not strangely Jack himself- planted in their garden, he knew very little of fae, and had never seen one so closely. Well, it wasn’t like he had remarkable knowledge of the Fae now; mostly, a negative opinion.
That day the unwelcome guest was performing in a series of single tone shrieks with very much expected gusto. Alf laid stretched under his duvet, eyes fully open and mouth reduced to a slit. A sigh would have exhaled in a matter of seconds, if his little sister hadn’t entered the room.
She loved to wander whenever possible in her brother’s room, and it seemed she had just waken up as well; she was still wearing her pajamas.
‘Hey Alex...’ he murmured half-dead. He got up, sitting on the side of the bed, and in a slow motion raised his hand to scratch his left eye.
‘Man, brother, you glimmer exactly like each morning...’ she remarked seemingly uninterested. And here was problem two. For some reason, since the last week, he started shining bright in the middle of the night, and the morning he would find what he called “leftovers”. Literally, when he woke up he found his body covered in some sort of oily substance of some sort, most likely, as Silly hypnotized, a magical trace. Fact was he had to wash himself every single morning now to remove that spooky Edward Cullen-likish effect.
Alex exited his room, shouting to their mother he was awake.
‘Good morning dustling’ greeted a familiar voice from outside the window.
Alf ignored the sound and awkardly stretched his arms in a mixed jointing, yawning and arching his feet fingers at the same time. He had wondered several times how did she manage to speak to him. The thought of her having eaten Old-Jack briefly creeped inside his mind, just to leave it an instant later labeled as "obnoxious thought". He convinced himsef he didn't really care in the end and moved towards his bathroom to wash his face.
A little branch springed up from outdoor, and grew further inside the room until it reached the ceiling. 'You sure put up a good show this night.' said Silly, her voice reseambling tiny wheezings of wind through a closed window 'Did you turn the light off yesterday? The smell coming from your room was absolutely refreshing.' sneered.
Alf squinted his eyes at her. 'Get lost.'
'My my, you are in your rebellious age after all! I guess I'll have to bear with you until you don't leave this house... or this world. Also, nice boxers, kid.' It probably was his imagination, but the cracks in the wood seemed to arch in a malicious grin. He took his clothes from a chair and headed towards the bathroom. Apparently, he got up from the wrong, yet only side of the bed.

After he showered himself, Alf quickly descended the stairs to grab his lunch and something for breakfast. As usual he was alone by then, because both his parents had already left for work and his sister was nowhere to be found. Carefully locking the door behind himself, he came out into the cold air of the proceeding winter. His family cottage was built in the outermost neighbourhood of Valor, the one confining with the usual pinewoods of northern Minnesota, so the town center and the school were quite distant, and required most of the times a lift to be reached in acceptable amounts of time. Lock removed, blue beanie and hoodie’s cape set on his head, Alf grabbed his bike from the garage, and headed off to school in absolute tranquility; as he got nearer to the town the houses became more clustered together than before, and the sidewalks bigger and more crowded, sighting several people he knew or had just seen around sometimes. He entered in the cycle lane, turned several corners and passed many blocks, before finally reaching his bland brick school. Ye old colonial building style, not particularly appealing in his opinion. Small american cities like Valor were teeming with these kinds of infrastructures, and thus most lacked of originality.
Locked the bike to the rack on the side of the school, he headed for the secondary entrance that passed through the cafeteria. Like every morning his friends would have sit there waiting for him, discussing... well...
'What's their advantage?' shrilled a female voice on his right. There they were. Although it was crowded and noisy he could have distinguished that witty voice over one thousand.
'Forty-two.' replied a male voice, in a... rather blank tone. He seemed to be containing his own amusement for the sake of a serious conversation.
'Forty-two?!' snapped the girl back. Alf could see her bob-cut light-brown hairs sit perfectly immobile on her chair. Her name was Zane.
'England is definitely better.' said the boy sitting next to her in a marked british accent. That was Derek.
'It isn't' remarked Zane. He gave her a long stare, and stammered, faking an half-witted tone 'I-it certainly is!'
'Isn't.' it hadn't passed a second that she snapped back, arms crossed. 'Try again.' proposed, looking dissatisfied.
'Allright. Pay attention.' replied raising his finger at her and turning his head to the paper, scribbling something.
'Good morning guys.' groaned Alf, crashing on a chair at the same table.
'Look! the early bird has awaken- he seems in a bad mood.' chanted chuckling Zane, grinning snobbishly at him.
'Now that's a rare sight.' said his other friend, joining in the joke without even taking a look over the paper. Those two knew him far better than he knew himself. Smiling, he scratched his eye and lowered his cape.
'It has been a rough-' tried to say, thinking that the two friends' topic had settled.
'Shh, shh. Answer first: England-?' interrupted Derek.
'-or Castile?' completed she, persuasively staring in his eyes.
'-Or perhaps England?' added desperately again, avoiding eye contact with her.
Alf reflected just a second. He already knew how to avoid getting dragged. 'E-U-four, right? Denmark'. He gave both a significant grin.
'Hm, I wasn't expecting that.' remarked wide-eyed Derek.
'Me neither-' she paused. Zane waited, giving an inquisitive look at both her friends. 'Check again.' insisted, turning herself at Derek.
A fine bunch. Odd, awkward, somewhat creepy - well, his “staring” habits and shyness made him exactly as creepy - : those were his lovely friends.

Sephtis looked up at the girl as she sat down at his table. She had taken the rest of it up with her art folder. There was no time to tell her to leave. She had already sat down. There was one good thing about it. It would not take long for him to finish his meal, so he would be able to leave when he was done. He shrugged and moved the food that was on his plate. It would not take long for him finish the meal and yet he was taking his time. He was close to being full.

He looked up at her. She looked familiar and the only thing that he could think of was that she must be in a couple of his classes. He tried to think if he knew her name. He must have heard it before, but he could not remember. It did not matter, it was not like he would get to know her to much after this.

"It's alright. I was almost done anyway," he said. "Though few would be willing to sit near me." Of course he could tell her the rumours about him, but he really did not feel like talking about it. Only a very small percentage of students here were human so he could guess that she was not human, even if her glamour said she was. He knew better than to judge her based on that.

He knew he should say something more. Introduce himself to the person that he was talking to. He had barely spoken to people here and she was not one of them. He doubted she knew his name. Yet he kept silent. Talking could lead to friendship, something he did not want right now. All he wanted was a nice place to skip class.

As he was rubbing of the remnants of sleep in his eyes and he decided he was going to swing by the Cafeteria because he had never seen it before and he was interested on how things worked here on the upper world, he needed to get used to the human culture.

Time Passes...

Dakoth found his way to the Cafeteria with minor difficulty but he navigated the halls easily as he could navigate the labyrinth of Hell itself but humans and other creatures are weird in their own ways but he used the spare time he had getting used to it, Dakoth saw the immense size of one room he became paranoid because of the size of the room that meant a lot of people went to this school probably or they blew their budget on such a large room.

Dakoth took a seat at a table where no one sat or where no one would probably sit because Dakoth "The Quiet Creepy Guy" sat there, people on earth are very judgemental and in Hell all of the Demons had an Upper class and a Lower Class and a Middle class and they stuck to their own groups but usually Middle classes would intermingle with the classes creating a bridge, Demon political culture is very confusing, Dakoth snickered quietly because his culture was so much more different from just one humans it would destroy a man to try and figure out such inhuman ways and see a Demon in true form.

Dakoth took out a small Ham sandwich and began taking small bites of it so his teeth wouldn't reveal if anyone came along.

Listening to her speak had a calming effect on the man, he enjoyed the sound of her voice. Though he had never mingled much with demons, he had enjoyed the company of a few. Even befriending one of the lower demons who went under the name Lasher and had to work hard to glamour out his long centipede-like form. He'd been quite the conversationalist and had been far too intrigued by vampire customs, often asking Wesley about the way his family had lived. It had been a struggle to converse with him, but he had been a good man, a little dotty but otherwise pleasant. They had been friends for something of a century and a half before Lasher had been called to respond on some insane business in hell. Hell knew where he was now.

Wesley didn't have class for another few periods and he had a tendency to float through the different rooms while he had nothing to occupy his mind. The other teachers tended to try to shoo him out but Ira seemed acceptant. Easing into the chair that she had pointed out to him, he folded one long leg over the other. He offered her a smile when she asked how engaged his students tended to be and gave a light laugh of some manner.

"You would think!" he said with an enthusiastic shake of his head. "Sometimes they couldn't give a rat's tail about what I have to teach. I've heard some colorful words used to describe just how much they care about outlining and the differences between light and shade. It's absolutely disheartening. I was home taught but I loved my art teacher. He was an older man, very smart, very patient- why, I never would have learned anything without him!"

Another laugh, easier this time, the man was fidgety when he spoke. There was a nervous manner to him at all moments, twisting his tie and shifting from side to side. "I would have liked Home Ec when I was younger. Do they give you trouble? They can be a tough bunch."

The mention of that dreaded subject, 'Home Economics', almost brought a frown to her face, though she stopped the muscles from tightening before too late. She had always found the subject distasteful to the extreme, tedious and boring and offensive to her field of study, not to mention supremely pretentious branding itself as 'economics'. She was glad she was not teaching it, glad the headmaster could see reason.

"I don't teach home economics anymore, thankfully. Surprisingly, it was always one of the more loved classes, probably because of the very languid tedium that made me loathe it. It does outline the difference between myself and my pupils when they grow bored with Mises and Mammon yet they are excited to learn the operation of a gas stove. Nevertheless I find it rewarding, as I'm sure you do. The few who show true interest more than make up for the economically-torpid generality."

She searched for a cup of coffee which she remembered, to her chagrin, that she had forgotten to make. It was a luxury, not necessary or even useful to her body, but a treat she enjoyed immensely. She felt sorry for those damned that had to live the majority of their lives without such brilliant material imports.

"Though, speaking of that cancerous subject, I had the pleasure to meet Ms. Beecher in person a few years ago. A truly inspired woman, and a dab hand at croquet. We keep in contact after all these years, though our correspondence is somewhat slowed by her general indisposition."

Sephtis knew how hard it was to get an empty table at this school if you arrived a little to late. One had to have a lot of good luck to get the seat that they wanted to sit alone. It was not that bug of an issue for him as long as he got up earlier. Today was just a bad day for him. Still it was a bother for someone to sit down without first asking him if they could.

He watched her as she pulled out her notebook as she worked on whatever was inside. Well at least that was one good thing. He did not like it when people thought things about him before they even knew if it was true. He was sure that half of what was said was based on fact, but the rest were lies. He sighed and thought about it. In a school like this there had to be stories about almost every student that could not keep their human shape or illusion in tact. He told himself to go around and figure out the more interesting ones later today. That would keep him busy enough.

When she spoke her name he turned his attention back to the girl. He felt like he had heard the name before in class. Wither way, he knew her name now. "Sephtis." he said quickly. He was sure that she would know that he was telling her his name.

After a couple moments he spoke again. "So you're interested in art?" It sounded a little be awkward, but it was not like he had anything else to say. He could just walk away, but it was to early to find a place to skip. He would get caught right away.

It took him a little while but he got himself to leave the cafeteria just a little while before he had to get to art class and he knew no one would take his seat he left his stuff there just before he made his way to the cafeteria.

Time passes...

Dakoth entered quietly to find the room not so empty anymore accounting to the fact that it was like five minutes before class would start, Dakoth strode to the back row of desks and sat himself at the one nearest to the window, the desk with all of his supplies on it and he plopped into his chair and got out a pencil and eraser.

"Let's get this day over with!"

Dakoth murmured darkly.