ProxyInc

Gifted Tempest

Elijah Edwards

The stranger had blinked at him, asking him questions in a blunder. The confusion was thick across his face and Elijah felt both relieved and disappointed. Part of him had hoped the man had knew something—but it was just his luck that the stranger was just as confused as he was. Taken from his home? He mulled over the sliver of information while opening his mouth to respond.

The sound of a shuffling feet caught his attention, letting his eyes flicker away from the stranger. A woman came barreling down the hall with little warning, knocking into the man and sending him to the ground with fair ease. Her face was a mixture of shock and horror while ushering quick apologies beneath her breath.

”Damn woman, you hit like a train,” the man said with a wobble as he stood.

Elijah remembered where he was for a moment and closed the gap between the trio. Unsure in what to do but slightly unnerved by the blood that now trickled down the man's face.

”Yo, you okay?” Elijah looked at the guy, hands out just in case he should fall back over. He allowed himself a quick glance back over at the woman. It didn’t add up, he had saw the bump but the stranger had pinged off her like she was a one woman wrecking force. But she had barely wavered from where she stood, her toned body showing no sign of impact.

”And are you okay, miss?” He felt a little awkward asking but felt it only polite. She didn’t have the same confused air or look that the man before them did. Maybe she knew something more? Elijah felt the subtle pang of hope crackle through him. Maybe she would have the answers he needed.

---
@SheriffLlama@RumikoOhara

Of Blood and Magic

Joryldin, Lucan, Morrigan

Lucan had impeccable timing. He made his way into the conversation just as the other two were beginning proper introductions.

The shorter one asked his new acquaintance, "Name’s Joryldin, how about you?” just as Bordeleaux strolled in and gave his own.

”Names Morrigan,” he managed to get out before they were interrupted. The embraced vampire took a moment to step back, letting his new companion take the lead.

Joryldin, the smaller, more unkempt one turned to glance at the new face. He was dressed far too casually for the occasion. As he noticed the myriad of crests adorning Lucan’s formal attire, he froze momentarily. "Oh, uh- Hey. You new here too?”

Luc tilted his head to the right slightly as the smaller embraced turned to him. He took in the brief yet adequate glance over and hoped he didn’t appear as some stuck up noble, but he probably did in the end. “I’m new to the Academy yes. As a student anyway.”

"Well, the pleasure’s mine. Joryldin held a hand out to shake, while simultaneously cursing himself for possibly sounding too formal or maybe even being disrespectful with his straightforward greeting.

Morrigan let his eyes wander, the vampire before them seemed more refined but there was something admis. A lack of polish perhaps, he couldn't be for certain. With a cross of his arms he watched the two exchange small talk. ”New as a student? So you've been here before?”

With a respectful inclination of his head Lucan accepted the handshake and gave a polite squeeze, not too hard and not too soft. The embraced seemed to be hesitating after his movements which Luc put down to simply not having dealt with many pureblood yet in this stage of his vampiric life. He was about to respond when the other, taller one spoke. Luc removed a handkerchief from his front pocket, wiped a bit of invisible dust from his jacket, and then nodded.

”Indeed, I worked security here some…” He thought for a moment and then a ghost of a smile came across his face. ”40 years ago? 50, they all start blending together after so long.”

As conversation began to properly kick off, Joryldin took out his earbud and turned his phone off completely. It was best not to risk pulling it out of his pocket and closing the program; people might see what he was listening to. "I guess I can count on you if I get lost, can’t I?” A slight smirk came over him. He was only half-joking though, and would probably get lost multiple times during the first few weeks.

As Joryldin joked, Morrigan simply covered his mouth with his hand, hoping to mask some of the surprise that he felt crease the edges of his mouth. Forty to fifty years was beyond the time that his sister had spent her days here, but even hearing the youthful looking vampire say it so casually threw him. Was the difference between the two so vast?

With keen eyes Luc hardly missed any of the movements his two companions made. He was so used to watching these subtle movements in court that he found himself copying them in normal everyday conversation. The earbuds coming out, the slight smirk coming to Jory’s face and then Morrigan’s covering of his own face, hiding some sort of emotion which Luc could only assume was disbelief.

”Of course you can, I’ve no idea what you two have gone through in your lives but it probably wasn’t easy, and now you’ve been thrust into a world where you haven’t belonged. If you ever need any advice or help please don’t hesitate to find me and ask me any question you might have.” He thought of some of the embraced vampires that were in the Bordeleaux’s House Guard and how he had spoken to them about their own experiences and hoped to at least help some of these vampires find their way into society easier. Then again, that’s what the Academy was for overall.

The mote of humor Joryldin toyed around with disappeared in a puff of smoke. He fully expected everyone here to lord themselves over him and tell him that he didn’t fit. Hell, there was a spiteful part of him that was happy to hear it. What he didn’t expect or want was how quick people would be to try and read him; to try and prod at what made him tick. "Thanks,” the fledgeling mumbled, "If I need a hand I’ll be sure to flag you down. Lucan, right?” Bright eyes slowly faded to their usual dark crimson as Joyrldin threw his hood back over his face.

Morrigan bit back a sigh, there was the arrogance he had come to expect. And he had no doubts Joryldin shared the same feelings of ire as he watched the boy pull up his hood. ”We should probably move with the class to lunch,” he said to ease the tension. ”Lucan, you said you've been here before. How does lunch work?” The question seemed silly but he couldn't imagine vampires feeding off of their mages while they sat down to a tray of whatever.

It seemed that Luc was back into the court scene as his words seemed to have the opposite effect of what he intended. He shrugged mentally, it was a complicated line to cross when it came to the embraced and he regretted even bringing it up. As it was however Jory seemed to be finished with the conversation overall after giving a respectful thanks. Luc watched as the shorter vampire placed his hood over his face, not missing the change in his eyes that belied his mood.

The other embraced didn’t show any outward signs of offense but Luc had stepped all over one so he was sure that he wasn’t exactly a favorite to either, but Morrigan surprised him slightly by being quite diplomatic in his reply. Luc wiped another piece of dust from his jacket and nodded before replying, his eyes going to stare at Morrigan’s form. ”Lunch is a time for vampires to show off their mage’s and for the main bit of policy to begin. Mage’s will no doubt eat but vampires tend to greet their mages friends and their vampires. Cliques will probably form out of that and a pecking order will start forming. Though, with the nobility here this year it will be interesting to see exactly what happens with that. My good friend Aaron has happened to find my Mage since I wasn’t here for orientation. You’re both more than welcome to join us, I can’t speak for Aaron’s vampire since I don’t know who it is but if anything you’ll have a seat with me and Salem.”

Joryldin made a mental note to do the exact opposite: Stay out of his mage’s business and only interact with her friends if she introduces them. Of course there was a pecking order, and he couldn’t wait to see how much of a train wreck that would be. “You two feel free. I’ve got to get my classes in order, but I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” With that, he meandered off into the crowd to find his guidance counsellor. Expecting nothing more than patronization and propaganda, he braced himself and started rehearsing in his head. Joryldin wanted to brush past the pleasantries as politely as he could muster, then gather all the information he needed to start off the school year.

There was sinking feeling for Morrigan as he watched the small of Jorydlin's back disappear, leaving him behind with the pure blood. His mouth opened and closed for a moment while looking for the words. ”I guess I will accompany you, better than trying to figure things out on my own. I guess,” He knew his words didn't exactly inspire confidence but then again he wasn't exactly feeling much of it himself. But friends were something he needed while being here, and despite the arrogant statement made earlier the pure blood seemed kind. He moved to stuff his hands in his pockets and looked back idly at Lucan. ”If you'd kindly lead the way . . .”

With a simple nod Lucan watched as Jory made his exit. It was plain to the pureblood that he had crossed a line without realizing it and he made a mental note to try and correct his mistake at a later date. For the moment however he was left with Morrigan and he politely looked down while the young vampire took a moment to regain control. ”I apologize if I made you separate from your friend, that was not my intention, and I’m sure I’m the last person that you wish to walk about with. But I hope I can show you that not all purebloods are the same, and that some do think about those that are ‘beneath the boot’ so to speak…” He hesitated and placed his handkerchief back into his front pocket and nodded. ”Of course, please this way.” He gestured to the door and ensured he was stepping beside Morrigan and not in front.

Morrigan fell in step with the pure blood, letting his mind roam freely. As his new companion said lunch was supposedly a time for vampires to flaunt their partners and the typical hierarchy that came with school to begin. ”It’s fine,” he assured the vampire. Of course part of him would have felt more at ease with another fledgling, but Morrigan couldn’t pass up this opportunity. ”The change can make us, touchy.” It wasn’t a lie, at least not a full lie. Both he and Jorydlin seemed to be struggling—but another fledglings temperament was of no concern to him. For now, he needed to make sure he found a decent spot in the school's cliques. The two of them moved silently with the rest of the student body towards the cafeteria.

-------
@Apoalo@Jade Blades

Gifted Tempest

Elijah Edwards

“You’re in a government detainment facility,” a voice answered, crackling through a small white speaker on the ceiling. He frowned in response, moving his hands to cup his ears from the offensive noise. The voice's shrill tone sent little shocks of electricity through his brain that only egged on the thrumming headache that pulsed beneath the surface.

“You’ll find a change of clothes and a packet explaining everything you need to know on the little stand in the room. Please change and leave your old clothes on the bed before you leave.”

The speaker cut off with a small hiss of static, leaving Elijah behind with the rush of his heartbeat in his ears. Change of clothes? He looked down at his dark dress shirt, dried sauces painted and smeared across its shiny buttons. He let out a pensive sigh, nothing made sense—not that the thundering going on between his ears allowed for much deep thinking. He let his burning eyes travel around the room, the whiteness offending his sore eyes. True to the voice’s words there was a small stack of neatly folded cloth beside a small paper envelop.

I guess I don’t have much of a choice. . . He slid off the side of the bed with a shallow grunt, slowly flexing his muscles to help shake off the remaining dredges that still clung to him. With clumsy fingers he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled the soiled fabric from his torso. Out of habit Elijah's fingers wrapped around the little circle of metal that bumped against his bare chest. It gave him a calm feeling, like an anchor back to reality. He slipped into the scrubs with haste, dumping his former clothes onto the bed before tearing into the paper envelope.

The paper folded inside was short—just a small list of rules that he let himself skim over. Elijah didn’t plan on learning them, for he didn’t plan to stay long. There was clearly some sort of mix up and the sooner he got out of here to talk to someone, the sooner he could go free. He moved towards the door and pressed on it with his palm. But the door didn’t budge. Again, this time he pressed with both palms but still the door didn’t budge.

”Uh, can I leave?”
“Please discard your jewelry and set them on the bed as per the rules in the paperwork provided,” the intercom hissed again.

”You've got to be kidding me,” he whined back, grabbing the paper again and looking over the print. Sure enough—no jewelry was one of the restrictions listed. ”Listen, I’m not taking off my necklace.” He flicked his eyes up at the speaker and awaited their response.

The intercom hissed to life before a new voice drifted through the air. “Mister Edwards, either you can cooperate with us. Or we can do this the long and hard way. The choice is yours, but you will not be permitted to leave this room until you relinquish your jewelry.” The make voice clicked off with a sharpness, leaving him back alone with his thoughts.

Elijah ran his hands around the door, its surface cold and smooth. Not a button nor lever to be found hidden on the frame. And the room around him too sparse to contain any secrets. He bit down on his lower lip, eyes narrowing on annoyance. ”What about I just give up my earrings,” he asked, attempting to make a deal. But he was met with only more weighed silence, one that set his teeth on edge.

Elijah paced around the room, contemplating his next move. There has to be something. . . He wracked his brain for some solution or thread of logic to follow. He leaned over the rumpled pile of clothes, they still hadn't said anything in return to his bargain. It’s not like I won’t get it back. Yeah, of course I will. Once I explain the mix up they’ll returned everything, they’ll have too. His brain wagered while his fingers fumbled with the tiny metal clasps on the back of his ear.

His ear felt weird without the extra weight, he wouldn’t have known that the two little hoops would have made such an impact. But he strangely felt like he was missing something as he dropped them into the pile. His necklace was next, plucking at the knot on the back of the leather strap around his neck. This made his stomach clench as the metal ring fell from his body. It felt like he was naked.

”There. Happy,” he asked into the silence. Without another word he stomped over to the smooth door and pushed on it. This time the door hissed in response, as of the pressure of the air inside was desperate to escape. As it slid away from its frame Elijah stepped out into the clearing. The halls were as blindingly white as the room behind him. He turned on his heel, one direction then the other. He half expected someone to be out here to greet him, but it seemed like he was have to find his own way.

He made his way down the halls, listening to the echo of his own footsteps until the gentle murmur of a voice broke through the silence. ”Hello?”

”Hello?” he answered back, slightly annoyed at the waver in his voice. He pushed himself further down the hall, looking for the owner of the voice. As he rounded the corner he ran into another man in similar looking scrubs, his dark hair tousled messily in front of his dark eyes. He looked about as confused and wary as Elijah felt. Another prisoner? He frowned at the word but couldn’t find a better term to take its place as he moved towards the stranger.

@SheriffLlama

Of Blood and Magic

Morrigan Cade

Interacting with: @Jade Blades

”Oh god, I don’t even want to imagine,” he said with a groan. An hour of being reminded that they were still essentially cattle. An hour of carefully plucked words that wept with double intent. He was already irritated with the principle's pragmatic chatter. Had he been in the mages shoes . . . Max is probably going to be in a bad mood. Morrigan's face crumpled into a sour look. He just wanted to go to class. He rather be learning things that be told to keep his partner in check. Plus, surely the lay out of the academy couldn’t be that difficult to remember.

”How are you taking the change?” He refused eye contract as his voice hissed out the question. There was a burning desire to know; was it only him that was having difficulties? There was a high chance that the boy had asked for this—unlike himself. But even those who wanted this life, they must be missing something. He folded his arms across his chest, biting back his own doubts while waiting for the boys response. It probably wasn’t the best place to hold this conversation but Morrigan was never one to know when was the appropriate time to approach things.

He eyed the pure bloods in front of him with a weighted look. Could he become more like that? At ease? The thoughts brewed while the tour edged to a close. Lunch was up next, something he both looked forward too and dreaded at the same time.

Of Blood and Magic

Morrigan Cade

Interacting with: @Jade Blades

The morning’s silence buzzed in his ears—an oppressive weight that wrapped around his still frame. He needed to eat, a faint pain clashed like lightening in the back of his throat. And Morrigan chastised himself once more for not indulging back at the party. He didn’t want to open the cabinets, explore only to find the disappointment that he was sure awaited him. There’s always Max . . . his nose wrinkled at the thought. There was no way he was going to wake the mage for that. No, Morrigan would just have to push through his day until the inevitable was before them both.

He moved soundlessly back towards his room, not even bothering to flip on the lights before rummaging through his closet. His attire was simple, plain dark button ups and black pants. He wanted to leave before his partner woke, giving the two of them comfortable space while they still adjusted. Outside was pricked with the faintest hint of humidity left over from the day. The night's coolness washing over him and breaking any remaining threads of sleep that still clung to him.

The school was peppered with chatter. Older students rushing around or lounging in the corners idly chatting. Morrigan settled in with the rest of the vampire freshman before being shuffled to the back with the rest of the embraced. He could feel it. The subtle dynamic shift from the pure bloods and them. They walked before him with bright chatter, while the rest followed in a murky silence.

He largely tuned out the principle, letting his eyes wander and absorb the halls around them. Everything was crisp and polished—and the eyes of mages and vampires alike seemed to trail where ever they moved.

”As their caretakers,” the principle's droll voice caught his attention once more,”we have to guide them with a critical eyes and a firm hand for them to ultimately successful.”

They’re not pets . . . his thoughts flashed back to Max, the mage was clearly more put together than he was. They claim it’s a partnership but they still act like humans are hapless.

With a roll of his eyes Morrigan recognized a familiar face nearby. The angry vampire that had brushed past him back at the party. With some subtle pushing he made his way towards the boy, brushing his shoulder against him as he leaned in slightly. ”Could he get any duller,” he asked, trying to make chitchat while the principle continued. It would be good, to gain a possible friend who understood the difficulties that came from being embraced.

Gifted Tempest

Oops

Gifted Tempest

Elijah Edwards

He moved to grab the little dark hued bottle that sat perched at the edge of his sink counter. Just a little . . . he thought with a small shake. A dab behind each ear and then he smudged some on each wrist. The scent was rich, a mixture between something earthy and some sort of spice. It was a gift—last Christmas’ present from his mother. One that he conveniently left back at her house before he headed back home. Elijah had no use for cologne cologne most days, drenched in sweat from his work. And on his off days he would just stuck to woodland scented deodorant.

But he had come home to surprise his mother and step father. With the intention to make up for his absence as well as distract his mom from her paranoia. Social media was rift with it now—people being detained, or gone missing. She was worried, resorting to calling and texting him an ungodly amount. But surely it didn’t have anything to do with the recent blood draws. Did it?

He ran a comb through his hair, giving himself one last look over. What he didn’t expect was to run into Katlyn while here. His old high school flame looked better than he remembered. With dark brown hair that fell just a little past her shoulders, and the same honey-brown eyes that once ensnared his entire soul. She was the reason he almost flunked history—so rapt was his attention to every move she made. Their relationship was short, well short according to adults, but back then it felt like a lifetime.

Now she was fully grown, two kids of her own and an accountant. Or so she said when they bumped into one another at the local marketplace. Elijah's mouth moved faster than his brain when he had asked her out for dinner. Only letting out a pensive breath when she agreed before exchanging numbers. Of course his mother was ecstatic when came home with the world's smugest look plastered across his face. She was always fond of Katlyn and he always secretly thought she had been more upset than he was when it all came crashing down. But tonight was a new start between the two and Elijah was ready to rekindle the flame that was once between the two of them.

”There’s my handsome boy,” his mother’s voice broke the silence behind him. Elijah startled where he stood before quickly recovering, feeling a blush creep up the sides of his neck and towards his ears.

”Ma, no. Don’t make this a big deal—its just dinner with an old friend,” he said while looking anywhere but at the clearly excited face in front of him.

”Oh you’re not fooling me,” she said with a finger wag. His mom moved forward and helped straighten his tie before reaching up to cup his face with her cool hand. ”How’d you get so handsome?”

Elijah looked down at her, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He took in her features, the fine lines that creases around her eyes and the thin grey hairs peppered throughout her copper hair. She was getting old—a sad thought that dampened his mood a little. ”No idea, ma. A total mystery. I guess I was adopted,” he said with a wry laugh.

She moved her hand from his face and swatted him playfully on the shoulder. ”Handsome but mean!” Their laughs echoed off the bathroom tile before she backed back outside the room. ”Come on then, best not keep her waiting.”

They moved into the living room where Harold was sitting, sunk into the pleather couch while some sport buzzed on the t.v in front of him. ”Look honey, look at out handsome boy,” she cooed, still fussing about Elijah. He watched his step fathers eyes drift from the television set to him and back. With a grunt he tipped his head in Elijah's direction. ”Better if he took out those earrings. Makes him look like one of those, uh, metrosexuals.”

Yes, caption fashion. Elijah kept his tongue still as he rolled his eyes towards his mother. Her face was a clash of annoyance and exasperation while she regarded her husband. She looked over at him and with a wink stuck her tongue out at the distracted old man. Elijah laughed softly. Even with age, she was still just as feisty as he remembered from his youth. The two of then were like water and oil, yet somehow they brought a balance to one another. It didn’t make sense to him, but it didn’t need too. As long as his mother was safe and happy she could marry the local bum for all he cared.

”Alright, I’m off. I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up!” He moved towards the front door, only pausing to grab his jacket off the hook.

”Have fun sweetie, and remember to be a gentleman.”

”And don’t forget to use protection,” Harold yelled from the living room.

"Harold! They’re adults, I’m sure they know better,” an admonished with a hand pressed to her chest.

”She’s got two kids Eileen, clearly someone wasn’t being responsible.”

Elijah could feel his mouth open and shut while he looked for the words, but instead his brain flat-lined while he wirelessly groped for the door. He rushed out the front door and welcomed the rush of ice cold air while he escaped the muffled bickering of his parents.

”Good ol' Harold.” Elijah shook his head before getting into his car and starting the engine.

---------------------

The restaurant was warm, fall colors decorating the interior while people milled about in cozy little booths. Elijah exchanged idle chitchat with the maitre d while the man looked up his reservation. Much to his relief he had told him that she hadn’t gotten there before him. But there was something odd about the man. His whole body had stiffened up at the mention of his name. But Elijah quickly brushed it off—attributing his paranoia to the nerves that buzzed beneath his skin.

A cute little red-headed waitress beckoned for him to follow her, that they had a special booth in the back set aside. That was the second thing that struck Elijah as weird. He had made reservations but nothing that special. He bit back his better sense and followed quietly behind as they made their way towards the back of the restaurant. This doesn’t seem right, he thought as she led him to a little white door.

”I’m afraid our chef would like to have a word with you before you can be seated,” she said while pushing open the door a little with her right hand.

”I don’t understand. I just made plans for dinner for two. Nothing extra. Are you sure you didn’t get me mixed up with someone else?” Elijah took a step back, feeling all sorts of bad vibes from the situation.

The young woman leaned in, her brows furrowing together with what looked like worry. ”Please, sir, I need you to step inside.” Elijah looked back, a few curious bystanders had looked away from their meals and dates to watch what seemed to be happening before them. He glanced back at the entrance doors and noted two rather burly looking men dressed in black before the doors.

He didn’t feel like he had much of a choice. His feet moving with more confidence than he felt. Behind the little white door was the main kitchen. Steam rolled off the chrome colored surfaces but the staff was no where to be found. Instead he was greeted with more burly looking men in all blacked. Elijah backed up, feeling the hard door against his back.

”Someone want to explain to me what is going on?”

”Elijah Edwards, your detainment has been issued and we’re here to take you in,” one of the men said with an even and calm tone.

”My detainment? I’m afraid you have the wrong guy,” he said with palms raised in the air. This wasn’t real right? His heart quickened beneath his ribs. This was just things that happened in the movies—it had to be. But his mind filled with flashes of memories. His mother had said her neighbor's wife had gone missing. Reports of people being detained in public with no explanation. But that couldn’t be happening now. It couldn’t be happening to him.

“Lets make this nice and easy, okay? Just come with us and no one has to get hurt.”

Elijah's veins flooded with adrenaline as he made a break for the little door he has spied when he first walked in. He wasn’t sure if had thought he would catch them off guard or that he honestly thought he could get away, all he knew was he needed to go—and go quickly. He made it halfway through the kitchen before strong arms wrapped around him from behind. They wrenched upwards and pulled him back, and onto the tips of his toes. But Elijah wasn’t some scrawny little pink kid. He was strong from years of moving and bending metal. Strong from more years of vigorous training and easily wrenched out of his would-be kidnappers grasp.

But he wasn’t fast enough, as the rest of the men quickly cut off his escape. Their bodies hunched and ready to take on any attack he threw at them. Elijah's mind had frayed and thoughts of his mother frenzied—he needed to get home to her. Let her know that she was right all along.

“That is enough Mister Edwards!” a voice bellowed from behind him. ”We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way there is no escaping. This is an order from your government. Any action you take here can be used to press charges against you and your family for treason.”

Treason? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. And Elijah whipped his head around, looking for some path to take to get out of here. He whipped his body to the right, making a desperate attempt to crawl between what looked to be a little counter. Still hot plates sat on top of the little silver surface, and Elijah quickly flung them to the floor with a fluid swoop of his arm. But more hands pulled at him from behind, dragging him back while something sharp bit into the side of his neck. He could feel something cold flush into his body. It burned, whatever the liquid was, as it spread through his veins. Elijah could feel his limbs begin to loosen, his grip lessen. Every part of him was going limp as the liquid sapped away his strength. The men pulled him back and lifted him up into the air while his vision grew hazy.

I’m so sorry ma.

“What a waste of good fettuccini.”He heard someone joke before slipping into unconsciousness.

---------Somewhere in an undisclosed location---------

He winced, as the light stabbed at his eyes. His head felt like it had been thrown inside a blender and set on high. Every part of his body burned and ached while his thoughts slowly bubbled from the thick darkness that seemed to cloud them. ”Wh—what happened.”

He strained to sit himself up. Had he drank too much? No, no that didn’t seem right. He didn’t remember drinking—though right now he didn’t remember much of anything. He sat, slumped forward with his palms pressing into his closed lids while trying to recall what had happened the night before.

I was going to meet someone. . . I was going to meet. I was going to meet Katlyn. Yeah, I had a date with Katlyn. But she wasn’t there? No. The memories came back in hazy clips. The off feeling he had from the waitress. The men in black. Hands, hands that grabbed at him. Realization hit him harder than the night after a bar crawl. He had been taken, something injected into him while he had desperately tried to get away. A cold, sinking feeling washed over him as he craned his neck up—blinking into the bright light. ”Where am I?”

Gifted Tempest

Elijah Edwards

”No, ma, it was just a little blood draw,” Elijah sighed into the little receiver on his cell. His mother had texted him at least a dozen time since he had went to the clinic. Apparently there had been whispers of some kind of rumors going around on facebook that had her in a tizzy.

”But it’s all over social media—even a few articles written. The government is trying to locate mutants!” she buzzed back in his ear excitedly. He silently sent up a thanks that she couldn’t see him roll his eyes in response while he moved the phone to his other ear.

”Those are clickbaits, ma. You can’t listen to them. They’re just trying to get views by using flashy gossip. Plus, what does Harold think anyway?” He had hoped that the old man would help be the voice of reason for once.

”Oh you know how he is. 'The government knows what they’re doing, stop worrying so much', she said in her best imitation. Elijah couldn’t do much but smile—that guy was going to be red, white, and blue until the day he died. An admirable, if not mildly annoying, trait.

”You should really listen to him, Ma,” he said with a grunt, standing on tippy toe to polish the top of the metal horse before him. A full polish wasn’t his usual trademark—preferring to leave the metal dull and flat on the outside with slivers of polished ribbons carefully placed to catch the suns rays. But the client wanted it polished from mane to hoof and with the cash they were willing to throw at him, Elijah wasn’t about to argue it.

”Oh, are you working now?”

”Of course, ma. I’m always working, you should know this.” He could hear her sigh softly in response and hastily tacked on, ”But you know I always make time to talk to answer your calls.” He didn’t call her enough; he knew it, she knew it. But she never spoke up about it, knowing he was usually wrapped up in an order or working on a side project. But the guilt would gnaw at him sometimes.

”What’s the project this time?”

Elijah let out a little hiss, he had been working on this for months. Had it really been that long since they had talked for more than a few minutes? He tried to recall the last time he sat down to just talk about their lives and days—but nothing came to mind. ”The Yoya Horse Farm ordered a customer stallion. Oh you should see it, reared back on his haunches. It’s not solid either, I did a basic metal outline of his body that tapers off into this beautiful point,” Elijah launched into full details, the pride oozing through every word. To him it was more than beautiful, and he had loved throwing himself into creating it.

”That sounds wonderful, my boy. Take photos for me, please,” her tone matched his own glowing one. No matter how long they went without talking, she always showed her pride in his work.

”Will do. I’ll make sure to give ya a little tag on my page.”

”I’ll let you go for now. Gotta start supper. Make sure you eat, and go look at what I was talking about! The screenings weren’t for nothing, son. You and Harold may think it’s nothing, but I think these news articles are onto something!” she pressed while Elijah sated her with a few cloying ‘uh huh's'. Anything to shift the conversation off of the impossible.

”Love you, ma. I’ll be seeing you for thanksgiving, alright,” he rushed while waiting for the click of her phone to signal that he was free. It was a strange feeling, on one hand he felt the guilt from being so distant but on the other he really wanted to get back to work.

”I can push back the Richardson deadline by a few weeks and go out there as a surprise,” he mused to himself before setting his phone down in the little work desk off to the side of the room. And mutants, ma? Really? Elijah merely shook his head in disbelieve. How could a woman that smart be so easily mislead? He didn’t know, and hoped that when he reached her age he would still hold onto his strong sense of common sense.

Of Blood and Magic

Morrigan Cade

Interacting with: @Scribe of Thoth

The mage had cracked a joke, one that brought a moment of pleasure to the night. But his last statement clung to him like an unwanted film. 'Traded caffeine for a place in the ruling caste.’ The sentence threw him into silence as they made their way to their dorm. It wasn’t like Morrigan had entered that fight with the intent of being turned—or dying at all for that matter. But would the mage understand that his life was traded to save a vampire?

He would probably call me foolish, he thought with a hollow laugh. And he would right, trading a mortal life for a vampiric one seemed foolish even now. It is what it is, he reminded himself. There was nothing with too sulk about.

They arrived at the dorm together. Morrigan taking it on himself to go ahead and retrieve the keys to their dorm, opening the door in mutual silence. Inside seemed comfy enough. Clean with minimal décor. He would have to fill it with things over the years. With a quick glance he scanned over the letter that was left for him, the schedule printed neatly underneath. He looked over to Maxwell he have a polite smile and said, ”I guess I’m going to go ahead and get some rest, orientation tomorrow and all.”

He didn’t wait for the mage to respond, picking a random room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. Morrigan let out a sigh, sleep was weird. He didn’t think vampires would sleep but here was, a fledgling crashing into the softness of the bed. The dorm was nice but then again it was a prestigious academy. He rolled over into his back, blinking into the darkness of the room. He should have had something to drink at the gathering. Something small at least—to stave off the inevitable feeding that was to come. The thought made Morrigan both uncomfortable and curious.

There were rumors that the bite of a vampire was almost euphoric in nature. Would Maxwell feel the same way? All be could remember was burning pain as he came too the first time, but that was different. He wasn’t going to turn Maxwell. Just feed on him from time to time for the rest of his mortal life. His face screwed up at the notion.

Morrigan grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and pressed it to face, trying to block out his churning thoughts. Right now he needed to sleep, for morning would surely be breaking soon. I wonder if he’ll stay up to watch the sun rise? he wondered before finally drifting off.

---------------------

Did born vampires dream? The thought often plagued him in the early eves of night. He dreamt—or maybe it was just him going through his memories. For it was always day, bright and warm on his skin. People going about their day-to-day and the inviting smells of food being cooking all around him. A festival maybe? Nothing that he could recall in his first waking moments.

Morrigan forced himself up with a low groan and shuffled quietly into the darkened kitchen. It was silent, Maxwell probably still asleep in his own room. He leaned against the kitchen counter and rested his head back against the cabinet. ”What a wonderful dream . . .”

Gifted Tempest

Elijah Edwards

Tsk, the thought plumed with the milky-white wisp of this morning’s cigarette. Winter had come early, surpassing Autumn altogether for the citizens of Syracuse, New York. Not that Elijah minded, it got hot inside his workshop and as long as he stayed busy—he stayed warm. Though this morning had an unpleasant chill seeping past his thick jacket and into his bones. With a soft grunt he moved the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the ashy residue onto the ground beside him.

”Do I really have too?” Elijah muttered to himself, eyeing the clinic that towered before him. A week ago he received a letter saying everyone was to donate blood for some sort of genetic testing. Originally, he had tossed the letter into the waste bin. He had three big projects with looming deadlines he needed to focus on, he was sure that they wouldn’t mind if he skipped out on this. That was until his mother called to remind him to go. And then called again. And again, and well, eventually he got tired of the nagging.

Even his step father could be heard in the background, yelling about it being their duty or something. Elijah smiled a little at the memory. Crazy old man. With that he dropped the still smoking butt onto the parking lot pavement and ground it into the black surface. The sooner he got this over with the sooner he could go back home and get back to work. Even as he strode up to the building's double doors his mind was filled with heated metal and bright sparks flying into the air. He was almost done—a brilliant metal sculpture of a stallion rearing back onto it’s haunches and he was eager to complete it.

Warmth greeted him along with the sterile smell of powerful chemicals as he stepped inside. A handful of people were scattered about, most cupping silver thermos that steamed into the air. A few curious glances were casted at him, and Elijah caught a few double takes as he moved up to the reception desk.

”Um, hello?” he called out with a little half wave as he tried to draw the attention to the gossiping duo hovering around the printer. Both of them rolled their heads in his direction, but it was the smaller of the two—a petite little brunette—that flashed him a smile and disengaged from her chatting partner to come up with him.

”Good morning, how can I help you?” her voice was as chipper as her smile and Elijah felt himself falter a little. Morning people were a mystery to him, even with his early morning jogs he couldn’t muster the strength to people like a civilized human being. To put it simply, the woman before him was clearly a witch and was to be treated with caution.

”Yeah, I got a letter in the mail about a week ago. I need to donate bloo—“

”Oh, you’re here for the genetic screening! Bit last minute don’t you think? Most people came within the first few days of the letter,” she playfully quipped before settling down into the padded chair at her desk. ”Alright, let’s get started mister,” she trailed off flicking her dark brown eyes from her computer screen and back up to him.

”Elijah Edwards.”

He watched her lips purse into a small smile while her fingers quickly tapped across the keyboard. ”Alright, Mister Edwards, if you’ll just fill out the paperwork really quick then we can take you back and get you worked on.” The woman produced a small brown clipboard with thin white sheets of paper attached. As she pressed them across the desk, Elijah reached over for them. The woman recoiled, a shocked gasp escaping her lips. She had seen his hands— calloused and scarred. Elijah mustered his most friendly smile as he took the paperwork with him and said a polite, ”Thank you.”

There was once a time he would trip over his words to explain the scars. He didn’t like the initial reactions from the people around him. And then the small amounts of disappointment from various people when he informed them it was nothing tragic as they had seemed to hope for. Just a byproduct of avoiding safety regulations and cheap welders gloves.

Elijah ticked through the paperwork and handed it back to the receptionist. After a few more moments of awkward silence a nurse appeared from one of the corner doors.

”Mister Edwards, if you’ll come with me please.” She stepped back and motioned for him to follow.

Silently he followed the nurse, taking in the little pictures of patients and staff they had posted up on the walls. ”Getting the genetic screening done,” she asked, clearly making small talk.

”Yeah, that’s what the letter told me. Not sure why but who am I to question the government.”

The woman laughed a little before opening up a nearby door. ”It’ll only be for a minute then you’ll be back on your way. We just need a little vial of your blood,” she said in an assuring voice while she moved to fiddle some drawers attached the far wall. ”If you’ll have a seat, I’ll get started in just a moment.”

Elijah took off his jacket and settled down in a little cushioned chair. He looked around the room, he hated doctor’s offices. At least the ones for adults. For kids they got a t.v playing cartoons and vivid drawings of animals on the walls. Adults got a stock image of flowers against white walls and blue grey floors. It was cold and unfeeling.

”Alright, now if you would roll up your sleeves please,” she said while pulling over a little silver tray.

Elijah followed orders, rolling up his right arm sleeve and laid it down in the chair arm.

”Those are some nasty looking scars you got there.”

”I’m a sculptor.”

”Of what, broken glass?” she joked while slipping the needle into his vein.

Elijah laughed softly, ignoring the quick bite of the needle. ”Metal actually, I make metal sculptures.” He watched red fill the tube and quickly fill the little glass vial attached.

”Metal, eh?” her voice was colored with an impressed tone. ”You any good?”

”God, I hope so. Or else I went 20 thousand in debt for no reason.” The two of them laughed at his response while the nurse grabbed a small cotton ball and placed it above where the needle punctured his skin. She pulled out the needle and set it down before grabbing a small bandaid.

”Alright, you’re all set. If you go out and take a left you’ll find a little sitting area. There we have some juice and cookies waiting to help.”

Elijah pulled his sleeve back down and slipped on his coat, giving the woman another polite smile before slipping back out the door. I guess some juice and cookies wouldn’t hurt . . .