Among the Whispering and the Stars SOLO Closed

Early into the Summer 2024

It was his father Adrian Hawthorne that brought him to the castle, collecting him from London just after the city grew dark and they arrived at the castle while the land was still engulfed in the darkness of night. Simon was under the assumption that this was probably perfectly normal travel for vampires and seeing as he didn’t sleep much himself, this worked for him.

His father had brought “Divina Commedia”, or more commonly known as the English title “The Divine Comedy” to read on their travels and Simon spent as much time as he could texting his girlfriend AngelFyre McCubbin before falling out of unfortunate range. Simon had also conducted a quick Google search of the book and learned that it was written between 1308 and 1320 by Dante Alighieri. Simon hadn’t read the text, but the summary stated that the book demonstrated to readers the horrors their souls would go through if they did not obey God’s laws and did not live righteously.

Simon glanced down to his phone, still seeing the red warning exclamation mark next to his last text to AngelFyre, mocking him that it did not send. It read: “I’ll be safe. I love you and miss you.” - At least, that’s what it would read if it would have sent.

Attempting to see something in the darkness of the passing landscape through the train window, he came up short despite his heightened dhampir vision and sighed, feeling somewhat bored with this situation already. No, not bored - but frustrated. It had only been a week ago since he arrived back to London from Hogwarts and he was looking quite forward to seeing Aunt Maggie, getting better acquainted with her new husband Mark, and reconnecting with his muggle friends back in London but now that opportunity had been taken from him. He was going off to stay in some creepy huge castle laden with roses and dark corridors; one in which the last time he visited landed him with some mighty odd thoughts that may have been memories and a trip to the wizarding hospital. There was certainly something off where his father lived in the land of Babilstow and it wasn’t only the five vampires that lived in the castle.

His attention returned to the book that his father had with him and he examined the cover one more time, noting the different language once more and saw his father’s eyes lift to him, apparently aware of the stare. “Something catch your curiosity?” Adrian asked. Simon glanced away, originally thinking that he had been inconspicuous in the encounter but obviously had failed. “I uhh - I was just wondering how many times you’ve read that,” he began. The book did look rather well worn. “And how many languages you know since that doesn’t appear to be the English version."

“This is beginning to be reminiscent of your Rapid Fire Questions game,” his father replied and closed the book, placing it on the empty seat beside him. Their train car was full of empty seats on this ride back to South-West England. In fact, they were the only two on board their car and Simon wasn’t sure there was anyone else, non-staff, on any of the others.

Simon thought back. They had played a quick round of Rapid Fire Questions in an ice cream parlor in London that prior Summer when his father had paid him an unexpected visit. It was almost a year later and truly there were still so many things Simon wanted to ask about his father. “Yea, it is sort of is, innit?” Simon replied, wondering if he should perhaps attempt to initiate another round. If he was going to be staying with his father throughout most of this Summer, maybe he could benefit from some basic information - but what to ask?

“I get to begin this time,” Simon’s father spoke up. Apparently they were going to play another round and it surprised Simon that it was his father who initiated it. Maybe, perhaps, he was also curious about him. In realizing that might be so, Simon thought back to his seer of a girlfriend’s early visions about his father and her warning to Simon because of it. She thought nothing good could come from the man. Perhaps though, these would be lighthearted and easy questions - like what was his favorite type of music.

“What are your supplementary traits from being half-vampire as opposed to being fully human?” Adrian asked. Already, so early into this ‘game,’ Simon realized he would need to tread carefully. Simon knew some other dhampirs from Hogwarts but his father didn’t realize he was from the world of magic and something inside him was quite adamant on keeping this fact hidden for a reason he couldn’t quite figure out. He would make it seem like he had no one else to compare it to and only had his personal knowledge to go on. …..But was it wise to share any information at all?

Just as he began to ponder this he wasn’t given a choice in the matter as the train lurched to a quick halt, causing the book his father had placed on the seat the fly elsewhere and a box that sat high on a storage rack to fall. Simon stood quickly and grabbed the box before it could crash down. His father was up as well. “Here,” the man said, offering to take the box as he placed his hands underneath and attempted to bear the weight from his son.

“Quick reflexes and increased strength,” Adrian answered for Simon.

“How long can you be in the sun before it affects you?”

That seemed like a pretty appropriate thing for a vampire to ask any non-vampire, even if it was perhaps done so out of jealousy. Simon already had to limit his time out in the sun from his human counterparts but couldn’t imagine what it was like to have it be completely nonexistent.

“Depends on how sunny it is and if the sun is reflecting off other surfaces like water or snow. A decent amount of time if not, maybe around an hour or so if it is. Cloudy days, rainy days - no restrictions.”

“How does the sun affect you?”
“I burn quickly - like a fast-acting bad sunburn and the light can hurt my eyes."

……Was he revealing too much?

“Do you crave blood?”
No, this was just a vampire wanting to know more about his half-vampire of a son. Perhaps Adrian Hawthorne was as interested in Simon Kincaid as Simon Kincaid was interested in Adrian Hawthorne.
“Uh - I wouldn’t say CRAVE, so much, but I have some often; in fruit juice,” and he watched as his father’s right eyebrow sort of lifted when he said that last part.

“How much sleep do you need?”
Simon shrugged. He slept maybe four to six hours every three nights or so, seldomly sleeping longer than that. Still, again, something told him not to tell his father specifics on this so he kept it at a simple shrug as if he really wasn’t sure.

“Do you pray? What for?”
“Absolutely! To give thanks. For peace. For understanding. For the well being of those I love.”

“What scares you?”
“People I love suffering. Anyone, anything - for that matter - suffering.”

“What can you not live without?”
“My faith - losing that would destroy me completely.”

“What do you like best about London?”
“London is everything - London is music and culture, art and history, exciting and peaceful.”

“What trait most defines who you are?”
“Kindness.”

“Tell me about your girlfriend.”
“She’s absolutely amazing. She’s intelligent and bright and always has a plan for everything and a backup plan to her backup plan. She’s creative and she’s fun and she’s beautiful and I’m very fortunate to have found her and grateful that she chose me to love. She’s my everything and she’s my always.”


“What do you think of me?”
“You uh - you come off as very guarded.”

“Where were you during your last visit?”
Simon’s heart began to beat faster. “I don’t know exactly. I got hurt - and …. I can’t remember how, even now. I made my way back to the castle, found you, and then you took me back to London.”

That didn’t feel much like a nonchalant round of Rapid Fire Questions. When Simon played this with his muggle friends it was often quick, easy lighthearted questions but most of these, if not all, were quite heavy to take on.

His turn?

His turn.

If he was going to get any real and valid questions from his father he was going to have to put these in order of importance - start with something light and eventually increase the heftiness of his questions.

“Do you speak more than one language?”
“Many.”

Simon waited to see if he would elaborate on that a little more but his father did not. Content to at least get any answer at all, he continued. He wasn’t quite sure if his father really understood this game or if he was being guarded the way he saw him to be on a regular basis.

“If you were given an all-expenses paid trip to Cleveland, would you take it?” Simon asked and watched his father closely, curious to see if he was even really listening. Adrian just looked to him blankly before smirking slightly. Okay, he was listening.
“Absolutely not.”

“Where were you born?”
“Yorkshire, England.”

When? When? When? It was a question that often preoccupied Simon’s thoughts but no, it really wasn’t polite to ask someone their age and maybe he could discover an answer to that some other way.

“Did you……do you have any siblings?” Simon wasn’t quite sure which way to word the question; past tense or present.
“No.” And the answer didn’t help him find which was the correct way.

“Tell me about your parents.” Now he was reaching. Now was the point in which he would predict his father might start shutting down and stopping the game.

Perhaps the question made his father uncomfortable because Adrian turned his gaze from Simon and to the window of the passing darkness. Yep, time to shut down and stop the game.

Simon too looked over toward the train window but his gaze was set more on the outline of his father than on whatever one might see passing by and it felt eerily like his father was perhaps doing the same - watching him in return.

After several moments passed by, Simon rested his back against the seat, abandoning the game and ready to hopefully grow accustomed to this quiet train ride when, to his surprise, his father broke the silence that he had initially created.

“My father was named Eustace. He was a wheat farmer by trade but held a spectacular talent for creating remarkably realistic drawings. He was - hardworking and - kind hearted. My mother was named Annora and based on my father’s drawings, in addition to his words, she was beautiful. She met the Lord when I was simply a baby - my father did not follow until I had just reached adulthood.”

A striking similarity between both his parents hit Simon with those last words. His mother, too was thrown into adulthood - having lost both her parents in a car accident just after graduating from Hogwarts. He knew for her it had been a very difficult journey and no doubt his father had gone through one as well.

And not only did Adrian Hawthorne have to face going into the world as an adult without any parental guidance but he had somewhere become a vampire shortly after. What was that story?

Simon wondered if he should prod.

“How did you become……” he paused, unsure how to word it. Was it impolite to come right out and ask directly how someone was turned into a vampire? Simon didn’t know proper vampire etiquette here but something told him that might not be the best.

“I shall show you some of his drawings in the near future,” his father replied and ignored the attempted question being asked. That gave Simon his answer.

Rapid Fire Questions and conversation ceased for the rest of the trip. The train carried the two to South-West England through not only darkness, but in silence.

Early into the Summer 2024

It was quite early in the morning when they arrived at the Castle and the land was blanketed by the darkest of dark. It was that late hour that seemed either the dead of night or the most early of morning - too late for nocturnal animals to be out and about but much too early for birds and other wildlife to begin to stir. There was a stillness in the air but it didn't feel like tranquil silence but rather stagnation.

"I suppose everyone's asleep at this hour," Simon said as they navigated toward the front entrance of the Castle, just beyond the large circle of driveway area and a fountain with roses. There were roses everywhere around the Castle of Babilstow. Simon's father looked at him with what seemed to be an amused expression. .....Wait, did vampires even sleep?

"This time is essentially the only time we truly have," Adrian answered as he granted them access into the first door of that light-tight dual door system; not that it was needed at this particular time. "At least, it is the only time in which we can be free."

Simon thought about that, the stillness, the silence, the stagnation that surrounded them - and yet they had to struggle through such a scenario in being the best hours of their so called lives. They could be free - but only when the entire rest of the world was asleep.

Once inside, his father's home was as dimly lit as it always was, often with candles whose light from the flames danced across the corridor walls and made the open spaces not feel so empty. It felt more secure within its walls, more so than it ever did from outside. None of the other vampires that occupied that home were around, but now Simon doubted it was due to sleep from his father's reaction.

Having been dragging a suitcase with him this entire time, he wondered if his father would lead him to the room he showed him on a previous visit - his own very room within the place. It was a rather impressive bedroom actually, with a large bed and sleeping space, a desk for writing, a comfortable seating area, and even a separate sort of alcove for a piano. It wouldn't be the worst place to spend the summer - although he wished he was with Aunt Maggie and Uncle Mark helping in their situation, reconnecting with his muggle friends back in London, or seeing his girlfriend AngelFyre McCubbin's beautiful face.

They began down a corridor that Simon hadn't explored yet and it made him come to the realization that there was probably lots of the Castle that he hadn't yet seen and that sparked his interest. He remembered venturing around the halls of Hogwarts much of his first year to learn about its hallowed halls and he'd have to do the same to this place.

That corridor led to another, to another and he followed his father and tried to make note of where they were, creating a sort of map within his mind. It didn't matter where you were - it was always good to get a grasp of your location and where you were in relation to other places. "Leave your bag here," Adrian said as he pushed open a large wooden door. The two then entered into a dark space quite similar to the one they had entered the Castle from and Simon noted that it was another light tight dual door system. Probably any entrance or exit to the Castle was such when it was a Castle where vampires dwelled.

They re-entered the night, only this time it was a sort of large ornate Courtyard like area. There were sconces lining the walls and pillars and more lit candles that rested within lanterns hanging from the ceiling which gave dim but adequate light to the space. Simon could easily see the light reflecting off the long cascading curls of the redhead ahead of them. "I bring wonderful news, Lilith," Adrian said loudly, causing her to pause what she was doing and turn slowly toward him. Her face seemed to fall some when she saw Simon at his side. Simon looked down to her hands to see a bow in one hand, an arrow in the other. "Simon will be spending the summer with us. Is that not grand?" She formed a tight smile on her face. "Splendid. Simply splendid. - A child within our walls; or rather, another one. Do set some boundaries like you have for the other so that he knows how to behave. We wouldn't want anything happening to your precious little one," and with those words she turned around, drew the bow string back and allowed the arrow to soar swiftly to its destination - reaching precisely in the middle of the target ahead. Somehow Simon didn't think this was a lucky shot and that she was a expert marks(wo)man.

Adrian led Simon more into the garden that occupied most of the Courtyard area and he looked around to see that this reminded him more of the Greenhouses back at Hogwarts than anything else and they were all quite exotic looking plants, one that weren't seen often. He knew they weren't magical though due to the fact that vampires didn't occupy the magical world. "We call this the Moonlight Garden. The plants found here bloom at night and create a beautiful fragrant backdrop for summer nights to spend under the stars." Simon looked up to see the stars above from the glass ceiling.

There was a rustling just ahead and over to the right and Simon followed his father over to him. "Samael! I bring wonderful news. "Simon will be spending the summer with us. Is that not grand?" Samael had a shovel in his hand, obviously having been tending to the plants in the Moonlight Garden. He propped it up it up against the side of a pillar and surveyed Simon. "Ah grand! The grand staircase shall be the key to the renouncement!" and he looked to Adrian as if saying something super important but Adrian didn't seem impressed. "Samael, I said that I bring wonderful news. Simon will be spending the summer with us," and Simon watched as his father kept direct eye contact with the older man. There was silence for a moment before Samael moved his head slightly to the side to look at Simon again. "Ah, Simon! Welcome back! Do be mindful of the Gardenias, my boy. They are beautiful but oh so delicate," and Simon smiled to the man, also wanting to wish him a welcome back to reality but most certainly wouldn't due to better manners although, it would have been done with a kind heart. Simon couldn't imagine what it was like to lose yourself like that and wondered if Samael Dempsey didn't feel more at ease when in his correct state of mind. "Thank you and I will be most mindful during my visit," and not just of the garden but everything whilst he visited the Castle.

He felt his father's eyes on him at that statement, boring into him probably in the same manner they had been to Gideon just moments ago and when he glanced over at him, his father glanced away, his gaze shifting upwards to that glass ceiling and the darkened sky. "Where's Giddy...." Simon paused and cleared his throat a little, "I mean.... Gideon. Where's Gideon?" Gideon was the only other vampire in the Castle that he had previously met before and had yet to see again. Somehow he had assumed it would be Gideon he would have come into contact with first.

"He'll probably be found out back working on his car," Simon's father said as he led him further from Lilith to the other side of the Moonlight Garden and out another dual door light tight system. "His car?" Simon asked, thinking that was somewhat amusing to think of a vampire doing any kind of car mechanics. The two made their way out into the darkness of South-West England again where a rhythmic pounding could be heard in the near distance. "He loves that car so dearly," Adrian exclaimed as they continued their walk toward the sound. "You sound jealous, dear Adrian," Gideon said and approached them. "And not just any car. This is a 1923 Morris Cowley Four Door Saloon." Simon took a quick glance over to his father as if seeing if one should be impressed by such a car and Adrian shook his head no with a smile. "Such jealousy," Gideon muttered. "Simon, what a surprise to see you."

"Yes," Adrian smiled and began the same spiel he stated earlier, "I bring wonderful news. Simon will be spending the summer with us. Is that not grand?" "Grand," Gideon said as he looked to Simon and then to Adrian. "Are we not to search for the Milky Way? I was simply finding a stopping point on my project."

Simon watched as a smile spread across his father's face. "Tell me who harbors jealousy now," he spoke to Simon. "I'll get Simon settled to his room and we shall leave momentarily. I'll meet you at the front entrance." Gideon smiled and then set out to tidy up.

"I've yet to meet the other one," Simon said as they now began to backtrack through where they came, through the dual doors, across the Moonlight Garden, and back to the corridor where he retrieved his bag. He had heard mention that another vampire lived within this Castle but didn't know much about her except she seemed to prefer remaining secluded from the others, or maybe she just liked isolation to herself. "Is there a reason that I have not?" Maybe these were civilized vampires amongst him and Vanessa was not - maybe she was rouge, wild, vicious.

"Stubbornness and irritableness. She has a way of taking her bad mood and sucking any bit of pleasantness from any given situation, devouring it as if it was needed for survival." Simon nodded as if he understood but honestly, he didn't understand. What he did know was that Vanessa wasn't something he was too eager to meet so hopefully she'd just remain in that seclusion of hers.

They now began up the stairs and Simon had picked up his suitcase and this was the familiar path that would lead him to his bedroom. Simon wondered where they were going to search for the Milky Way, what instruments - if any - where needed to see it, and what inspired them. Perhaps one, or both, were astronomy buffs. "Whilst you are here, I do want you to abide by something," his father broke his thoughts.

Simon was used to rules at Hogwarts and as prefect he was one to help enforce those rules but when not at school and back in London, Aunt Maggie pretty much let him do anything he wanted. Exactly what sort of regulation was his father planning on establishing?

"You are to stay within the Castle or on the Castle grounds. Do not venture out," and Simon looked to him, as if wondering why the restriction. Perhaps he looked a little too long and his father felt the need to explain the need for such rule because Adrian continued. "You were hurt the last time you came and were who knows where. Correct? You are to stay within the Castle or on the Castle grounds. Do not venture out."

Simon nodded. "I'll probably be spending a lot of time in this very room," he said as they got to his room and he opened the door. It looked just as it did the first time he was shown it. This was where he would be spending his summer break.

"Yep, probably be spending a lot of time in here."

He bid his father a good night and shut the door. "...Possibly."

Early into the Summer 2024

At 2:56am Simon checked his watch before throwing himself down on his bed and he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom in this castle where vampires lived. The night was still young for them and they all seemed quite occupied; not that he really wanted to spend time with them anyway. No, what he wanted to be doing was help Aunt Maggie and Uncle Mark recuperate from the fire at Mark’s restaurant. What he wanted to be doing was visiting AngelFyre during this summer break, or her coming to visit him, or calling her, or texting her, or videochatting with her.
Simon rolled over and looked at his phone, knowing it most likely wouldn’t stay charged for long and it didn’t matter because he was out of range to be able to search the internet or make phone calls or send text messages. He sighed and checked his watch: 3:02am.

Had only 6 minutes really gone by? He feared this would be a long summer.

Simon got up and went over to the desk in his room. He wrote to Aunt Maggie to let him know that he arrived to the castle safely and he wrote to AngelFyre to say the same and express how much he missed her already in their short time apart. At Hogwarts, he had gotten to see her every single day, multiple times a day, and it was already starting to set in hard that he was without her and beginning to feel as if they occupied two separate universes.

3:30am.

Simon checked out the books in the room. There was a copy of The Bible, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and various books about faith, music, science, and history. It made him think back to his father’s surprise visit to London last July and their first series of Rapid Fire Questions. He chose the Little Prince amongst the hundreds and settled in on the sofa in the seating area of the large bedroom.

With each reading of the book he felt he gained a different insight from it,perhaps influenced by his current situation. Right now, The Little Prince was a book about loneliness. The words spoke to the urge to feel connected to others (or foxes and roses) around us, as well as ways in which we fail to do so.

Was Simon the Little Prince this summer, destined to have a long journey between various planets - or in his case, navigating the rocky waters that was the diverse personalities of the vampires that he now lived with - or was Simon the Aviator, stuck in the desert surrounded by miles of miles of sand - living in solitude until the Little Prince came along. Would there be a Little Prince there for Simon if he was the Aviator?

And it was then that he thought of Clara.

At 5:16am, Simon closed the book. There was a lot to unpack in a book such as this and he felt he could read it every day his entire life and still not comprehend all of its meaning.

Standing up, he placed the book back onto the bookcase and moved over to the window where heavy curtains blocked any view from outside and a shade was pulled down and secured underneath. Such design was probably pretty standard in most vampiric households. No light was getting through that thing and Simon unfastened it and drew back the curtains to see that sunrise was happening over the area near Cornwall, England.

That meant all of his housemates would be back, once more confined to the walls of the castle, a sort of asylum from the sun - a world within a world and essentially truly perhaps the only world they truly lived. An asylum and a prison. The world slept while they were awake and while the world was awake, they hid in the shadows.

But he didn’t have to remain in the shadows.



He could venture out. Once again his mind went back to the prior Christmas holiday and how he had walked for some time to get back to this very castle from …. well, wherever it was he had been. It was there he had met a girl named Clara who helped him heal from some sort of mishap.

He thought of her often so he hadn’t forgotten her but sometimes it wasn’t very clear on how real or imaginary she might have been. Sometimes she felt like his own Little Prince which he had to try and convince himself and others of her existence, all while trying to seem of sound mind. Maybe it was time to go search for her, to set off on his own journey.

And that’s just what he did.

Setting it up early that next morning, he placed the implication that he needed some time to adjust to this change in his summer schedule and he’d be in his room. “Another recluse,” the redheaded vampire had stated in response. “Fare thee well, Silas.”

Once he unpacked his things so he only had what he needed in his bag, Simon set out on his journey, figuring a way to lock the door behind him when he left.

With that, he slipped down the corridors to the exit. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but in remembering the direction he came in finding the castle, he would backtrack. Maybe this would help jog his memory from what happened many months ago. He held onto his bag as he walked, taking in some assurance that it had his essentials and more inside and began his journey in hopes of finding Clara once more. Yes, he was eager to see her again but it was more the need to confirm that she truly existed that drove him on this journey.

A lot of wildlife was out and about early that morning, and a low lying fog covered much of the land but didn’t make his travels impossible. After a good ways walking, and a couple breaks along the way, he began to come to some odd looking structures and remembered them. This told him he was going the right way to maybe find his friend who possibly had come to his aid in the past.

Just short of noon, he could hear what sounded like water and it brought him back to the sound of waves ebbing in and out along the coastline as he went in and out of consciousness in a small shack-like structure. He continued toward the sound but soon realized he was not high above the shore on the cliffed coastline as before but rather right along where the waves met the sand.

"Mans eņģelis?” [*My angel?] Simon? Hello?” he heard from behind him over the crashing waves. “Simon! Hello!” the expression changed and the voice grew louder as it grew closer. He knew the voice. He knew the nickname that the girl who didn’t speak much English gave to him, so it wasn’t a surprise who had enveloped him up into a tight embrace as the girl threw herself around him. Clara. He knew that kind face as she had been ever so often on his mind and here she was. She DID exist.

In the days following, he was around the castle just enough that his absence wasn't noted and then he would slip out on more than one occasion through throughout the day to find Clara. She would always meet him down by the beach where they reunited that summer. Her English was remarkable and it made Simon wonder if she hadn't had some previous exposure to it because she learned so quickly and built an impressive lexicon in such a short time.

On this particularly overcast morning, he had arrived to the shoreline before her and rested upon a rock, taking in the benefit of a storm that would be rolling through later on - the breeze blowing and the cool temperature. This area was so full of wildlife (whether in the forest area or near the ocean) that it amazed this city boy and he watched out to the horizon where he could see some sort of long sort of dark whale come up now and again just to peak it's fin over the surface while some Cornish Chough's (which he only knew as black birds with bright orange legs and beaks) watched him.

Hoping to perhaps get a better look, Simon got up and stepped closer to where the waves broke against the sand. "Take care!" he heard Clara's voice say from behind and looked over his shoulder to her curiously, wondering about the expression but assumed she meant to be careful. She pointed down toward his feet, directing his attention to what looked like a sail-shapped clear balloon with blue, violet, and pink on the bottom. He stepped back and she drew closer. "No go close to water. I have told," she snapped at him and gave him a stern look before leaning down, picking up the object from the top and carefully extended out her arms as she lifted it, revealing lots of dangling tentacles that were hidden under the water. Maybe it was a type of jellyfish? Simon didn't know enough about sea creatures to know that it was a Portuguese Man O'War. "Go. Go here!" she pointed to a large rock that was further out from the shoreline, away from where they were. Simon didn't realize that Clara could be so bossy but he did as told.

Clara got the creature back further into the water and came over to him, still giving him a sterm look. "I not want you hurt," and she sighed what seemed to be in frustration as she came and sat down next to him, studying him as if to see if he had been harmed. "I'm good, Clara. I'm well. I am unharmed." He often attempted to word things in multiple ways to continue to expand that vocabulary of hers. Her looked seemed to go from concerned to relieved before she hit him with her bag, probably annoyed that he had scared her. So sail-shaped clear balloon things were dangerous - noted.

"It's beautiful here," he told her, trying to break the tension but she shook her head. "No. it not safe. You go close to water. You always close to water. I no like. Water is no go."

"You don't go into the water?" Simon asked her, wondering why it was Clara and her people didn't explore the oceans like so many other civilizations and cultures. "Not water. Not - this water," she said and expanded her hand out to the ocean. "This water is end."

He tried to think what that could mean. Her English was getting remarkable but that still didn't mean there was always clarity in what she was saying. "End?" he asked, hoping she would be able to expand on this.

Clara looked to Simon and watched him. She always looked so intently at him, almost like she was staring into his soul and sometimes it felt a little unsettling. She had to have seen other people before - right? He had already decided that she was, in fact, NOT a figment of his imagination and that she was real and if she was real that meant she had a mother and a father somewhere and there were most likely others - as humans didn't usually live alone but in groups.

"End. Stop. No go," she said after some time. That didn't clear it up very much. Maybe they thought it was just too dangerous to be in the ocean waters. "So like a boundary?" Simon said and Clara just watched him in that same way she had been. "A boundary," she repeated. He nodded but didn't think she understood.

From out in the distance where that long whale with the fin was, Simon saw another creature. This one wasn't quite as dark and had some white striping long it's body and was more rounder. A dolphin! It leaped right out of the water before splashing back down. He shot up with excitement. "Blimey, Clara, did you see that! Whoa! That was amazing!" and he looked over to her with a bright smile on his face to see her sigh slowly.

She obviously didn't share the same reaction and now it was him that watched her. "Not good. Sad," she said to him and he slowly came and took his place on the rock next to her. "Once like me," she pointed out towards where the dolphin had been, "long before. Did bad things. Very bad things. Ag - " she paused before gathering her words again. "Against God. So not like me. Now that. Always that."

Simon took a moment to process that. "So you're saying that you believe that dolphin was once like you, once a person. They did things to defy God and therefore were condemned to live all eternity swimming in the ocean?" he asked to clarify and she just shrugged. Simon figured he probably used some words she didn't know the meaning of and couldn't confirm if he was correct so he could only assume so.

Exactly where was this girl from? Suddenly it seemed very important that he learn about this civilization or culture of hers.

His father seemed preoccupied the following week and Gideon along with him. Even Lilith seemed to be busy with something but Simon could never quite catch word on what it all was about. Samael was seldomly seen and Vanessa still was nonexistent to his knowledge, resting unseen. Curiosity got the best of Simon, but in what little snooping he could achieve he came up short in his endeavor to figure it all out.

He spent much of that week familiarizing himself with the rose-adorned corridors and rooms of the castle. How did his father own a place that was so ornate and so huge? Adrian had once said that his job was in investments but this certainly required a hefty income.

“That way is water,” Simon said as he pointed to the ocean one afternoon. “That way is sky,” he pointed upward. Clara followed with her eyes. “That way is…..what?” Simon said as he pointed from the direction he had come from, the direction of where his father’s home was. He knew what was that way, but he was curious to see what the girl’s response would be. “Boundary. No go,” she said to him. Simon gave her a sort of hesitant look and she tilted her head. “NO go, Simon.” Her voice was stern, as if telling him not to even test it. “Show me this boundary. Please?” Maybe she was not allowed to go on the castle grounds just as he was not supposed to leave them.

She sighed and threaded a flower into the floral crown she was making before placing her hand through it and began to walk. Simon smiled, glad that maybe he would begin to clear up some of their misunderstandings from their language barrier. This whole “boundary” thing was first brought up by him in a conversation and he wasn’t certain she was using the term correctly.

They came to a rock with some old Celtic looking carvings in it. She paused mid-step and pointed. “Warning of boundary. We should not go” and she seemed to watch Simon closely, as if knowing he would protest and push it further. He did so, continuing to walk. “Mans eņģelis, [*my angel], please.” He had gone past that rock before. He knew what rested on the other side - it was only the castle of his father and the other vampires.

When they came to a rock-laddened staircase, she reached out and took hold of his wrist. “Boundary. Stop,” she said as she looked upward. They looked as if they lead to no where but Simon had ventured both up and down the stairs before. “Those are stairs, Clara. Stairs are meant to be climbed,” he said but she began shaking her head. “NO!” she said sternly but also with her voice shaking and he could see tears begin to well in her eyes. She wasn’t just scared, she was absolutely terrified. She began to slowly step back, still holding onto his wrist and he could feel her body trembling.

“Clara, it’s okay. It’s okay…. No go. No,” and he stepped away from the stairs and didn’t even look back at them. He enveloped her into a hug and held her there a moment, knowing that he may never be able to make her understand but now was definitely not the time.

“What’s that way?” he pointed opposite from where they were, opposite from the water, and not upward and not downward. “Home,” she said, her voice a little smoother now. “Show me?” Simon asked, hopeful that maybe he would get to see her family perhaps. Maybe they immigrated there from some Western European country or something that he just wasn’t familiar with.

“Yes,” she said and didn’t hesitate to pull out of the embrace and begin to move away from that space with Simon following next to her. They walked away from the shore, to eventual forest and then to large openings of prairies and wheat fields. As she continued toward her home, Simon couldn’t help but think how vastly this contrasted to his home in London. They truly were in the middle of nowhere out there. Not a car nor a train could be heard, nothing but the softness of the wheat fields blowing in the breeze.

They soon came to a small stream where large flat stones created a bridge and a stone fence with a primitive wooden gate lined the stream’s bank along the other side. Sheep were grazing in an open grassy field and the two began to walk through them but they didn’t seem to mind and kept on eating. Simon thought that they must be used to people enough to not be startled, but when he looked around there wasn’t anyone in sight but himself, Clara, and the animals.

After walking more, they began to get to signs of civilization as Simon saw a barn up ahead. It was small and quaint. Beyond that building another could be seen, and then in the distance a few more. The further they walked, the closer the buildings began to get to one another. The sun was just starting to set by now, and Simon hoped they could get to her house before dark as he had no light to guide them otherwise, but the non-direct sun felt nice upon his dhampir skin.

It wasn’t until they seemed be just the outskirts of a village when Simon realized something. These buildings seemed old - reallllyyyyy old. Like medieval old. It was then he remembered AngelFyre telling him about a vision she had and it was he who wanted to reach out and grab Clara and beg her “NO!” but just as he was about to say something she stopped and smiled to him. “Home!” she said, pointing to one of the small little homes with a thatched roof. She guided him inside and he looked around. There was a bed, a kettle over kindling, a couple lanterns, a small wooden table, a sort of storage trunk, and a sort of cloth weaving system with various yarns sorted by color in baskets nearby. There was no running water, no electronics, no electricity.

Simon was confused. Clara smiled at him proudly but he noticed there was only the one bed. Did she live alone? Was this some sort of Mennonite village? It would explain her plain dress, this simple life, and apparently rejection of modernity and technology. That had to be it.

Simon walked over to the weaving loom and now could see some blankets folded next to them and some clothing. He bent down to pick one up. “You made these?” he asked, astounded at the workmanship of it. The blanket was the softest blanket that he had ever felt and it seemed like it would be so warm on cold nights. “Yes. I make more than floral crowns,” she grinned. He laughed. “I can see that. Wow. This is amazing,” he smiled.

“I learned from my mother. She was also a weaver. You have that one. My gift,” and when Simon began to protest she shook her head. “Please.” Damn, she was getting good at that word. Simon nodded. “Thank you.”

Simon always carried his bag with him and today had been no exception. He brought books on his visits to Clara and read to her which helped expand her vocabulary and a notebook for drawing. He brought lemon drops and water and his Bible and an assortment of other things. Simon folded the blanket up as small as he could and placed it inside - not needing Clara to wonder why the bag could hold it because oh, could that bag hold a lot; it was his enchanted satchel, afterall.

“Does your mother live here?” he asked as the two made their way over to the table and each pulled out one of the chairs to sit down. “Live alone. Only me,” Clara said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “My mother and father gained ill. A sickness passed through the village years back.” Simon sensed from the heaviness in her voice that she missed them terribly. “And no brothers or sisters?” he asked. She shook her head, “not anymore. I had a sister before me,” she explained and Simon took it to mean an older sister, “but she was chosen to be a messiah many, many years ago. I know that we should take honor in this, but miss her much.”

Chosen to be a messiah? If Simon understood the definition of messiah, it was that who was a leader or a savior of a particular group or cause. What exactly did that mean for why Clara missed her? Perhaps she moved away? Perhaps she left their Mennonite lifestyle?

“A new messiah is chosen tonight at the Circle of Healing,” she said. “My best friend Rosceline might get chosen. I…..” she paused, “I know that we should take honor in this, but I do not want to miss her.” Simon was as confused as ever.

“Circle of Healing?” he asked, pinpointing on that for a moment. “Ceremony. Celebration,” she answered. “We all must go. We remit our sins, pray with our leaders, eat, dance, and a messiah is chosen. The biggest night of the year. Come with?” Simon was surprised by this. Here he was, wanting to see her community, wanting to see her culture and here she was offering it to him with one experience.

“Okay,” he agreed quickly and she smiled. “But I want you to stay hidden, mans eņģelis, [*my angel]. I do not think the village is ready for you.”

Ready for him? Maybe she meant as an outsider. If there was this big ceremony sort of tradition that her community did once a year, who was he to disrupt it? No, he wanted to learn about this civilization so he would stay hidden if she wanted him to stay hidden. “I’ll stay hidden,” he assured her.

Clara clapped her hands and jumped up from her seat before twirling. “I must prepare,” she said and opened up the large trunk, bringing out a white dress. She draped it over the chair she had previously been sitting on before beginning to splash some water upon herself from the large kettle. She used her fingers as a comb through her hair and then came back to retrieve the dress. “Out!” she said to him, shooing him just outside the door but still close to the doorway. “Stay close. Stay here,” and she was gone but a minute before returning in the white dress.

The sky was dark when they made their way from her home and further into the village. Simon tried his best to find some kind of distinguishing factor in this place so he could tell AngelFyre about it and confirm that it was not the medieval village from her vision but it looked like your stereotypical medieval village as much as a medieval village could look like a medieval village and he found that to be - quite concerning.

The night only grew more concerning and confusing. Clara left him to ‘remit her sins’ as she said and joined a line of what seemed to be everyone in the community going into a small tent and coming out a couple minutes later. Simon wondered if this was like Confession in the Catholic church, or Penance, where one would confess their sins in order to be forgiven. That made sense to him and he could see why that would be part of an annual ceremony for a small village such as this. Clara had mentioned many times about God and this society of hers seemed to be very religious.

There was music and there was laughter, and through torches of flames he could see others enjoying themselves. When he could pick up a word here and there, he recognized it as the same language that Clara spoke. Oh how he wished he could move closer because his enhanced dhampir sight could only help so much. “The Ceremony is to begin but I worry,” Clara said when she rejoined him. Simon gave her his attention to continue. “The leaders will be here and I should be there and I do not want them to see you. It could, complicate.”

Confused by this, but used to being confused by Clara by now, Simon focused on what he did understand. She was worried and she felt she should be where the others were. Simon didn’t want to keep her from this. He nodded. “Really, it’s okay. You go and enjoy yourself and I’ll take leave.” She watched him, her eyes looking to his or maybe trying to with what little light there was. “I’ll be safe,” he assured her. She nodded before giving him a smile and hurrying downward from the trees to where the fires burned and the laughter and the conversation rose.

Simon glanced up at the night sky, and beyond the branches saw a million pinpoints of lights above him. As he drew a step back to go beyond the tree and get a better view, he heard the sound of wood cracking behind him.

Clara didn’t want him to be seen.

He quickly whirled around and stumbled forward, losing his footing on some stones beneath him and found himself staring at a young brunette, looking as startled at him as he felt he was looking at her.

“I won’t tell anyone you’re here if you don't tell anyone I'm here,” the brunette said with a smirk. “We can go back to the castle together. Simon, I presume?"

The dark haired girl was adorned in a long white dress, much like the one Clara had worn - much like all the other women at the ceremony were wearing but she couldn't be from Clara's village. Clara, in living under restriction of what she thought were steadfast boundaries meant she, and those like her, would never know of the castle's existence several miles away and this girl said they would go back - well, together. Together. If she, too, belonged at the castle then that meant she would be none other than Vanessa.....the one member of his father's coven that he had yet to meet.

She was younger than he had anticipated. For some reason, Simon had thought Vanessa would be around the same age as Lilith but no - she appeared to be the same or near the same age as himself.

She watched him with large doe eyes and her smooth skin glistened in the moonlight. Something about her, maybe her petite stature, made her seem more welcoming and less threatening than any of the other vampires he had previously met.

"Vanessa, I presume?" he asked in return and watched as a smile played across her lips. He had stated his response to mimic her own initial to himself.

"That would be correct," she turned and began walking backwards to face him. She seemed to be watching him closely, taking everything in. Then, almost as if on the same wavelength of thought, she continued speaking in a hushed voice. "You're not what I was expecting because of your father." Simon watched her. "The jawline is similar but your faces are so different," she scanned his. "He's got this face that sits between exactitude and ambiguity. While yours is......" she paused to perhaps think. ".....Well, yours is a face that probably speaks to everyone as the most beautiful thing in the world."

Simon rose his eyebrows but didn't reply; unsure what to say. He glanced downward as they continued their walk and she returned to walking by his side.

She must have picked up on his body language because she let out an abrupt laugh, as if not able to hold it in like she was wanting to. "Oh, don't flatter yourself!" she said as she pressed her hand against his shoulder and shoved him, harder than he had expected and he faltered to the side a little in his step. "I'm just saying that he's a little awkward looking and you look like you could be in Hollywood."

Simon brought his hands forward defensively. "You have to admit it seemed a little presumptuous," and he watched as she looked his way. "Not just on my end. If anyone was out here observing us and overheard you, they would have thought the same." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "And I have a girlfriend. The absolute best girlfriend."

"Good," Vanessa said, "and she's got a boyfriend who has a face that belongs in Hollywood but a boyfriend whose father looks rather awkward."

Simon was glad the tension that was building had dissipated as quickly as it began.

"Speaking of an awkward looking father, do you think it's best to try and sneak in the backdoor where the Moonlight Garden is as opposed to the front door or do you have a better way?" Simon wasn't so sure on the best way to get into the house unseen. His father had told him when he first arrived that he was to stay in the castle or on the castle grounds.

Vanessa looked to him curiously before shaking her head. "All the others are out tonight." And little did Simon know that they were at the Circle of Healing.

“I was starting to question your existence. Do you not like the others?,” he asked as they got back to the interior corridors of the castle, lit now by oil lamps and various sconces of fire that casted against and danced along the shadows of the walls.

“Can you really call this an existence?” he heard her say very softly but quickly dismissed it as she focused on the question he had asked. “They’re not really what I’d say would be my type of preferred companions. Each is rather…..odd in their own way. No offense. I mean, aren’t we all? I probably am. As are you, most likely. Your father and Gideon took me in and I’m….” she hesitated a moment, “.....I’m grateful for that.” But there seemed to be a hint of disappointment in her voice as she stated that she was grateful. Simon took it to be rather ironic but having just met her, didn’t push.

“Tell me about yourself, Simon Hawthorne,” she turned the discussion over to him. Simon began to shake his head instantly from the wrong name. It not only didn’t sound right, as it wasn’t his, but it just didn’t resonate with him somehow. No. “Simon Kincaid. Simon Ezra Kincaid,” he said and looked over to her and smiled kindly, glad to see she didn’t seem to take any offense at his correcting her. She was still just watching him curiously, as if truly wanting to know more about him. “I’m Fifteen, from London. I live there with my Aunt Maggie and well, she recently got married so my Uncle Mark and his dog Porter - South Kensington area; home to Royal Albert Hall, The Royal College of Music, and the Victoria and Albert Museum, among other amazing places,” but he was digressing. “I’m a child of God and I like music - listening to it, composing it, playing it via guitar or piano. I also enjoy reading and learning new things. I’ve been interested lately in photography and medicine. I love spending time with those I love.”

He felt her continuing to watch him as they made their way through the corridors that were more lit than those at Hogwarts. Simon figured that, at least during the daylight, those corridors were lit by the sun, at least the ones on the magical school’s exterior, while this castle needed all corridors to be lit artificially at all hours - since sunlight absolutely could not penetrate through. Was there much else to say? He couldn’t tell her about how he wasn’t only a dhampir, but also a wizard and attended a magical school where he did broom racing and favored his classes of Herbology and Potions. No, that he was going to keep quiet.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said to her, turning the conversation but genuinely was curious to learn more about her. He had met the other vampires and had spent time with each of them but she was always off elsewhere.

She didn’t speak at first, walking in silence and her hands folded over her chest. Simon guessed she was either cold or feeling a little insecure or uncomfortable with his invitation for her to share - and he was pretty sure that vampires didn’t get cold (well, colder than they were).

“There isn’t much to tell. I’m Vanessa and I’m here, at this place.” Simon waited for her to continue but she didn’t. There was more, he knew it - there had to be more. Did he pry though having just met her?

He let some silence linger but only momentarily before deciding to try and get some more details. She seemed easier to talk to than the other vampires that inhabited this castle - except now when it came to details about herself. “What else?” He already knew her name and he already knew that she lived there with the coven of vampires that resided with his father. “What is your last name? Where are you from? How old are you? What do you like to do?”

She stepped away, creating a distance, a gap that could have another person now stand between them in that corridor. She looked over to him, hurt in those eyes of hers.

“None of that matters,” she said in a harsh, hushed voice. “None of that matters now.” And she shook her head at him, maybe in disbelief and her hand rose and stopped just about her shoulder, as if telling him to stop. Stop pushing. Stop asking questions.

And then she turned sharply to another corridor and hurried up the staircase. Simon didn’t know what he had done wrong but also knew he felt terrible about offending her or annoying her or saddening her so he followed, hoping, at best, he could somehow make it better and, at the very least, apologize for having done so.

“Vanessa, please. Wait!” he said as he trailed her, about three steps behind. Once at the top of the stairs she turned and began towards the living quarters of the coven and knew she was probably going to her bedroom, her safe haven that she had remained inside for most of her time during his visits. He knew he should let her have her freedom, but he wanted this newfound friendship and didn’t want her to barricade herself into seclusion once more. “Vanessa, I’m sorry,” he said for having pushed too far with her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he sighed as he stopped in mid-step, realizing that he was continuing to overstep boundaries by chasing after her. “....I really am sorry,” he hoped she knew just how much he meant that. “Thank you for helping me get back to the castle tonight and I hope to see you again soon.” Maybe he would get to learn a little more about her in time.

She had stopped walking the moment he said his first ‘sorry’ and turned to face him. Something he said must have made her change her mind or perhaps something she thought over because she slowly walked up to him and reached out, taking his hand in her own. She looked down to it, before her eyes moved up his arm, over his torso, climbed his face, and met his eyes. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been me,” she began and let go of his hand. “And I don’t like this limbo of an existence that I’ve been given. Please, try and excuse my bitterness toward your kindness. Conversation isn’t really my strength - I’m not sure it ever was but it especially hasn’t been during these last years in my vampire life. Your father’s group is …as I said, odd. I spend as little time as possible with them.” Simon couldn’t help but smile at that, understanding it.

“Let’s head to the Library and I’ll do my best,” she said before taking a slow, steady breath and began walking. Simon followed. It was quiet in the corridors, as quiet as it would have been with the vampires home and in their own areas and Simon wondered how Vanessa knew they were all out and equally as curious as where they were. He surely hoped none of them saw him on his way back from his meeting with Clara or spying on her village’s ceremony. Likely, if one of them had, they would have brought it to his attention by now and scolded or punished him somehow.

It wasn’t until they were in the castle’s library, with shelf after shelf of books everywhere that one looked that they found a place to sit down to talk. “So….. I’m Vanessa Varon,” she stated her full name, “and I like to paint. I mostly paint flowers on canvases. I don’t venture out of my room very often,” Simon listened as she spoke. “I don’t like being reminded of what I’ve become. This….” she paused to hold out her pale skinned hands, “....isn’t what I want to be. I don’t want this. I don’t even know if it beat the alternative. I was someone, who twenty-five years ago, enjoyed being out in nature and basking in the sunshine. I loved the life that was on Earth and my family that I was born into. I miss it - the sun, the trees and the flowers and the animals, and especially them. I should have gone when they went - but instead, somehow I ended up like this - and torn from everything that I loved.”

He wouldn’t pry. It was pretty evident that it was vampire etiquette to NOT ask how they were turned. He hadn’t asked his father - although he very much wanted to know, and Simon would not ask Vanessa. In a few sentences, she had told him more information than he previously thought he would gain from her and that was enough. He was glad that she was starting to trust him enough to be there with him and say anything at all; slowly opening up to him.

But maybe she needed someone to open up to as she spent so much of her time in seclusion because she continued.

“I was Sixteen when it happened,” her voice would begin strong but falter by the next sentence. "My mum and my dad and my younger sister Sophia went on a camping trip. She was only slightly younger than I and my best friend. We were - we were attacked in the middle of the night. It all must have been quick for them but I awoke and therefore, I guess, I survived and they didn’t. It’s all still a blur, really. I would have once thought that twenty-five years would feel like quite a long time but when you become a vampire it feels like nothing. There’s nothing that really can differentiate a decade from a day. Time doesn’t seem relevant to us.”

“I …. I ran and I hid. I hid like a coward and I stayed hidden even when police came to the scene to get everything situated. I stayed hidden the entire time and tried to convince myself that the horror of what just happened didn’t really happen - and by the time night fell on the second night, the night after it happened, that’s when I encountered Adrian and Gideon. They took me in and they answered some of the questions and they did their best to help me adjust to - to - to being this.”

She was quiet for a long time.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever adjust to being this,” he words were soft.

“I should have gone with them or I should have been able to save them. I don’t know if the world will ever be right again. I’ve caused an injustice. I should have been able to save them.”

Simon outstretched his arms, offering his new friend a hug but would let her decide if she would accept it. “YOU were nothing but another victim in something horrific, Vanessa. Please do not blame yourself for any of it,” Simon said as she leaned into him.

He got to know Vanessa more over the next following days. Thinking Clara would be busy with clean up and tear down of her village's festival, he'd give her some time. Plus, the other vampires in the castle were back to their busy antics again - going here, going there - moving this, moving that. Simon welcomed the interruption from the usual awkwardness of them being around but was also curious as to what was going on.

Simon had a notebook resting upon the armrest of the sofa and a paper atop of it, writing as he spoke. "What is it that's got them so busy?" he asked Vanessa. She was carefully placing some flowers onto a wooden press that rested on a low table in front of them. She shifted them into position, admired it a moment, then fixed where they were slightly. "The Hawthorne Ball is soon," she answered, her voice lacking inflection as it normally did. He liked Vanessa, but it perplexed him that she was the easiest of the vampires to relate to and yet she lacked a luster for life itself. Maybe that's what happened when you lost so much when turned. His father, from the luxurious things within the castle and this huge castle itself would seem to show he had gained from his standing - especially if he had once said his father was a farmer. Farmers could make money - and probably some good money - but not this kind of money.

"....The Hawthorne Ball?" he asked audibly as he tried to process it in his mind. All he could imagine was an extravagant dance-like function where lots of vampires gathered. "Simon, all the vampiric aristocracy hosts their own balls on an annual basis. You father, being one of the most notorious, wouldn't miss out on the opportunity to network with others and flaunt his success." Okay, so it was going to be a large gathering of vampires. Nothing to worry about - maybe it would happen after his new term at school began.

"I've heard he's most looking forward to this one. He gets to introduce you, his son." So much for hoping h wouldn't be there. "But don't most vampires not like the idea of being with humans and therefore not appreciating a product of such a union - as in me - the dhampir?" Vanessa glanced up to him from her work. "They might want to seem that way, but in reality they're all jealous of the dhampir. They'll be envious of you, and envious of Adrian for having you. It's rare, you know."

Envious? "Why would they be envious?" he wondered. Vanessa's watched him a moment before going back to the flower placement. "Well, dhampirs aren't all that common. A vampire rarely finds a human companion who will give some of their time - in essence; their life - for one of us. It is even more rare for that companion to become more and produce an offspring. You are highly valuable to vampires. You can do so much more beyond the limitation of a vampire. You'll be his golden child at the Ball. Hell, that's one reason Lilith abhors you so much now. You're his golden child; his pathway to something he's never had before."

Vanessa began tightening the press so she could begin the process of pressing the flowers. "I need to get more of the purple Columbine flowers that grow on the outskirts....." she paused before continuing. "Simon, you're not supposed to go over that way. Adrian wants you in the castle or on the grounds. You really should stay in the castle..... or on the grounds." Simon knew she was referencing the night they met as he was leaving the ceremony in Clara's village. It was beyond where his father said he could be.

"Okay, but you said yourself - I can do so much more beyond the limitations of a vampire. Why can't I go explore?" Her eyes watched him with an unreadable expression. All the vampires seemed to have perfected that sort of gaze.

"In your case, exploring led to discovery, did it not? And what more - almost approaching? Simon, you simply can NOT be approaching. What would they think if they saw you? What could even cross their minds? I couldn't imagine. No. When, or if, your father presents you to them should you have any interaction at all. I'm just glad I found you before anyone saw you. That village, and those people, are off limits to you."

What would they think? When or IF his father presented him? Off limits? He was quite confused. Why was she saying this and why did she seem so adamant about it? Her dark eyes seemed to go right through him as if to instill how important this was....so he dropped it, and it didn't take too long for her to no longer seem frustrated with him. He went back to his writing.

"Working on a song?" she asked, her voice slightly lighter, if hers could get emotion. Simon shook his head. "A letter for the girlfriend." Vanessa smiled softly. "You're always writing her." "I'm always missing her," he replied. Simon drew another hear to join the many that were scattered across the open spaces of his letter.

If there was to be a ball, he wanted to invite AngelFyre but no....he would absolutely not invite his beautiful human girlfriend to a vampire ball.

"Simon? Join me," his father said as he appeared in the doorway of the Library, where Simon and Vanessa mostly spent their time together.

Simon looked over to him before glancing to Vanessa as if to say a silent goodbye and gathered his things, stuffing them into his bag before following his father.

"We have not spoken much lately," his father said as they began down the hall. Simon wasn't sure if he was angry about this or just stating an observation. "No, we have not. I assumed you've been busy. You all, mostly, seem busy." He thought it was wise to explain himself, just in case.

His father nodded. "We have an annual ball that is forthcoming." Simon, of course, had already heard of the event but decided to press for more details. "A ball? Like, fancy clothes - fancy dancing - fancy eating - sort of ball?" His father had already been watching him - he was always watching him.

"Yes, that sort of ball." Simon smiled, liking when his father seemed to come down to his level and not seem to be so authoritative, so arrogant. It was times like these where it was easier to talk to him. "And music?" His father knew he loved music; it was specifically why there was a piano in Simon's living quarters at the castle. "And music," his father repeated. "I'm sending you to Par tomorrow where you will meet with a tailor. They will take your measurements and make you an outfit." Simon was glad he didn't have to attempt to research vampiric fashion, but it also made sense that his father would want total control of what he wore. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that Simon be his best when around other vampires, even within their own coven, in the way he dressed, the way he spoke, and the way he acted. Simon couldn't help but push those limits there at the castle - because what really could one do for fun around there anyways? You could only play music for so long before needing time to think creatively in the silence, read so long before needing time to process..... it helped he now had Vanessa to spend time with but that, at times, could be exhausting. Her negativity could bring him down, overpowering him even when he attempted to uplift her spirits.

Simon wanted to ask where they were going but didn't - as he knew he'd find out soon. "You are to be on your best behavior - proper dress, proper manners, proper speech." Simon knew that last statement was a jab at his Cockney accent and wondered if he could rein it in slightly. Still, he knew his father couldn't completely hate it it, as his mother's accent would have been the same. "Act proper. Got it. No grinding?" His father slowed his pace, as if showing he wasn't familiar with this. "Don't worry. There won't be any grinding," Simon quickly assured him anyway.

They made their way through the castle's corridors and Simon realized just how familiar he was becoming with its layout. They were headed to his father's quarters - which included a bedroom, a study, and an impressive library.

"I told you I would show you my father's drawings," Adrian said as he led Simon into the study. It was smaller and more intimate than the library space. He watched as his father took a worn bound book from the shelves behind his desk and set it down on top of it, carefully turning a few pages. The book looked absolutely ancient - more so than the oldest book in the Hogwarts's library. "My father always spoke highly of my mother - saying she was patient and full of love. She would bake all sorts of things with the flour from his wheat and others would save just to purchase from her - when she would allow them to without gifting her goods away." Adrian Hawthorne spoke as he moved to another sketch of his mother. The drawings were so lifelike that Simon had to lean closer just to see the markings and realize they weren't photographs. "They lost two children in childbirth before I came about." He then turned slowly, careful not to damage the paper, to a picture of the woman with a baby. "She loved being a mother and spent every moment she could with me before falling ill." There was another one with the woman and the baby, who Simon now realized was his father, and then when his father turned to the next page - it was just the baby. Then just the baby again on the next, and a little older toddler on the next page. "He would draw for the townspeople as well. It was a way to capture a moment in time; and sadly, too often, moments eventually lost." He turned to one of one that looked, not much unlike his father now, and an older gentleman. This page had fallen out, or was torn out, and was now placed into a plastic sleeve and Adrian ran his long, skinny, pale fingers gently over the face of the older gentleman being depicted.

Simon wondered if he should press with any of the questions that were racing within his mind. How OLD were these drawings? When did his father's parents pass away? .....And the one that often popped up, now, and a dozen times each morning, afternoon, and night - how was his father turned? His father was sharing some personal information with him at this moment, perhaps, just maybe, he was ready to say more.

"Was your father still farming when he passed? Did you take over the farm?" maybe that was the best way to segway into it. Adrian's gaze remained on the drawing. "No. I did not know how. I would not have had a successful harvest," and he was quiet. When Simon didn't think he would elaborate further, he continued. "He did not not wish the farming life for me, for he knew that I did not want the farming life. Instead, I sold the land and I became a soldier. I left to defend my country and spread Christianity; defend Christianity."

He closed the book on his desk and sat down in the chair, seeming exhausted - but Simon wasn't sure if it was mental or physical exhaustion. It was the first time he had ever seen his father resembling what could be depicted as weak. But when his father's gaze met his again, he was only met with that vacant stare. "Gideon was my closest companion then, as he is now, and he accompanied me." And his gaze left Simon and drifted behind him toward the doorway. "You asked how I became..... when we reunited this Summer. I assume you meant how I became - as I am now. One night our unit was ruthlessly attacked by monsters; monsters that killed the lucky ones and left the rest of us.

The door of his father's study clicked open and Gideon rushed in, his long wavy blonde hair bouncing like something from a movie. "Samael is out and left a note. He's gone for a hunt."

Adrian looked down to the closed book before him for a few moments before picking it up and placing it back on the shelf. "Then we must retrieve him."

Simon was grateful to the tailor in Par for several reasons. Whilst there, he was able to bring along his phone cord and charge his phone, allowing it to turn back on and see the series of texts and photos that AngelFyre, Aunt Maggie, and some friends had sent him; and he was able to steal away for a short - far too short for his liking - phone call to AngelFyre before returning back to the castle. That brief communication was something he desperately needed. Simon was ever so longing for the remaining days to pass quickly so that school could come back to term and he could once more be in the daily presence of his beloved girlfriend.

But he was also grateful that the tailor was skilled in his craft, because Simon’s first impression of his attire for The Hawthorne Ball was that it was absolutely exquisite, but looked to be terribly uncomfortable to clothe oneself in. He wasn’t even quite sure he would be able to move enough to put it on, let alone to be paraded around and ‘announced to the vampire community’ (as Vanessa had put it.) Would he survive the evening, or would one of the members of the coven have to pick him up and carry him to the ballroom and place him down for him to be a statue for the evening? They could gawk at his motionless self.

Those were his thoughts until he went to place the garments on and found they were not only surprisingly easy to adorn himself in, but also rather comfortable. Everything hung in all the right places, just the right way, and he swayed to and from in the mirror and smiled. He looked quite nice. This was very….. Royal Victorian meets a gothic flare. Simon took a selfie to show AngelFyre later, still grateful his phone had some charge, and as he was doing so, he heard his door swing open.

Startled, he quickly looked toward the movement and saw Lilith at the doorway, looking displeased as always. “I could have been naked, Lily!” he snapped at her, somewhat playfully but there was also a hint of annoyance in his tone. Maybe it was from being around these odd vampires so much this summer. Maybe it was from not seeing Clara since the night of her village’s ceremony. Maybe it was the nerves he was feeling from what to expect that very night. Her gaze fell upon him and remained fixated on him, that emotionless sort of look-through-you way that the vampires had perfected. “Do not flatter yourself, Stephen,” she replied flatly.

“Simon,” he corrected her - as he nearly always did.

And she ignored him as she nearly always did.

“But I do pull this off, don’t you think?” he said as he moved slightly from one side to the other, sort of twisting his body to show her and then did a slow twirl around, liking how the clothing seemed to move with him. This was definitely something to perhaps wear once again at one of the Hogwarts' balls. “You did inherit some of your father’s best features,” she gave as best of a compliment that Simon figured she could give. “But do not embarrass us tonight, Sheldon.”

“Simon.”

“You are to continue to look presentable…..”

“I look more than presentable….”

“And you are to BEHAVE yourself,” she snapped, interrupting his interruption. Simon brought up his hands before his chest, his hand spanned outward in a defensive position indicating that he had done nothing wrong. He wanted to say that he always behaved himself but he knew that wasn’t true and he had already irritated the irritable redhead in their short time together.

“Put your hands down. Your father wants you to wear this,” she said as she stepped closer to him, her hand coming toward somewhere in his upper section - maybe his neck, maybe his chest - and immediately Simon stepped back, creating the same amount of distance that had been between them. “Will. You. Stop!” she scowled, her voice now higher than it had been to demonstrate her growing frustration. This woman had NO patience for his antics. “What is that? What are you doing? You’re trying to KILL me, no. I won’t STOP!” he said as he moved to the side and no longer directly across from her, nor was his back pinned against the mirror. Her head tilted to the side, causing some of her long red curls to pass over her shoulder.

“Oh honestly, IF I was trying to kill you, I would have a better plan than this - and make it a hell of a lot more gruesome for you and a lot more pleasurable for me,” and she held out her palm flatly so he could see what was in her hand. It was a silver plated corsage pin chain with a diamond and black gemstone decorated crown on one side and what looked to be the shape of a cross on the other side but the horizontal line of the cross was angel wings. “This goes on the left side of your chest. I will pin it on you so that it will be placed correctly.” ….As if he couldn’t do that himself.

Simon sighed and stood there so that she could do so, trusting that this vampire that hated him could impale his clothing (and hopefully not him) with a sharp needle, no matter how small, close to his chest, on the same side of his heart. No, no worries there….

Instead of possibly meeting her intense gaze, he focused on Lilith’s attire for the evening. It was a dark burgundy red, with intricate bead work along the top design that led to the bodice and see through puffy sleeves that seemed to move with her. He didn’t often see her in red, as she stayed with more greens, blacks, browns, and creams. Red wouldn’t be a color that he would think would look good on a redhead, but she looked very beautiful in it. A bronze crown-like headpiece pulled back some of her long red hair away from her face. He knew Vanessa’s story in how she was turned and he had learned his father’s and Gideon's - he now wondered of hers and Samael’s. It wasn’t his place to ask; especially someone so quick to anger as Lilith. Still though, he wondered.

“You look dazzling tonight, Lilith,” Simon said as she secured the larger clasp behind the crown part of the pin without drawing a single bit of blood. She paused, her striking blue eyes meeting his brown ones for a moment and then her eyes narrowed a little as if in suspicion. She then looked back down and straightened it out before slowly smoothing the chain along his attire, ensuring that it was laying straight, before moving to the smaller pin.

“Now Lily, do behave yourself. It is customary to respond graciously to a comment….. Something such as: thank you for your kind words - that’s great, you made my day, SIMON - that means a lot coming from you - you’re the best - thank you, I really appreciate it!” he raised his voice in higher tone, attempting to come off as more feminine as if she was saying the words herself.

She finished the smaller pin and shifted the clothing back into place and stepped back. “Or I could not feel obligated to reciprocate,” she responded. “A woman’s worth is not in her appearance,” she muttered. Simon watched her as she looked down to her attire and hypocritically seemed to smooth out the skirt of her dress. “No, but a woman can still look dazzling,” he replied. His own girlfriend was the most beautiful creature to grace the Earth, most likely causing Aphrodite herself to pale in comparison if the two were in the same room - but she was so much more than that.

“Your dress reminds me of the Black Baccara Rose, the darkest natural red rose,” she watched him and he felt she was silently questioning how he knew of such a thing. “I often helped my Aunt Maggie choose flowers to decorate her shop,” but he wouldn’t go into more detail. Something told him that bakeries didn’t hold much interest for vampires and he knew Lilith wasn’t much of a reader to reveal that it was also a bookshop. Aunt Maggie had always said Simon held a certain intuition about flowers and attributed it as some sort of natural talent from his mother who had always wanted to become a florist - but he too knew of Lilith’s distaste for his mother.

“Adrian asked me to fetch Simon,” Gideon’s voice filled the awkward silence and Simon was grateful for his presence. Trying to converse with Lilith was nearly impossible and felt like a one-sided conversation. Lilith crossed their path and left Simon’s bedroom at Hawthorne Manor, turning down the corridor toward the direction of her own private area. Simon followed Gideon in the opposite direction, knowing they would be heading toward the main hall that would lead them to the Main Staircase and to the Ballroom where they would attend The Hawthorne Ball.

“What is her deal, Giddy?” Simon asked and Gideon turned his head to watch him as they walked side by side. “Simon, do behave yourself this evening…..” he began on the very same spiel as Lilith had. It was always sort of unsettling how they were always so often on the same wavelengths in their speech, frequently unknowingly mimicking the same words that one of the others in the coven had said recently. Simon knew how formal they were and didn’t mean to give Gideon any attitude so he tried again as a sort of apology. “What’s her deal, Gideon?” he corrected himself.

“I believe Lilith has been bitter her entire life, human and vampire alike. She was born into high society and never meshed with the expectations of high society - therefore never finding a proper suitor that wanted to handle her and became a disappointment to her family. Your father and I met her on the night of her turning. It was then that we met Samael, her attacker, as well.” Simon was surprised to hear this. Samael was the vampire that turned Lilith? He didn’t even have to ask for clarification; Gideon continued. “Samael thought she was nothing more than a common street whore that no one would miss and took advantage of her being out late at night without anyone to accompany her. And while it is obvious that the two carry much contempt for one another, your father and I took them both in - because a rogue vampire that attacks is bad for the whole; as is a new vampire. Humans begin to fear and question. Humans begin to demand answers. It is best if we lay low.”

Simon saw a bit of irony in laying low as they were currently in this colossal historic castle and approaching the entrance to some elaborate ball put on by his father to flaunt his wealth and his prestige.

Music could be heard even before they reached the top of the staircase and got clearer as they descended downward to the main floor. It was so melodious that it helped melt away the anxiousness that he felt entering a function that was meant specifically for vampires. How could he be hesitant when the music was that beautiful? It lured him in as if the sirens themselves were singing to lost sailors at sea.

The Ballroom was beautifully decorated with hundreds of thousands of roses, more than Simon had ever seen together before and some were that deepest shade of red that would match Lilith’s dress. He walked with Gideon, attracting the attention of many as he passed. They seemed to be curious about him but he was curious about them as well. Figuring that all vampires must be of similar culture to his father’s coven was proving to not be true as he saw various groups that had their own sort of persona - much different than this Victorian era gothic that those that lived in Hawthorne Manor gravitated toward.

Just as he was about to inquire about it to Gideon, they began up a staircase to lead them to a mezzanine level where they stopped at the top landing and were met by Simon’s father. Adrian Hawthorne gave his son a once over, seeming to survey every detail about him. As if passing this silent test, one side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly into a smile. “Follow me, Simon,” he said as they made their way to a pop-out alcove of a balcony that overlooked the entire Ballroom.

Some members saw him there, realizing that it was a strategic place to stand to make a statement - whether he held such prominence in general that they unknowingly understood or because he had made statements there in balls previous to this one; most likely the later, so thought Simon. A hush began to fall upon some of those in attendance below, and it quickly spread through the ballroom until even the musicians noticed the silence and too, followed suit. Simon watched as the Ballroom below grew quiet and the only noticeable movement below were a half dozen of the help passing out goblets. Up on the mezzanine level, goblets were passed to his father, himself, and members of his father’s coven.

“Greetings, members of The Kindred. Tonight, raise your glass as I introduce to you, my son, Simon - a future leader of the Hawthorne Coven of Babilstow; leading us to advance further with a dhampir within our rank. Do treat him with respect,” he said as he looked out upon the others, his eyes moving slowly across the floor - as if silently challenging any single one of them to protest. His eyes seemed vicious, as if that would be the swift end of one who did so and not one vampire within that castle that night dared to even bat an eye.

Adrian lifted his glass up high, and in doing so, the members of the Hawthorne Coven that stood behind him did the same. Down below, each and every vampire did so, causing a series of crystalized flashes to dance across the floor as the light from above refracted in the goblet in their hands. Simon looked from the flashes, to his father, and then caught Gideon’s eye who stood there motionless but raised one eyebrow in response to Simon and Simon seemed to get the hint that it meant he was to do the same so he lifted his glass.

“Welcome to the Kindred, Simon!” Gideon said as he stepped forward, joining the other two at the front of the balcony of that mezzanine. “Welcome to the Kindred,” a murmur below could be heard and then there was a thundering of clinking glasses before the vampires brought their drink to their lips. Gideon clicked his glass first to Adrian and then to Simon, and watched Simon in hesitation. Simon caught on that he was silently challenging him to see who could drink the liquid the quickest and as Simon’s eyes narrowed, Gideon and he both lifted their goblets to their mouths and drank, downing the liquid inside. It went back so quickly, despite being thick, that by the time Simon realized what it was - it was gone.

He could feel his stomach turn and it felt like all moisture in his mouth had disappeared. His hands began to tremble and he felt as though he was going to be sick at any moment. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said. Everything was a blur. From downstairs, the music began again and the vampires were shuffling around and the movement, or something else, was causing his head to hurt. He blinked. Was his vision becoming foggy?

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes,” he heard his father say before stepping past him and not even realizing that Simon was in distress. Vanessa came and stepped up from the shadows of the balcony and she placed her hand softly on his middle back. “Are you alright?” she asked. At least someone had noticed. At least this was actually happening - but what was happening?

“I think I’ve been poisoned,” he whispered and moved away from the balcony where he had more stability and placed his hand on one of the beams nearby. His breathing was becoming shallow now and he looked up to Vanessa who watched him in confusion. “What? Sit down!” she said as she led him over to a chair and helped him lower down on it. Vanessa left him there in the safety of the chair and found his glass. He watched as she examined it and just tilted her head before looking back to him. “It’s nothing but blood,” she said. Simon groaned. “Exactly. It’s….it’s…..” he groaned again and closed his eyes. “Practically poison. Why? Why, Vanessa?” he said and opened his eyes to look at her. He looked pathetically.

“....This is a vampire ball, Simon……” she said slowly. He drew in a slow, steady breath and watched her. “I thought it would be wine…..” he whispered. Simon watched as she looked at him, appearing amused. “I wasn’t poisoned…” She shook her head. “You weren’t poisoned.”

They just sat there for a few minutes as he regained his composure and she offered him support. “.....I liked it,” he admitted quietly. He wasn’t ready to say that too loudly as he felt ashamed of it. “I think that’s why I was so over-dramatic. I liked it and I didn’t want to like it.” And now he wanted more.

“It’s only natural,” she assured him and Simon decided she was probably right. Prior to this, he had never had the drink straight before - but rather always took his daily ration of blood that was delegated out by the Ministry of Magic in some fruit juice because he hated fruit juice - and it was his every intention to hate what was in the fruit juice as well. Maybe he knew this day would someday come. Here it was.

“You should go. It’s nearly time to meet your father,” Vanessa said and offered him a hand. He took hold of hers and she helped guide him to stand. “Find me later and don’t get so - dramatic,” she said and shook her head. That was big words for someone who needed to get more spirited with life herself - but Simon understood. Vanessa was trapped in lingo between death and life and that surely was a difficult predicament to be in.

Simon smiled to her softly in thanks before making his way down to the main level of the ballroom. Nearly immediately after his shoes touched the floor, a couple vampires were greeting him. “Hail to you, your grace,” one said and they both nodded before him - well, something more than a nod but less than a bow. Such words and display made Simon feel awkward but he managed a cool exterior and smiled in response but it provided him with more motivation to find his father quickly.

He was introduced to what was the leaders of these various vampire groups; each with their own unique take on what vampire-ism looked like. Simon wondered if this was all the vampire groups or just those that made up what they called The Kindred.

There was Ciro Saint James of the Order of the Illuminated, which Simon thought as 'The Golden' upon first sight. Gold makeup and paint and glitter scattered over their faces and bodies, each and every one of them, either almost entirely or with just enough accent here and there to appear perfect. Under the lights of the ballroom they appeared to shine as bright as the sun. Such embellishments made Simon wonder if this was their daily routine or only for special events such as the ball. His father’s coven dressed often in more Victorian leaning clothing and tonight had been no exception - well, except fancier.

“Welcome to you, dear Simon, and much congratulations to you,” a female vampire said as she lowered herself to Adrian. She was wearing all black, with a collared dress that came high with puffy see-through fabric sleeves. Her skin was so pale that it the black makeup outlining her eyes was striking, and it went upward as it reached the sides, almost like bat wings. In fact, her entire troupe of vampires wore only black and white, and the clothing all had either sharp features that suggested the shape of bat wings or had sleeves that resembled such. They seemed to have quite a fascination with bats and it wasn’t until the creature moved slightly that Simon noticed a real living bat in the palm of the woman’s hands. Adrian introduced her as Sorina Ellison, leader of Followers of Flight and they retreated, more quickly than they had with the other. “Their lot is one of the bloody reasons that vampires are associated with bats. I wish they would abandon such a ludicrous persona.”

From one end of the the spectrum to having just met perhaps the most stereotypical of vampires, he was introduced to the leader of a group that identified themselves as Circle of Starlight. Each of their members was dressed in the most elaborate outfits, seeming as if they were something out of a high fashion magazine where the regular person would say ‘no one would EVER wear that!’ Oh, they were wearing it - and proudly too. Their leader was Davorin Rousseau and Simon wasn’t quite sure why, but he got the impression that he seemed intimidated by his father.

How many groups were here?

There was Bishop Terrick, leader of The Black Appearance who Simon had thought as 'The Cloaked' upon seeing them from the balcony. They dressed in black cloaks that covered their entire identity and resembled something like a dementor or the grim reaper. Did they have something to hide, or were they just calling out to death to find them, or have accepted to be one with them? If this is normally how they always dressed, Simon could see that they had pretty much cut any connection with the human world. His own father could wander out, into the still busy city streets at night, and conduct business or make purchases. If one dressed as this, surely they couldn’t.

Nearly every vampire they passed had goblets in their hands and Simon caught his father catching his glance down to them on more than one occasion. So before they met any other hierarchy members, his father brought them over to the far wall of the ballroom, where glass after glass rested on a table full and ready for the taking; and a beautiful fountain nearby flowed with the same red liquid. Simon’s stomach tightened again, but he knew it wasn’t from any sort of poison that he had been given, but rather a thirst for what he had denied himself of for so long. His father took one of the goblets and Simon did the same. While he was disappointed in himself for the craving, he allowed it to take over and he drank - forcing himself to ignore thoughts of where the blood came from and what would happen now, if anything, that he had a liking for it.

“There are three more you are to meet and then you will dance with Vanessa,” his father said to him. Simon looked around the Ballroom, noticing one or two sort of groups that he probably hadn’t met their dignitary, if one could call it such. The vampires within attendance watched him, sometimes with a complete gaze, sometimes just a glance, and had been doing so the entire time since he stepped onto the ballroom floor. Wouldn’t they be watching them even more so when he was dancing? It wasn’t in a threatening sort of way, it was as if they were in awe of him and in awe of Adrian for having him. The Order of the Illuminated and Ciro Saint James himself could cover his entire body in sparkling gold and still not shine as bright as Simon Kincaid that evening. It wasn’t a good feeling. The expectations were too high.

But he knew he couldn’t protest and they were now standing in front of Amaris Davenport, who’s beautiful face and flowing blonde hair would normally catch someone’s attention but instead, it was her red eyes that captured anyone’s attention. It was a nice name, but not necessarily a catchy one for their gimmick (if you could call it such), but she was the leader of The Union of the Carmine Eyes. They all shared that trait but in various shades of red, some deeper and some lighter, and some almost brighter as if shining under the ballroom lights.

Valerian Devereaux was the frontrunner of a group that appeared to either painted on or tattooed black veins all over their bodies and face - some more intricate and involved than others. This was Onyx Blaze, another vampire group, and Simon would have wanted to smile at the name - thinking it sounded like they were trying a bit too hard - but his curiosity over wondering just HOW they got such markings won out and his smile never came to be. He remained on his best behavior, just as his father and Lilith would have wanted.

Bartholomew Chamberlain was introduced to Simon next. He was leader of the Macabre Vanguaridans, a name that seemed as much of a mouthful and tricky for someone to spell as the man’s name itself. That group also seemed to sort of welcome death, as many of its members either wore Gothic type clothing and carried around human skulls - hopefully not REAL human skulls - or they wore clothing that resembled that of a skeleton, almost like they were trying to transform into nothing but bones themselves.

Simon noticed there were some in masks. They were the sort of masks that himself or his own classmates at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry might wear to a masquerade ball. He was never introduced to any of these individuals and they seemed to spread and mingle with all the groups, as if not having found their place just yet. Were they vampires looking for a group, or were they perhaps just the social butterflies of the room?

Simon also noticed that there were a multitude that were just - laying around. Mostly occupying a chair or a lounge, they were sprawled out, often in odd sort of odd arrangements of their limbs, and rested limp. Some were on the floor doing such. “Who are…..” he paused as he looked to one of them. Were they still alive? Were they dead? Well, more dead than just being a vampire?

“Ah, yes,” his father exclaimed as he had followed Simon’s eyesight. He had been following it the entire night, watchful and mindful, as if Simon was going to step out of line. He wouldn’t - not here. “We shall find Balian Hollingsworth, leader of End’s Craving. I like to think of them as 'The Listless' myself, but that’s between you and me." Simon didn’t know whether to find it a happy coincidence that his father had his own sort of thoughts on what these groups should be named as he had, or if he should curse the connection between the two. "They are a docile group, until they aren’t,” was all his father said before they found the man they were looking for and introductions were made.

Simon had survived the fiasco and when his father now departed his side, he wandered over to where the musicians played, watching them in the dim lighting in this corner, and wondered if they were vampire or human and if human, how that would be possible. Maybe if this was described as some sort of costume ball then it would make sense but he would be surprised that each and every vampire that occupied this large space would have the willpower to not attack. Maybe it was the endless flow of refreshments that kept them at bay. How did his father get this much of it? He just began to look over his shoulder to take in the scene once more of exactly how much when he saw Vanessa.

“Lots of stir about your debut, your grace,” she said with a small smile, using the term so many had used for him that night. “Stop,” Simon said and shook his head. This night was something out of some strange dream he would have had years ago - not the reality that it was today. “It’s almost as if they think I’m some sort of royalty,” he said to Vanessa. She watched him and her head tilted just slightly. “You’re Adrian Hawthorne’s son, Simon. You ARE royalty.”

“Does his coven have a name? My father's? Your coven? The one, here in the castle?” Simon asked. He had been curious since the first vampire guild was named. “Us? Yea, we’re the Chosen Ones of the One God,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not exactly catchy, but it works for the purpose.” Simon wasn’t sure what she meant by that. What was their purpose?

“We’re supposed to dance, you know,” Vanessa continued. The music was slowing down from this particular piece and it was pretty apparent that soon the musicians would be playing a new song. “And I’ll take it as the debut dance of Simon Kincaid, who is never not thinking of his girlfriend. Just a dance.” Simon watched as she made a cross over her heart. It did ease things a little because he didn’t really feel like dancing with another girl was appropriate, but it was the will of his father and it didn’t seem as if he, nor really anyone in this room, wanted to go against the will of his father.

Simon outstretched his hand toward Vanessa just as the new song began and she took it, and he led her out to the middle of the ballroom, some parting to make a pathway for them to do so. It was surreal and all those in attendance seemed to stop what they were doing to watch as their dance began. Lilith, of all individuals, was charged with giving him dance lessons the past couple weeks, and it was as insufferable as one could imagine it to be, but Simon knew that this dance would be like much of the more elaborate traditional dances that he had known. Some things just transcended time and transcended worlds - music and dancing were two of them.

The two began to twirl about the dance floor and in no time, eyes were taken off of them as other partners joined them and while Simon still felt rather isolated there, he didn’t feel like the center of attention for the moment. As they danced, Simon wondered if Lilith had given Vanessa dance lessons or if she already knew - she did well, but was hesitant, and he was grateful he had the correct knowledge to guide her so that they appeared effortless in their actions.

“So does anything else happen at The Hawthorne Ball? What normally goes on when we’re not celebrating the debut of a - future leader - of the Hawthorne Coven of Babilstow?” he used his father’s words from earlier that evening; still unsure what that ‘future leader’ meant. “

Vanessa’s eyes lowered from his and he wasn’t sure if it was to falter her gaze from his question or rather to look at their feet as they made their sweep across the floor. “We conduct The Ritual as The Chosen Ones of the One God,” was her quieted reply. The Chosen Ones - Simon thought about that. Did it mean that they were the chosen ones because of some sort of special lineage? No, they were a group of misfit vampires who were now bound together. From the stories he read, often the chosen one was some sort of inevitable hero of a story as a result of destiny. Were they to be heroes? Was there a destiny? …..What was The Ritual?

So many questions. Always so many questions in Babilstow.

That song ended and it was Vanessa that broke from the dance to lead him towards the outer perimeter of the ballroom. “What is The Ritual?” he asked of her.

Samael stood nearby and heard incorrectly, for he answered as if hearing the question ‘when is The Ritual.’ “Your father has gone to fetch our messiah. We will give our final honor soon,” but he didn’t do much to clear anything up for Simon.

He felt someone take his hand and looked down, raising his eyes to Vanessa. She gently pulled, indicating silently that he should follow. He did so and she lead him away from Samael, still lingering along the walls of the Ballroom. “We should go,” she said to him. But if their group, The Chosen Ones of the One God conducted The Ritual on this night, shouldn’t they, as two members of this coven, be there? Wouldn't his father notice their absence? “I’m not sure we should. Shouldn’t we be here for this?” he inquired.

Vanessa shook her head. “Your father didn’t mention The Ritual to you,” she said, almost as if in a question and he shook his head. “Nor Gideon….?” and he shook his head again. “Simon, let’s take leave,” she said again and stepped a few steps closer toward the entrance. She seemed to be insistent on it and he couldn’t understand what was wrong.

The music ceased and there were some murmurs amongst most of the vampires in the middle of the Ballroom. “On this night, let us pay tribute to dear Rosceline as she takes our message….”

“SIMON! LET US TAKE LEAVE!” Vanessa nearly cried out, interrupting whatever words his father was saying. Simon snapped his attention to her and could see she was quickly growing distraught. Why was she so upset?

She yanked at his hand again and this time he followed and the two made their exit. “TO ROSCELINE!” he could hear most of the vampires say in unison.

“What is wrong? Vanessa? I don’t understand,” he said as they quickly turned the corner and began down the corridor. She didn’t say anything but continued to pull him along with her. Simon followed, but he really would appreciate an answer right about now. “Vanessa….” he began again but then she quickly moved away from some crates that were out from one storage room and he wasn’t as quick and his foot caught the edge of one, causing him to stumble and break her hold. The top crate had been opened and clear bag after clear bag revealed that the crates held blood - lots of blood. The only information on it, was a label that said when the blood had been collected.

Vanessa came to his side to ensure he was okay and Simon looked to her and nodded. He hadn’t been hurt and while it was a little unsettling seeing so much of what he just saw, he was at a vampire ball, as he had been told earlier; what did he expect?

Simon brushed it off, still wondering what had her distressed but followed her, through the corridors, up some stairs, and to her room for the first time. It was dark, mostly black, but there were pressed dried flowers and paintings of flowers scattered around in her living area. “These are absolutely beautiful,” Simon said as he stepped to one to look at it. These weren’t flowers in the Moonlight Garden, but rather ones you would find in the daylight - most likely flowers that she missed seeing in this so called life of hers.

She smiled and began to go collect some others to perhaps showcase for him, placing them on the long table in front of her. While she did so, Simon wandered over towards the alcove by the window where one painting stood on an easel. Curious to see her latest creation, he took a peak to see - not a flower created on the canvas like the others - but a portrait of him. The canvas sat heavy with paint, as if it had been painted and repainted time and time again. As he studied it, light danced along the drying paint. He moved the heavy curtain away from the window to see flames outside reaching for the night sky. For a moment he panicked but when he noticed that the entire congregation of attendees from the Ballroom seemed to now be gathered around it, he realized this was a fire that had been created and was controlled. Perhaps it was part of The Ritual and no one seemed to notice or care that the two were not there; away from the festivities below.