Who needs sleep anyway? PV Amara Dragamior Fin.

Vincent heard Amara thank him for sticking around and being so understanding, a remark to which his only reaction was a wry smile. It was not a smile aimed at Amara or what she had said, it was merely a reflection of his state of mind. Understanding? Maybe he indeed was, but he didn't feel he should be thanked for that. This was his natural reaction when he came across someone in need, offering his help, provided he didn't have a very good reason not to help. Amara clearly fit the bill, so the logical consequence of it was him being understanding towards her. He pondered on the word for a bit. Strange that one could be understanding without actually understanding. Yes, he understood she was in unbearable agony caused by a huge profusely bleeding laceration that had suddenly appeared across her face for no apparent reason. He also understood that this wasn't the right moment to discuss this - at all - and, last but not least, he most certainly understood she needed someone around her to help her through this ordeal. That someone was him. He understood all that and still he really had no idea what had just happened - and still took place at the moment. He wanted to know, though. Definitely. He wanted to know why this girl was - or perhaps had to be, needed to be? - exposed to such a horrific trial. So, how understanding was he really? And how helpful at that? The fact of the matter was there was nothing he could except simply be there and, even though he knew, to him that didn’t feel like much of a help.

Vincent made sure he wiped the wry smile from his face before he nodded at Amara who, now that she had finished covering up the wound, had laid down on her back, perhaps to relieve the pain. Much to Vincent’s relief it at least looked like it worked, the pain had apparently subsided a little, allowing her mind and consciousness to drift off for a bit as she stared into the starry night sky. However, judging by her shallow breathing, though, it was far from over. And honestly, she didn’t exactly look particularly comfortable either, which of course was hardly a surprise. Vincent shivered as he felt the cold creeping up from the damp grounds. Just as he wondered if Amara felt that as well, she shifted her gaze towards him and spoke up.

"This should be over in the next hour or so."

The words, though innocent in themselves, hit Vincent like a sledgehammer. An hour? She had to endure this ordeal for another hour? Knowing words were as unnecessary as they were meaningless at this moment, Vincent confined himself to a compassionate shake of his head and once again remained silent, staring into oblivion. In his head a torrent of questions, thoughts and ideas, all equally relevant and important, threatened to cloud his judgement, so he fought to push them into the background for now. If he were to be of any noteworthy assistance to Amara he couldn’t afford being preoccupied with anything else. Then Amara addressed him again, distracting him enough to clear his mind and be able to give her his full and undivided attention.

"Would you be willing to talk, I do not really care about what I just need a distraction"

Vincent turned his head towards her and noticed how fragile she looked as she laid there, a tiny figure with her face al but covered in bloody bandages. The moonlight, inexorably illuminating the scene with its scarlet light, making it seem even more dramatic, reflected in her eyes and made it look like her hair was strangely glowing. He really felt sorry for her. “Talk? Of course.” he replied to her request. “What…” he swallowed the rest of the question, quickly changing to a subject for small talk. His choice was, given the circumstances and despite him being far from an expert in the particular field of science, an obvious one. Astronomy. After a moment of silence, which he used to gather his thoughts he started speaking. “You know, it still amazes me to see how incredibly many stars there are out there.” he said, a thin smile on his face. He hoped she wouldn’t mind his lame choice and his even more lame remark. “Every time I set out with my camera to try and capture them I used to look at them like they were a giant connect-the-dots puzzle and I was always trying to find a figure of some sorts. I never found a good one by the way.” His smile widened as he thought back at his naivety. “I still do that sometimes to be honest.” he continued softly as his smile faded away as quickly as it had appeared around his lips. “Just as I sometimes pretend they are spirits watching out for us.” He briefly looked away. “Even though I of course very well know they are in fact not.” He looked back at Amara, almost whispering now. “It somehow comforts me to imagine my father is looking down on me whenever I feel truly sad or worried.” And then he swiftly changed the subject. “By the way, aren’t you cold, laying in the damp grass like that?”

Amara let the cool, wetness of the grass seep into her hair and onto her face. It was a refreshing feeling, a distracting one. Now that the worst of the pain was over, it was easier to ignore. She started to play with some grass as Vincent began to talk. He started off by talking about stars and the endless amount of them. Amara smiled at his comments about how the night sky is like a giant connect the dots puzzle, "Isn't that what the constellations are?" Amara asked this somewhat cheekily, smiling through the pain.

Vincent went on to talk about how stars could also be sports, souls of those loved, and lost. He quickly mentions something about his father being one of those stars and looking down at him before hastily changing the subject to ask if the wet grass bothered her. "You know, it does not actually, like your words it is a much-needed distraction."

Amara nibbles on her lip softly as she considers what to say. She can tell that it is not the right time to ask him about his father so instead, Amara comes up with another simple question to ask, "You mentioned a camera, are you a photographer?" Amara asked this as she rolled over slightly to look towards Vincent as she awaited his answer.

Vincent happily saw Amara actually responding to what he said, as she smilingly asked him about the constellations. This could only mean one thing, the pain and agony indeed had started to subside. Perhaps only ever so slightly, but subside nevertheless. He didn't have the impression - heck, not even the illusion- that it was because of his gibberish, but it made him happy all the same. As long as her focus was diverted and remained far from it all, he couldn't care less about the cause. So he kept on babbling, eventually, unfortunately, ending up mentioning his father, something he had wanted to avoid. It was not that he couldn't or didn't want to talk about him, not at all even, he just didn't label it a very suitable subject under these circumstances.

He quickly changed the subject, hoping Amara wouldn't have noticed, but from the look in her eyes, despite her own pain, and the way she chewed on her lip Vincent could see she had picked it up. She didn't inquire about it though and he suspected she had sensed he only mistakenly mentioned his father. Instead she offered him an easy way out, by asking him about photography. "She's a clever one." Vincent thought, something he appreciated and accordingly valued in other people. Amara turned her body slightly towards him as to be able to look him in the eye, despite the obviously fading pain a brave move in Vincent's eyes. "And apparently a tough one at that." Again proof that, as he had learned very early in life, looks can be deceiving.

Silently admiring her strength and willpower Vincent gratefully accepted her escape route. He felt his muscles subtly started to object his motionlessness, so he shifted his weight and stretched out his legs before he started talking about his most important, most favored pastime. "Yes, I am a photographer, although... actually, that might stretch it a little to be perfectly honest." Vincent smiled. "I have a camera and I like to take pictures, but I wouldn't call myself a genuine photographer. I'm not that good. Yet. But I practice as much and as often as I can. In fact, if I hadn’t been in such a rush to get out I probably would have brought it tonight as well. However, as it turns out having forgotten to grab it was a good thing in the end I suppose, although this..." Vincent gestured to the horizon and kept his silence for a while to allowing Amara and him to take in the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before their eyes.

The moon had lost its mysterious red hue as the eclipse had slowly reached the end of its life. The light of the new day subtly peeked from behind the castle, fading the moon's now quicksilver luminescence into a pale shine that made the dew drops that had settled in the grass look like little will-o'-the-wisps, the earthly equivalent of stars in Vincent’s eyes. The thought triggered a memory in Vincent’s head, but realizing he had drifted off, he pulled himself back to reality rather than submit to it. He adjusted his position, allowing his tense muscles to relax, raised his knees and wrapped his arms around them. Then, looking back at Amara, he continued the conversation. ”If you like I can show you some examples of my work some day. I have a few folder ones in my trunk and I keep adding new ones to my collections. There's a few…” Vincent stopped talking as something that had caught his subconscious attention a little earlier had now sunk in and reached his consciousness. “Say,” he once again addressed Amara as he closely examined her facial expression, a subtle, cautious smile on his face. “Is it just me, or are you starting to feel a bit better?”

@Vincent d'Arque

Amara plays with the corner of one of her bandages as she listens to Vincent. She keeps telling herself not to fidget with it, but that clearly does not work. when Vincent takes a break and stares up at the sky Amara begins to speak, “I would love to see them, and you should never sell yourself short on your abilities,”

Vincent listens and continues to speak. This time he trails of as he smiles at her and asks if she is feeling better. Amara sighs, considering how to respond. “It is not like the same amount of pain is not still there- it is, but it is... different. At first it is the pain of your skin being ripped apart, sort of like being cut with a knife but not because there is not the coldness of the blade. And now, before it mends, it is the pain of having fun a giant gash running across your face which I think is easier to manage. But in the next 20 or so minutes- once the hour is up, it will slowly draw the blood back in. I know it sounds weird but that is why I have to keep it bandaged, I need to let myself reabsorb the blood. Sorry that was a long answer though.” Amara glances at him biting her lip and praying he does not find this whole process to be to... intense.

The compliment, at least Vincent considered it one, conjured a slightly sheepish smile on his face that was soon to be followed by a light blush. He wasn’t used to getting compliments, they always made him somewhat uncomfortable. He did like getting them, though, as they meant he had done something someone else appreciated. This one, especially this one, at this moment was one that held more value for Vincent. The moment, however, was short lived. One could always count on ignorance and stupidity to spoil the fun and this time, sure enough, it was no different. He let his attention slip for a second and reacted impulsively, thoughtlessly rather than well-advised. He regretted the casually asked question the moment he had uttered it. He was too fast, it was, again, too soon. Asking her if she was feeling any better, really? Hadn’t he learned nothing from his earlier mistake? She even asked him to distract her, not to draw attention to it.

Wondering how many more dubious, silly questions like this one Amara could take, Vincent’s blush intensified and this time it was not because someone had complimented him, it was out of shame for his own ignorance. It would by far be best to simply stop asking her how she felt altogether and stick to safer, less sensitive subjects. Amara sighed at hearing the question and although Vincent couldn’t really tell if it was an expression of irritation or not, he simply assumed it indeed was. He opened his mouth to apologize for his insensitivity and silliness, but Amara beat him to it as she explained the process she went through in terms of pain and intensity. Vincent listened with growing amazement and, perhaps more important and relevant, worry. The detailed description Amara provided him with, sent shivers down his spine. There was nothing in this world that seemingly made it worth enduring such an ordeal, let alone multiple times. At least not anything he could think of. The seasoned application of the bandages she had displayed earlier and the fact she carried them with her in the first place proved beyond the shadow of a doubt Amara had different ideas about that. How could she endure this? Or why would she at all?

This definitely wasn’t the first time she went through this and, Vincent would have bet anything on it, it wouldn’t be the last time either. Something apparently made it worth the agony and horror of going through this. To her at least. He wondered what it was. It had to be something very valuable and dear to her, but, determined not to make the same mistake again, Vincent had no intention to ask her about it. Instead he considered what it was she had said exactly, especially the part about the blood needing to be reabsorbed. So this ghostly gash just appeared, apparently it was on some sort of schedule, causing a tremendous amount of pain. It then needed bandaging to make sure… yeah, make sure what exactly? Vincent shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know, but apparently it was an essential step in the process. He suspected it had something to do with avoiding the blood from dripping on the ground so it was lost, but that was merely an uneducated guess. Then, after an hour or so the blood was reabsorbed and the wound apparently closed up. And for what reason exactly?

Vincent sighed and slightly shook his head, before briefly fixing his gaze back on Amara, straightening his frown and smiling hesitantly to her. He really couldn’t comprehend any of it, it was well out of his wheelhouse. Not exactly a huge surprise, but a huge annoyance nonetheless. He hated not knowing, but he also realized right now he had no other choice than to accept he had no way of knowing. He saw Amara biting her lip as she stared back at him. “I… I’m sorry once more, Amara, I shouldn’t have asked." Vincent said with a tone of guilt in his voice. "You had already told me it would take an hour to complete, so it was kind of stupid to ask about your well-being not even three quarters of an hour in. An unforgivable mistake. It’s just that… I… umm… I was trying… no! Never mind!” Vincent stuttered and stopped talking. He paused a few seconds, cleared his throat and then took a deep breath. He turned towards Amara, reached out and touched her shoulder, only slightly, like a breeze of wind and continued to speak, this time much more fluently. “You know what, I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. I may not grasp any of this and it scares the hell out of me, at least to a certain extent, but that is irrelevant and I don't care. We'll get you through this, like I said earlier as well, I’ll be around for as long as I’m needed. For as long as you need me here. And let me promise you this: when this is over we’re going to take a walk somewhere, or even organize a picnic and we’re going to get reacquainted. Start this meeting over, but without any unpleasant interference. Deal?”

@Vincent d'Arque

Vincent begins to apologize to Amara after her explanation of the levels of pain and such. Amara shakes her head, "You have no reason to apologize, the question was fine and I know it came from a place of kindness." Vincent took a breath to gather himself and touched Amara's shoulder. She looked at him softly as he continued.

"You know, it still scares the hell out of me to so you are nowhere near being alone on that front." Amara shoots him a playful smile, "And I would love to get re-acquainted, get to know each other at some time when it does not involve me looking like I am bleeding out," As if on cue, Amara shudders, the blood loss hitting her. She realizes that her skin must be ghastly pale and reaches out to resume drinking her tea. "And a picnic, which equals food, that sounds good."

Amara reaches out and squeezes Vincent's hand, doing her best to reassure him that all of this will be over soon, that he does not have to be so nervous and that she is infinitely thankful for him staying. As she does this, Amara mumbles under her breath, "You really are brave,"

After speaking his mind, Vincent turned his head away from Amara and stared at the dew covered fields in the distance, relieved she had told him there was no need to apologize. He still felt a bit guilty. He allowed his gaze to wander around, looking for early birds that had already started their day. He saw none. For the first time this night he felt tired, not so much physical as mental. He could only imagine how exhausted Amara must be at the moment.

His gaze still fixed on an imaginary point somewhere on the horizon he heard the girl confess she too felt scared, still scared. This confession, that proved his suspicion this wasn't the first time it happened to her, made him cast her a brief glance and he saw that her face, at least the part that wasn't covered in bandages, had lit up with a smile. He smiled back at her, but remained silent, not sure what to say, how to reply to this. He had mixed feelings about it. On one hand he was happy to know he wasn't the only one scared to death by it, but on the other hand he felt really sorry for her just because she too was scared to death.

Not for the first time tonight Amara saved him from having to decide how to react as she spoke up again. Right at that moment she shivered. Vincent had not actually seen her shiver, but he noticed it anyway. As if he felt it, although the rustling of her sweater was an indication as well. He heard her reach for her tea, so he assumed she felt cold. As Amara finished her sentence Vincent suddenly felt a soft pinch in his left hand. He flinched at the touch of Amara's rather cold hand, not because it hurt, but because he hadn't expected it.

He heard her mutter something under her breath while she gently squeezed his hand, something so softly spoken that Vincent couldn't decipher it. He figured if Amara had wanted him to hear it, she'd have spoken more loudly, so he let it rest. He did address her, though, once again tearing his gaze from oblivion to look her in the eyes. "Good." he replied to her earlier reaction, smiling widely. "A picnic it will be then. Anything in particular to eat or drink I should bring? Something you really, really like?"

Amara sips her tea and looks over at the sky. She slowly starts to feel a small amount of her blood getting re-absorbed. Her lightheadedness does not go away yet, but she is starting to feel a little stronger.

Vincent asks her if there is anything she would want to eat at this picnic and he smiles at her. Amara smiles back to answer his question, "Well I do have a sweet tooth, so any pastries would be nice," she makes her smile more of coy one, "Have you ever had falafel and hummus and pita? Or Israeli salad? It is probably one of my favorite meals. But what would you like to eat?"

Amara licks her chapping lips and sips on her tea some more, trying to get both her blood sugar and wits up. This ordeal is one that targets both her mind and body so Amara has to do things like eating and drinking to make sure she does not pass out or vomit or anything along those lines. Amara wipes away dried tears and starts to twirl her hair as she waits for her new friend's response as she thinks about getting to know him better after this ordeal.

@Vincent d'Arque

This time it was Amara turn to stare into oblivion. Vincent hoped she was just thinking of an answer to his question about favorite food for a picnic rather than being in more pain again. His wide, happy smile faded away at the mere thought, but as Amara looked back at him he noticed she was smiling. Thankfully she had indeed only been looking to answer his question, or at least so it seemed. The smile quickly reappeared on Vincent’s face as he heard her initial reply. Of course she liked pastry, most girls do. “In fact,” Vincent thought to himself, “admittedly most boys our age do as well, no matter how hard they deny it.” He was just about to comment on it, when Amara continued to share her likes, her smile a bit less convincing now. Vincent figured it probably had something to with the fact the next series of dishes she mentioned were much less known and she wasn’t sure if he had ever heard of them.

If that indeed were her considerations, she was partially right. His mother wasn’t really a great cook and she usually kept to English food, things she knew how to prepare, not daring to try to prepare an unknown foreign dish. With a few rare exceptions. Falafel and pita Vincent knew, he had even eaten both, be it only once or maybe twice. As for hummus, well, he knew it existed, he had heard the name before, but had no idea how it tasted. All he knew was that its main ingredient was chickpeas and that was about it. The salad she had mentioned, he didn’t even catch its name properly, he knew nothing about.

Vincent amusedly watched Amara twist curls in her hair as he replied to her. He had seen many girls do that and he never had figured out why. He thought of asking Amara about it, but postponed that for now. First things first. “I like a lot of things to be honest. I won’t easily turn down a sweet treat, even though I prefer savory snacks over sweet snacks all day long. So pastry is fine, especially when there is a choice between both sweet and savory.” he started his reply, watching Amara closely. She seemed a bit off, absentmindedly sipping from her tea. Vincent assumed she had to be exhausted. He knew he could use some sleep, let alone Amara. Nevertheless he decided to keep talking, telling her about his mother's cowardice to try something new that influenced how far his knowledge about the other options she had mentioned stretched.

“I had falafel once, but didn't like it too much. Way too dry to my liking, it resembled sand more than anything else." he said with a grin on his face. "That however, might very well have been the cook's fault, which would have been my mum." Vincent chuckled at the memory and then continued. “That salad you mentioned, what was its name again? What is in it?” he asked, genuinely interested. “I like most types of salad, so that seems an interesting option. I hope it has red bell pepper in it, I love those.” Vincent’s voice died out as he stopped talking. He suddenly realized how peculiar this entire situation was, him talking about what food he would like to eat at a picnic to a girl he had just met under curious, highly unsettling circumstances – to say the least – and he knew nothing about her but her name. In fact, he was so engaged in all that had happened he had even failed to register any particular features like hair color or the hue of her eyes. “Say,” he hesitantly asked Amara a long overdue, obvious question after a few seconds of silence. “what house are you actually from?”

@Vincent d'Arque

As Amara's newfound companion talks, Amara starts to feel some of the moisture in her bandages go away. She takes a happy breath, realizing that the hour must be up. While the bandages are no longer blood red, they are to yet back to the paleness they once were, yet at least.

Vincent begins to talk about his mother and her subpar falafel which Amara finds amusing, "Well, considering falafel is supposed to moist, almost like a chickpea, carrot, and spice french fry, I would assume the chef made a mistake."

He goes on to ask her about the Israeli salad and Amara takes a moment to decide which particular one she would want, "Tabbouleh, it is a delicious salad with mint, tomatoes and fine wheat in it. I would have it every day if I could." Amara explains this with a wistful expression and realizes that she is currently quite hungry.

After some peaceful silence, Vincent asks the long-overdue question about houses and before she can stop herself, Amara starts to laugh. Her giggles come out of nowhere and she realizes how odd this whole encounter is and how what house someone is in is usually the first thing you learn about an acquaintance, "Sorry, this is not the proper response but," Amara begins this and tries- with no success- to calm herself, "I am a Slytherin. What," More giggles escape her lips, Sorry, what house are you in?"