Please... I'm begging pv Vladimir Athanatos Finished

Vladimir was wordless the entire journey less the occasional urging for her to go elsewhere - back to her friends, back to the party, to her dorm where she might rest, the grounds where she could watch the stars. She had to have someone special to spend it with. She had to have something else to do besides follow him.

Alas, no such luck. Vladimir had rules he would always follow and today was not the day he would break them. Erin was screaming, carrying on but he paid her no heed. He did not care what ultimately happened to her and would have considered it Merlin's grace had she met her end en route without it being a purposeful act on his part. He could admit to negligence, an "accident."

He would drop her off in the most literal manner possible. Yes, he was being petulant. This was a perfect opportunity, all they had to do was look the other way. Then they could feign remorse, regret, that they cared. That is if they even noticed. He expected the girl to stay with Erin, some sort of feminine bonding exercise while she chewed nails and screamed about the monsters that lived in her head.

He would feel a flare of frustration as the girl called out after him.

“Vlad, wait please!”

The impulse was to walk faster, to ignore her or to snap at her. That was not the way. He took a breath, knowing he was about to endure additional unpleasantness this evening. "Yes," he exhaled as he stopped. His posture erect, his pose more akin of a man standing at attention rather than one entering casual dialogue.

“I just want to try and understand. I want to help”

"I don't need help," he answered but did not make eye contact. "You should have left me to my devices for the evening," he advised. "Help me understand why you are with me rather than your friends," the people that you care about on a night that his peers had spent weeks preparing for with fervent excitement. From the ballroom gowns and the elaborate hairstyles, the faces spackled with make-up they rarely required. He let out a sigh as he looked back the way they came, the castle was for the most part empty. He was not going to be able to ascend the Ravenclaw Tower.

"Actually, I will walk you to your common room," a sudden change of heart for an unspoken reason. The most dangerous hours in this castle are those where someone is alone. It did not matter if she accepted, she was following him anyways so she would follow him if he ascended or descended the shifting stairs. "You should never go someplace alone," a bit paternalistic, chauvinistic perhaps but honest. Depending on who said it, it could be taken as polite, as chivalrous, as cautious. "Who are your friends?" Not who was in her house, who were her classmates, but rather who did she trust.

He stopped when she called for him, which thoroughly surprised her, and she did not hide it regardless of how much he did not want to talk to her. She would not understand why he was willing to humor her, nor would she waste a question on asking. The answer did not matter. She would stop so that she could see his face regardless of having to crane her gaze upward, searching his face as he spoke, watching how he refused to look her in the eyes. Though that could have been for the same reason that she did not enjoy giving people eye contact. “Maybe I would have left you to it if you’d help me understand… My friends have dates. I have no business being in the middle of any of that.” She said dryly, not giving him a complete answer, but it was answer enough if he believed her to be as superficial as others.

A frown creased her brow when he offered to walk her all the way down to her common room, but she would follow it would be the only way to keep him talking. She did not protest in the slightest; after all, he could not force her to enter her common room if she was not satisfied with their discussion. Rock meet hard place. She was well aware that he could overpower her physically and magically if he was so inclined, but she did not think he would. “I am not alone. I am with you.” As he asked her who her friends were, a small smile played on the corners of her lips.

“If you want answers from me, you must also be willing to answer, Vlad, at least some things. Look, I understand you literally have no reason to trust me. My peers, if you can call them that, have more than proved that most of the people in this school are terrible. You have no reason to think I am not the same except that I have never once attacked you. In fact, so far, I’ve only tried to talk to and help you.” Except for the fact that she completely foiled his most recent plans, partially on purpose, but he didn’t need to know that. “You already know Thomas Lestrange is my most trusted person regardless of your unanswered dislike for him. I have no solid reason not to. I trust Alan Vanes, but he is naive. Quinn Healy as well, but he has his own problems. Though he would probably do anything, I asked him too if I could justify it for him.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, something done out of frustration or nervousness. “I just want to cure the cursed and considering I know for a fact that Marion is and Victor was. I’d be willing to stake my life on the fact that you are too. So whether you like it or not I want to help you. I am trying to find out all that I can and, short of killing the hags, which is something I am vastly not capable of. I am in over my head; I know this.” Yet, still she tried. It was probably the most selfless thing she had been trying to accomplish in the past two years. “I think I know what is going to happen to the girls, but I do not know what will happen to the boys. I don’t want you or anyone else to die… Not if there is a way to stop it.”

To the basement then. Away from high places, ledges one can be pushed from. Away from long solitary walks in a building of fiends. "You would have no problem acquiring one," a date that is. Something she should have done rather than concern herself with a tragedy in the making. There was nothing shallow, lesser or "bad" about living life, enjoying the experience and making memories with friends.

The corridor was for the most part empty but his pace would change, his gait would slow almost imperceptibly unless one was matching his gait when he crossed other students (faceless npcs) whose presence was sparse. His gaze on them until they left his sight or rounded a corner. There was a tension that never seemed to leave the teen. He would gesture to the stairs. Hardly a chivalrous notion - ladies first. More, a poster lateral presence with a hand on the shifting stairs rail.

Yeah, she was not alone but that did not make her presence any less concerning. He was as dangerous as they came. He would ask who her friends were, whose care or company he could leave her in.

"I don't need to trust you," he replied simply. "I am just making certain you get back to your people before something happens to you too," there was a dark cloud that seemed to hover over him, hell hounds at his heels, and the liability of his failing health to consider. Couple that with the fact that his associates always break -- Victor at the Blossom Ball, Marion at the Masquerade, this evening he suffered no losses less a diversion of his efforts. He also had to consider her affiliation with a one Thomas LeStrange.

She would reiterate her trust, her potential dependence on LeStrange. He made no effort to hide his disgust saying only, "You have terrible taste in men." First Thomas, then Quinn a rather famed figure in Hogwarts even if he was unaware and of course himself. This did not speak well of Alan, but he did not know the lad. It was likely for the best that they did not cross paths.

She would claim she wanted a cure for the cursed but she was surrounded by villains. She was either dangerously naive or no better. "Allying yourself with sympathizers and the source will only bring you misery," he claimed. "The best thing you can do for your health and happiness is distance yourself from LeStrange in particular," he advised but knew fully she would ignore the request. "He is in league with the hags, and part giants have been a point of interest to hags for some time," he explained, finally giving her the answer she did not want to hear.

She would go on about knowing what will happen to the girls but not the boys. He would stop, white knuckles gripping the rail. "What are you talking about?" He was for once thoroughly confused. He had thought that they were talking about the curse, the darkness. "What difference?"

Santario rolled her eyes. “Two years of none would prove you otherwise, but let’s be fair, I have more important things on my mind.” Granted, she did not put herself out there like other girls. Santario was not the type to throw herself at every available boy that breathed, nor did she understand those that did. If she were to connect with someone, it would require much more than breathing to meet the bar.

She walked with him and observed as much as she could, he was an enigma, and she craved to know more. His extended glances at those who came near, he was not just on guard for her, she would assume. Every time she saw Vlad, he had been attacked by someone, and rarely, if ever, that she could recall was provoked. He did not need her protection, and yet her hand moved to her inner pocket on the ridiculous dress gripping her wand when they passed people. Only to release it once they were gone. She would start heading down the stars first when prompted if he wanted to throw her down them; it would not matter if she were behind him or in front of him. He was a large boy, and she was a girl in a dress not as suitable for running away even if she was not wearing heels.

“Things have already happened to me.” It came out hollow and far less emotional than anything else she had said to him. It did not matter if she was cursed by the hags. He knew the path she walked. He knew who her targets were but, perhaps, he did not know that she expected not to win. She would try her best, of course, but she was a realistic girl, which is why she pushed most away. “I never claimed to have good taste in anything. Not that it really matters.”

She continued to stroll, possibly too slow for his liking, down the stairs minding the slight restrictions of her poor choice in clothing, a hand resting on the railing and trailing down it as if she were descending some grand staircase instead of using it for its designated purpose. Habits were hard to break. “I know he is has made a deal with the hags. I have known for a while I also know why he chose to make the deal, and there are at least two situations where I, myself, would have done the same. Why do you think I am trying to break it? Set all of you free, cure you, whatever it has to be called.” In fact, there was still one of those things that would make her take a deal from them, but she doubted she had enough to offer to make that enticing enough.

Santario was not a petulant child, and she knew she would get answers she did not want to hear; it was no different than him getting her presence when he wanted nothing more than none of it. His question would stop her in her tracks, and she would look behind her. His higher ground forced her to look up more than usual to see his face properly.

Santario looked behind both and down to ensure she could not see anyone before Her gaze returned to his face. Sapphire eyes searched his face flitting between his features as if she were memorizing the appearance of a portrait before landing on his eyes whether he decided to return the eye contact or not. She did not think he was joking, which surprised her a little. Her voice dropped, all the same, to be careful. “Is Erin not going to turn into a hag? Marion as well? I assumed they were turning. Is that not why you wanted to be alone with Erin tonight?” She did not finish the last of that question. She would not outright say he was going to murder the Slytherin beater, but it was implied. “Hags are not males, but I have seen changes in Thomas.” Not even just him lashing out and using one of the things that hurt her most against her, something she was not entirely sure she had forgiven. “I have seen things Move. I assumed the darkness somehow infected most people with itself. My common room may have been spiders, but I suspect it can probably take many other forms. Which makes me wonder. Did the hags make it? Or is it somehow a working relationship.” She frowned deeply as she thought out loud.

“This is why I wanted to talk to you. We cannot destroy it if we do not work together. I have learned that not talking about the attack I, my common room and others, have endured is hurting us.” It did not matter how much she hated thinking about that night, and it produced a visible shudder, she was not immune to the fear that it instilled in her, but the only way to fight against fear was to try and ignore it. “I do not want you-anyone to die. Not unless they deserve it, and while I am sure some of them do, Most do not. If I can do at least one good thing in my life before I leave it… Well, this seems like a decent thing to try and do. I will let you in to see what you want if that is what it takes to get you to trust me. I have nothing to hide.” Sure, if she succeeded, that put Thomas in a much better position to be able to help her end game, and that was a part of her primary motive, but for the most part, the girl was sincere.

He had let her go first in case it was her who intended to try to knock him down the stair. He was cautious, he had no reason to trust but he had standards. He was not going to push the girl down the stairs, if he wanted her dead she would not have survived the walk to the castle.

“Things have already happened to me.”

"Things can always get worse," he countered simply. She had a lot to be thankful for - health, friends, successful academics.

“I never claimed to have good taste in anything. Not that it really matters.”

He nodded, she had terrible taste. Even in walking partners. He knew how dangerous he was. The risk of his very presence, plagued those around him. If he got cut, she would likely die. If his presence offended someone, she might get hurt. If she was believed to be associated with him, something she had done far too publicly, she could become a target. He was the worst of choices. LeStrange was not far behind, the former Slytherin Prefect's access and power was limited to himself but he was a domestic threat.

“I know he is has made a deal with the hags. I have known for a while I also know why he chose to make the deal, and there are at least two situations where I, myself, would have done the same. Why do you think I am trying to break it? Set all of you free, cure you, whatever it has to be called.”

He never dug, he did not want or care to know LeStrange's reasons. It was not relevant, the opportunity a hag proposed, another terrible entity could offer at a later date. "I am unrestrained," he was not in need of freedom. "It does not work that way," a deal, a contract, an agreement, an exchange involves compliance, honor and agreement even if it is ill-informed. "My father has the best St. Mungos has to offer invested in a cure," he claimed but there was no confidence in his voice. His father had learned of his son's affliction months earlier as he bled out in the snow. He had never seen his father like that before, so... invested and passionate. He did not believe that there was going to be some white knight, someone or something that will 'save' them. "It is dangerous to investigate," he continued, not that he told her to stop. A bit of selfishness perhaps. In truth, he wanted a cure, desperately so. The risk to others of their volition was their choice, the burden of regret and blame was alleviated with the simple warning. Again, he has rules.

“Is Erin not going to turn into a hag? Marion as well? I assumed they were turning. Is that not why you wanted to be alone with Erin tonight?”

He would focus his gaze on the air above her head. The eyes were like windows he did not wish to gaze through. "Erin, yes. Marion, no," he corrected. "As far as I am aware Erin was never cursed," he clarified but he would not directly answer the last part of her inquiry - about his want to be alone with her. The implication was not missed, just not addressed.

“Hags are not males, but I have seen changes in Thomas.”

"Thomas is not cursed," he would claim. "At least as far as I know, but even if he is afflicted the curse is just..." he let out a sigh as he leaned down and reached with a gloved hand for the cuff of his pants. He would pull his pantleg upward to reveal his leg. Just one of them.



Engorged, dark veins. The flesh on the lowest part of his leg darkened, ashen. His feet covered with socks and shoes she would not see his nearly black feet. There was an ache that would not relent, a throbbing he could not escape. He would let the pantleg fall. "I won't turn into a hag, the changes are relegated to my blood alone," he claimed. There were no personality changes, "everything I have done I have done of my own volition." Even the bad.

“I have seen things Move. I assumed the darkness somehow infected most people with itself. My common room may have been spiders, but I suspect it can probably take many other forms. Which makes me wonder. Did the hags make it? Or is it somehow a working relationship.”

"No clue," he admitted. "I--" his voice trailed off. "Don't think they are the cause, but I do not know," he had come to them in need, not the other way around. "I believe that the are simply opportunists," but he could be wrong. Their magic was powerful, it was possible that they created it but he believed that the curse had a deeper purpose. Hags were about suffering and misery, those were the root of the teen's experience but the specifics of the curse that afflicted him could have been a great many things. No, this curse had a life of its own. It was a reckless weapon that they might have refined but he did not believe that they were the progenitors.

“This is why I wanted to talk to you. We cannot destroy it if we do not work together. I have learned that not talking about the attack I, my common room and others, have endured is hurting us.”

"Then you should avoid me," Vladimir concluded. "If I am cut, the darkness will escape and it will attack and I won't have a choice in the matter." Not that he had escaped injury before - such as the train crash. He had bled out, an inky darkness that stained the snow. The darkness did not escape on that day. But there were incidents, many in fact, where his blood had doe terrible things. "It is only getting stronger, but in the end I will die," that was the presumption at least. He saw them, Victor and Marion die. A desperate bid for more time, something the hags granted him at a terrible cost.

“I do not want you-anyone to die. Not unless they deserve it, and while I am sure some of them do, Most do not. If I can do at least one good thing in my life before I leave it… Well, this seems like a decent thing to try and do. I will let you in to see what you want if that is what it takes to get you to trust me. I have nothing to hide.”

"That would just lead to another person to miss," he concluded. That was the truth if what she said was true. "I will tell you what I know and then... stop. Hide." A firm instruction. "The hags were drawn, invited to the wood by something or someone. I call her the white lady but she likely has a name. My family is an order or oracles, simply men and women of prodigious talent in terms of psychic promise," scholars, seers, legillimens. "A change, a terrible one was seen in the threads of fate about the school my freshman year. I was assigned the duty of discovery, but I did not find them until mid-year. I should never have spoken to them, I was never supposed to but they seemed..." he shrugged, he did not know a term for them. "A wish, a want with no cost. At least as I saw it at the time," he wanted a friend. He was intensely lonely, a consequence of his prestige. "Ultimately the want was ill-disposed, even if there was no malevolent intention on my part. A friend, which I made shortly thereafter." He blamed himself for their plight. "Being my friend has only brought them suffering, I readily came to them later when their suffering was great enough." When the curse came, afflicted them, took over fragile, failing form. "To save them, to push it back I took the curse myself and have endured since," a story she was not expected to believe. It did not matter, the only cure he knew was to pass it to another and that only slowed it.

"I have performed small tasks over the years at their bidding, their pattern is simply to play on people's moral failings. The power of choice and the devastation of consequences is their modus operandi, not afflicting fatal diseases. But the utilization of such is not beyond them," it was a convenient disease that kept him coming back to the hags, willing to perform menial tasks for them in exchange for a little more time. There were a number of important questions that the studious youth had failed to ask which would prove to be his undoing.

He could feel the stairs on his legs, it was a long walk to endure. They were almost at the subterranean level. He would raise his hand over his face, lift his collar to hide part of his face as the more populous level was ambled. His neck would appear a bit shorter, his gaze angled downward in front of him.

"The curse has become a topic of interest to unknown parties, my blood has been stolen and I fear it will be weaponized. But the Ministry is involved, I reached out to someone that I trust months ago." His faith in VanCleaf might be a mistake but at this time he had no reason to feel that he was being misled. "It is for that reason, among a plethora of others I must kindly request that you take refuge in your common room in the company of anyone besides LeStrange. My cousin will be compliant and shares your dorm," not that he would willingly supply a name. There were several warnings he would not supply her with, including the food. If anything he hoped the girl gorged herself on the heavy, hearty house elf cooking so that she might forget the events of this evening.

He would stop at the door and gesture to the door with his hand. Safely delivered. "I was never here."

The best at St. Mungos… It brought a pang of pain in her heart as she allowed herself just for a moment to wonder if her mother would have been one of the ones helping had she still been alive. Certainly, as she had been vastly talented in her field, something Santario had inherited and was starting to follow down the path of.

Dangerous to investigate; was Vladimir going for the most obvious statement prize? “And tracking down trained assassins isn’t?” She retorted with a snort. The only difference was that right now, San could probably do nothing about the figures in her past, but right here, right now, she could try to do something to help the current problem. Even if she failed, she could try, and that was a hell of a lot better than most others could say.

“No, those were deals. I suppose I should stop using the same word for both.” Vladimir then reached down to raise a pant leg, and any emotion that could have been read on Santario’s face melted away as her eyes took in the darkened veins in his leg. “Vladimir…” It was no more than a whisper. She had seen the start of black veins on others, but she had never seen them progress this far. It was disturbing, to say the least, but it brought on certain despair even more so. How could she fight this? How could she possibly think that she could help? “I would be inclined to agree that they are using what they can to their advantage, but they probably are not in as much control as they think they are.” That lead her to something, though. Vlad may not want to talk about anything, and he might have wanted to remain closed up, but he was giving her the small tidbits she needed. Whether on purpose or not. Everything seemed linked somehow, and she no longer believed the hags to be the sole runners of the show. Or at least it was a theory.

Santario doubted after this, she would have an opportunity to honestly speak to him again anyway, but she would not go out of her way to avoid him either. In fact, regardless of how dumb he thought it might be, she would have enjoyed having more time to pick his brain. If only there was more time, the only commodity no fortune could buy. “So it has gotten worse since the train then. Or will it not come out… In the daylight!” Her eyes lit up with what she assumed was a recognition. Slytherin had been attacked at night, and every other time she could think of that they had been attacked by the shadows, it was at night or somewhere that daylight could not touch. The spiders went away when Glen had cast a particularly powerful Lumos that night. It made sense now that the light was its weakness.

“Does it really matter to you if I miss you?” She gave him an incredulous look before slightly shaking her head. No, he had no reason to care about her or whether she cared. In the end, she was still primarily logical and realistic. Just because she didn’t want him to die didn’t mean he wouldn’t. A want would not guarantee success, just as she was sure she would ultimately fail Thomas. She knew she had to try. Even if futile. He would go on to tell her what he knew, and she would listen without interruption.

“The White Lady.” She murmured to herself at the end of his speech. “You’re family being of such blood makes sense as to why you are such an accomplished legillimens at probably much younger than fourteen.” The white lady more than confirmed her suspicions that woman? Person? Thing? It? Whatever it was, she seemed, for now, to be the figurehead of everything.

They were drawing too near to her common room entrance again. She was running out of time. A theme that would ever continue in her life, she was sure. “No, wait.” She whispered fervently. “Who is it that you think can help? And which cousin? Hess isn’t in my house, and Pride certainly isn’t in my dorm. How many cousins do you have?” Would he answer her last questions? She wasn’t sure, but she was confident he was about to leave, and her time was up. Her hand would reach, gently, for his forearm not to grab it, just to touch it. Whether he allowed her to touch him or not. “At least know there is someone here who doesn’t want you dead. Even if I fail to help.”

“And tracking down trained assassins isn’t?”

She argued. Proclaimed?

"You won't," he seemed confident. Not that he expected Santario to take the assertion well, "you're not like them" probably. It takes a certain sort of person to kill. It is easier to wish for their painful, slow demise than to be a party to it. She was a nice girl, capable of great harm possibly but he doubted murder. Yet the fantasy was what helped her get out of bed, it was what allowed her to cope, or at least that was the way he saw it.

And if she got too close, he would make certain they were very far away. Not that he would say that part or ever admit to thinking it. Jürgen was more sensible and capable than he looked and often acted. He was from a long line of Seers whom managed both savory and less reputable clients. He was no stranger to tense situations even if he preferred to play the role of the fool. Vlad was not going to dwell on the unpleasantness that was Santario's parents, their deaths well recorded in the papers one hardly needed to be a Legillimens to know what drove her. Losing ones parents was devastating, not that he remembered his mother but he was fond of his father. Hearing their last moments while powerless to intervene was a terrible.

Leave santario her hate. "Surely they would suffer terribly at your hand," he backpedaled and yes, he lied. Don't take away a person's reason to be.

She had other wants, this was not a much of an escort as it was an interrogation. He was not a fool, he knew what it was but there was mutual benefit in the company. A free conscience for him as he faced his own impending mortality. He rolled up his pantleg, revealing his truth -- the twisted and pained lower appendage. The darkness had spread and twisted his flesh to suit the curse. He always ached.

“So it has gotten worse since the train then. Or will it not come out… In the daylight!”

"It continues to spread," he confirmed. "And it has gotten stronger. I outpaced Marion and Victor a long time ago," he admitted. He did not know why, they had predated him by months. He wondered if it was the means by which he was infected, he had taken theirs and since then their affliction had reversed some and then halted. He was thankful for this but there was a selfish envy he was ashamed to feel. They both would have stayed dead had he not interceded and the development of the darkness in them was not the same as that of the others cursed. The growth was slower. The thick golden potion was likely doing something for them. Victor's death had made his suffering and present affliction a half-waste. A silent resentment he would never communicate.

“Does it really matter to you if I miss you?”

"Not what I meant," he replied stiffly. He would not elaborate further. Attachments would be the death of him, literally. Not that he expected that many would miss him, he had been a plague on the community. He had the instinct of a survivor and he resented his peers not only for their treatment of him but also the suffering Victor and Marion experienced.

“The White Lady.”

That was he best description of the woman, lovely, very tall and pale. He knew little of her but he played his role well and he observed. He was a dutiful errand boy and he completed the tasks set before him without complaint or fail. He had eliminated Professors, such as Professor Price for such ends. He had left the old man in a comfortable limbo, he was getting too close to the truth. He needed to be eliminated but he lacked to callous will to end the old man's life prematurely. He was trying, he had tried, he was just in the way. He would not realize the passage of time, the redundancy of his existence, the hell of suburbia, but he would be fine... eventually.

“You’re family being of such blood makes sense as to why you are such an accomplished legillimens at probably much younger than fourteen.”

He would let out an uncomfortable grunt. She was not wrong, he just was unwilling to confirm. Her casual recollection and insight into him, his family and his 'situation' was starting to get uncomfortable. He had been honing his skill since he was a toddler, before it was even known that he was even a wizard. That was how pureblood families were. At least those that took the care his did with their lineage. They had skills, they had futures, they had expectations. It was more than showing up to fancy parties and knowing who to speak to or what to say. It was not about keeping up appearances, it was about being the best, the most capable and ensuring that his family maintained a hold on certain aspects of the magical community. When the patriarch of their family was given the seat of Minister of Magic, he wondered what changes they would make on the wizarding world. There were stances proclaimed by his father that he knew his father truly did not have.

“No, wait.”

Santario whispered fervently.

“Who is it that you think can help? And which cousin? Hess isn’t in my house, and Pride certainly isn’t in my dorm. How many cousins do you have?”

"I would never underestimate or turn my back on Pride, but he will comply," Vladimir announced with confidence. Mathias had no choice. There were rules that every last one of them would abide by without fail. "But enough," in reference to the number of cousins that he had. There was a value in information, a sort of commodity. Being associated with him, by blood or friendly relationship was dangerous. He was not going to put those that were not ready at risk. "They enjoy their anonymity."

“At least know there is someone here who doesn’t want you dead. Even if I fail to help.”

His skin would feel normal, he made no attempt to avoid her. "I will forgive you if you change you mind. Please be safe." Not that the exchange was wholly unpleasant, he had other intentions for the even ing that were now deferred. He had no intention of attempting summer camp but he would endure the presence of his peers to entertain this diversion.

Vladimir, you are far too soft.

"Have a good evening."

Vladimir Leaves Topic

This is what would stick with the girl the most, a frown slightly creasing her brow in thought as he spoke it. It would be followed with a confirmation that she had run her course in being able to ask him questions and, perhaps, even his patience. Neither of which he had to grant her, he could have chosen to ignore her and allow her to blither on like an idiot to a walking statue, but he had humored her.

However, his statement about Pride at least gave her something more, even if it was small. She should never turn her back on or underestimate him either. He may be a string bean of a boy and annoying, but she now suspected there was far more to him than met the eye. Perhaps, in the future, she would grant him some unearned respect, if only in an attempt to keep herself on his good side.

She would not push his limits as she stared up at him once more, eyes scanning over his face. “I hope you do as well.” It was not a realistic good tiding in his case, but once again sincere. She would watch him leave before turning and muttering the word(s) that would let her into her common room.

A defeated Santario would enter holden snakes held in her hand, hair down and kinked in a few odd ways from being pinned down for hours. She could feel the panic welling inside of her, the suffocation of time running out without being able to do anything about it.



The memory of his voice reminded her, but she could not comply, not forever, but maybe… Maybe for a little while, following that advice was okay. She could hide under the showerhead while she let the greens and golds that she had painted her skin with wash down the drains with her insecurities and tears.

Santario Leaves Topic