Beginning of the new term in the library

<< Michael York >>

He was sitting at one of the desks in the Great Library Hall, a book held lazilly in one hand as he read. The library was quiet around him, only the odd whisper here and there as students that had come in early had sought out a corner in which to escape the general bustle of the new arrivals. They would be coming here soon, they always did. The day of arrival was generally free of classes, and the day after, to allow them to settle in, and settling in generally meant disturbing him in his library.

His eyes slowly lifted from one of the pages. He looked relaxed, and at ease, just another one of the students from where he was sitting, not at the librarian's table down the other end. However anyone coming in here that had been before knew he was anything but. Anyone that entered would find his eyes boring into their own, memorising each one as he came in. He almost hoped for some cocky little shit to come in thinking he was all that. It had been a while since he had enjoyed himself. Still, he was sure one would come in eventually along with the respectful ones.

A noise drew his attention, and his eyes darkened in irritation at the slight noise rise in the otherwise silent library. A notepad had been dropped. He turned his attention back to the book in his hand. He had quiet for a time longer, but they had better be able to read and do so before they came in, for he had taken the time to post the notice on the door to the library, and it would only increase his irritation more if they chose to ignore it.

The note on the door is written in elegant script that almost looks like it has been printed off the computer it is so graceful. He often laments the fact that writing is so underrated these days.

((From Lux's room on 4/9/09))

The library was as ever un-changed, the daunting entrance hall and check-out desk, the high ceilings and marble floors echoing the slightest sound. Lux loved the library. He returned to this place primarily for the research he could do here. If there were any other reasons, he did not acknowledge them.

The eccentric library assistant sat in his chair as ever he did, narrow-eyed and waiting for the least infraction, especially at the beginning of the term. The sorcerer's love for order and respect for the ancient records made no quarrels between them.

Lux was wise enough of the world to have no penchant for unruly behavior. Contempt was his most frequent expression and he felt he was above unseemly displays of emotion. He was intelligent, yes; controlled, absolutely; but this fiasco with his shadow had Lux completely at a loss.

He paused in the bright, airy entryway, turned, and approached the desk where Michael York sat, watching him as impassively as Lux imagined his own face to look.

The elf's midnight blue robes hung on his frame, always seeming slightly too large from too many days working without benefit of food or rest despite the work of his tailor. His skin was like that of a vampire's, pale and with an almost opalescent sheen. Sculpted fingernails protruded from the ends of long, delicate fingers wound solemnly in front of his body, wrists disappearing into the wide cuffs of his robe. Golden curls tumbled freely around his shoulders, held back from his face with a simple yet elegant silver band dyed to match his robes.

His blue eyes were as cold and distant as ever, but no longer aloof. Slight apprehension and confusion almost made him approachable. When he spoke, his words were strong and sure, clipped for economy and coming straight to the point:

"I have a question concerning philosophy," he said. "What does it mean to be 'alive?'"

In all his life Lux had never needed to ponder the intricacies of the mind. Philosophy was unnecessary, something brought about by humans to while away the short hours of their meager, insignificant lives; however, that the thing which Lux had made was now asking these questions ... there was something about the very nature of the questions which made Lux uncertain. He could ponder the mysteries of the universe, but entertaining his very own existence was ... unsettling.

He waited before the desk, not certain what to expect. The question when spoken felt cheap and unsightly, like a ten-dollar whore. Heat blossomed on his cheeks, his first blush in a hundred years (or more), two round spots of color high upon his cheeks like clown make-up. Even more embarrassed now, he started to turn away.

<< Michael York >>

He would continue to read his book, aware of each person in the library but paying them no mind, until Lux came forward. He knew this one, appreciated his love of the library, its peace, its knowlege. In other circumstances he might have taken him on as someone to tutor, and perhaps in his own way he did. He helped Lux when the other came to him with a question, rare as it was. That was fine by him, it kept his tolerance stable without the other gaining his irritation.

As the question was asked, direct as ever, though, he could see the slight worry in the other, the confusion. He could feel as well as see it. Not much ever ruffled Lux in this way. He got irritated, yes, he had seen it himself on the times when he had taken to wandering through the halls, but this was not irritation. It interested him. To be alive hmm. He would place a marker in the book he had, and set it down, even as the other flushed and turned away. He could smell the blood at the surface of the other's skin, hear the nervous embarrased beating of his heart. As the other turned to leave, he would speak, "Sit." It was not a request. The other had asked him a question, and he would answer it.

When the other did so, he would concentrate a moment, bringing up a one way sound barrier around them both, allowing him to continue to monitor the library, but for their own voices to remain undetected by others. It seemed as though the rules on magic use in the library did not extend to the library assistant. He would consider the other as he sat there, long moments of silence before he finally spoke.

"Biologically, humans theorise on what is living, justified by a set of rules, signs of life if you will. These rules are as follows:
1) living things have highly organized, complex structures;
2) living things maintain a chemical composition that is quite different from their surroundings;
3) living things have the capacity to take in, transform, and use energy from the environment;
4) living things can respond to stimuli;
5) living things have the capacity to reproduce themselves;
6) living things grow and develop; and
7) living things are well-suited to their environment."

He would pause, assuring himself the other was paying attention. He was simplifying it enough that their conversation would be short, not because he necissarilly cared one way or another, but because it was easier to teach by giving a summary and then elaborating and giving book references if necissary.

"Of course these signs of living do not extend to all creatures that can be considered alive. For instance someone such as myself would not be considered alive under these sets of rules because we do not reproduce, or not in the natural way. Biologically our reproduction is more like a disease, an infection that alters another lifeform. There are also other creatures in our world that do not hold all of these things as truth, for instance lower elementals do not grow and develop, they merely maintain their state, and you might also argue that they do not satisfy number 2 as well. Of course humans cannot know of such supernatural creatures. They are quite blind.

"However, that is the biological side of the living, but to be alive in itself is more than merely existing as a living thing. In philosophy it is endlessly debated, but some of the most pertinent observations are to do with the intensity of emotion, feeling, experience and drive outside of physical necessity. Many consider it a spiritual living, compared the purely physical biological living. Independant thinking, experience, a drive to make life joyous and rich. You might gain such a feeling from your experiments, of your creations and spells, of your achievements. Another might gain such feelings by immersing himself in sport, food, travel, sex, .. it is different for each person. It might be considered the persuit of happiness that makes someone alive, or the the intencity of dispair. Emotion is one of the things that is seen most powerfully in terms of something being considered alive in spiritual terms."

Over in one of the study booths, one of the people there had increased his whispered conversation to something above a whisper, and he would pause, his gaze distracted a moment, and the sound of the voice was cut off sharply into a gagging sound as the air was squeezed from his throat before being released to gasp. Nothing like partial strangulation to shut someone up. His gaze refocused on Lux, waiting for his response.

<<Lux>>

Lux sat with his arms folded primly across his chest, listing and going over each piece of evidence in his head. He had constructs in his tower to do his bidding. Real people were so bothersome. With every passing year, the construct he'd made out of his own shadow slipped further and further from Lux's control. Just last summer the thing had begun to refer to itself as itself, singular. The recent theatrics concerned Lux.

So far, attempts to undo the construct had all failed. Similarly, he could not separate them, which was growing exceedingly awkward as the shadow questioned everything. Telling it to simply shut up and obey was likewise increasingly futile. It was almost as if the shadow was developing a will of its own.

Asking for advice galled Lux, but the vampire seated before him was worthy of his respect. He'd decided that long ago, and for many reasons, all extremely logical, of course.

"So," he said evenly. "Based on these rules, the decision on whether or not something is truly 'alive' is arbitrary." He thought on that a moment, the furrow between his brows deepening. The contradictory qualifications were exactly as he might have expected. Anyone could translate the rough guidelines to define anything they wished.

"But," he pressed on. "If the question were not merely whether or not something is classified as 'alive,' but of sentience, what would you say then?"

Had Lux been less preoccupied, he might have realized that this was the longest conversation he'd had in an age. He'd never been adept at 'conversation' and had no interest in pretending to be nice to idiots and intellectual inferiors. Not only that, but an inquiry was simply not something he did, not without the intent to provoke a debate of which his superior intellect would quickly triumph.

Had he not felt, in the back of his mind, the constant, exquisite agony experienced by his shadow, then he might have wondered; but Lux did feel these things. Self-doubt and regrets were for weaklings and mortals. Lux was neither.

He studied Michael York with a focus usually reserved for the intricacies of his spell-work. This was a serious affair that might illuminate what he'd been missing all these years. He was hard-pressed to repress a flicker of excitement at the thought of finally solving the mystery and setting everything back to rights and his hands gripped his arms a fraction tighter.

A smile curved the corners of his lips.

<< Michael York >>
He would nod at the summary. "Yes, it is arbitrary, to us at least. To humans it is more strict because they do not possess the necissary knowlege of creatures such as those we see each night." He would pause as the other continued, and the question itself was very telling. Oh ho! His eyes took on a slightly predatory gleam. Oh yes, this one had not dissapointed, he had kept to his studies and managed to create something, he knew it.

"I would say that there are many things that are considered alive, but something with sentience is, in my experience, always alive." He raised his hand towards the back of the room, sending out, and a piece of paper and fountain pen came floating over to him, settling on the table in front of him. Picking up the pen he began to write. It was nothing particularly insightful, merely a list of a few books he felt might aid the other's knowlege on the subject.

"So tell me" he said as he wrote down one last title and focused his gaze back on the other "what is it you have created?" Oh, he could tease the answer out, he could wait and play with the victim of his interest, but he preferred to just stick to the streight forward question with this one. It was a mark of his respect for him that he did not automatically just pluck the answer from his mind, or tease and torment him enough with words that the ones he wanted automatically spilled from his lips. It was a subject that he knew quite well, mainly because he was apt at making minions of his own. Lux was almost like a fledgeling to him, just starting out on the road to some very interesting places.

((I was having a terrible time with the site last night, but this is what it was supposed to be!)

<<Lux>>

Pride swelled within the sorcerer and he unconsciously preened, pretending to an interest in his fingernails, his disappointment in his creation momentarily forgotten.

"Oh? Nothing important. A golem or two." His gaze flicked over his hands to the vampire. Excitement shivered up his spine; creating something so unique should not continue as a secret between them. The fear of failure, of possibly not measuring up clutched at him, but Lux ruthlessly expunged those thoughts as unworthy. Michael York would understand. Yes, Michael York would appreciate and acknowledge this accomplishment.

Giving up all pretense, Lux leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his seat. "I cast no shadow," he said in a low voice, calling his shadow via their mind-link. The desire to show off was strong, though he didn't recognize it as such. What need had he of others' admiration?

<< Michael York >>

He could see, almost smell the pride in the man across the table from him. He almost smiled seeing it, but knew better than to show emotion that might be taken for something condecending. Lux's pride and self confidence had always been tenuous in that way.

At the comment about golems he would raise a brow. He knew that was not the correct answer. It was written across the other's face, though he would have been distraught to know so. That such a thing was having such an effect showed just how much this particular project meant to him. Michael had been unaware of this particular project, because he saw Lux rarely, and always the other had been careful to leave his shadow behind incase something happened to it, perhaps worried it might do some sort of trick or cause a disturbance that Michael might take as breaking the rules. He did not really care enough to go searching out the answers to what Lux was up to, his projects, if they were successful, inevitably got told to him.

At the comment, the truth, he would raise a brow. Well now, that was interesting wasn't it. He could feel the second presence when it arrived, though the tummalt of its emotions were already there. He could hear it, just as he could hear his own shadowy creations. He would look at it a moment. A slight frown touching his brow, just a hint, before it was gone again. "Your skills have brought you a long way." he said, rising after a moment's thought, handing the other the piece of paper, already floating the ink back to its place. "Come, we will talk elsewhere" he said, moving and fully expecting the other to follow. He would follow, the exit from the library would not allow him to leave, not while Michael wanted to talk to him.

He would make his way down the Great Library Hall, his gaze finding the mousish librarian at the back desk. "Take over for a while" he said, moving onwards without pausing in his steps, finding his way into the Hathford room, his body twisting and turning with almost liquid movement "Stay close, I do not wish you to lose your way" he said, and Lux would know to do as told. Michael never gave warnings without meaning them, and when he said losing your way, he did not mean some paltry turning of the corner. The twists and turns, up and down steps to different levels would soon become disorientating even for someone like Lux. It was not a way that students used, this was for sure. He would eventually touch a bookcase, pulling it towards him and it would swing out to let them enter the darkened interior.

The door would close behind Lux and the soft glow of flameless lanterns would start, growing stronger until the room was bathed in its flickerless glow. "Ok, lets have a look at him then" he said. This was his room. He had found it long ago and made it his own. It now held all his own wards and protections in it, his own helping to keep it secure on the outside as well through the way it was found. The room was of medium size and held a lot of books, many of them visibly ancient. There was a comfortable seat, a table and some cupboards. He paid his room no mind however, all his attention on this creature the other had wrought. It was interesting, and he let his knowlege of shadows and powers eminate from him to know the shadow better. "Quieten down" he murmured to the shadow, and although it was a soft whisper of a sound, it held command. He could hear it just as clearly as it could hear him.

Interesting, very interesting. But dangerous. Yes, Lux was very much like a fledgeling. Moving, he would sit down on the seat, a gesture of his hand opened a small door to the side, and another chair slid from the recesses and came to the table before stopping. He gestured for the other to take a seat. "Your skills have come on a long way" he said quietly "to do something as ambitious as this." he meant it, though it was clear there was a 'but' coming. It was easy to feel in the air, but then Lux did not go to people just to bragg, no, he went to people that would know more than him. "but what you have done is potentially quite dangerous to you. You have given your shadow a part of yourself, likely a very small part, but the balance is drawing more of it into equality. A soul likes one host, and if two of the same are given, the attempt will be to make it an equal sharing. You have ended up giving far more to your shadow than you could know. You likely do not even remember the things you are missing, nor can it know the things in you that it does not have. Nature is kind perhaps in that respect."

<<Darcy/Lux>>

The library was the last place Darcy expected to end up. Lux had banished him from the library as soon as they'd learned how to be apart. Even when he had been there, Darcy had been relegated to a mindless object that had better not call attention to itself or else! As this was how he'd lived for years attached to his master while the sorcerer worked, Darcy knew to behave, but he chaffed under the strict rules and monotony. Lux had not been the only one relieved by that particular evolution in their relationship.

Not only did Darcy appear in the library, but someone was there! Eyebrow lifted in interest was the vampire library assistant who so terrified him. Unlike Professor Bhas, the vampire was cold and detached, much like Lux, and his powers were stronger.

Darcy glanced at his master, the sorcerer's gaze warning him to be on his best behavior. He tried to meet the vampire's gaze squarely and could not. If Lux's expression was closed, then Darcy was an open book. He was a reverse image of the elf, standing before them feet slightly spread, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor, and face averted. There were enough shadows in the great room for his figure to be dark and distinct, his feet flowing to Lux's where the shadow became flesh and blood.

Now the meaning of the sorcerer's words became clear. A moment ago, he had no shadow, though only an attentive eye would have caught the lack. Now he had a shadow, one which stood upright like a man, solid enough that one could mistake him for real. He lacked substance; a touch would move through him with only the tiniest resistance, the shadows parting and coalescing as might fog or dense water vapor before reforming as who he was before.

Lux eyed his creation critically, trying to see it with fresh eyes, as Michael York might. Someone with his knowledge would know right away what the shadow was, and Lux was not disappointed.

To be taken to the assistant's inner sanctum, however, surprised Lux. He expected somewhere private and the shifting halls and stairs did not bother him. He needed no warning to stay close, but his pique at being treated like an infant new to his powers faded once he saw where they were. This place, this hidden room, was to Michael York what Lux's tower was to him (or so he assumed).

He flushed again, darkly, for the intimacy being here conveyed. Not something so inane as physical intimacy such as portrayed in ridiculous bardic ballads, but trust and comrade-ship, or master and apprentice. Lux had out-lived the last of his masters by well over five hundred years and though he wished to be an equal, he realized that he also hoped that the fierce, powerful vampire would accept him as a student.

He gave his shadow a shove to place him in the center for appraisal, eager to hear the praise he was certain to receive, and that he wanted badly from this man, moreso than he'd wanted anything for a long time.

He heard only the censure, and bitter disappointment filled him. He wanted to both cover his ears and to strike the trembling, sniveling shadow. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Sure, making the shadow construct was harder and more difficult than any of his blood golems or flesh golems, those constructs made from the dead, but he'd made a mistake somewhere. He knew it -- had known it -- and now he had no hope of impressing the vampire with his skills.

Vain superiority shattered, he lashed out. "It's brilliant!" he snapped. "If you can't see that, then you're not the sorcerer I thought you were!"

He whirled but there was no exit, and Lux's chaotic thoughts wreaked his concentration. He didn't care to solve the puzzle, either, and gathered instead a blaze of pure power into his hands, ready to blast his way out.

He was at once distracted by his shadow, unable to hide from Lux's pale eyes. Years of frustration and bitter disappointment seized the whimpering excuse for a construct, throttling him with the bottled rage of over a decade.

"You," he snarled, voice two degrees above freezing, barely loud enough to be heard. The shadow had not yet ceased its weeping, crying louder now, struggling in Lux's grip.

Darcy screamed, a high-pitched sound like that of a whistle, far beyond a human's capacity to hear. 'Master! Master, please!'

Lux's hands glowed white-hot against his shadow's dark form. He could unravel the shadow, he knew this. He would remedy this mistake, this flawed construct, and end this humiliation. There were always consequences when destroying a construct, and killing something with his own face was not his preference, but Lux's shadow was far more trouble than it was worth.

Bugger the costs! The deed would be done and he would return to his tower in quiet solitude, and forget this pointless period in his life.

Unleashing magical energy in someone else's sanctum was a sorcery faux pas, but any thoughts of propriety had long since passed him by. The shadow screamed and thrashed, but Lux held on grimly, concentrating to unravel the spell which held the construct together. It would all be over in a very few seconds.

'No! No, no!' Darcy begged. He grabbed Lux's wrist, but his fingers would not hold steady, parting around the living flesh as he panicked.

A last resort; he tilted his head, eyes rolling back to plead wordlessly with the powerful vampire. Already he could feel the magic working, the searing pain burning outwards from his master's hands.

<< Michael York >>
He would watch the other as he felt that embarrasement, that censure for it not working properly. He guessed he knew it would happen, which was why he had brought the other here, to soften the blow he should have known was coming. He had come to him for help because he didn't know what was happening, and he had the answers, or at least some of them. He would watch impassively as the other shouted at him. Lux should know better. He did know better as the splitting of himself and his shadow was not complete.

It was only when shouting turned to spellcasting that the vampire's gaze turned hard. Lux of all people knew both that it was wrong to cast in someone elses sanctum without permission, but worse than that, it was also part of the library, and Michael would not let something, anything happen in his library.

When the shadow looked to the vampire for help, he would see the deadly look in Michael's eyes as he looked at Lux, who was oblivious. All Lux seemed to care about was wiping out his mistakes, not understanding that by destroying his own shadow would destroy part of himself as well, and create a weakness. But in all honesty Michael didnt care about that right then. He was seething at the magic use in his library.

One moment he would be standing there, his eyes dark with anger, the next he was there at Lux, his hand coming to his head in a blow that was swift and designed to knock him out instantly, stopping the energy mass by cutting off the source of energy, his own power swirling in the air, quashing any flames through the sheer force of his will. He didn't bother to stop Lux falling heavilly to the floor, if making him unconscious had been successful. Let the little bastard suffer the fall and wake up sore. The way he was feeling right now, he was having to keep a very very keen grip on himself so as not to just kill the man. His gaze turned to the shadow, a warning in his gaze not to whine or cry or thank him. He needed to calm down.

Very slowly and deliberately he would move to sit back down onto his seat, the whole of the room suffocated in his presence. The room was very well protected, not only from things coming in, but things getting out. He had taken every precaution because he did some of his own experiments in here sometimes. It would take a while for him to calm down sufficiently, his iron will making sure that Lux would (hopefully) stay unconscious until he had regained control of himself lest the other's attitude provoke him. He had books in this room that he didn't want to risk getting damaged.

Eventually he would turn his attention to the shadow standing there, likely still awake despite his Master's unconsciousness. He said nothing. Slowly, his gaze would turn towards Lux, allowing him to wake. His presence, which had been so controlled and invisible in the library, was now free and like a living thing in the room. Lux was in big trouble, and he had better wake with a better attitude or things would get far worse for him. Michael said nothing, staying seated where he was, his gaze so dark, his face completely lacking in any sort of human emotion.

<<Darcy/Lux>>

Elf and shadow fell to the floor, Lux in an undignified heap and Darcy into an inky puddle of darkness. The latter stirred first, popping up from the floor as if hopping out of a hole. He crouched there a moment with wide eyes.

When the vampire sat, Darcy flinched backwards. Lux groaned.

'Master?' Darcy whispered, immediately going to his side. Hesitantly, he touched the sorcerer's face. When he looked up, anger clouded his features, and he looked more like Lux than ever.

'Why did you do that?' he asked. 'He likes you! He --'

He stopped, as if just thinking of something. Then he smiled, a slow, sly, mischievous grin, and giggled.

He began to sing: 'Michael and Lux, sittin' in a tree, K-I -- hurk!'

Without looking, Lux reached over and strangled his shadow. He pushed the construct away as he sat up, ears ringing, room spinning.

Magical energy went both ways. The power he'd called forth to end the construct had to go somewhere when dispelled and add to that the vampire's punch, and Lux wished he were still unconscious. He had the mother of all headaches pounding in his temples.

Closing his eyes and willing the room to stop moving around, Lux struggled into a kneeling position and bowed low. His shadow continued to giggle softly, but he was used to that. The low-grade buzz of the construct's distress had vanished and he could think clearly once more, now frightfully aware of how much the shadow's emotions had affected him. He wanted to crawl away with mortification for such an elementary error.

"Forgive me," he said solemnly with a quiet sigh, determined to make what amends he could. "I over-stepped myself."

This interview could not have gone worse and he pulled his dignity quietly back around him, shrouding himself with his usual detachment. His feelings he pushed aside, merely awaiting the library assistant's judgment.

<< Michael York >>

He would watch the shadow begin to wake, going instantly to his master. His other half. Though listening to the childlike banter that came out of its mouth made him think that it certainly wasn't half. His face remained impassive and emotionless as he watched Lux wake and immediatly silence the shadow. He knew that Lux was suffering, and he didn't bother to ease it. The student should, by all accounts be dead or a blubbering mindless wretch by now, and he was certainly tempted to make him so after that little incident. However he was mildly fond of the man, and so he stayed his hand, but Lux was certainly not off the chopping block.

"You over-stepped yourself" he said, his voice knive-edge murmur in the air, both a repeat of the other's statement, as well as a mocking of it. "You did more than merely overstep yourself Lux. You used magic in my library, magic that could damage my books." Lux would know he was in trouble then. He might have woken up alive, but he would know, just as any returning student would know, how protective and possessive Michael York was of the library. No one.. NO ONE caused problems in his library without dealing with the consequences. Just what those consequences were was not yet known, but the way his presence filled the room, it was not going to be good.

"Send your shadow away" he said blandly. He was not going to have any further conversation while the shadow was here. Once that had been done, he would stare at the kneeling figure for a while longer, pondering what to do with him. "Not only are these books in the library, they are my personal books, which makes them far more important than the others. In order for you to understand your error, from this moment on all your spare time outside of classwork and sleeping, you will serve under me. You will do as I say, when I say it. If I ask you to do something, you will do it, no matter how small. If you fail to do what I tell you, I will extract the payment as I might for any other student. Do you understand?" Considering the severity of the error on Lux's part, he would not live through such a punishment, or wish he had not.

"Since you have obviously failed to grasp how important books are, especially these books, you will remedy the situation by dedicating yourself to reading 10 books for every one of mine you might have damaged." Although the room was by no means large, there were many shelves with books on. "You will do so within the library, and you will follow the rules to the letter, and at all times leave your shadow elsewhere until you find a way to dealing with it without damaging yourself in the process." That last comment perhaps was the most telling. Lux had likely not thought of the destruction of his shadow as being anything more than the elimination of an embarrasement, but that comment alone would tell him otherwise. Michael would have given him the answers, would have taught him and answered his questions, but Lux had thrown away that privilage with his actions. He was going to learn the hard way. All the information he needed was somewhere in the library. "When you believe you have found the answer to dealing with your shadow, you will come to me and tell me your plan."

Rising he would move to the door, the one that had been absent until that time. "I suggest you count those books quickly." he said, waiting until the other had done so. There were perhaps over 360 as a rough estimate. A small collection, but a rather important one. "Oh.. and do not think to skimp on your reading. I will know if you have not consumed the knowlege in each book." his eyes were hard as he looked at the other. He opened the door "Go". It was a simple order, but one that did not brook any sort of denial. Once the other had left, stepping out into the midst of the Hathford Library, the door dissapearing behind him. Michael stepped out elsewhere and wandered back towards the front desk where his own book was waiting.

<<Lux>>

He winced as Michael York shouted at him without even raising his voice. The tirade was mercifully swift, the justice severe and uncompromising ... everything he'd expected and more.

What he didn't count on was the way the room roiled around him, smirked in satisfaction, as if Lux making a fool of himself made its day. He had the distinct impression of having something he'd yearned for desperately being yanked away right as he was about to close his hands around it, and his hands clenched into fists on his knees to keep from trembling. Head bowed, he indulged in lip chewing he'd out-grown many centuries ago.

He could sense his shadow's willingness, its relief in being sent away, but the same could not be said for Lux. He had ruined everything -- his spotless reputation in the library, a possible friendship he'd not really known he'd wanted until just then -- and the steps leading to this inevitable rending were still too murky to define. One mistake had tumbled upon mistake after mistake after mistake and now all that remained was a ruin. Not even smoldering, just gone. As if it never was.

He knew the tone of a master dissatisfied with a student's progress, and he was not yet that far. He knew that tone very well. He had failed a very important test, just to become a student, and failed so badly that he might as well accept the punishment, because he wasn't certain he wanted to live through the humiliation he was due to receive.

Still he hopped to his feet when bade, accepted his first task of counting the magnitude of the error, the distance he'd fallen from grace, and set about himself that mask of calm that had served him so well for most of his life. He was apart from the world. The people out there could not touch him or harm him. He was the almighty sorcerer others feared and respected.

But he swayed as he walked, stumbled but was too proud to fall. Not under those watchful eyes, so full of scorn that Lux hurt in a way he'd not hurt in a thousand years. Words did not touch him, could not penetrate to harm him, but the vampire's sarcasm cut deep. He'd offered up those words, that apology, out of the agony remaining of his mind, and it hadn't been enough. Would never be enough, but it was all he had.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry, he told himself, walking steadily towards the corner and away in the opposite direction. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

He held it together. Held himself firm and unyielding for many paces until the silence of the library intruded upon his thoughts. He was in a dim passageway, one he was not familiar with, but there was no one around. He breathed in a soft sound, a near-silent sob. He'd been walking for some time with one hand on the wall for balance. Now he slid down to rest his forehead on drawn-up knees, arms over his head.

He could have killed me. His thoughts flowed one unto another without logical connection. It's done. Over. What have I done?

Three-thousand books. Three-thousand, six-hundred ways to reinforce just how much of a failure he was. All his life, all his work --

"Nothing!" he whispered into his knees. It had all been for nothing. I cannot do this.

'Master?'

You are not welcome here!

The voice in his head vanished, and the emptiness deepened.

I am not welcome here, either.

<< Michael York >>

Michael sat in his usual place, the book open in front of him. Because he was listening, he could feel the utter dejection, hopelessness and despair coming from the student. He didn't understand yet, but he would eventually. It might take him 10 years to finish that task, but he would learn, and if he was clever, as he expected Lux was, he would figure it out. He could have killed him, could have made the punishment so much worse, could have taken away his intellect, could have burned away his mind or plagued him with fear so great that he couldn't function to do anything but scream and cry. But he had not.

Lux had known that words would not have been enough. A plea, a demand to forgive him without any evidence of effort to make ammends was worthless other than an empty hope to stop the destruction of his body. He had offered him that much. Given him a chance to redeem himself while at the same time learning as he had not done enough of before perusing such a dangerous path of experiment. Had the other taken the time to research better he would have known what a problem was going to arise from doing as he had done. Knowledge was the key, and he had ensured the other was forced into learning as he should have in the first place, rather than experimenting without enough learning to back it up.

Lux hadn't realised yet that he was Michaels student, not yet. Becoming a student under the severe library assistant was not going to be easy, but then nothing worthwhile ever was. In time Lux would realise that the vast amount of books he was made to read was likely the amount of time he would be tied to Michael as his student. The path before him seemed like a mountain of failure, but out of failure comes the need to improve and learn, and he was forced to do that now. Michael would wait for the dawning of the knowledge of Lux's new position to come to him. Then they would talk. It might be a few days, weeks or even months, but he was patient.

He turned the page of his book, the library quiet around him. Things had turned out.. rather well.

<<The Black Man>>

Michael would be familiar with the energy associated with The Black Man's appearance. He might feel the energy slowly building, as if seeping out of a crack, and an area of the Library would start to darken. The darkness built upon itself until there was just a mass of inexplainable black hovering in the air. Slowly the cloud of black became to shape into the tall figuer of a man, completely without features, without detail, but completely blocking out the are being him. He was not see-through.

He was facing the Librarian, even though one would not tell that. Michael would feel the specter's eyes and attention on him. The energy expanded, and The Black Man turned to look towards the nearest bookshelf. A book began to wobble out ofplace, slowly sliding out with the entitie's energy. It fell to the floor unceremoniously. He continued to watch the Librarian while working on removing another few books from thier place.

He enjoyed annoying the Librarian. The Vampire was interesting.

The first book he pulled out opened, and the pages flipped before settling. The appearance of the specter fades, and he is once again just a cloud of black again. Another book scoots out of place, and fall to the floor.

<< Michael York >>

He would look up from his book as he felt the energy starting to build. It had been a while since he had seen the man of darkness, but it was by no means an unusual phenomenon. Sometimes nothing happened, but today was not one of those times. He set his book aside and turned to look on the now formed spectre, feeling that gaze upon him as though it were any other person. No, no that wasn't right. Not any other person.

As the book wobbled and fell to the floor, a slight frown creased his brows in the center, and he would stand and move over to where it had fallen open. He glanced down at the page that was open, but nothing seemed to draw his attention to the reason it was there. Picking it up, he would check the book carefully for damage before putting it back in place just as another one fell to the floor. He turned and looked to the black form nearby. "I dislike you damaging books merely to get my attention." he said, his eyes scalding just for a moment before picking up the other one and putting it back in place as well. "If you wish to say something to me, use that power of yours to write on a piece of parchment or something. If you continue to threaten damage to my books, ill find a way to excorcise you from the library." He would sit back down, a glance to the other end of the library and the Librarian came over to deal with any other fallen books. He would not pick them up any more himself, that would only encourage it.

<< Michael York >>

Eventually as the night drew in, the library became more quiet as those few students that were in there left to head back to their dorms. Leaning back in his chair, he would stretch before standing, carefully putting his chair back into place, and slipping the book he was reading into the drawer beside where he could find it the next evening.

His gaze lifted, and he would use his sensory skills to sweep the room even as he made his way from one library area to the next, making sure all students were gone. One was lagging behind and a sharp look sent the student scurrying away, fear trailing behind him like an expensive perfume.

All done, he locked each door as he went until only the main one was left. He paused, debating on whether to head to the fire dorm, or stay in his room here. His body was so still as he considered the options that he was fine as any statue, until he shook his head lightly. No, the dorm would be too filled with youthful enthusiasm and folly that it was not safe for them to have him around. His temper was still in attendance after Lux's little performance earlier. Locking the main door, he would head back into the bowels of the library to his room where he would settle down in the security there, waiting out the day for the next evening to come.

The librarian looked after the library during the daylight hours, but students would come to understand quickly that rulebreaking even during daylight would get them just as harsh consequences. He had ways of knowing.

<< Michael York >>

It was the beginning of the day, and he would usually still be asleep. Dead to the world, or at least not getting ready to go back out into the library so soon after vacating it. But of course today was not like any other day, for today was the day that all the new students got a tour of the school. Today was the day he had to put the fear into them if they even dared to step out of line in his library. He had skipped this day before, and inevitably there were always ones that thought they could get away with misusing the library.

Standing, he would dress, choosing things that both cut a handsome visage as well as a severe one. He was unlike the headmaster, in that he did not try to draw those that come to him, indeed, if a student did find his dangerous persona alluring, they were likely to get the hard side of his anger, or at least his contempt. Pathetic infants.

Sorting his collar, he would slide out of his room and out into the library proper. His library. His steps were silent and sure as he made his way through the shadowed aisles to await those coming to disturb his place of sanctuary.