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"Shit..."

Peeking his head around the corner, he took notice to the lack of people in the vicinity of the halls that morning. Keeping a quiet step, he managed to sneak his way around the halls at about in the early morning, six am to be exact. To why he was sneaking around, all they could tell was the fact that he was clutching onto his arm very steadily with a large lump underneath his dark shirt. He had fucked up big time, as it would seem that he must have cut something vital with his encounter with the dreaded Christine and her knife like fingers. He had no idea a girl could cut like that, it was almost as if a sharp scalpel had penetrated his flesh. Razor sharp, he didn't realize the complexity of the wound until early that morning when he bleed through his bandage onto the floor. It would seem that a simple clamp was not going to cut it. His head was throbbing and he felt dizzy, but he drank some water to keep the vomit from coming up on an empty stomach.

He managed to cut down the bleeding with repeated pressure, but the injury was severe enough that he needed to perform a small operation on it. Otherwise, he was either going to get an infection, or worse, bleed out. He never knew a girl like that could cut him that badly, maybe he must of been too distracted to notice that she was carrying a small parry knife... but Jesus, the cut was bad. He had to get medical attention, fast.

Holding the wound closed with a clasped hand, he managed to reach the medical ward without bleeding all over the place or passing out. Walking in, he began to scour the place for what he needed. Locating rubbing alcohol, a pack of sutures, bandages, a damp cloth, a whole paper towel roll, and a hemostat (big tweezers), he plopped a rather druggy minded individual on a chair and dragged one of the small tables nearby. Slowly taking off his shirt, he was careful to not let up on the pressure on his arm. Gritting his teeth, he uncapped the bottle to the rubbing alcohol and grabbed a huge wad of his shirt in his mouth. What he was going to do was the dumbest idea he could think of, but it was the best way to keep an infection clean. It was going to hurt... alot. Why, oh why, did he not try to find something a bit more subtle. But it was either that or going to the local doctor, and he strongly preferred not to be given aids from an unclean needle.

Peeling back the bandage, he looked to see the cut bloody and gruesome. The bleeding had stopped, for now, but that would change very quickly. Preparing a towel nearby, he immediately gritted his teeth and poured the alcohol down into the cut.

"MPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHH"

Stomping his foot on the ground, his entire body tightened and spasm as the alcohol kissed the wound and penetrated deep within the cut. Blood would start flowing almost instantly, due to his jerk and the alcohol thinning the blood. He would immediately put the damp cloth on top of the wound... applying pressure after a few seconds of bubbling from the alcohol. Damn, he must of not been thorough in his initial cleaning earlier. Course, he would try to clean out the wound as best as he could, this would call a trickle of blood every half a second. Trying to calm himself and relax his body, he applied full pressure to the wound and kept the arm elevated as best he could. Spitting the shirt out of his mouth, which now had a nasty teeth indention in it, he would say "Clot, damn it..." He was no doctor, but he knew and understood the basics. Of course, it was made 20 times harder when he had to apply first aid to himself. It was going to be interesting as hell to suture himself, he wished he was cut somewhere else... but in hindsight, it could of been along his back and he would have been fucked at that point.

Using tiny movements of the hand that was free, he began to fold up another towel. Ripping open a large bandage package, he continued to hold pressure on the wound. Grabbing another damp cloth, he exchanged clothes and applied more pressure to the wound. The first damp cloth was covered in blood, but he could tell that the blood flow had slowed down out of the wound. In a few minutes, he could apply the sutures and a bandage. It would be tough, but the adrenaline was kicking in. It would cause his hands to shake, but at least he will be awake. He could handle a bad stitching if it prevented him from passing out due to blood loss. He was already light headed, but the pain kept him going. Kept him alive. Focusing on the pain brought his mind to focus on staying awake.

As the pain started to reside, he removed the second damp cloth to see the blood flow had stopped for now. It had clotted. Either his platelets were working overtime, or the cut didn't hit anything too major. Wiping his hands off with hand sanitizer that was nearby, he opened a hemostat and a suture. "Here comes the fun part...." Grasping the end of the suture with the hemostat, he went to work the best he could. Shivering with each insertion of the suture, he would pull as tightly as possible to pull the wound close. It was a zig-zag pattern, neatly taking his time. A few times he moved the skin, blood would begin to flow. He would immediately stop and apply pressure to allow the wound to clot and then continue with the suture. It was a long, agonizing process that caused him to waver from the lack of healthy sleep and blood loss. Nevertheless, after 20 minutes he managed to patch himself up fairly good. Snipping the end of the string after knotting it, he cleaned up his materials the best he could. He put the hemostat in the sink, wrapped the excess suture in a towel and tossed it into the hazard bin. Wiping down his workspace with alcohol, he managed to clean up in a rather sluggish, but quick, matter. Keeping his arm elevated the entire time, he worked fast enough so that the skin would not start bleeding again.

Wrapping a bandage tightly around the wound, he sighed deeply. Finally. Finished.

Turning in place, his mind started to fog... the adrenaline wearing off.

"Shit..." Another call from the wounded man.

A bed stood before him, labeled with the number 13 underneath it.

Before he knew it, he managed to collapse face first on the bed.... managing to turn his head just in time to pass out. Pain, blood loss, and misery consuming him all at once. Feet hanging off, but his body kept him firmly planted on the made bed. Shirtless, but at least alive.

shuffle, shuffle. Spasm, spasm.

A bunch of shuffled noise started to rouse the man who laid flat on his chest on top of the sheets. A groan, echoing and in pain, would slowly call and rise from the bed that lay before her. It was a man who had been injured, lost alot of blood, and trying to stabilize himself over the past few days. Slowly rising from the bed, he would slip down off the bed and collapse head first into the cushiony covers. He was practically huddling over the thing for a moment, holding his head as he wobbled it lightly. "Uggh... feels like I ran my head into a bowling ball, then banged my head into every single pin 20 times over...." A lack of oxygen to the brain, due to blood loss, can cause such a nasty head rush to the head. Slowly staggering to his feet, he realized that the area was rather cold... his arms wound immediately wrap around his shoulders rubbing lightly. "Where the hell is my shirt..." Turning to find his shirt, he would see a rather derranged and scared looking girl staring at him from far away.

Tilting his head rather curiously, he had to shake his mind to clear his thoughts. What the hell was he doing there again.

"Are you the nurse...?" His mind was too foggy to remember what had happened, all that he knew was that he couldn't make out the girl before him... but he could tell that she was nervous around him by the way she stood. "Ahh shit, where is my shirt...freaking cold in here..." Accidentally rubbing a hand against his shoulder sent a tinge of pain down his arm. The bandage was slightly bloody, but otherwise it was fine. He will need to change out the bandages here soon. But the pain made him begin to realize why he was there, as the world stopped being cloudy around him. He was there because he was scratched by a girl in her bedroom. A simple enough explanation brought upon the fact that he needed to look up and see who the girl was.

Slowly looking up, he saw the girl he did NOT want to see right then and there. Tilting his head towards the girl, he asked "Christine, what the hell are you doing here..." Looking around the room very quickly, he noticed that they were alone. Gulping back dried air, he would slap his cheeks to bring color to him. "I can explain..?" Her posture said it all, as if she had found the culprit. But he had his doubts, so he left it ambiguous for the time being. Still his eyes darted for a way out, trying to find his shirt and make an escape plan. He had no way of really explaining it without a poor excuse. Still, his mind rambled on ways of trying to convince her otherwise. But first, he had to get his shirt and figure out what her next move is... if she had one.

The sharp clicks of her heels were the only signs of her impending approach, silenced only when she smelt the blood. Crouching down she reached forth and slid her finger through the drying substance. Up to her mouth were she inhaled and closed her eyes. Pain flashed across her skin, memories of agony and surprise. Fresh. The best kind in her book, really. Smiling as she stood and pulled glamour tightly around her, provocative nurse outfit adorned she moved to the double doors of the infirmary. Pausing just a moment to pull her hair back and mentally check that every detail was in order. Eyes a dull brown, hair a rich black, skin a caramel tan and clothing that of a somewhat decent uniform.

All in order, she stepped through the doors with a slow, genuine smile on her lips. Alcohol was the first scent that assaulted her nose, burning its way into her lungs for a flash of a second. Beneath that pungent order was the faint taste of fear and…soap? Kalika paused as she tilted her head and tapped her nails against her hip. There wasn’t just one patient but potentially two. How wonderful. Grinning with joy that should have no home in this place, she moved across the room to a desk. Kalika pulled a pack of matches free of their dwelling, striking one against the box in order to light a few candle wicks. The room was equipped with electricity but the harsh synthetic lights strained her eyes far too much for this simple task.

Dancing flames announced her arrival into the room, her form pausing as she glanced between the two individuals. The slow draw of breath brought a dozen mixes of emotions with it. Pain and fear were practically tangible as they coated her tongue with their sweet power. Soft smile lined her lips as a sirens voice drifted around the room, coiling into the darkness. “Hello… Forgive me for arriving obviously a little late. I was truly not expecting immediate trouble.”

She was disarming with her charming voice, nothing but a sweet nurse there to care for her patients. Glancing towards the bed brief puzzlement flashed across her face until she fully remembered his… the boy from registration. The one that was under the thrall of another, somehow daring to resist her charm… well this would be most interesting. Stepping towards the girl it took her but a moment to recall her name, “Christine, right. Why don’t you have a seat and show me what ails you?”


She noted the bandage on the boys arm, planning to take care of that once she was done with Christine. For now she would let Riley rest, giving him just enough credit that he could handle his own injury properly. That alone won’t stop her from checking it later, but at least he was left along to sit there in relative peace for now.

- If - Christine followed Kalika’s suggestion, the Unseelie would tenderly examine the finger. Lips would curl in a slight frown as her voice would softly float through the room, “My oh my, how did you manage this one?”
Standing she got a small splint and some bandage wrap before returning to her seat. “This is going to hurt for just a moment dear.”

One hand moved to grip the girls, the other moving along her injured finger. Grip tightened, Unseelie strength coming through as she held the limb still and tugged on her finger in one swift motion. She set the bone and quickly grabbed the splint, without giving the girl much time to move away or really react she wrapped the finger and smiled. “There. It was broken dear, but with the bone properly set and the splint in place, it will heal just fine. It will take about a month or so, just try to stay out of trouble. Until then you are welcomed to use one of the beds before class begins, I’ll be sure to wake you if you sleep too long.”
She winked to the girl before she stood and glanced towards bed 13. Riley next….

Standing there, dumbfounded, he had no idea what kind of move to make next. First he was going to have to square off with the girl that stood before him, and then all of a sudden a new contender arrived. Instantly recognizing the woman from registration some time ago, familiar 'bad notions' began to fill his being once again. although it was not as strong as it was before, he knew she was generally a person not to be trusted... or at least, taken with a grain of salt. Something about her was off, it was as if she was tainted... but even then, he was working off old emotions. He was unable to feel those kinds of feelings now. Now he just felt a bit of tingling uncertainty of what was going to happen next. Was Christine going to blab? Was he going to have to deal with the cops? Did they even have a police force out here? Thoughts of fight or flight flooded his senses. He was taught to fight, never to reasonably argue his way out of a situation. Was a silly mistake going to cost him his chances of freedom from this life of his past?

But, as luck would have it, a tiny light of hope would shine upon him as Christine didn't say a word to the woman and... just passed out. For a girl who would see a man who was probably going to, at least in her shoes, rape and murder her (as what other excuse would he really be in there for?), she merely scoffed it off as mere annoyance. Whatever stroke of luck he had, it was short because now the woman wanted to examine him. His exposed chest would easily show a riddle of scars, many old... a few new. Most of the scars seemed to be lacerations marks, and a few would look like they were done by fingernails or claws dug into his flesh. It would seem Riley's past was not too unfamiliar with being a victim of being mauled around a bit with sharp fingernails. Nevertheless, these wounds were faint to the naked eye... as years of natural human healing and a trained surgeon seemed to make these marks fade away.

Walking over, he grabbed his shirt and shook his head.

"I am quite alright Miss Kalika, I am just going to go back to bed now and sleep off this headache." Although Riley walked with a light step, his mind was still foggy and he treaded softly in order to not slip up in front of her. Any inclination of weakness would give her rise to alarm, and that would give her more reason to 'insist' on him saying. "Just a scratch on my arm is all, had to suture it up. Not a big deal." He kept the place tidy and clean, only his slightly damp bandage showing any sign of mess he would have made. He even put away the alcohol he used to clean the wound, and wiped up the bloody mess that spilled onto the ground. Taking his time, he would lean forward and grab the shirt that was lying in the floor. The dark shirt was covered in blood, especially around the shoulder where the wound was. "Lemme just get out of your hair, I am pretty sure you have other people that need your attention." With that, he started to put his shirt on... when a bright sharp pain tingled across his arm, where the wound was located.

He began to feel something warm trickling down his arm.

Tossing the shirt over his head and around his body, he stepped towards the door. It was then he could feel the warmth dripping through his dried shirt and down onto the floor. It would seem the brash movement has opened the wound again, and he was moving too much. He would have to re-apply pressure and keep it elevated for another couple of hours. But he had to escape first, before he was caught.

Treading lightly, he approached the door... trying to hide a wounded arm from Kalika's gaze. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop a blood drop from hitting the ground nearby.

[ Attempting to exit thread, unless stopped]

She smiled to Christine, “It is my job and my pleasure to help, dear. I’ll make sure you are not late in waking.” Kalika watched the girl amble off towards the bed, noting that it was as far away from Riley as possible. Question coiled in her mind, curiosity drove her to question what was unsaid while years of practice kept her silent. In a world of darkness, shining light on a matter was often the last thing you wanted to do…more commonplace, it was the last thing you ever did. Softly sighing she shifted her attention to Riley, sensing the unease rolling off of him in wave. It wasn’t a favored emotion of hers, one that whittled away at her good mood.

Curve of lush lips clearly showed her disapproval at his choice in moving so soon. She could taste the lingering pain and the fact that he was in the infirmary for any reason meant this was serious enough to be concerned over. Lips parted to give him protest, listening to his feeble attempt of an excuse. However before she could say a word he was already hunting for his shirt, ready to don the top of his attire when it hit her…

Pain coated her tongue, thick as molasses as it slid down her throat. The agony and worry danced across her skin and it was all she could do to suppress a glorious moan at the sensations. Oh this was pure perfection. This job and this setting offered her a high like no other. Not even a week of playing nurse and already she felt as light and giddy as she would on a good hunt. Shaking the thoughts from her head she quickly stepped over to the door and gave him a sweet smile as she blocked his escape.

“I assure you sir Riley, there is no one else who needs my attention at the moment. Christine is resting and I am kindly asking you to please sit back down.” Honeysuckle words laced with poison, her smile turning a touch tighter around the edges, eager almost. He was in no condition to move, let alone truly stop her if she decided to force him back. The idea of a little scuffle didn’t bother her at all; in fact it sent a shot of excitement through her system. She let the glamour thin out around her eyes for a second or two giving a rather charming flash of their true color. Dull brown replaced by the fathomless depths of black and the brilliance of shining silver for only a second.

It was, in truth, both a silent warning and a playful push at his senses. The unnatural feel to this school would only complete the effect. “Please. Take a seat of your own accord or I will have to intervene for your safety. It is, after all, my job.” The words were more of her nature, power thrown behind them in the form of her sirens call. Charming and deadly. She would wait for him to either sit or try to make it past her, which in his current state…meant she would be dragging him back to bed.

There were three options two this kind of situation. He could flee, even if he was in his zoned state he could muster up all of his remaining strength and book it right out the door. Even if she was in her top condition, he knew he could at least give her a run for her money. Most soldiers during long term battles have to live through at least one pain or ailment and keep themselves at top condition. He had never been in such a scenario, but he understood the formula for such perseverance. Fear of death or well-being was a common fuel for a person of depleted stamina. To be able to call within and drag out that energy is to be able to continue to fight, which leads him into option two. If he could not outrun her, or if he had the chance, he could stand his ground and incapacitate her. It would be bloody and gruesome, possibly causing more damage to himself than her, but the idea of a scuffle was not foreign to him. It was just that he did not have the upper hand or some form of distraction in order to execute the fewest amounts of moves to incapacitate his target. As much as he didn't want to get in trouble, he especially didn't want to end up killing her. A failed incantatory hit could resort in a scuffle with a deadly outcome. There were too many hard surfaces and deadly objects in the room to be used as a weapon. He only wanted to get away, not to crush her skull against the sink.

The third option, which was the more complacent of the two, was to just allow her to do her job. It was the easiest and most sensible of the two, because of the fact the third one looked less guilty. It also allowed him a way to assess the situation better, and to allow a real doctor (even if shes a nurse) to examine the wound. At best, he could call his patch work 'best for first aid'. He was still bleeding, even after all that work he had done to it, so it either had to be something more severe or he just needed to keep applying pressure until it stopped again. Upon examining his arm, it was just a small tickle of blood. Probably knocked loose due to the stretching of that muscle. Ten minutes of elevated pressure should do the trick, and then taking some IB profin to knock away the pain so he could get some real sleep.

But as he attempted his hasty retreat, he could feel her voice trying to penetrate his skull. Once more, the little warning buzzer told him she was a bad sign. Something to be weary of, even though he had no idea who she was... or what she could do. To Riley, she was just an ordinary woman with a nice set of cans.. but deep down he could feel a pang of doubt behind that facade she was holding. It was as if there was more to her, and all he had to do was peel back the layers to figure it out. But he could relatively careless, he just wanted the bleeding to stop long enough for him to get away. But first, he had to play in her own ballpark and allow her to feel queen in her domain. He would play along, as long as it secured his well being. After all, she was a nurse.

Sighing loudly, he would merely shake his head. He would turn towards her and tilt his head. "Seems like I broke the scab a bit putting my shirt back on..." Examining the floor, he would notice he was bleeding all over the place. A small trickle of blood, but blood nonetheless. Before she could motion him forward to sit down, he grabbed the roll of paper towels and a large cloth, preparing a few wads of paper towels over the wound first to apply pressure. "Allow me to stop the bleeding first before you start poking at it." Sitting in a chair nearby, probably where she designated, he would begin to lift the bandage very carefully so he could see the wound. Allowing her to notice his patch work, the cut would be a clean slice that would seem to penetrate about a few millimeters past the flesh. The area around the bruise would seem to be a bit puffy, but not swollen with blood. The stitch work was zig-zag, which allowed the wound to breathe so that blood would seep from the area if the scabbing would tear. The cut was five inches, starting from two inches above his elbow towards the shoulder. The cut was towards the inside of his body, slightly diagonal to the outside of the body, but vertical. There was blue sutures around the areas where the blood caked to form a clot, where the bottom part of the stitching was seeping blood. To a normal doctor's expertise, it would just seem that the bandages needed to be replaced and the wound needed to breathe in order to get rid of the excess blood beneath the skin. The blood did not look infected.

Allowing her to see the sutures, he would then dampen a paper towel and place it over the wound. It was to apply pressure, to clean the area, and to prevent the paper from sticking to the wound. Sticking would allow for the clotting to be torn away when the paper towel was removed... and thus the 'applying pressure' method would need to be continued. If she wanted to apply pressure herself, he would allow her so... and as long as she didn't start cutting into his flesh or snipping away at the sutures, he would allow her to poke and prod at the wound to her desire. He would wince if she touched it, but relax momentarily. It was her job, of course, to make sure that he was alright. Although he did a patch work job, it was the appropriate move in the circumstances.

Tilting his head towards her, he would say before she even asked "Cut myself playing with my knives last night. Trying to do a trick with a butterfly knife, but screwed up and sliced open my arm. Tried to bandage it up, but realized I needed sutures. Got a nice blood stain on my hardwood floors now, I bet I won't get my deposit back." Smirking playfully to the idea, he was surprised he was so fluid with the lie. Being light headed, groggy, and the feeling that she was prying into his soul made it easy for him to relax. Something in air made him start to feel comfortable around her, but the buzzing noise inside of his head kept him from completely letting down his defenses. Something about her wasn't right, something he couldn't trust. He needed to get out of here quickly, but not hastily. He forced a calm breath through pale skin, pushing down the ulterior motives for the time being. In due time he would repeat to himself. In due time.

It would certainly take more than a scuttle in the medical ward to kill her, Kalika was adept at holding her own. If not she wouldn’t have made it this long and come this far. Her body could take a beating before it began to slow, to wear down; most humans never had the stamina to go against the Fae. She figured Riley wasn’t like most though, that if need be he could give her a run for her money. In the end he was weaker, at least in the sense of blood loss and his minor wound. Unless he brandished an iron weapon, Kalika would inevitably be able to stop him… probably not without hurting him further, but that would have only been a perk in the matter.

His demeanor changed however, from anxious and flighty to collected and willing. Pity. Kalika only donned a smile for him, listening and watching him as he took care of his wound rather effectively. She was right, the boy knew what he was doing and could obviously take care of himself to an extent. Quick assessment of the wound as she took the damp cloth from him and applied pressure, letting him relax in a sense. This close and she could feel the emotions sliding across her skin. It made her practically giddy.

Soft smile easily settled on her lips as she slowly peeled the cloth back, inspecting the wound once more. Cold fingers barely brushed along the stitching, part being nurse, part loving that hiss of pain he gave. The skin around the stitching was simply hot and angry at the assault of both the wound and needle. He did a fine job she had to admit, though it made her question why he would have need to know how to do such a thing. There were far too many secrets at this school, hidden monsters that called to her in the dark. Part of her wanted to find out more, part of her knew better.

Head cocked to the side, eyes locking onto his for a moment. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was an untruth. The air of unease around him and Christine told her more than his pretty words of trickery. She hated to be lied to, in any sense. It was an outright insult that made her blood boil and the inner monster grumble. Glamour held in place though, easy smile, sweet voice… harmless human. Voice still curled with that touch of darkness all her kind possessed, sweet and alluring as a siren to sailors, “Throw a rug over the stains and they’ll never know.” Teasing, joking…something that didn’t come natural to her, yet she managed the smallest of laughs.

She checked the wound and see that the blood had finally clotted she stood back and moved across the room to the supply counter. Pulling open the door to a mini fridge she grabbed a small bottle of water and set it to the side. Next she grabbed a roll of bandages and a bottle of medicine. Two pills placed in a plastic cup, she brought it all back and set it on the wooden table beside him. “Take these and let the cut air out for a little bit. I’ll wrap it in just a moment and you can be on your way. Though I do advise you to rest here for a little while,” She motioned to the bed he had already passed out in once. “Feel free to take a nap, just give me a time to wake you.”

Speaking of which… She glanced to the clock then to bed one and pursed her lips. The girl didn’t have much longer before Kalika would need to wake her up for class. Kalika turned with the soft click of her heels and left Riley for a moment, allowing him to take the medicine and relax if he chose to do so.

Grabbing a disposable towel and some solution she used superior balancing skills. Somehow managed to crouch down, keep her skirt in place, and keep from toppling over on her heels whilst wiping away droplets of blood Riley had so graciously trailed over the floor. The smell of the sterilizing cleaner overwhelmed her as she worked; beginning to slowly make her a little light headed and draw her attention away from her glamour. If Riley had paid attention at all perhaps he would catch the flickering image of black and silver hair twisted in a bun instead of the dull brown of her glamour.

Sitting there idly, he managed to relax enough to keep his mind focused and his demeanor relaxed. He didn't want to add to the suspicion that was already in the air between Christine and himself. Allowing her to poke and prod at his stitching, he would sigh in relief when she didn't suspect anything major. He could only, at best, guess the damage done to the wound. He could have easily slit something vital, like a vein, that would need to be sutured closed otherwise he would bleed to death. Nevertheless, when the bleeding stopped he realized that it needed to breathe momentarily. He could feel that the pain in his arm was still substantial, but it would not be any worse than it will be later. There will be alot of bandage exchanges, probably some staph if he wasn't careful. A long road to recovery, but with the incision made he would be okay to use it fully within a few weeks. It will be better after a week, nevertheless, to the point he will gain some functionality of his arm without the fear of tearing the wound open again.

What a fun week it will be.

Eying the pills set before him, he merely shrugged and popped the pills. By at least the pill style, it looked like either Tylenol or the profin mix. It will save him at least some pain and resentment for the next couple of hours, so he could collapse to regain his composure. Then it was off to the office, because he had nothing else better to do. Hopefully he will gain just enough sleep to push the composure back into his step, and not make his eyes have heavy bags underneath. "Thanks..." He would uncap the water and down a few gulps. Blood loss lead to dehydration, so he didn't put the bottle back down until after he had a few large sips from the bottle.

Sighing deeply, he replaced the cap and relaxed in the chair. With his mouth hydrated and refreshed, he could feel the headache go away. He was starting to get sleepy, but he knew better to than fall asleep in some chair... or in this place. Although he had been fixed up by her, he still didn't trust her. The buzzing had slowly ceased to a dull mumble when she stepped away, fading away. Maybe it was the dehydration that brought upon buzzing. It was becoming quite comfortable in here... maybe he should take a nap in this place. He chuckled to her joke about the rug, only adding more comfortably to the atmosphere. Something or someone was making him loose his edge, and edge that could easily lead to sloppiness in his performance in a time he may need it.

Once more, he managed to sneak a look at the tightening of her skirt while she leaned over to clean up his mess. He felt bad about bleeding all over her floor, but he wasn't really in control of when he was cut or when the scabs break open. Still a nice set of cans... The tiny voice in his head mumbled before turning away to stare at something else before she had a chance to look back and catch him in the act. Even if she was giving him a bad vibe, he could at least admire the fact she had a great ass.

Once he felt that he had recovered enough, he could tell that classes would start soon and he needed to get out of her hair. He could speak with Christine on a later date. He doubted that she was going to say anything to Kalika about it, but even if she did he would just face it head on later. He would just booby trap his door if someone tried to burst in and demand his set of master keys.

Sitting up, he would lean his head back and jerk slightly to the right. Cracking a few bones in his neck, as sickly as it sounded, served it's purpose of removing a horrible crick he had in his neck. He wasn't going to be holding a rifle any time soon, but he could stand, walk, and fill out paperwork just fine. The small buzzing noise would increase when she stepped towards him, but it was weaker than before. It's attempts becoming almost futile. "Thanks for the pain killers. I think I will just sleep it off in my room, I will come crawling back if I rip open my wound again." Rolling it off nonchalantly, he added "It is just a bit more comfortable in my room, I think that bed gave my neck a horrible stiff joint." Rubbing the sore spot, he would smile sheepishly towards the woman who patched himself up.

Still, he had to wait to be bandaged, so he waited patiently for her to wrap his arm up in gauze. It would probably bleed a bit more, but it should be fine. He needed to get back to his room and get some much needed rest, but it was becoming harder and harder to mentally refuse her request. Only the thoughts of uncomfortably fueled his emotions towards leaving that place, putting some distance between the nurse and himself. Nevertheless, the resistance to staying was a loosing battle. Even his eyes were unable to catch the slight change in glamor she exerted. A fatal flaw that could cost him his life.

Muscles tensed as she focused on cleaning, finishing up as quickly as she could before standing and throwing the towels in the bin. Rubbing at her temples she finally had a downside to this place, other than making people well instead of just stabbing them. At the back counter she shifted her eyes towards Riley, a slow smile on her lips. This wasn’t the usual disarming one either. The corner of her lips curled in a fine fashion, if the glamour had been out of place one would notice the curve of her teeth. It was nothing so tricky as slipping poison in his cup instead of pain killers, though that was an idea to consider for next time.

Tired and wary she had graciously supplied him with painkillers that contained a mild sedative as well. It was simply an extra push for him to stay and relax in the medical ward… Completely justified by the fact he shouldn’t exert himself too much after a high count of blood loss. Nothing to get excited over, but in this place the littlest of things would have to amuse her for now. Grabbing another bottle of water from the mini fridge she sat it on the table by bed 13. Figuring if she could stall even for a few minutes, he would have little choice but to stay or try to stagger back to his room.

At the medical counter she began to mundane search for what she needed, knowing that it was there yet she couldn’t recall where. Once everything was settled again she would have to reorganize things. Lightly tapping her nail against the counter she wracked her brain for the placement. Grinning in silent triumph she reached towards the back and grabbed the pack of telfa* before moving back towards riley. Setting the things on the little wooden table beside him, she let a teasing smile curl on her lips. “You know, a bed usually works best… if you sleep in it properly.” Slight quirk of a delicate brow as she looked at him would be the ending accent of the joke.

Turning a touch more serious she looked over his wound before motioning for him to raise his arm a touch. If the hint didn’t go through she would be force to ask him in one of her softer demanding tones. Telfa was placed against the stitch work and held there by a delicate touch. She worked quickly and efficiently, wrapping his arm in a fashion that gave the bandage a firm hold while still allowing proper circulation. Standing back to somewhat admire her work, she gave him a quick look over. “There… That should do the trick for a while, just come back later so that I can check on it.” The tone was strangely warm, as if she genuinely cared and wanted nothing but his well being. “You are free to go back to your room…As I said, you are also welcomed to stay here for a bit.” She smiled and with the lightest click of her heels went off to put things away.

Kalika was almost always in constant motion when people were around. A survival trait that would not slip simply because she was at a school and playing human. A task that was becoming increasingly harder and harder to keep up with…


*Telfa

Sitting there in his chair, he would lift his arm so that she could do her job. After all, he just believe she was a concerned nurse that was just trying to patch him up correctly. Even if he was getting bad vibes, there was not much he could do in his present state. Escaping only lead to guilt. Fighting only lead to more issues, he had to play his cards correctly, otherwise he was going to complicate things on a greater degree. The thought of putting distance from himself and Christine did bring some hope in escaping this place, but it did not solve the issue between the two. He had no idea how it was going to be solved, and his only options of containment were either to explain the situation so that Christine understands, kill her, or escape. The thoughts of killing her was not something he took lightly, it was just an option he had out of the predicament. But given the circumstances, he only had option one. His contacts would rat him out to the authorities on option 3, and option 2 was quite messy and he really would prefer to have a clean conscience. Besides, his blackouts were not anyone's problems but his own. Maybe it would be a perfect alibi to tell the residing nurse about his issue, at least then and there he would have a chance to keep his conscience clear. Course, he could muddle up the end result a bit to make him look as innocent as a bird.

But even as he pondered these things, he started to find the ability to think slow and sluggish. Whatever he was given, must have started to kick in. But this was no ordinary Tylenol extra strength package deal. No, the girl must have put something else with it. His face started to feel funny, the pain becoming mild at best. His alertness was dropping at an alarming rate where his eyes would start to droop and his mind would go into a haze. Her voice was becoming sweet like honey, swirling his mind into a deep abyss of puffy clouds and Bambi deer. He was going to border line hallucinate if she was not careful with her words, given his unstable mind it may result in deadly outcry of bad memories. The sedative only doubled the potency of the siren's call. Even the buzzing noise in his mind ceased it's warning cries. He was comfortable, too comfortable, but even in his dreary mind he was still screaming the order to leave. Call it preconditioning, but when given a directive he was going to stick to his guns. Previous repetition only increased these effects.

Nevertheless, these warnings were like a tiny cry in a dark room surrounded by a crowd of angry people.

With her patchwork complete, he would slowly push himself from the chair. “You are free to go back to your room…As I said, you are also welcomed to stay here for a bit.” He would only nod in her direction, the thought of speech unbecoming at this present time. Slowly rising from the chair, he would put both feet on the ground and find the ground shaking beneath his feet. His body language easily said he was having difficulty standing as he would try to straighten himself out, pulling to the full height to only collapse right back into the chair. "ompf..." The sedative, blood loss, fatigue, and her call all made it very difficult for him to even move or think clearly. "What the hell did you give me........... doc?" Even his words were slurred by the sedative and fatigue. His mind was going numb, and his body was refusing to act on its own accord without extreme effort in his mind. The thought of raising from sitting to standing was only a single step in the math towards his room. How many steps was it? 500? 1000? 4000? If he had to endure that kind of torture in order to reach his room, he wouldn't make it on his own. Hand to eye coordination was slipping away.... his mind was numb. All thoughts were lost on the focus on that bed. There was no way out, no way to escape.

There was no way in hell he was going to make it back to his room consciously.

The effects of the siren's call started to take hold:

The bed, the bed! He wanted to sleep sooo badly now! He would sleep in this chair if it wasn't for the fact that his neck hurt worse than the bed. He had to lie down and rest, otherwise bad things were going to happen to him. The warmth of sleep would go away. The pain would rise. He needed the sleep, badly. He must get up, rise up and become apart of that bed. Only then will he find true happiness...

Slowly rising from the chair, he would limp forward and nearly land face first on the floor. To the grace willing of his remaining 'balance', he would stumble to a crouching stand some few feet away from the chair. Slowly shuffling his feet, he would make his way towards the bed. If help was offered, he would take it as long as it lead him towards bed number 13. Anywhere else, he would fight the call, even in his weakened state. If he was knocked to the floor, he would try to stand up. If he couldn't stand, he would crawl. The bed was his lifeline, his destination. His desire. His true being. His reason to live! He would not resist the calling of the siren in order to make it towards that sanctity of the bed.

Once he would arrive, he would collapse on the bed without a stir. Unless she had something to say to him, or to ask, he would fall into a deep slumber. Even the loudest of earthquakes would not awaken him from such a deep sleep. The sleep will last for as long as he deemed it necessary to stay in that bed, until he regained full composure of his body (4 hours +- 1 hr, give or take for the fatigue and pain killer to wear off).

Kalika slowly swayed her hips as she moved forward, brimming with excitement as she gave a warming smile towards the boy. She watched him stand and fall back again, resisting the urge to giggle at his distress of the situation. Instead she pushed his spellbound mind even more, practically cooing to him as she moved forward. “I gave you something to help with the pain… to help you relax.” Words danced forth like warm honey against the tongue. Comforting, soothing. She was the nurse you could trust, nothing bad at all would ever come your way with her around.

It wasn’t an outright lie, Kalika could protect almost as well as she could torture and kill. Its just she found more pleasure in the later. The thought of toying with Riley was there, to push against his unsteady just to see if he could stand again. It was so tempting that she placed her hand against his arm, except that kindness was creeping back up on her. Like a disease it dug into her muscles and stopped her from apply pressure against his form. She could have cursed at herself for the foolish move of helping towards the bed. Steps slow and steady, hand carefully braced against his arm so he didn’t topple over.

Bed 13 was before them both in a matter of a few agonizing seconds. Gratefully she released him, allowing him to collapse into the comforting plush mattress. She shook her head as she rubbed her hand against her hip, as if trying to get rid of the kindness that she showed. It was with wicked intentions that she leaned forward, lips oh so close to Riley’s ear. Power and emotions were shoved behind her words, lulling him to their call, “Sweet dreams, Riley.” Roll of her tongue bringing the words out in the softest of melodies.

Straightening out she stood there for a moment or so and watched him with dark eyes, glamour pulling her down. If he wore any shoes she would pull them free and set them by the bed before coving him with that blanket of blood. Nimble fingers tugged at the bindings of the curtains, lush material swinging closed to encase his body in sweet darkness. Nails slid against cloaking fabric for just a moment, slow smile clawing at her lips before she pulled back.

Glancing towards the clock she settled back in one of the chairs and let her glamour down for just a moment. Muscles slowly relaxed as she leaned against old chair, subtle creak of wooden frame assaulting her ears. All was quiet in the ward as she soaked up lingering power of emotions. Pale lips curled in a smile as she gazed at the ceiling, head tilted back, long locks of hair trapped within the tight bun.

If there were no other disturbances, she would wait like for just an hour. She gave her body and power time to recover from the mild strain before sliding from the chair. Bones popped and cracked in a well rehearsed symphony. Breast bone gave its welcoming serious of pops to complete the finals notes. Closing her eyes she envisioned her look again, pulling the illusion of glamour around her. Each thread was in place, every strand woven together with the utmost concentration on her part. She would check in the mirror and make the final adjustments before moving towards Bed 1.

Gentle voice announcing her approach as she pulled back just a fraction of the curtain, letting a thin line of light in. “Christine, lovie… it is time to get up.” There was no real urgency behind her voice, letting the girl know she had plenty of time to rise before class. “Christine.” The tone was a touch more chipper, sing song even as she said the girls’ name, hoping to rouse her from her slumber without getting physical.

-Only- if that failed would Kalika reach forward and brush those wicked nails along the others arm in a gentle motion. Kalika opted for the skin chilling sensation of that ghost touch, hoping that Christine wouldn’t freak out at the contact.

*The soft hum can be overheard the hazy cloud of mist that filled the room. Look down and clothes are all wet and clinging to skin. It's not a cold wet, but a comfortable one. Everything is so quiet and peaceful. There's a red rose laying on the ground, covered in dew. Birds can be heard chirping in the distance and a voice echos through the mist. "Christine....Christine..."*

Christine's eyes open as the chilling touch running just up her arm. Her eyes were still groggy and her surroundings were darkened, save for the stream of light coming from the crack in the curtain, with the beautiful Miss Kalika's shadow forming on Christine's body. Christine reached up and started to rub her eyes but then jerked her hand away when a jolt of pain ran through her body, her mind remembering that her finger was broken.

She looked back at Miss Kalika and mumbled softly, still half asleep. "How long have I slept? " She shifted her body in the bed and noticed the quiet hum of the surrounding room, even from her quiet little bed. Her body was a bit sore as the infirmary bed was not quite as comfortable as the one she had grown accustomed to in her room as well as the fact that she was still very tired and wished for more sleep.

Christine pulled back the curtain to the bed, letting her eyes get adjusted to the light, and her body get adjusted to being awake. She glanced up once more at the dear nurse and gave her a soft smile. "Thank you for letting me rest here and for my finger as well."

She would wait for a response of any kind and if one was received and she would thank the kind nurse once more and stand, making sure all her affects were in order; her hat was on tightly, her pants were still baggy and her shirt was adjusted as such to cover all necessary parts. She would then check to make sure she had her map and diary and then smile once more and go on her way to her class.

Just before she would leave, she would turn to Miss Kalika once more. "I hope to see you in class Miss Kalika." She would give a slightly curtsey and turn to leave. In the rush of her sudden state of alertness and the pain still throbbing in her finger, she would all but forget about her interaction earlier in the night with the now injured Riley. The smell of his blood no longer lingered in the room, but she had not completely forgotten about it. She would eventually decide on an action to take, or lack there of, but for right now she was content on making it to class on time.

[Exit unless stopped. ]

(Skip me, I am passed out)

The soft click of her shoes marked her steps to the side, allowing Christine the room needed to stand. Gentle voice drifted past lush glamoured lips as she adorned the sweetest of smiles and bowed her head ever so slightly, “You haven’t been out long dear.” Digits curled and laced together at the small of her back. Dark eyes hidden beneath brown guise watched the girl for a moment, smile shifting to a grin at the mention of help. Selfishness was all that had fueled the assistance to both Riley and Christine; their pain was in almost every way, her pleasure. It was inevitably her prize for working here, she took care of the patients and they kept the inner monster at bay.

Words coiled around the room, filled with a touch of malicious honesty and excitement. Bizarre emotions to be had in a ward of pain, at least they were strange to those outside of the Unseelie culture. “Of course my dear, it is always my pleasure to… Help.” As Christine rushed to get out the door, Kalika could only smile at her parting words. Formalities class was not something she was looking forward to. There were far too many emotions and complications with the whole situation. The idea of finding someone to open doors and play gentleman was rather revolting to her. The only good and proper gent was one thoroughly charmed like a puppet to its strings.

Glamour died the instant the double doors slammed behind Christine, leaving Kalika once more in the silence of solitude. Except she wasn’t alone… head cocked to the side as she turned her gaze towards bed 13. Possibilities floated through her mind of things that could be done while the boy slept. Horribly wondrous ideas she was just itching to test out. Sullen droop of her shoulders proclaimed her distaste for her own strong will. Instead of playing medieval doctor with the passed out boy she moved to her desk and mindlessly sorted out the paper.

All of five minutes wasted she deemed the day done with, this would likely be the most excitement of the week. Slow stretch of her lean form and she was very much lounging in her rather comfortable chair. Lashes brushed along her cheeks as she closed her eyes, relaxing and pulling the emotions of the day back. Kalika could hold onto them for only so long so she would enjoy them as much as she could. The pain and uncertainty of both Riley and Christine washed along her skin once more. Muddled and mixed they lacked the initial punch to drive them through her system, but they were still so sweet along her senses. Drip line of ecstasy she was being lulled by the wonderful emotions of the day.

Darkness crept upon her mind like the perfect killer stalking its prey, deliberate steps grew in urgency the more the time passed. Twenty minutes and she was sucked into oblivion of both memorable moments and dreams. Dreams that would make children cry and humans scream, memories of battles both won and lost. Years upon years of being a monster played behind closed lids. Moments of tending her wounds after a fight, or a rough night of completely different origins, were plenty of the mix. Monsters were monsters no matter the form they took, her kind had no problem breaking bones or clawing through flesh of their own.

Lashes fluttered as chest rose to draw in a deeper breath while ceiling pattern, or lack there of, greeted her with its simplicity. Muscles resisted her urge to move, bones letting their quarrel be known as they popped and cracked. Symphony of heels clicked along stone flooring, carrying her forward to double check the clock. Three hours since she had settled in the chair just danced by without a moments worry. Time was the tricky sort indeed. Kalika watched the seconds hand tick it’s around the surface before she stepped away and moved through the doors to the back.

Bed 13. Curtains drawn together to protect its victim within. She gazed at it as she pulled the glamour back around her. Lively tan skin slid across her scars so that nothing was out of place again. Nurses uniform with the first two buttons undone to show off the edge of black lace and the swell of her chest. Lean legs covered in tightly woven fishnet that gripped her skin at her thigh, hold hidden by the flow of her skirt. Once more she was back to looking the part she played.

Kalika slid her nails upon lush material, digits curling to slowly draw one side of the curtain back. Fluorescent lighting pooled through the gap to consume the one hidden in the dark, curved of her shadow the only protector to his eyes. He had slept in her ward for nearly four hours now, not that she minded the lively company. If she wasn’t just a touch concerned about the fact she had knocked him out with the meds, she would have left him alone. Light rap of her knuckles against wooden frame of the bed, seeing if that would rouse him at all. Voice would slowly follow with the same luring tone, “Riley… Time to wake up now.” She would wait five or so minutes and if nothing happened, repeat.

-

If he was still dead to the world then she would reach forward do what she did to Christine, except on a female the placement would have been slightly inappropriate. Kalika moved her nails along his shoulder, touch as light as the brush of a feather and just as irritating. Motion would begin at his shoulder and draw a continuous pattern until her nails tapped along the skin just above his heart. The thought of how easy it would be to plunge her digits through would cross her mind before slowly pulling back. So lost in thought she was open for any form of retaliation for the action.

For the better part of the first hour or so, Riley's eyes slid shut and all he did was just lay there in a partial sleep induced by fatigue, loss of blood, and the drugs that now washed over his body. He was unable to fall, initially, into a deep, everlasting slumber due to the overall effects of the his surroundings and comfort ability zone. Even after all that had happened to loosen his ethics towards his instincts, he was able to linger on to a small code of conduct built deep within his subconscious. It would seem that sleeping with one eye open was the safest route in an unknown environment. Call it preconditioning, but like a child he sucked in this kind of information fairly quickly. Nevertheless, like a newborn he could not fight the lingering urges to sleep forever. With the last echoes of Kalika's voice, he would drift into a deep slumber just a few minutes before she would give a poke to awaken Christine on her bed...


Laughter. It was laughter that was foreign to the man who was born from the darkest of days. The sick and the twisted were parts of him that made him wonder why the hell he continued this plot to live on, to pushing towards apart of the human social being. The need or necessity to continue onward only fueled by the fact of his inability to find his niche in society. But today, he was not concerned with his place in society, but the fact he was hearing such sweet, and familiar laughter behind the lips of a girl he vaguely remembered. It came from a little girl, hair brown as his own, eyes golden bright hues of childlike spirit. But the laughter coming from the girl was so foreign to him. He had heard laughter before, but it was the first time he had heard it so pure... so beautiful. It was almost if he had found the perfect sound to life, the answer to everyone's question, the reason behind why people strive to live.

It was a child's laughter.

He would start heading towards the sound she was making. He wanted to bask in it's light, wanting to be cleansed of all the sins that weighed down on his soul. He just knew, and felt, that if he got closer to the girl, closer to his youngest sister, she would give him the light he ever so desired. The ability to be able to push onward towards the goal of everlasting peace. A way out of the darkness, the ability to be reborn in the light. But as he reached her, he felt his body slowly down. His limbs became lead, and her voice started to fade. 'WAIT!!!' Riley would call, crying out as he pumped his muscles to keep up with her. But she was drifting away, her song fading. It was not until the darkness started to spill over her innocent form that he saw the true image of the dream. From the dark facade arose a dark creature, with lashing fangs and fingernails as long as short swords and as sharp as the tip of the most expensive razor blades. With an evil grin, the creature would take hold of the innocent girl. Her screams, all to familiar, would echo across his mind. The dream would twist into a crimson red and he would see the dull... dead look in his sister's eyes.

He was on the floor, once again, pinned as he watched them take ahold of her tiny neck... holding her out to watch her struggle.

'Watch this...' one man would call. The others hooted and howled.

And with that, the creature would bite into the girl's neck, splashing blood all over the floor. It would spill out, as the little girl's head would sag to the side... a blank stare resonating towards Riley. He was helpless, once again, to save his little sister. So full of life, so full of joy and happiness. But this time, a feral rage was growing from the boy who laid there on the ground. Channeling his fear, he would scream bloody murder as he would break off his attacker and charge full force towards the creature who ended her life. He needed to bleed. To feel pain. He wanted to inflict as much misery as he possibly could as he reached forward to grab ahold of the flesh of the creature. He wanted to rip it's throat out, and let it's blood wash over his face-

Kalika's innocent touches on his arm caused him to rouse awake from a mid slumber. But his eyes would not open towards the living with welcoming arms and bright smiles. His eyes shot open with a blood, feral rage of that resonating from his midnight slumber. Like waking a bear from hibernation early, he would instantly lash out with his right hand to take ahold of the girl who was putting her hands on him. The creature. It needed to die. It was in his grasp. His eyes would pulsate such a savage fury, his muscles would tense and lock around the woman's hand if he was able to get ahold of her wrist, using inhuman strength to lock his grip into place.

If he was able to grab ahold of the girl's hand, he would whirl his body around her, yanking the girl's arm if he grasped ahold of it, and would try to use it to pin the girl with her passive arm behind her back. If he was able to make such a move, he would follow through by using his knee to press down onto her back to push her body onto the floor. If her body was on the floor, with his knee behind her back, his left hand would draw a 22LR revolver from his ankle with quick reflex precision and placed behind her head. The growing fury behind his eyes would relapse to the point of insanity as the hammer would be brought back. A growl beneath his voice as he would yell. "DIE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Gritting his teeth, his muscles would tense and tighten around the grip of the barrel, if he had her in such a position, glaring with deep hatred towards the creature set before him.

But within those 1.3 seconds to pull off those moves, a tiny cry within his head would resonate within his soul. It was the laughter, the childlike laughter, that brought him back to his sanity. Where ever he was, in whatever position, he would break any form of tackle or resistance and fall back several meters from the woman and toss his gun away after throwing the safety on his gun. The pistol would clatter underneath a table, far from his reach, and he would backpedal towards the corner. His heart was racing several miles a second, his eyes creeping along the lines of sanity, passing out, and fear. But his resolve was shaken for he next few moments, unable to comprehend his next set of moves. He had lost it, unable to figure out why, but he had lost control.

Like a small child, his hands would shake as it would collapse around his head... cuddling it as the sweat would pour from his head. Shaking, uncontrollably, he would be unable to speak for several moments.

What people do not realize is that memories are not stored based on some kind of chronological order, date, alphabetized, or by genre. Memories are fluid pieces of information that flow within a collection of the mind, always falling in and out of place as the mind sees fit. So instead of having the full memories of the disaster happen in order, all of the memories of his disaster began pouring into him at once. Scenes of rape, blood, pain, and death began to fill his mind as they replayed themselves over and over again. He watched as he was clocked from behind, thrown to the floor, and forced to watch the entire scene billow out before him in such clarity and detail. He could feel the hot blood splash across his face and the pain as his lower arm was ripped from his side. Signs of shock, deprivation, laughter, and insanity would roll right over his face as he fought these recurring images back into the depths of his mind. He didn't want them. He didn't need them. He didn't need to know of the family that was destroyed by his indecisiveness. His inaction. His inability. He could feel the waves of guilt shaking his resolve as he was once again faced with these facts head on in a much weakened mental state. How much more could his mind take before something clicked? Would he be able to face these facts head on? Or would he bury them, once again, in a sea of darkness in the depths of his mind?

He would shake, involuntarily, as her fingertips would race against his cheek. His hands would still hide his face, eyes bulging beneath him. No matter how much he trained and pushed his body to their limits, he was still unable to face the memories locked away in his mind. Slowly, but surely, all these memories began to fade away just before he was able to see the faces of his family and his attackers. He was, once again, unable to face the truth that caused him so much pain and torment. His shivering. His sweat. His anguish would slowly drift away as he would began to relax before her. His mind stopped thrumming at a million miles a minute, and his heart slowed to a steady state. His eyes would slide close as he would finally be at peace once again.

“Riley, are you all right?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he would rise to his feet as his eyes would open towards the light of day once again. But this time, he came back into the world with a bit more knowledge than before. Just a piece of information. A tiny... small... lick of info. It nearly cost him his sanity, and possibly, his natural well being as a person to get a hold of it. It nearby caused him to stumble in retribution, but he knew he had to research more information upon it. In this setting. In this type of school. He was a pawn in some kind of devious plan. It didn't make sense to why he was able to adapt to this kind of setting until now. Gears began to click as his eyes were enlightened. Still, he lacked the information necessary to why he was not affected by such a disease as well. The teeth. The claws. The raw power. He had seen such strength before, but it was more humanoid than anything else. It began to make... perfect... sense.

The creatures that killed his entire family, was a pack of damn werewolves.

"I will be fine..." He would reach forward towards a table to use as a ledge to pull himself to his own feet. Whatever this place was, he felt, it was not going to help him one bit. He needed time to think. He had rested and recovered well enough. But as he took a staggering step forward, he saw the world began to swirl around his eyes. He could see that the attempted memory re-vamp caused him a pretty big pop in his physical state. He felt sick. Nauseated was more like it. He wanted to throw up what little he had remaining in his stomach. His face was a ghastly pale, and he was just about to trip over himself. But he was tired of being 'sick and tired'. Tired of being weak. Tired of the uncertainty. He wanted to fight whatever that was out there. But no matter how hard he tried to get towards his damn room, towards his end of safety, he would not be able to even reach the front door without passing out. Besides, his gun was not where he threw it and he liked all of his toys. He had a feeling she probably hid it when he was in his little freak out state.

So instead of fighting, he merely struggled over to the examination chair and plopped himself down, motioning her forward by asking... very politely. " "Can I have some water?" He would pause, turning his shaken body towards the woman he put a gun to and tried a sense of compassion for a change. But in his eyes, he could see that it was not her first time in such a dabble. He could read, easily, the cool stare of her gaze behind the compassionate veil she presented before him. Like himself, this was not her first bout with death. She was probably more experience than himself in such matters, but that's all he needed to know. She was marked, like himself. And he could feel safe with asking the question "If something killed your entire family, what would you do?" Pausing for effect, he would smile weakly and add "And I want your own personal opinion, not some garbled medical bullshit you read in a text book." Laying it out for her, nice and easy, he would watch to read and judge her actions. Even in his weakened state, he was still able to play the game field, if necessary, to gain the information he desired. Besides, he needed time to figure out where she put his damn piece. It was a gift, from his uncle, and he would like to have it back before he left.

Kalika watched Riley stand, her form moving to do the same after only a moment though she lacked the aid of a desk. Muscles tensed and bones gave a subtle crack to hint at the fact they didn’t appreciate her lack of a work out. If she was going to play human in this world she would need to locate the school gym and make sure not to slack on working out, no matter how much she hated it. Kalika was rather pleased with her lean form, hidden muscles beneath the surface, to lose that while playing nice would be truly devastating. Digits slid across her skirt, brushing away invisible dirt while she pulled herself from her inner thoughts. She watched as Riley took a seat and for once was rather, dare she say, pleasant.

Simple request of water was granted as she clicked her way to the other side of the room. Bypassing various vials, she reached in the back of the mini fridge and grabbed two bottles of water. Making her way over to the boy she offered one bottle to him, waiting for him to take it before she would settle on top of a wooden desk. Sturdy perch made not a single sound as she rested upon it, cold water soothing her aching hand. The skin of her left palm was red and agitated beneath the glamour, the hand she had picked his gun up with. She gave no hint as to where his weapon rested and at his next question she was glad.

Kalika leaned back ever so slightly, crossing those long legs of hers accented wonderfully by the tightly woven fishnet she was coming to love. Silence followed Riley’s words, broken only by the sound of her popping to top from her bottle. Tilt of the head and she let the cold rush into her gut, empty stomach thankful for something. The sensation reminded her that she needed to either try human food, or get more Fae fare to sustain both her and her new roommate. She twisted the bottle in her hands, peeling the corner of the label before speaking. “Medical textbooks would all have me say the same thing. Seek guidance and counseling, let it go and free yourself of the burden. Throw yourself into a hobby or religion...”

Empty bottle set to the side as she leaned forward, hands resting against the smooth surface of the small desk. “That’s not what you want though, is it? Some medical bullshit as you put it.” Lush lips of a pink glamoured hue curled into a slow smile as she watched him, she was debating on dropping her illusion. Such a thing would show her true Unseelie nature, not that the boy probably knew much about her kind. There wasn’t any information on them except what people told in fanciful tales. For now she remained the part of a human nurse, no need for the world to know her secret just yet. “Personally… Now that’s a touch more complicated.” Her voice held none of its former charm, not a note of that luring calm.

Melody turned harsh, cold as a body in winters embrace, “I would hunt them down, more or less returning the favor in a slow manner.” She should have stopped, she was getting excited by the idea alone. Her eyes lit up in such a way the glamour could not hide, silver shining through illusion of a dull brown. “I would shackle them like beasts. Play darts with their own bones and let the blood drip free of their veins. I would break them apart bit by bit before exacting my final act of mercy and fashioning their hides into a rug.” She was smiling like no human should, a look that conveyed her lust for the hunt and her need for the pain it brought.

It took her a moment longer than usual to calm herself back down. The lightest of blushes tainting illusions cheeks as she leaned back and brushed off her lap. There were few ways this moment could get any more awkward. She was suppose to be here to get away from such, he may have asked her opinion on something but she shouldn’t have gone into even a little detail. She should have merely said something like ‘take revenge’ or some corny line that sent another gallivanting away to do just that.