The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.

Some windows are open in the auditorium this morning, giving the room a pleasant light as opposed to its typical somber glow.  A janitor is whistling to himself as he cleans up some of the seats facing the stage, as soon as he finishes his job though a loud echo rings through the auditorium as a signal that the area is now empty.  In turn, another sound is heard although much lighter than the one heard before.  A glow follows this figure as he moves silently through the auditorium, a charming and delightful smile seeming to accompany this mystery.  Standing by the stage, the figure lets out a laugh; but the noise escapes before it is heard and suddenly there auditorium is empty once again.  Laying on the stage though, one yellow tulip.  It's presence emits a somewhat joyous scent, livening up the whole room.

Unlike many students who were attending classes, Hunter had a free day. It had been a few months since arriving at Foresta Academy, so to say the least the young man had gotten wandering out his system. On this day though, Hunter found himself thinking about areas of the school he hadn't visited as much - one of them being the auditorium. Even though Hunter fancied himself a handsome man and he could be a fantastic actor if he so wished it (because let's be honest, the teenager could do anything he put his mind too), Hunter found himself more interested in the initial reason as to why he came to Foresta instead of signing up for some theater classes.

Stepping into the auditorium with surprisingly loud steps, the young man noticed that the auditorium was empty as he let out a light "Hello," that echoed through the large area. Weren't classes supposed to be going on right now? Hunter shrugged to himself and assumed that the theater classes either weren't being held right now or going on in a different spot. As he made his way farther into the room though, Hunter paused as a curious thing caught his attention. Turning toward the stage the young man noticed a yellow tulip, "What's this?" Hunter spoke out loud to himself as he walked toward the flower looking almost like a panther stalking his prey. Stopping before the tulip, Hunter reached up and took the flower from it's spot - feeling a strange amused sort of feeling rush through him as his eyes grew hazy for a moment.

    A new season had come, at last. Winter clothes, with their weight and cool colors, would be quickly packed away and forgotten. The melting snow and blooming flowers would ask for nothing less than bright, cheery colors and light-weight dresses. The feeling of a loose dress returned the memories of youth and freedom to Cecilia, as if in a few short months she had aged centuries. Knowing full well the halls and their accoutrements by now Cecilia skipped with uncontained joy, delighting in the cool, fresh breeze of spring. She imagined gliding with every step, the sensation of wind rushing past fueling her desire to advance further.

    But a scent caught her attention; a curious, luring smell, which distracted her from the day's goal. Pausing, her head tilted this way and that, her nostrils cutely flexing until she found the trail, which would surely lead her to the culprit. She turned on her heel, suddenly cautious of her surroundings since she would no longer be attending to her mental map while seeking the source, and proceeded step by step to find her way anew.
    A play? She thought, as her hand felt along the hard wood of the Auditorium's door frame. Standing in the opening for a moment, she listened intently, hearing a distant voice express curiousity over something. She awaited the other actor's reply, but none came. All was silent. No people shifting in their seats. No multitudes of breathing masses, hushed under the pretense of respect and awe. Still, that scent lingered.
    Perhaps the mysterious voice had found the source. Had found, before her, exactly what she sought. Cecilia approached, walking proper and prim down the aisle, hoping that, at the very least, he would share with her the secret of this alluring scent.

    "Excuse me," She stepped closer again, now on the stage with him, "May I ask, where have you found such a delightful aroma?"

As the haze swam through him, something itched in his mind to make the young man focus just long enough to notice a small girl had walked into the auditorium. The girl was dressed in attire appropriate to the season and as he watched her walk toward him, Hunter thought for just a moment that the small girl might be a princess. Giving the girl a strange look, Hunter moved his arm down so that the smell that tulip was emitting didn't affect him as much as it did while he had held the flower up to his face. "Hello," Hunter said to the girl that made it seem more like he was calling out to her than actually greeting her. Hunter was to say the least, not shy enough to avoid greeting someone in the same vicinity as him.

Focusing once more on the girl almost in a manner of trying to rid himself of the haze that the tulip had thrown over him like a blanket, Hunter frowned as he noted her face. He couldn't see her in extreme detail from the distance between them, but the young man might have guessed that she was blind. The closer that she got to him though, Hunter felt his nails growing and looked down to see smalls bits of his fingers turning black. Looking back up at Cecilia the young man had a screwed up expression on his face, how could this possibly be? She looked as if she were no older than fifteen. Her presence made no sense to the young man.

    She now stood close to him, the stage flooring nearly silent with her approach. The wood had not even creaked under her weight, though she could hardly be considered a stress. Assuming her presence had come as something of a shock to the fellow, she offered an obligatory curtsy. "I am Cecilia Noelle Vega del Toro," She straightened her back to stand rigid with authority as her surname passed her lips; if the boy did not know her family name and influence, he soon would.

     "Antonio del Toro is my father," She insisted, expecting the hint to elicit a better reaction.

The manner in which Cecilia introduced herself had the young man stepping back from the girl, noting now that she had a blindfold around her face. It was more than obvious to him now that she was blind. Despite his curse creeping up his hands, Hunter felt his soul singing as the girl spoke her name to him. Something about the situation just didn't seem quite right to him. "Cecilia? I'm Hunter Livas," the young man introduced himself - his voice hinted just for a moment toward his Greek roots. Hesitating for a moment the young man looked down at the tulip in his now darkening hands, the delicate object seeming out of place in comparison to what was happening to him.

"How old are you?" Hunter then asked the girl, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could catch them in a proper manner. If she was younger than he imagined, then Hunter decided that he would feel sorry for the girl despite something screaming in the back of his mind to feel otherwise. How could such a young looking girl be so plagued by pride? The thought alone sent conflicting emotions through him.

    Her ears picked up on the soft creak of wood beneath them, it had been, after all, her method of sight since the beginning of consciousness. She could discern the distribution of his weight intuitively, and a satisfied, but discreet smile formed on her lips. He had heeded her appropriately, she felt. Recognizing such respect, she shifted into a more agreeable tone readily.
    "Buenos dias. A pleasure to meet you, Hunter Livas." She showed care to enunciate his name exactly as he had spoken it, but Cecilia had not come here for niceties. She tucked her lips to wet them, a sign of eagerness that kept the tongue hidden. The aroma lured Cecilia to lean forward ever so slightly, but his question interrupted the gentle daze and she stood straight again, at attention. "Thir-" She paused, a perplexed expression unmistakable on her pale features, despite the blindfold covering a decent portion of her face. "¿Qué clase de pregunta es esta?" Lost was the articulation of a proper European and the discipline of an English-speaking hostess. She seemed, suddenly, riled.


    "Are you a teacher, Hunter Livas?" She said his name in a mocking tone this time, "I think not. I think you are an impertinent fool that has stumbled upon something revelatory, which," she would remind, "I asked for very politely."

When she stared to speak in Spanish, Hunter's confusion only grew. The change in his skin had almost reached his elbows now and the young man was feeling his muscle tensing. Ignoring her mocking him, despite feeling as if it hurt him down to the core - Hunter looked down at the tulip in his hands once more. "I'm a student and are you talking about this flower?" Hunter then asked - holding his hand up as if she could see the flower. When he spoke that time, his voice had taken an obvious change - seeming a bit demonic as opposed to before.

A second passed and even though every cell in his body was trying to tell him it was a bad idea (for what reason though, he still didn't know) Hunter decided to persist in his question from before. "If I give you this flower then will you tell me how old you are?" he then asked the girl with a somewhat mean expression gracing his face.

    She had a small reaction, a half inch withdrawn at the sound of his voice. Surely, he merely attempted to intimidate her with some air of superiority. Well, she would not be intimidated. Her expression settled into one of defiance, practiced well for the enjoyment of others, "Flower?"

    How curious for a boy to show such interest as she. Yet, this flower did not carry a scent akin to any other she had known. No, it could not be a flower she had ever come across before, despite a large arboretum both here and at home. She would have remembered such a scent. It, undoubtedly, was a... distinctive one? She could not be sure, now that she thought about it. The air had been filled with an aroma of elation, not a particularly describable scent as far as smells go. It drew an emotion. Others had, too, but not without an actual smell to identify. Her curiosity grew wilder in the span of a single second, barely registering his question.
    "Thirteen," She declared, giving in to his demand without carefully considering it. If she had thought about it, she had no reason to believe that he would actually relinquish the flower to her. Desire smothered her thoughts and she did not even notice.

As the girl finally gave up her age, Hunter felt a surge of pride rush through him. Of course he was right, how could he have had been possibly wrong? Taking a deep breath the young man stepped forward and took Cecilia hand, placing the flower in it. "There it is." He said to her then, stepping back after he had given over the object - feeling his face contort. Any second now his swords would come dropping down and something about that fact made him feel like he had to get out of this girls presence, despite wanting to know more about her. The conflict made Hunter feel like he was going mad. "What are you?" he finally managed to get out - the words coming out more like a growl than anything else.

    Relief and excitement embraced Cecilia as she felt the small, feather-like flower settle into her palm. He had held up his end of the deal. Grateful, the young girl gave another curtsy, not knowing what else to offer. She wondered, would it be possible to replicate this type of sensation with my power? Is it truly a scent? Or something else?

    She knew, of course, that her own power had always been limited to eliciting reactions, instead of mimicking actual smells, and this flower seemed to do quite the same. Carefully cupping the flower in two hands, she lifted it just under her nose to inhale its aroma, hoping for the tingle of pollen in her nostrils. Nothing so physical came, but the huff had been too much. A rich, foggy daze of delight overcame Cecilia, so that she forget what antagonism might remain between the pair.
    As if drugged, she did not heed the tone of his voice or the impertinence of his question. She would surely have reprimanded him under other circumstances. Here, however, in this state, she responded with a gentle ease, "A siren," Wonder overcame her then, prompting her into a light-footed dance about the stage, her voice becoming suddenly melodic,

    "..found a drowning man - Drifting into the deep,
    Why do you wish - For the big fish's sleep?
    Oh, my father ate of tree,
    And my mother lay with the snake;
    One of these days there'll be,
    Somethin' I wish to take..."

    She turned on toe, facing Hunter with her whole body expectantly. Surely, he would continue this nonsensical song without hesitation.

Hunter watched the girl as she took the flower from him a mix of curiosity and anger a long with something even more strange clouding his expression. As she spoke, Hunter felt his curse slowly receding - noting that the black that had risen all the way up to his upper arms had now gone back to his wrists. Not being too much of an observer, it took Hunter all the way up until Cecilia stopped singing to realize that the flower did have some magical quality to it. Was it affecting the girl just as it had affected him?

"What are you singing?" Hunter than asked Cecilia - quite bluntly and awkwardly. It was strange for someone who normally had the utmost charm, pride and socializing talent for him to feel so strange in the presence of this girl. It wasn't anything close to romantic interest either that he was feeling for this girl, it was something much deeper than that. The strangeness of it all had him reeling back. There was no way that she was that person... could she be? Hunter shook his head. "You're too young to be a siren," he replied to the girl then.

    Cecilia’s body language slackened like a child whose hopes for play were dashed. With a small sigh, her head tilted off to the side as if recollecting far off memories, “An old nursery rhyme… About the son of Adam.” She seemed more interested in telling the story as it came to her, approaching Hunter with a short skip. “He aimed to kill himself before he did something terrible. But the siren saved him for that reason and gave him a Gift.” She paused, a small frown barely distinguishable beneath the blindfold, “Then, he used it to do the terrible thing.”
    She shrugged slightly, dismissively, the haze slowly waning as her mind reached for long held facts. Still, she turned in place, a child all the same. “Oh?” She responded, seemingly only half paying attention to him, but challenging his opinion, “And what are sirens before they are of age?”

    Clearer, she slowed down, her pace becoming even and mild. She stood in thought, cradling the flower in her hands before turning once again to face Hunter. She had a clear image of him in her head. At least, of what she needed to know. Height, position, and stance all accounted for. He had not moved much since they had begun this odd conversation.
    “Excuse me,” She began, focusing a bit of her power on him, “Is this similar?” Her induced hallucinations so far only grasped at olfactory senses, so attempting to mimic the flower seemed like a good test; however, she remained unaware if she could actually elicit such a delightful aroma. Could she remake the joyous, obscure scent that she had whiffed? Would it have the same effect?
    She knew that she could not recreate a specific smell, but remained certain that the flower did not carry one either. Instead, she could only prompt a reaction. Did that include an emotional one?

Hunter listened to the girl explain the song to him, frowning as she described what seemed just religious to him. Living in world with people who had magical powers and even greater things, it was difficult for the man to even worry about what god or goddess he believed in. "I wouldn't know," he said to the girl quite honestly - feeling the inner sting as he admitted that he honestly didn't know something. He may have had a wizard for a father, but it wasn't like the man had really taught him all that much.

As she used his power then on him, Hunter stepped back - the smell hitting him in a somewhat duller sense. It was similar, but of course not exactly the same. The feeling though, that haze over his mind he thought was going to come back again, but it didn't and Hunter was left with even more hesitance and confusion directed toward the small girl. "What is that power?" Hunter then asked the girl - it seemed as though all he had been doing this whole time was asking her questions. He was so out of his element and he knew it, there was something about this girl that he just couldn't pinpoint. He knew she was important, that much he interpreted from her body langue. There was something else though, something deeper that was practically begging to come forward that Hunter couldn't quite grasp yet.

    Cecilia had awaited his reply expectantly, but his lack of proper response soured the anticipation. Disappointed, her body language withdrew again, since she had angled herself closer to hear his answer. Still, Hunter had recognized that she had done something. Whether it lived up to her hopes or fell short of her own expectations remained unclear. At the very least, he had not reacted in a way that might have led him into violent retching.
    So, could the aroma from the flower be the result of something beyond her ability to mimic? Or might she one day master her talent well enough to induce such pacifying effects on others. She had not the slightest clue. Her attention refocused on Hunter, then, deciding at long last to answer his question.

    "That is the inducement of a hallucination upon your olfactory senses." She spoke elaborately, keen on displaying her vocabulary and expecting to portray her power as noteworthy, grand, and full of complexity. She amended honestly, "I only have extensive practice in repugnant smells, however."
    "And you?" She had shared, it would now be his turn, "What is it that you do?"