I've been thinking about how you say my name.

"Hunter, darling. You've got to really tell me which lady here is your favorite so that I can have more girls read my news." Stella smiled at the taller male in a charming manner, not noticing the black color crawling up Hunter's fingers (or just ignoring it). "Everyone is my favorite, Stella. I'll keep telling you that over and over again," Hunter reached forward then tracing one of his fingers along Stella's jawline and smiling pleasantly at the girl. Despite the fact that he considered the girl obnoxious, she was still quite a looker and he didn't mind her presence every now and then - at least when she wasn't trying to get information from him (which was practically never). "Sure, you keep telling me that - but I will keep asking until you tell me the truth." Stella glanced down then, her focus having only passed over Hunter's hands before sending the young man a calculating look. "It seems I should leave you be now, are we still on for coffee tomorrow?"

Hunter nodded, sliding his hands into his jean pockets then. "I'll be there as long as you promise to be a bit more reserved." Stella let out a light laugh, waving her hand at the other student before she started to move away. "Sure thing." A few minutes passed before the young woman was finally out of his sight and Hunter pulled his hands out of his pockets once more to glance down at them. The black had receded significantly, but quite a bit still remained at his fingertips. "Of course, this is what I get for trying." The young man muttered to himself as he started to walk by the entrance of the auditorium with the intention of heading back to his dorm room. It had been a long semester, but he had managed to finish it up without getting into any significant sort of trouble which was fairly nice. The fact remained still that he hadn't found one thing or person that could give him any sort of hint or release from his curse. Would he live out the rest of his days like this? At the rate he was going, it seemed unlikely that anyone would be able to save him now.

    Cecilia Vega did not currently possess a clear state of mind. If anything, her panic rooted in perceived chaos. An overflow. Where once she had been deep into her conscious mind, loud with her own thoughts, clarity, and a growing hope, now she felt empty, lost, and full of desperation. Where once her surroundings had been on the verge of sensory deprivation, now she felt overwhelmed by the noise and smell and temperature and the list goes on. These things were normal, well the latter, at least, but such an abrupt shift in both consciousness and perception simultaneously had an abstract effect on her.

    For all her distraction, she never thought about where she would go. She only intended to escape. Nothing reasonable came to her. No cognitive choice. She did not even remember why. If one thought about it, would the reason be obvious? What do you seek for a quiet place? Familiarity, isolation, and -just maybe- where there is history. In this case, a memory prompted by her own experimentation.

    None of this came to her, and it is doubtful she would ever bother to think through it. After all, Cecilia Vega did not, at the moment, have a handle on clarity.

    There remained only one thing to jar her out of her confusion and set things straight: running into a wall. Only, she knew no wall should be there. And outside of plays, since when were the Auditorium doors ever closed? For that was where she knew she had come. Those thoughts, far less coherent and a bit more abrasive in vocabulary than suggested, wedged themselves into her psyche and pushed out the rest of the chaos. Barely a second had passed since the impact, when the wall named Hunter Livas rejected her to the floor.

    Really, she could only hope no one had been around to see her make a fool of herself, but instead of getting to her feet, as she most likely would in the known presence of others, she stayed where she sat. For a moment, she was angry. Angry at so many little things, like this wall for instance. But that passed quickly, and a rare moment of defeat settled on her, crushing her own pride in the process.

As much as he had been distracted by his own personal problems, the second that he felt a small body collide with his own Hunter snapped out of his own mind to see who had interrupted his thoughts. As his eyes fell upon Cecilia, Hunter's jaw dropped briefly - surprised that he had only just been thinking about his interaction with this girl (for some strange reason) only a few days before and here she was once again.

Logically, it wasn't strange at all though - they were in the same school, of course they would cross paths at some point. "Cecilia." Before he knew it, he was saying her name and then promptly slapping his hand against his forehead. He remembered the name of a girl practically five years younger than him and a girl that he's only met once, how much stranger could this get?

Without realizing it though, the young man started to kneel down - careful to not break any touch barriers with the girl. "Are you okay?" He asked her in a gentle manner, surprised that his curse wasn't climbing up his arms like the last time he had interacted with her. The only possible conclusion that he could make was that the girl was feeling bad, about what though? He had no earthly clue. Either that or the pride that she had last time had been associated with something that she had done prior to meeting him. The longer he was close to this girl, the higher his awkwardness about the situation went. It wasn't like he was intentionally uncomfortable around the girl, there was just something about her that made him remember her and he couldn't quite figure out what it was yet.

    For a rare moment, in withdrawn discomfiture, Cecilia’s focus turned inward. Of course, thinking about herself had never been all that rare of an event, though she would never admit to it. Or possibly even realize it. No, the implication lay in her awareness. Typically, the young heiress expanded her senses to encompass her entire surroundings for, as a Vega, anything done must damn well be exceptional. This would usually put her above the average person in terms of how finely honed her senses were, but in this moment, given quite enough attention already, she had tuned it all out. Self-pity. Frustration. Confusion. Blind. More blind than just what her eyes failed to see.

    No matter how careful Hunter attempted to be, the small scream could not be abated. His voice and presence manifested in her awareness with such abrupt notice from cold silence that Cecilia, quite a child still despite all her attempts to deny it, visibly jumped with fright. Sitting on the floor, she was unlikely to get anywhere, and assumed only a rigid posture. Surely, she remained at a distinct disadvantage if she wanted to run. All she had left was instinct and impulse.

    “No!” Angry accusation, she appeared to be forming a word on her lips that might surely be a rhetorical question when she paused. The sound failed to escape her lips and she sat there for half a second. This man knew her name. How did he know her name? Quite honestly she had never paid much attention to one-time acquaintances and failed to recognize his voice. Not that her auditory perception had quite caught up with the rest of her yet.

    To be honest, she wanted to curl up into a ball, being seen in a humiliating posture as this. But that would only make things worse. There was no way she would allow herself to do such in front of this man. A man who knew her name. He may well be beneath her, but she did not trust in anyone’s ability to keep their mouth shut. Gossip remained the language of the lower class, her father had told her on multiple occasions. Mostly when pointing out the transgressions of the house servants.

    Instead, she merely frowned, looking expectant and refusing to make the first move, “Well, are you not going to help me to my feet?”

At the sudden outburst from Cecilia, Hunter away from the girl - putting at least a few feet between them. In his mind, anyone could walk by and completely misinterpret the situation. A few seconds passed by then and the blind girl spoke once more, causing Hunter an increasing amount of confusion. "Is that what you were wanting?" Hunter asked the girl then in a manner that made him feel like he's known this girl his whole life. That wasn't the truth though and there was a conflict in his mind and soul about it, one part of him wanted to stay away from the girl to get rid of the sensation of familiarity with someone he barely even knew - another part wanted him to stay and talk to the girl, find out the details of her life and help her in any manner that he could possibly manage.

As he felt his finger nails elongating though (which was usually the first thing to happen in his curse), Hunter moved forward and reached for the girls hand - not realizing that he was being a little bit too forward now since she had practically demanded for him to help her. Was that what it was? Or did she ask? As he reached forward though, a little bit of Hunter's hair fell from behind him since he was after all bending over quite a bit to help the girl who had fallen in the first place. With his other hand the young man moved his pony tail back behind him in a sort of absent-minded manner, he felt no doubt that if the young girl wasn't blind she would have most likely commented on his hair at some point. It was only natural, that was one of the firs things he always heard from people - either about how much he should cut his hair or how nice his hair looks now. The absence of the overwhelming amount of pride that Hunter usually felt around him, caused the young man to dwell within his own.

    “I want,” Cecilia made it sound like a demand as she raised her hand for his, fingers assuming a dainty posture, “To determine my worth.” She spoke as though she had not just settled on that decision, but the realization had only really been prompted by his question. Her position, and condition, insisted that Hunter finish the connection, and once he had she would allow him to pull her up. All while carefully maintaining an elegant, upright and regal appearance, of course.

    “To know whether the time, and effort, and money, and attention people give me has been justified or not.” Each point became heavier with disdain; she definitely stopped counting early. While straightening her dress, mostly out of habit since she did not know just how disheveled her appearance might be, she caught a whiff of burning sulfur. The scent made her nose scrunch in distaste and her brows to furrow in contemplation, but she disregarded it given how faint the smell was. Hopefully, someone, somewhere, wasn’t on fire. What could she do about it anyway?

    After an enduring moment of silence, she became suddenly impatient, “Well?” Her head nodded up in a vague direction, as though she were trying to glare him into submission. It really had only been a best guess in this case, “Will you help me or not?”

"You want," Hunter repeated after the girl, with less emphasis on the want. Of course he would help this girl, what else could he do? Bending forward more, Hunter let his fingers wrap around one of Cecilia's hands - which were quite small in comparison to his own. With barely any effort at all, Hunter pulled up on the girl's hand as if trying to lift her in one motion. "You seem to think that you're already worthy of how you are, I don't see why you're questioning it." Things like value and worth, Hunter felt he had a capable understanding of them. Pride was after all associated with a person's value of themselves.

After he had lifted the girl up, Hunter decidedly took a few steps back from Cecilia - still overly conscious of the space between them. This was not normal behavior considering he was usually breaking people's barriers, not being mindful of them. "I've done what you want, are you just going to stick around now?" He needed to snap back into his old self, even if it was painful - and even if it meant irritating the little girl before him.

    A small huff escaped her nostrils, her lips tightly shut to avoid showing any unwomanly expression. She resisted an impulse to put her hands to her hips, but any critical eye of minute muscle movement would notice some tension, at least. "Oh, I am quite certain you must have some much more pressing needs than tending to a Vega." Her tone seemed to challenge the very idea as she spoke it. She went beyond sarcasm and into ridicule, even going as far to insinuate that the Vega family would be beneath him. A preposterous notion. She had no idea how oblivious to the irony he would be to that, instead assuming that he knew exactly who she was. He had spoken her name, after all.

    Of course he did not understand, how could he? Being born into a powerful family meant your life was burdened by expectations of greatness. The weak are crushed by failing hope. Recitations of the respected. To be a Vega, to have that authority, meant a different sort of power than one thinking themselves worthy of it. She knew, at times, that her father had questioned if she would be. If she even could be worthy of the family name. She had served a utilitarian purpose in her father's house, but her power had developed so little that she would be unlikely to ascend any further. A mere figurine; never a figurehead.

    She could never explain all this to a man such as the one before her. She did not know him. She could not trust him. Not with a secret so closely guarded. When she had finally attained her rightful position as heiress, she could not afford for anyone to know her in a moment of weakness. Such were the teachings of her esteemed family.

    Who was he, anyway, to know her name and speak to her with familiarity? She certainly did not recognize him. Every passing second in her re-affirmation of identity, Cecilia's pride grew. She stood taller and more confidently. Assumed a tight, but neutral expression, as if eliminating the pest before her from existence would not bother her one way or another. She ignored the smell of sulfur that rose up with her pride, having entirely forgotten about the potential fire somewhere.

    "You will help me," She demanded, leaving no room for question or refusal, "All the sooner we may forget this unfortunate hour."

Hunter watched the girl, catching what he thought was a haughty sort of expression from her. It was as she started to speak, that Hunter felt a shock echo through his system and the blackness that seemed minute at first started to run up his arms like there was a race to finish. "Yes, yes I do." Hunter replied then - his voice turning from it's normal tone to sounding a bit deeper and less human. Even for the few minutes that they stood there together not exchanging words, the curse gripped his shoulders and Hunter took a deep breath while rolling his eyes back for just a moment. This wasn't meant to be enjoyable, but the little girl had so much pride that Hunter felt like he was getting a shot of adrenaline right in his heart.

Even though the amount of pride was overwhelming at the point, only half of Hunter's body had been overwhelmed by his curse. The only aspect of his face that had started to change was his eyes, along with a harsher looking expression. "Indeed, I will help you." Hunter replied with ease then, opening his hands as two swords seemed to drop from another dimension into his palms. "While I do admit a connection with you, you will not be spared from my reckoning." The line between human and curse was beginning turn foggy as Hunter started to close the distance between him and the girl, did she really know what she was doing acting in such a way in front of him? Holding his white sword toward the girl, there was a strange smile that seemed to grace the young man's harsh features. "You should humble yourself before it is too late."

    The man, his voice originating higher off the ground than most students, did not seem to be very pleased with her attitude. Despite claiming that he actually did have more important things to do, the gall of that one simply astounded Cecilia, the obtrusive man seemed to voice that he would help. If it were words taken at face value, Cecilia might have been supremely confused. But even as he spoke, his voice had transitioned into a heavy, dark and gravelly tone that had once before frightened her. But only for a moment.
    "Hunter Livas," She declared, recognition pulled from the only real memorable moment as of late. Only this time, instead of a flower's euphoria permeating the air she could identify his sulfuric aura, which only grew stronger in her presence. Relief swept over her. It was just him, not some terrible unknown lurking in the school. But that only served to make her more irate, "I will not forgive this impetuous tone should it carry any further."

    Words he had told her some time ago filtered into her mind and gave her pause. 'A demon that feeds on pride.' Well, she had plenty of that. "You want power, Hunter Livas? Is that why you stalk me? Someone will get the wrong idea, but I will permit you to feed on my presence if in return you submit in my presence. I still have need of a test dummy, after all."

As Cecilia finally realized who she was talking too, the young man growled momentarily - the noise sounding more animal than human. "You think that you can say such things to me? Out of all people?" It felt as though every cell in his body was screaming for him to use black sword on her, but despite that it was the white sword that was drawing closer and closer to her.

At the point in time, Hunter had all but turned completely into the demon of pride that he had been cursed to be. "Your arrogance is intoxicating, child - but you don't seem to understand what the word curse means." Hunter's human voice was lost now and with his demon claw like hand the young man reached forward to grab the girl by her shirt while his other hand angled the white sword just inches away from her body.

    “Unhand me, you fool!” She spoke derisively, losing patience by the second with the other man’s intimidation tactic. If she were but a normal child, she might scream for aid or swing her leg straight up between his legs. What little good that might do her in this situation. Rather, she remained a Vega, though completely and entirely oblivious to the point of a sword aimed for her chest. Surely, she could sense it, but she could not properly fathom anyone raising a lethal weapon against her in a setting like this, within the secure halls of Foresta, where her safety had been all but guaranteed.

    “Don’t dare lay a hand upon me again, be certain that I shall report your sins to the authorities with expediency.”

    Instead, her power focused by instinct and more than a little malicious intent. The foul burning sensation that would undoubtedly overwhelm his sense of smell should prove to be distracting enough that she could disengage from his grip, though obviously he remained physically far more adept than she might ever be. Where that would lead, to her escape or demise, would be entirely up to how well he reacted. Or how poorly.

Hunter stayed silent as she commanded him to let her go, preparing himself to use his sword in hand. Letting out a harsh laugh at her insistence that she would get him in trouble (with the sudden change of smell only causing him a seconds hesitation), just as he was finally about to use his sword - the headmistress turned the corner spotting everything that was happening before her. The woman was too late to stop everything though and as she sent her power down the hall, Hunter's sword in question had caused the smallest cut on Cecilia's upper arm seconds before Martina's power rushed into him - causing the young man to drop the girl and stumble back.

It was dizzying, being so consumed by his curse and then being back to normal once more. Even though what he experienced on a day to day basis was similar, it wasn't as sudden and it felt almost freeing in a sense. Was this it? Had he been freed? Hunter looked up desperately at the furious Headmistress now practically stomping her way down the hallway. "Hunter? Hunter Livas! You are to report to my office immediately, get out of here right this instant!" For being such a small woman, she had quite the talent for making her voice travel.

Hunter nodded, stupefied by the situation and quickly left. He had only met the Headmistress once before since he had gotten to the school and was still unaware of the full details of her power. In the mean time, Martina stopped before Cecilia - recognizing the girl as one of the students that Serenity was assigned too. "Cecilia, are you okay?"

    Seized by a cold pain, Cecilia flinched her arm away and felt her head swim with disorientation. The cut, shallow and pointless, stole the force of her pride from her very breath. Where one moment she had nearly boiled over, threatening to push Hunter’s transformation through to its entirety, the next it leveled off to a recognizable state. Cecilia wasted no thought on the interaction between assailant and host, barely even registering that she had been dropped to the ground.



    Why the arm? Why such a shallow thing? He could have gutted me. Her slender fingers felt at the wound with a mix of awe and horror. She would not have known until it was too late. She didn’t know. She failed to see it coming. Could do nothing to protect herself. He could have shoved that blade straight through me.

    Weak. Helpless. Forced to rely on others to protect her. Useless. A sudden wave of terror took her, and if it weren’t for her own pride, persistent and yet curbed, she likely would have collapsed in panic.



    Distantly, the young Vega recognized that her assailant had retreated at the command of a superior. Immediately, she sprung to her feet, an icy resolve settling in to push away the tremors. No amount of fear or distraction would see a Vega on the floor. Slowly, she appeared to calm, then become statuesque. A proper image of a Vega. “Si,” Faintly startled by her own lapse in language, she steeled herself and tried again, “I appreciate your intervention, Ma’am. Thank you. Now, I believe I should make my way to the Nurse’s Office before class.” She turned to leave, but paused, back stiff. In the struggle she had become completely disoriented and it simply would not do to be reaching about blindly for a wall in another’s presence. “Where…?”

Martina watched the girl, curious as to where exactly she was going before Cecilia stopped and let out the one word that made Martina realize that she had no idea where she was going. Stepping forward, the Headmistress started to speak "If you make a left at the end of the hallway, you'll come upon a stairway that should lead you to the second floor. From there it's a straight shot." Unsure as to whether or not the girl wanted to lead her there instead, Martina waited - allowing the girl to consider what she was going to do.