|  Author | Topic: A Terrible Night for a Stroll. (Read 420 times) |
Demetri
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Brooding
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"Greetings... I am Death... Please, have a seat..."
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Joined: Mar 2006
Gender: Male 
Posts: 103
Location: How trivial . . .
Karma: 101 |  | Re: A Terrible Night for a Stroll.
« Reply #30 on Mar 5, 2008, 3:50pm » | |
“We’re not far at all. Only another block or so.” he says lightly. He pauses for a moment. Now that the man-child is gone he might actually be able to have a decent conversation with this girl.
“You know, I’m actually a professor at one of the Universities farther down town. We have a late admission deadline that you just might meet. Provided that you can get your application together in time.” he states off-handedly, “It may not be the place you initially wanted to go, but wherever that is will most likely accept transfer credit.”
He walks alongside her with a little lighter in his step. Derek’s absence has improved his mood. The tension is gone. Even with dawn’s approach, Demetri seems quite at ease. The strain between the two of them has been growing over the last fifty years. Ever since Derek decided to play “Vampire Lord” and sire his many followers, Demetri has had a growing distaste for him. His little “coven” nothing more than a pack of drooling sycophants. Eternal children rallying around their sniveling vampire messiah.
Derek is getting everything he ever wanted. Constant attention from dimwitted admirers who do nothing but tell him how wonderful he is. They live a life of wasteful decadence and high school-like drama. Needless to say, Demetri cannot stand any of them. Further still, he is enraged by the fact that Derek has the audacity to think of him as one of these followers. The day he bows to “Lord Derek Brennan” will be the day that hell freezes over.
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"Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately, and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves." |
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Evelyn
Fresh Victum
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Those who dream by day are cogzignant of things that escape those who dream by night. -Poe
Joined: Feb 2008
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Posts: 40
Location: Beyond what can be seen here.
Karma: 1 | | Re: A Terrible Night for a Stroll.
« Reply #31 on Mar 6, 2008, 3:59am » | |
Only another block? That woke her from her state of lethargy and encroaching hysteria. Ick, that was an ugly word. She was lucky she was so easily distracted by other things. It was how she had held herself together on many an occasion.
She lifted her gaze from the cracked sidewalk upon which it had settled and prepared to answer him, refusing to let another word pass unnoticed through her flagging mind. True, it had been a rough night and focusing was no small accomplishment, but she was already mourning the moment they must separate. She was dreading the return to normality. The excitement of this night would keep her going for a while longer, but not forever. Sooner or later the depression that had left her so crippled for so long would drag her down once more. It was what had driven her out into the streets tonight, and sooner or later it would drive her back into that same half-suicidal habit. Her heightened fear of attack would not keep her inside during these ungodly hours for long. Once her destructive sense of existential despair returned to her, even that powerful sense of self-preservation would fade.
Fortunately, the events of this night would fascinate her for a while longer, a month or even two, assuming that something else didn't traumatize her within the next few weeks. Such things happened to her quite often. It seemed that everytime she had managed to free herself from her latest decline into manic depression, she would find herself dragged into one of the many facets of a perpetual family fued. It was a mess that she always felt obliged to redeem in any way she could, only to find herself unsuccessful and half-mad with frustration and recieved guilt by the end of it. Even though she now lived a thousand some miles from them, they would not leave her in peace. She still received one of their agitating messages on a weekly basis. Someone was always angry at somebody, and she was their favorite mediator. Only because she had less trouble keeping such arguments in perspective.
It was ironic that she, the girl who could neither sleep or eat on many an occasion due to an oft occuring depression-anxiety problem, maintained a clearer vision of events than her uninflicted relatives. Well, uninflicted might not be the right word for it...
She spoke brightly, stubbornly ending this chain of thought. "It's really not too late? How fortunate! I already have copies of my transcript and ACT test scores. I'll just have to fill out an application..." Her mind was reeling with the idea. She was already thinking of the classes that she could take.
"I wonder if there are classes that teach sculpture...or fencing!" A two-year college in the city that had bordered her town had offered this last, though it sadly lacked courses in 3-D design.
Suddenly remembering what Demetri had said of teaching at the University, she looked at him. "What classes do you teach?" She asked, very interested in the answer. In a subconscious gesture, she lifted her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and immediately realized that she had let Derek leave without his cloak. Oops.
She nearly mentioned this to Demetri, but noticed that he seemed much more at ease now that his...brother was gone. She didn't want to interrupt his good mood when their walk would not last that much longer. She'd just have to ask him to take it when it was time for him to leave. It was an eventuality that she was not looking forward to, but one that was fast arriving.
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To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing it's best to make you somebody else is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.
-e. e. cummings |
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Demetri
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Brooding
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"Greetings... I am Death... Please, have a seat..."
Joined: Mar 2006
Gender: Male
Posts: 103
Location: How trivial . . .
Karma: 101 | | Re: A Terrible Night for a Stroll.
« Reply #32 on Mar 12, 2008, 9:48pm » | |
“I teach French, actually.” he replies as though he were waiting for someone to turn it into a joke, “I’m hoping to pick up the Art History position though. Rumor has it that the current professor is pondering retirement.”
Demetri gazes again toward the sky. The sun is rising. Light is poking through some of the clouds. He must not stare at the rays; otherwise he would risk loosing his vision temporarily. He moves subtly toward the shade so as to minimize and the indirect contact with the sun. He should be all right, provided that he bolts home. Thank God for the rain.
As the two walk farther along, they come to Avalon Road. The change in surroundings is fairly drastic. The area is older, but not nearly as shady. He suspects that a lot of college students take up residence in this corner of town. The old, somewhat dilapidated buildings provide cheap rent and fit nicely into a low budget. He smiles to himself. He notes carelessly that he recalls what they looked like when they were new. Furthermore, he can remembers a time when there was nothing there at all.
He almost regrets that it is so early. The girl provides interesting company, which is not easy to find these days. But all good things must come to an end.
“Now, which is your building, Mlle.?” he asks.
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"Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately, and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves." |
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Evelyn
Fresh Victum
member is offline
Those who dream by day are cogzignant of things that escape those who dream by night. -Poe
Joined: Feb 2008
Gender: Female
Posts: 40
Location: Beyond what can be seen here.
Karma: 1 | | Re: A Terrible Night for a Stroll.
« Reply #33 on Mar 15, 2008, 9:03pm » | |
So he taught French. Perhaps that explained the way he spoke? No, there was more to it than that. When she had taken Spanish in high school her teacher had spoken standard, uninfluenced English when she wasn't teaching. He must be from France.
She nearly rolled her eyes at herself when she noticed this turn of thought. What difference did it make, anyway? Well, it did make Demetri a mysterious and intrigueing character. If they'd had time, she would have launched into a series of questions meant to uncover the truth of his origin. Had it really been France, she would have asked him what is was like there. What was the culture like? How where the people there different from those here? Had he ever visited the Paris catacombs? And what was Paris itself like? It must be magnificent...
But there was no time. She saw her apartment building now, a plain rectangular structure of yellow brick. They had nearly pulled even with it. She found herself trying to cram a last answer into the space of seconds. "What type of Art History would you teach? Modern or..." She trailed off, the seconds winding down before she could finish. They were directly in front of her building. There walk had ended, and with it their conversation.
"...Rennaisance." She finished anyway, with a dissapointed sigh. If only...No, she shouldn't think along those lines. Thinking about what could be, or what may have been only served to make her miserable.
She looked toward the door that would lead into the harshly lit hallway that would lead to her very silent, still apartment. "We're here." She said, trying to keep her voice steady when it seemed intent on trailing into nothing. She was being unreasonable. It was late, both of them had to return to where they lived. There was nothing else for it.
She slipped his jacket off her shoulders and draped it over the cloak, handing both items to Demetri. She wondered if the air of finality that seemed to accompany this act was all in her head. She did have a tendency to assign meaning to even the smallest, most trivial acts.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. If she had to say goodbye, she wasn't going to stare at the ground while she did so. "Thank you," She began, hating the hollow sound of the words. When someone saved you from a pack of lustful inebriates, you owed them far more than an expression that no longer meant anything to anyone. Unfortunately, until someone invented something more meaningful, it was all she had to offer. "for helping me." She elaborated, struggling to find the words. "For proving me wrong."
Now, this last may seem a mysterious phrase to Demetri, even though it made perfect sense to her. When that man had grabbed her, she'd never thought that someone would arrive to help her. Such things didn't happen to girls like her. She had learned to get out of such messes on her own, unless she'd rather face the outcome. When she'd realized how much trouble she was in, she'd never even hoped that someone would arrive to help her out of it. She was too busy thinking about what she would do to them if they dared to proceed any further. She would have knifed them, even though she had known doing so would probably provoke them into hurting her. Everything had seemed very dark to her then.
So how could she thank him for redeeming the situation? She didn't know. There was nothing she could say.
She took a single uneasy step backward, unsure of how he would respond or what she should do now. Was she supposed to dissapear into the apartment building, now that she had thanked him? What were the social guidelines for such things? She did not know, and so she just stood there, indecisive, and waited for him to answer.
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To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing it's best to make you somebody else is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.
-e. e. cummings |
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