Night Time Panic Attack Closed

The omb made a pretty decent retort, calling out the death witch’s duplicitous nature and pointing out her sudden and expected shift in character, obviously trying any and everything to achieve whatever end she happened to be trying to achieve before stumbling backwards out of the way. He wasn’t part of the equation any more. The stone worked, it flew straight and true, striking the death witch on the face, a line of blood trickling from the wound as she breathed her last. But before she died, the death witch managed one last spiteful comment, final words of a dying force of pure evil.

How could he? He could by letting go of the pouch, it wasn’t like he had accomplished some herculean feat that required in-depth explanation. Come to think of it, she had fallen a lot easier than he thought. The boy’s eyes remained plastered to the limp bleeding form in front of him as he reached a hand into his sleeve, placed the slingshot back in its sheath and unclasped a leather pouch that had been strapped to him under his loose robes, pulling free a book that be swiftly carried out of his sleeve and into the dim light offered by the torches. It was a rather crude book, but the binding was sturdy enough. Black inked letters on the cover read “Dangers and how to kill them”

His eyes shifted from the girl to the pages, which he flipped a few of before coming to a halt and placing the book on the ground his hands went back into his sleeves, this time emerging with ink, and a quill. It only took a few minutes of scratching before he seemed satisfied. Putting away the ink and quill in whatever container he had produced them from he proceeded to make the book vanish up his sleeve as well. The same proceedings befell the now slightly bloody slingstone. It was a good stone, and he wasn’t just going to leave it on the floor like that.

By the time he was done tidying up the black had receded a good deal, his eyes were darker than they usually were, to be sure. But they were at least grey now, and you could easily distinguish the white from the center. It was in this calmed state that he approached the omb, finally able to continue along with his original intention of finding out what he was doing before the death witch tried to destroy them or whatever her plan was. It didn’t matter, she was dead now anyway.



But he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling he couldn’t shake. Had he heard a voice in his mind, earlier? It wouldn’t make much sense if he had, I mean, he was the only one in his own mind. You couldn’t just walk in there. It was this nagging feeling that successfully drowned out the cries of the other nagging feeling. The nagging feeling that tried to remind the boy that he had loosened the slingshot before he fired it, that there was a very good chance that the death witch had survived the shot. That he should go finish it off now while he had the opportunity to do so.

He studied the fallen girl with impassive eyes, sure the half-vampire went a bit overboard, and he should maybe report this to the headmaster, but he couldn't muster up the motivation to do either, he wasn't a very motivated person.

He looked at the girl's chest, and saw the faint, yet steady rise and fall with each breath. Good, she wasn't dead, he didn't want to deal with all the legal work that would come when you witness a murder.

His half-lidded eyes looked over at the boy who had 'shot' her, he was looking through a book, for some reason, though he didn't much care. He took a sip of his drink, still sitting cross-legged on the floor, and waited for the prefect to do whatever he needed to do.

The boy walked over to him, and Azaiah watched him with cautious eyes, ”What’s wrong?”


He carefully read the Ravenclaw's body language for any signs of lashing out, and found none, letting him relax a little. He took another sip of the drink before answering.

"Nothing, just making sure you won't lash out at me, not that I blame you, she did provoke you. Though you might have gone a bit far", he paused, looking back down from the prefect, "Though, I didn't know that you were a half-vampire until a few minutes ago, she might not have either...." he took another casual sip of his drink, through his medical mask, by some miracle, "and if she didn't, well, she couldn't've known that half-vampires don't have the best controle over their emotions, better then full vampires mind you, and aggravated you."



He took another drought of his Dr. Pepper, and let out a content sigh. He was feeling a bit groggy, due to the self-inflicted head injury, and, as you should, was trying to stay awake with liquid caffeine...though he did just enjoy the drink in general....he cut off his incoherent thoughts, just in time to catch the words he had been waiting for from the prefect.

”You’re not supposed to be out here. And why are you on the floor?”

"Wondering when you'd ask that", Azaiah sighed, "well, see, I have insomnia, and staying cooped up in my dorm with nothing to do leads to my mind thinking too much, per say, which leads to panic attacks, which you witnessed. Every night I wander through the halls, steering clear of the restricted areas mind you, to try and keep my mind off things, though the atmosphere triggered a panic attack despite my trying not to," he seemed to zone out for a few moments, then snapped back to reality and attempted to focus on the prefect, "As for your second question, I'm on the floor because I have a head injury and will most likely topple over or throw up is I try to stand, that and I wanted to get out of your range when you went into vampire mode."

Azaiah tapped the bottle he was holding and it filled up with the use of simple magic. He took another sip and seemed to realize something, "hmm, too bad the nurse is clocked out, I'd rather not slip into a coma. We, well you since I can barely stand, should probably treat the head-injury you gave the girl too, she may be quite rude, but she's still a student, and I'd think the headmaster won't be pleased if we accidently kill her." he nodded his head absently, and his eyelids began to slide close as unconsciousness gripped the edges of his vision, but he snapped himself out of it and took several big gulps of his soda, be fore turning back to the prefect and looking him in the eye, slightly unfocused, "Yes, I probably have a concussion due to banging my head against the wall, and she most likely does too..." he shook his head as if clearing it, "yes....hope you know how to do your job," he chuckled humorlessly, before taking another sip of the drink.

"Didn't expect my night to go like this."

Provoke him? She had done more than provoke him. Far, far more.

“Threat level 7 death witch. Previously thought to be threat level 9. I saved both of us.”

The omb was scared of him, worried about the prefect lashing out at him. Why would he be scared? It wasn’t like Kaegen lashed out without reason, without cause. He had cause, right? That girl was horrible, evil. She didn’t deserve to breath, to live anywhere near society. Or anywhere near himself, for that matter. He would be perfectly content if no one like her ever existed. But evil did exist, it existed everywhere, it was everywhere. The realization dawned that perhaps that was why the omb was scared. Perhaps he saw the realization of evil around every corner, just like Kaegen did.

What the omb said next, however, was more than a bit confusing. What the heck did half vampire even mean? Who was half vampire? His words were unmistakable, but he was wrong. Kaegen looked just like everyone else did, acted just a little bit different than everyone else. Not enough to actually warrant being considered a different species or a half breed. Half breeds were practically unheard of. The omb was probably just wrong, that wasn’t impossible, was it? Or maybe he was lying? But hardly anyone lied. That particular act was reserved for the crazed, evil and insane. For those that had no name and no want or need for one. For scum, and scum’s scum. The prefect doubted that the omb would stoop so low, it was probably just an error in judgement.

“I’m not half anything.”

But even as the boy said that, a few drops of blood dripped from his mouth to the floor, fangs having sliced the human gums, the gums that did not like being sliced at all. He went on to say that half vampires didn’t have good control over his emotions. That was pretty good news, as far as kaegen was concerned. The prefect knew for a fact that he had an excellent handle on his emotions. He was a prefect, his name had authority originating from the fabled conqueror of the 14th dark place. He was in perfect control over himself, and that might have been the omb’s point. He had just corrected himself, realized that the fact half vampires lost control over themselves easier than humans proved that Kaegen was fully human after all.

The omb went on to explain the situation. From what the prefect could gather, the omb couldn’t sleep and had been laying down in bed, but that made him think because he wasn’t braindead, and he was scared of thinking, so he decided to walk around because walking around stopped his brain from working as much or something, which explained why he had crawled backwards instead of walking, but then the air itself also scared the omb, and he freaked out and hit himself on the head and was now about to die because of some disease.

And the other thing he gathered was that the girl was still alive. So he had two problems. A level 7 death witch that had evaded death by a hair, and a omb that had was scared of both thinking and air, and was currently about to die unless he talked to some medical professional or another. And that meant Kaegen had to decide between finishing off a death witch or saving the life of a omb. It was a fast decision, but a hard one. He had sworn to fulfill his duties as a prefect, and that was what he was going to do. Pulling a piece of rope from some pocket inside of his robe he looped it twice around the omb’s arm, and then he started pulling.

Kaegen wasn’t especially strong, but his strength was surprising considering his size. If you saw the sickly boy that looked more like a corpse than a child you would probably attribute hardly any strength to his arms. But his greyish white pasty skin hid enough muscles to pull the omb. Especially considering the omb’s less than considerate size. Still, all the other boy would have to do is pull back and it would probably stop the prefect. Surprising strength didn’t mean much when it was surprising to see him walking at all.

It was the opinion of several students that he should have died a while ago.

“Threat level 7 death witch. Previously thought to be threat level 9. I saved both of us.”

Death witch? The crap is a death witch?


He decided to ask as much, pushing through his haze, "The crap is a death witch? Going by the name, why wouldn't headmaster Blackburn notice such a thing?"


The next statement by the prefect made Azaiah deadpan.


"I'm not half anything."


"Uh-huh, sure. If you think I'd treat you any different if you were a half-blood, then you're wrong, I don't care about trivial things such as 'blood statues' it doesn't affect the power of the wizard or witch much anyhow, as shown by your previous action,"he looked back up at the Ravenclaw, and saw that he truly didn't think he was a Half-vampire, "Your kidding my right? You think it's normal to have your canines grow an inch longer and your eyes to become pitch black?"

Azaiah sighed, and then shook his head, afterwards immediately recoiling from the action as pain decided it would be fun to stab his brain with a hot spoon. When he felt the rope warp around his arm he looked up at the boy in confusion, and when said boy started to drag him down the hall he shouted quietly in discomfort.

"Wait, No, Don't drag me, wha-!" he stopped protesting when a tug, harder then before, caused his headache to somehow grow worse. He slumped back down, submitting to being pulled by the odd prefect.


"You do realize the nurse is clocked out right? Dragging me to the first aid room isn't going to do much, unless you know how to heal a concussion." He pointed out in an impassive voice, "also, you're leaving the 'death witch', as you call her, laying in the middle of the hallway, where, might I remind you, she'll be found, and asked what happened, therefor bringing the headmaster down on your head. You might even get you're prefect title taken away," this was all stated in a way that sounded like he was just stating a simple fact.


He took a sip of his ever-present soda, trying to ease the pounding, white-hot, headache assaulting him with its' unholy presence, and mulled over the enigma that was this Ravenclaw prefect.

"You honestly don't think you're a half vampire? But the facts are all there, you're pitch-black eyes, you're unholy aggression towards the proclaimed death witch, you're fangs growing an inch, and judging by the bags under you're eyes, a lack of sleep. What else would you be?"
Azaiah was honestly confused, and curious, about the prefect's situation, and was about to continue his statement when a wave of nausea and a rather large spike of pain assaulted him. He blacked out for a moment, but forced himself to stay conscious.


He really hoped that a teacher would find them soon and help, he'd rather not slip into a coma.

What was a death witch? At this point in time, Kaegen had assumed them to be common knowledge. How could anyone miss such a huge threat lurking in their very midst? It seemed completely ludicrous that someone would be walking about blissfully unaware, but this boy clearly had no idea. The prefect stopped dragging the boy, letting go of his arm and retracting his own arm back inside of his sleeve, emerging with that same book he had scribbled in earlier. The sallow face looked down at the cover, beginning a rather short tale. The omb deserved to know.

“A group of wizards and witches taken child form. They are everywhere, and wholly evil.”

Opening the book, he began to read.

“Bones cull-them, threat level 4. Hufflepuff. Fast, sharp teeth. Adept at blades and climbing and as quiet as a falling cloud. Is vulnerable to physical force. The effectiveness of flames is unknown, but empirical.

Airheat, threat level six. Ravenclaw. Adept at secret rituals, detection and wandless magic. Again, physical force is the best method.

You’ve already met the name wraith. Threat level seven. The black burn hasn’t done anything. I’m beginning to think that all of this is a test. That they let in the death witches on purpose so they can kill off those of us not prepared to fight. I’m going to survive, I’m used to this.”

As he had read through the book the boy had flipped through pages, each page a journal entry on some threat he had encountered. That threat’s strengths, their weaknesses. How to defeat them, what to do if you encountered one. He was going to use the book to defend Eris, give it to her as a present. A complete survival guide of everything deadly.

It was true that this kind of bizarre test was not new to the boy. It was something he had great practice in. His grandfather would pull stunts like this all the time, whenever it wasn’t expected and sometimes even when it was. So the conclusion made sense to the boy. This was how you learned things, how you became better. Your leaders and protectors set untold horrors on you and everything you loved, a cascade of water on the rocks until only a few stones remained. And those that did remain were smooth, polished.

The omb started talking about blood equality, a topic that Kaegen had almost no interest in. At least when it came to understanding. In truth, all wizards were not, could not have been created equal. Some were born of the dark, evil creatures known as muggles, some had fully magical parentage others had only half. It was stupid to erase that, to label them all wizards. There had to be a difference somewhere, there had to be inconsistencies that no one had picked up on. And that, even as a wild hypothesis, was extremely interesting to the boy. Extremely interesting only when he was feeling like it, however. And he was not feeling like it. Why had he not killed that death witch when he had the chance? Why had he fallen for her weak magic and faltered just enough to loosen the rubber?

The omb kept talking nonsense, asking if Kaegen thought that having his canines grow an inch and his eyes turn pitch black was normal. But there was an obvious problem with that question. His eyes didn’t get pitch black. Eyes didn’t do that, that didn’t make any sense. He had met a few pupil less creatures, but never a human with black eyes. That was stupid, pure and simple. His tongue reached out to feel the tender gaps in his teeth were he knew his canine’s slumbered underneath his gums. That was normal though, wasn’t it? Other people just had slightly smaller teeth that didn’t retract under their gums. It wasn’t a big deal or anything, right? Choosing to temporarily disregard the bit about his teeth, he went on about his eyes. That, at least, he knew was nonsense.

“Eyes don’t turn black.”

And then the omb turned to complaining. Complaining that the nurse had climbed out of a clock and was unreachable or something like that, that bringing him to the hospital wing wouldn’t do any good unless kaegen could heal him himself. And then he said something ridiculous. The black burn wouldn’t care if kae had tried to kill the death witch. If anything, he might reprimand the boy for not having finished the job. On second thought, it was highly likely he would be yelled at for failing to kill such an easy target. What was wrong with him, he was going to get in trouble now. Because of a terrified omb getting in the way. Brilliant.

“I don’t have to heal you. The nurse will come out of the clock sooner or later and if you haven’t died yet, she can tend to you. The black burn let them in because we’re supposed to kill them, omb. Besides, it’s not like a death witch would go complain about not dying to the headmaster. She’ll just try to kill me later. How did you survive this long?”

And then the omb went on to present ‘evidence’ to support kaegen’s supposed vampiric bloodline. He was wrong about the eyes, everyone’s teeth did that and he only had bags because he was getting old. Reaching for the omb’s arm once again, shortly after stashing the book, Kaegen continued to drag away, headed for the hospital wing. It took longer than it should have for the prefect to answer the omb. Not because it was hard to come up with an answer, but because the boy’s voice was starting to give.

“I wasn’t aggressive. Aggression only blinds the senses.”

It seemed odd, even to him, that he had chosen that to answer. The other implications the omb had thrown out were much more pressing. But that one was the option Kaegen had gone with. The one he felt had to be answered.

He held an impassive face as the prefect read out of his notebook, and idle wondered what would happen if someone found it...he'd most likely have to go to a mental ward. And when the boy finished his tangent he didn't voice how ridiculous that all sounded, just rose one eyebrow in mild disbelief. Odd, who would let this prefect into Hogwarts, than again he might have been normal enough to get in when he was a first year, but were the teachers really this oblivious to this boy's mental issues, heck even his own mental issues haven't been addressed, incompetent if you ask him, though he wouldn't say such a thing to the teachers' themselves, no that was just an ignorant move, and Azaiah wasn't an ignorant person. Not by a longshot.

“Eyes don’t turn black.” the boy commented, as if the Azaiah were stupid. It irritated him, but he wasn't the kind to let emotions show unless it amused him.


"Well, of course they don't, do you think I'd say such a thing if I hadn't seen it Right in front of my eyes? , he scowled, yes this boy was smart, but his naivety shows how badly he was brought up. The boy obviously doubted what he said, despite all the facts, and didn't seemed bothered by the fact that his teeth had retracted, "You do know canines don't retract into the gums normally right? It's not a normal thing, the only beings that do that are mystical creatures, snakes, to some degree, and inhumans, vampires and such." He sighed in exasperation, the headache not helping his irritability, "Look, you didn't see yourself in the mirror when you attacked the death witch, you're eyes turned black, your canines grew, and none of that is normal", he was begging for this boy to get it through his thick skull, "So my conclusions are, you're cursed, you're a half-vampire, or you're some other being entirely, you can't deny the facts, prefect."

He knew this boy would be hard to sway to see things from his view, or look past his notebook, but he'd try, just to help the boy in the future. It was odd, that he was going to such lengths to attempt to help this boy, but it was more for his own curiosity and amusement on what would all happen in the end to the prefect. He wouldn't half-ares this, he wanted to see it through to the end.

“I don’t have to heal you. The nurse will come out of the clock sooner or later and if you haven’t died yet, she can tend to you. The black burn let them in because we’re supposed to kill them, omb. Besides, it’s not like a death witch would go complain about not dying to the headmaster. She’ll just try to kill me later. How did you survive this long?”


He deadpanned.

Oh Merlin this boy knew nothing about Azaiah, it almost physically hurt him.


"No, the headmaster didn't let them in for us to kill them, we're just students, not gladiators, and that's against the law, and it's dumb. This is a school for learning magic not killing death witches. Also.." His anger flared at the last comment, and he was in no state to restrain it, but instead of yelling, his grey eyes narrowed into cold slits, "Don't insult me in such a way, you know nothing of my past, just like I know nothing of yours, so don't assume I fail at survival, this is nothing compared to getting tortured by a madman, and watching a sibling die in front of you. How would you feel if some one precious you screamed in hellish pain, and bled out on the floor in front of you? So don't insult me with such a thing as saying this is survival." His anger died down, and his cold tone turned to one of indifference, he pulled the memory of examining the boy previously, "though, you yourself have probably been through a lot if you're this socially stunted, and going by the scars you've been injured in some way, most likely tortured, which, by the way, isn't normal and against the law, filing under child abuse and negligence." He glanced at what was viable of the prefects face,"Though you may not have listened to half of that, not surprising really, seeing as how you acted earlier to my comments, I don't usually talk this much, must be the concussion."
, he paused, "oh, also I withdraw my comment about knowing nothing of your past, I most likely just told you the basics of it"

He scanned over the previous comment of the boy, "Also, clocking out means to end a shift, and a shift is a period of time in which one works. Also, if you don't care about me dying, it makes me wonder if the teachers are so oblivious as to keep you a prefect." He sighed, 'he was living in a world of goldfish,' quoting Mycroft and Sherlock. How did these teachers qualify for their jobs if they let this happen? Was society so incompetent?


“I wasn’t aggressive. Aggression only blinds the senses.” the boy commented.


he himself scoffed at the answer and how Ironic it was, "Tell that to the death witch you almost killed."



When the boy tugged on the rope again, in which he was still dragging Azaiah with, he let out a groan of pain, speaking his thoughts out loud, which was uncommon unless thought over thoroughly, "You know, I'm probably going to hate you after this, not that I'll do anything about it except maybe quietly glare at you for a couple days." He was shocked at what he said, but wasn't bothered enough to think further on it, he impulsively let out a smirk, hidden by his mask, "But don't expect me to leave you alone after this, you're a puzzle, a curiosity, and I haven't had a good puzzle in a long time, I'm going to figure you out, whether you want me to or not, and I'm going to enjoy watching you try to do the same for me..." he paused, "Let it be a mutual interest if you will... classify me however you want, I don't care as long as I get amusement out of it, and I'll probably end up helping you in the end." another wave of pain washed over his brain, and what he had just said was swept away with it, cascading down his 'mind palace's' hallways to some dark corner of his mind, where it was forgotten. He blinked away the daze, trying to recover, until his head flared up again like angry hornets, making him groan.


"Oh Merlin this sucks," he resisted smashing the heel of his hand into his head in some futile attempt of getting rid of the headache, and settled for just cradling his skull in his hands, pulling against the rope to do so, "this is why I try to avoid panic attacks at any cost..."

The omb had seen it happen? Seen his own eyes turn black? That was impossible, wasn’t it? Kaegen would have noticed it, seen it happen. He would have noticed his very own eyes turning black, right? It seemed like something one would be acutely aware of. But here was a omb, terrified of everything, true. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t trustworthy, didn’t mean that he wasn’t telling the truth about Kaegen’s eyes changing color. But the omb had tripped himself up. He had said of course they don’t. If eyes didn’t turn black then Kaegen’s own eyes couldn’t have either, right? Right.

“I said eyes don’t do that, you agreed with me. I’m not different, must have been the light.”

The omb went on, went on with things that didn’t sound good at all. Saying that the only people that had retractable fangs were evil. Inhumans, vampires, snakes. Admittedly, snakes were nice. He liked most creatures and snakes definitely made that list. But he had said snakes to some degree. Which only left Inhumans and vampires. Creatures Kaegen knew he wasn’t. He was human, after all. Completely and totally human. Not whatever thing this boy was trying to convince him he was. Eris was his friend, and Eris was human. That meant Kaegen had to be human too. His goal was to be like her, to protect her. He couldn’t be like her if he didn’t even have similar blood.

But the omb went further still. He said it again, said it all clearly. Said that the prefect’s eyes had turned black, that his canines had grown and that it wasn’t normal. That none of it was. That his conclusion was that Kaegen was cursed. He was either a half vampire or some other being entirely. This was not acceptable, the entire idea that Kaegen was something other than human destroyed his core values, his principles. Threatened to tear down his ambitions and dreams. To be able to walk by Eris’ side was the height of his ambition. It was already so near impossible that he was beginning to have doubts that he would ever make it. He worked as hard as he could, stayed up as late as possible training and working, studying and practicing flicking his wand. He was exhausted but refused to admit it to himself.

All of that would be for nothing if he wasn’t even close to the same as she was, if he was evil, if he belonged to the ranks of death witches let in to the school solely to kill off the weak. Eris would have to come after him, would have to try to kill him. That wasn’t going to happen, that couldn’t happen. And for that reason, the boy’s brain tried it’s very best to close itself off to the idea that the omb presented, tried it’s best to turn a deaf ear and throw out any excuse conceivable. The cop out it finally decided on was total denial.

“You can only deny facts if they exist. Those are opinions, which can easily be denied.”

His voice by now sounded a bit like sandpaper going over wood. Quiet wood. He was hard to make out and it was starting to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t exactly stop talking, it was clear this omb knew nothing. He was now saying that the death witches weren’t let in. But that was impossible. Anyone with a name as splendid as the black burn had to be at least marginally competent, and the death witches didn’t exactly do a spectacular job of hiding their presence. But at the same time, his reasoning for this was simply that it was against some law. Who even set the laws? Who cared who set the laws?

“The black burn makes the laws. He never made one about killing death witches. Just fellow students.”

It was odd, a random change in tone, a decided difference, but not one that the boy could interpret. He wasn’t even sure if the omb had changed his tone on purpose, or if he was dying and the tone change was him becoming weaker and closer to death. He didn’t really know, and didn’t care enough to ask. Besides, the words actually coming out of the omb’s mouth were much more interesting, and in some cases even funny. He said that Kaegen insulted him somehow, and not to presume the omb knew nothing about survival. What made that situation all the more hilarious was that the omb was saying this even as he was dying while being dragged to the hospital wing. He went on to say that dying was nothing compared to getting tortured and seeing someone die in front of you. That was strange, to put it mildly.

“Sounds like your family member was pretty weak.”

It was all he could say in response to that, the rest was too ludicrous, it didn’t deserve a response. Kaegen hadn’t even asked a question, but spent the time to offer that statement in his now sandpapery quiet voice. He held no emotion for the omb, none was required. Or if emotion was required, the prefect didn’t know what kind or how much. It was a field he was completely blind in, entirely deaf to the spectrum of human feelings that governed normal people’s actions.

And now what the heck did socially stunted mean? That phrase made no sense, you couldn’t be stunted socially, could you? How would that work, what would that entail? Was it a compliment, an insult or maybe just an indifferent statement? But something the other boy said did make at least some sense. More sense than social stunts, anyway. Tortured. He had mentioned being tortured just seconds before, and now again. What did that mean, really? What was this law he kept talking about? As a prefect, he was well versed in the laws of the black burn, and nowhere on there did it mention negligence or child abuse. How would you abuse a child? Hurting them helped, if you killed them then they were dead. He wasn’t entirely sure where abuse fit there at all.

The omb finished his tirade by claiming the prefect hardly listened to anything he said. It was true, of course. Half of what the omb said was utter garbage, gibberish that didn’t make enough sense to be worth listening to. The other half was the half he did listen to, the half that had some good points, although faulty.

“I listen to everything, hear what’s important. What’s torturing, anyway?

The teachers keep me as prefect because I can do the job. More than can be said for you, you’re scared of thinking.”

Tell that to the death witch he killed? What?

“I can’t tell her, she’s dying on the ground.”

And then the omb launched into yet another tirade. It was pretty meaningless, but what Kaegen did get out of it was that the omb was going to hate him but be too weak to do anything, and also he thought the prefect was funny, and because he was funny the omb would help him in the end. That was alright by him, being funny was probably a good thing, especially if it randomly got people to help him. Although someone who’s darkest threat was that he was going to “stare at him” was probably not all that big of a help.

As a coup de grace to a lot of nonsense, the omb finished with the words “this sucks” and to all of that speech, there was really only one thing to say.

“Alright. But I don’t really find you interesting.”

“I said eyes don’t do that, you agreed with me. I’m not different, must have been the light.”

"Yes, I agreed, eyes don't do that, But yours did, which makes it all the more unusual." Azaiah paused, "As for 'must've been the light' that's just a poor excuse for a stubborn man in denial, you're eyes were clear one moment, and then something like black fog covered them like some kinda crystal ball fog or something, which was disturbing to say the least, light doesn't move that way now does it?" He huffed, "Stop denying the facts Prefect, that's for weaklings, accept them and over come them, that's for the strong, and you're strong are you not?"

“You can only deny facts if they exist. Those are opinions, which can easily be denied.”, the prefect stated, quite wisely, which is surprising, and confusing, this boy acts ignorant, yet some things he says are the speaking's of an intelligent man. Azaiah's interest in the Ravenclaw only grew.


"I agree with that sentence, but these are facts, not opinions. It's not my opinion that you're eyes changed and your fangs grew, as saw it happen with my own eyes, and scanned over ever possibility in my mind. They were all discarded, none of them fit what happened to you, except for the possibility of you being a vampire. What I saw are now facts." He didn't look at the boy dragging him away, craning his neck but pressure on his head, and made the pain worse. He took another sip of Dr. Pepper, "I can tell by you're voice that your trying very hard to think of a way out of what I said, this would be a lot to take in, but get over it quickly, after I'm healed you might as well plan out what you're going to do next with this new information. I suggest asking family members and finding out if any of them are vampires, then you have to choose if you're going to hide the fact, or tell someone other than me."

“The black burn makes the laws. He never made one about killing death witches. Just fellow students.” the Ravenclaw reasoned.


"Hmm, has it ever occurred to you that he doesn't know the excitants of death witches? Besides, he's not the only person who makes the rules, for the school, yes, but for Wizarding society as a whole? That's left to the Ministry of Magic, a group of wizards that keep our society working smoothly. Murder isn't allowed, if you murder, you get sent to Prison, a place where they keep you locked away and treat you like dirt. So I suggest either killing in secret, or not killing at all." He scoffed into his fizzy drink, "Honestly have you been living under a rock? These are basic facts of reality, I hope I don't have to tell you everything."

“Sounds like your family member was pretty weak.” the boy said this offhandedly.


Azaiah grew solemn, but didn't react to the statement in any other way except that, "She was. Age three, sickly girl, I was the only other person in the room other than the madman from the mental ward, she was tortured, only lasted a day, I watched her bleed out. Children can't do much in that situation, I was chained to a wall, she was tied to a chair, and we were against a full grown man." he took another nonchalant sip of his drink through the mask, "Luckily I've locked away any emotions related to that situation, doesn't bother me as much."


He wondered why he was talking so much once again. He should avoid getting concussions in the future if this is what happens.

“I listen to everything, hear what’s important. What’s torturing, anyway?" the boy asked, just confusing Azaiah more.


He sighed, "torture is when someone causes you sever physical or mental harm. Purposefully causing you pain, often used to get information, as a punishment, or for sick pleasure. Illegal in muggle and wizarding worlds."

"The teachers keep me as prefect because I can do the job. More than can be said for you, you’re scared of thinking.”


He scowled under his mask, "First off, I still think it's the teacher's incompetence, and second, I'm not scared of thinking, why would you say I am? please tell me so I can say you're wrong." his voice was stone cold once more.


“I can’t tell her, she’s dying on the ground.”


"No duh, guess you'll do nothing, because you don't understand that murder isn't allowed unless you can prove that they deserved it and were in some kind of unlawful underground. I'll just tell the nurse she's dead or injured on the ground in the hallway when I'm healed. Most likely will tell her you did it, because that's one of the rules in the school." He rolled his eyes.

“Alright. But I don’t really find you interesting.”

"Umm, Ok? Don't know where that came from, don't care much either." He rubbed his head in confusion, but shrugged of the boy's statement as one of his oddities.


He could barely keep his eyes open, but pushed through the weariness, he'd stay up until he got to the nurses' office and continue conversing with the Ravenclaw, already much information had been gathered about the boy 'helping' him from their talking, and has been filed away in his mind palace under the Prefect's file.

He was called out, called out for something the boy hadn’t even really been aware that he had been doing. He still didn’t really know, or even know that he didn’t really know. The omb elaborated further, explaining how he agreed eyes didn’t turn black, he had made that point simply to draw a correlation so that Kaegen would understand how unusual it was that his eyes had, supposedly, changed color. Like a black fog covering a crystal ball. Or at least that’s what the omb said it looked like.

The omb called him out, said that he was denying the facts, that only weaklings did that. Kaegen Deathmote was no weakling, but there was no way what the omb was saying was true. Besides, these facts that the omb was talking about were all based off of the omb’s own eyewitness account, right? How trustworthy was that even? Could that really be classified as fact? Fact, because one omb said it was?

“Mists curl and shroud, light reflects and blinds. Your eyes could have seen it wrong.”

With all his heart he didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept any of it. But it wasn’t like he could prove the omb could be proven wrong, either. And so Kaegen kept dragging the omb slowly through the corridors. Too intrigued, too curious to dump him off and leave, but too far in denial to accept the omb’s words, either.

The omb tried to convince the prefect of his validity. Pointed out that he had seen these things with his own eyes, analyzed it in his own brain. He claimed yet again that the boy must be a vampire, that he had to be, that no other alternatives existed. That it was all factual. But that wasn’t true, it wasn’t factual.

“You’re claiming it’s factual based on one brain-damaged eyewitness account. That’s not only an opinion, but a biased one.”

There was nothing, at least nothing that Kaegen could think of, that could possibly refute his rebuttal. Unless the omb had some kind of magical proof-making spell that could somehow convince the prefect that his eyes had, indeed, not been deceived and that his concussion hadn’t completely addled his brain, making him think he saw what didn’t actually happen, there was no way the ravenclaw would accept the omb’s claims as factual.

The omb started to talk about what Kaegen should do next as if the prefect had taken the omb’s word to be anything more than a strongly voiced opinion. Talking to family members was a lot harder than it should have been for the boy. That involved finding the fens, finding grandfather and not dying because of it, then waiting a year for his birthday, or some random visitation of his parents. Just to ask them what to do about being a mythical creature of the night? That was not in the cards, it didn’t make any sense to do even if he somehow was a vampire.

He wasn’t sure how the omb came up with some of his wild theories, but even a broken clock was right twice a day. And the omb did raise questions that weren’t impossible. Did the black burn know about death witches? Kaegen’s opinion on that matter had shifted with the years, from thinking that the professors were all unawares to assuming they did know and the entire school was less about schoolwork and more about tests and challenges, death matches and puzzles.

But as plausible as that was, his next few statements were completely impossible. A ministry of magic that governed all of magical society? What magical society, even? Did he mean the wizards outside of hogwarts? The prefect found it extremely unlikely they all had the same rules, who even kept them all in line? Who forced people to jail if they didn’t comply with the no murdering rules? Who ran the prison, and who stopped people from leaving? There was no way an organization could conceivably exist on a scale that massive, it just couldn’t happen. People would fight, the system would break down. How could anyone make that many people agree?

“So you get in trouble if you get caught? Then don’t get caught, why does anyone listen to the mystery of magic anyway? Are they that much stronger than everyone else?

No, I’ve lived in the Fens. I couldn’t fit under a rock, anyway.”

From what he gathered, a mad person from a mental guard came in and tortured then killed this omb’s younger sister, and the omb couldn’t do anything about it because he allowed himself to get chained against a wall because he was a kid? And kids couldn’t do much? But he also said that he had luckily bottled away all emotion. Kaegen wasn’t the best at emotion, but wasn’t luckily a sign of relief? And wasn’t relief an emotion? Then again, the prefect knew painfully well that he was not exactly the authority on emotions. If the omb said that he had bottled them all up, who was he to deny it?

“How do you bottle up emotions?”

So he did know of torture. But it wasn’t illegal, it couldn’t be. That had happened often to him growing up in the fens, and no one had taken grandfather to jail. It was just part of growing up, part of the training anyway, wasn’t it? Why would something like that be considered illegal? Pain helped you learn, grandfather had told him so himself. But on the other hand, a lot of what grandfather said contradicted itself, or was simply wrong. The lessons were such a tangled mess of contradictions and paradoxes that the boy had long since given up sorting out what was right and wrong.

“Torture isn’t illegal, then. Can’t be.”

Why was he scared of thinking? That was a pretty easy question to answer, considering the omb had told the prefect as much earlier on.

“You said yourself that you were scared of thinking. Back by the death witch.

It came from my mouth, and my brain before that, I think.”

Now if that wasn’t a stupid question, he didn’t know what was.

“Mists curl and shroud, light reflects and blinds. Your eyes could have seen it wrong.”

"Oh? And where could it have reflected mist? We were right in front of a torch, the shadows flickered, they didn't act like mist in any way. So where could such a reflection come from?" He quirked a lazy brow, but didn't care that the stubborn Ravenclaw didn't see, he could tell the boy was mulling over his comments. Which was the first step to believing.

“You’re claiming it’s factual based on one brain-damaged eyewitness account. That’s not only an opinion, but a biased one.”


He grinned slightly, this boy was a puzzle, ignorant, yet able to think his way out of the situation he was being confronted with. But he could still disprove him, "True, as that may be, but do I sound addled? This drink keeps my mind awake, and you know the longer a concussion is left without treatment the worse it gets, but I stored what I saw early on, so that info is more reliable then yours, your in denial, and that leads to faulty reasoning."

“So you get in trouble if you get caught? Then don’t get caught, why does anyone listen to the mystery of magic anyway? Are they that much stronger than everyone else?"

"Ministry, not Mystery," he corrected absently, not caring to much that he said it incorrectly, "It's harder not to get caught then you think, they have spies everywhere, and civilians aren't hesitant to bring in information, you can't run from them for long, they have the resources to find you, magic remember?" He took another sip of his Dr. Pepper, "They are stronger than everyone, they have highly trained wizards to enforce the rules they make, and they have smart ones to figure out problems and research new magic, they have creatures to keep those in prison obedient, despite the fact that the creatures are inhumane and have no care for what happens to their prisoners."

"No, I’ve lived in the Fens. I couldn’t fit under a rock, anyway.”

He didn't bother correcting him, he didn't have the attention or care to, "Fens? I'll have to research that." He smirked slightly, "and sure you can fit under a rock, just find a big one and dig under it."

“How do you bottle up emotions?”

He paused, "Good question, it's a saying that means you ignore emotions until they're pushed mentally to the back of your mind, until they have little to no presence in you, hard to explain with you're limited sense of society's etiquette." He rubbed the bridge of his nose absently as pain flared up yet again.

“Torture isn’t illegal, then. Can’t be.” the prefect sounded confused.


"It is, this proves that what I said about you being tortured is true, you were most likely locked away, by someone, most likely blood relation due to the fact that my comment of you going to family members for more info on you're abilities made you seem hesitate." he processed that info quickly and stored it away on the prefect's mental profile, "But yes, torture is illegal, it's dubbed inhumane, and just cruel in general to beings that are sentient and have feelings, however distant those feelings are, it will take me a while to get you used to the rights and wrongs of the world...", Azaiah sighed absently as he thought of the daunting task ahead of him.

“You said yourself that you were scared of thinking. Back by the death witch." the prefect responded to his question about when Azaiah said he was afraid of thinking.


He scanned his fuzzy, but still reliable, memory of that moment, and recalled his words, "I didn't specifically I was afraid of thinking in general, no I meant any thoughts or actions that might trigger a panic attack, and I'm sane enough that every single though or action won't send me into another attack like the one you found me in.", he huffed slightly, no longer surprised by how 'thick-headed' the prefect was. " Note what I'm about to say prefect, it's important for you. You saw me in that attack, did it look like normal fear? Did I look like I was seeing my surroundings as reality? No, my mind sent me back to the night of the torture, I was trapped in there, and my senses were overridden by trauma. Normal fear is fear of something in front of you, it's fear you can controle, but THAT kind of fear? That's a fear that's so hard to ignore and get rid of, that it's a diagnosed mental disorder, called 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder', it's when you're mind flashes back to a moment of great fear and pain, and keeps you there until someone gets you out of it. It's not something you can just shake off, not even you Stoic Boy. Hope this enlightens you, remember it for future times when I go into a panic attack and you're conveniently there."

"It came from my mouth, and my brain before that, I think.” the boy mused.


"You really do take things to the word don't you?" He let out a small chuckle, oddly at ease with this bot. It was most likely how ignorant he was of the way the world looked, it allowed Azaiah to speak bluntly, and posed as a challenge to make his words be spoken in a way the prefect was able to understand, and he was steadily building up a profile of the guy. Quite amusing, kept his mind off the pain raging through his skull like an angry bull.