Lost

[Armand de Romanus]

A lone male stood in the graveyard, drenched from head to toe and wandering around aimlessly. His velvet red cloak, faded from sunlight and the length of time within the water, seemed to form to his body. The lengthy sleeves had a stream of dirty water flowing slowly down to the ground, leaving a trail. Watered down blood ran down his chin, soaking into the pristine white, see-though shirt hidden below the faded red cloak. The man’s ausburn hair left untouched from where it clung to his face. Hazel eyes looked about in a confused haze. As he breathed, it sounded as if water was gurgling around inside of his lungs.

A few minutes earlier the man was pulled up from a swamp by a few passerbys. Fearful they were when they asked who or what he was and he stated he didn’t know. Now, in his aimless wanderings, he found himself in a graveyard. He was hoping to find something, anything to help him find his addled mind. The poor man was lost and confused, as he was unable to draw up any real memory of himself. There were a few things he knew, one such being he needed blood to survive and when to pull away lest his soul get sucked into the victim’s body. Occasionally he would get a glimpse of a child surrounded by paintings, or even monks who were more pale than he was. But that was all he knew.

[Draconius Marius]

Dracon stumbled slightly as he made his way home. His books were clutched close to his chest, and his eyes were down. A quick, frantic step, desperate eyes, and the young man took a quick turn into Abney Park Cemetery. There was a path here that cut through to his tiny house in what was little better than a slum. It was all he could afford. The payment offered to a tutor wasn't glamorous, after all, and he suffered for it. He had been poor upon coming to England, and he was poorer still now. How did people live here? He worked hard, doing what he had been educated to do, and still, little came of it. His father would have laughed him to scorn if he could have seen him now. Of this, Draconius was sure. His father had never been one to mince words when it came to expressing how he felt about his second son.

He wasn't paying much attention to where he was going, and his pace was quick. He wanted to get home safely, without any interference from whatever might be lurking in the dark. He knew he ought to have found something to feed from, but he was scared to hunt, and he hadn't read enough yet from the book to know what was all right to consume and what was not. He tried to read during the day, but his hunger became so unbearable that he forced himself to sleep until it was night and he could go out. Of course, when it was night, he had to work. He had rearranged his schedule so that he could survive. He had to keep paying rent. He had nowhere else to go, and no one to trust with the knowledge of what he was.

So engrossed was he in his haste, that he did not notice the other wandering aimlessly through the tombs and gravestones. He glanced down to his buckled shoes, stockings clean and white, leading to tidy, but worn black breeches, a deep, red waistcoat, and a somber, dark gray jacket. His dark hair was pulled back into a queue, but some of it fell loose, framing his pretty, pale features. He tucked another loose strand behind his ear, and ran straight into the wet, confused man.

A cry of surprise left his lips, and he almost stumbled back. But as it was, all he could manage was to drop his books and jaw and stare, dark eyes wide and a hand coming to cover his lips. "Oh...Oh, my!" He choked on words a moment, before he could speak again. "Are...Are you all right?" What a stupid question! Of course he wasn't. Still, the blood on his chin, and the way the man smelled roused his suspicion.

[Armand de Romanus]

One gravestone had caught his attention, causing him to stall in his wanderings. His hazel eyes stared at the stone, reading the dates and name over and over again. In those simple numbers and letters he was hoping to find out why he was in the water. This person was old when they died. And for some reason he felt much older than this person was, though he barely looked old enough to be a real man. Footsteps were drawing nearer to him and he continued to ignore them, more concerned with the gravestone than anything else. It wasn’t until the sound was right there in front of him that he bothered to look up.

Being run into and still weak from his water submersion, he found himself falling onto a freshly filled grave. Dirt ground into his clothing and hair, turning to mud and clinging to him. The wind was knocked right out of him, causing him to cough. Bloody murky water came spilling out of his lungs with each cough and in doing so, he found it easier to draw in breaths of air. Once he felt all the water out of his lungs and air replacing the liquid, he sat up and began to wipe the freshly made mud off of his face. The other speaking to him drew his attention. Confused eyes stared at the other’s shocked face as he tried to comprehend what the other was asking.

After a pregnant pause, he finally shook his head. He had no other ailments and when the other knocked him to the ground he was able to remove the water situating in his lungs. “Yes, I would think I am alright now.” Pulling himself up to his feet, he finished removing more mud from his face as best as he could. He looked to the other once more. “Forgive me, I know I must be such a sight.”

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius didn't pay much attention to the dead tonight. His pace was hurried, nervous. His slender hands shook, and held tightly to his book. He wanted to get home, feed the cat, and find some way to get blood. He was more grateful than he could ever say that he knew how to research, or he would never have found any information on what he was, and would likely have starved. Then again, instinct was stronger than he realized, and he knew, however fearfully, that he would have caved to his desires eventually. It was only a matter of time.

He hadn't meant to knock the other over, and he felt ridiculous for having done so. Still, he bent to gather up his books, adjusted his hat, and then offered a hand to the other. But as his hand extended, the man coughed up water, bloody as it was, and he gave a cry of alarm, stumbling back. He wasn't sure why he was screaming, as he was fairly sure this man was like he was, but the occasion was so surprising and unexpected, that the lingering mortal fear could not help but be piqued. He covered his mouth again, and looked away quickly. He felt ridiculous for staring, and tried his hardest to not do so now.

His chocolate eyes turned up to the soaked man, and he trembled at the sight of him. The other was taller than he by a few inches, and he was indeed quite the sight. Still, a pang of pity struck him. His brows furrowed and he swallowed hard, needlessly. "D-Do you need help?" He asked. "My home is just across the way. W-We could get you some dry clothes and m-maybe..." He trailed off, however, unsure of how wise the idea was.

[Armand de Romanus]

The shrillness of the scream had caused him to wince in pain, finding it to simply be too loud. His ears had not heard such a sound in 10 long years and he was ecstatic when the scream had stopped. Turning his head to the other, he watched as the other looked away rather quickly, as if ashamed of what he had done. More confusion swept over him as he seen this. Wouldn’t he have screamed if he seen a man cough up bloody water? Surely he would have so there should not have been any shame in doing so. But there was something else, something he couldn’t pick up.

He smiled wide, revealing his bloody fangs to the other. It was a feeble attempt to calm the other, giving off such a large smile. The tremble of the other male pained him so and he wanted to ease his companion. His smile died down a little when he was asked if he needed any help. And what was offered, dry clothes, it seemed like something that couldn’t be passed. Borrowing the clothes until his own were clean and dry seemed like a rather good idea. “If you do not mind temporarily housing such a sight, then I would like your help.”

Pulling his right sleeve up, he ran his fingers through his wet and muddy hair in an attempt to finally get it out of his face. He then held his hand out and spoke softly. “I believe we were not introduced. My name is.....” Nothing, not a single thing came to his mind when he tried to draw up a name for himself. His face fell as he pulled his hand back to his side. “It seems I cannot remember who I am.... Never the less, it will come to be in due time.” Looking upon the other’s face, he stared with an expression of study. He reached forwards, touching the other’s face and found it cold, unlike his own was not so long ago. Pulling his hand back, he stood tall and frowned at the other. “When was the last time you had blood?”

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius forced himself to be quiet now, holding to the old opinion that screaming in a graveyard, no matter how terrified one might be, was irreverent. It didn't last long, something of a shrill, sharp cry that died out after a moment, but it was poignant while it lingered. He was frightened, but something overcame that: worry. He was normally an incredibly quiet person. In fact, his house was normally devoid of sound, save for the purring of Pandora or occasional pages turning when he was reading. If quiet was what the other desired, then he would certainly have it in the Marius home.

When the fangs were revealed, Dracon simply stared, sure now that the other was like him. He pushed back his hair and looked up from beneath the brim of his hat. His slender frame seemed oddly small, despite being nearly as tall as the man before him. He gave a quick, albeit nervous smile as the other accepted his offer. "It's...It's this way." And saying this, he was about to turn and resume his walk, when he was stopped where he stood.

"Oh..." The man...had amnesia? His brows furrowed. "I am Draconius. You...don't remember any name?" But any further questions were silenced as Armand's hand came up to touch his cheek. His brows shot up and he swallowed hard. But no sound would come to his lips, and as such, he simply stared at him for some time. He was frozen where he stood, but a strange, tingling sensation ran up his spine. The question was not fully realized for a moment, until he shook himself to give a proper reply. "I...Maybe a day or two. I...I was scared I would...hurt someone." He looked down, ashamed of himself.

"Come, my house is close. We shouldn't be out and about like this."

[Armand de Romanus]

When the other looked at his face, embarrassment could have been read very easily. He was unable to give a proper greeting and without a name he felt a tad useless. All he hoped was that hanging around Draconius would help bring his memory back. Lifting his eyebrows slightly, he stared at the other’s brown eyes and chuckled. “Oh I remember a few names, but I know none of them are mine. After all, I never was a prince and I certainly was too young to be a monk upon the time associated with my little bit of memory. Do not worry about a name right now, one will come eventually then we will have a proper greeting then.”

His frown only grew heavier upon hearing that this, childe had nothing to eat for two days. Immediately he grabbed the other’s hand and began to lead him towards a heartbeat. At the moment any kind of blood would be good for the lad. ”The house can wait. You cannot. If you continue to starve yourself you will go blind with hunger and feast upon more than you truly need.” In his mind he was processing as to why the other was scared he would hurt someone. They were, something, and they were killers. In his mind he knew that if they stuck to animals for a bit, they would not be sinning. Sinning, another thing he knew he had to repent for. Alas he didn’t remember which sin he had to repent for.
”Until we learn how much to take from someone we will hurt people. But that is how we learn. Do not be such a child and starve yourself because you can’t handle killing things. If it makes you feel so bad, stick to sinners. They would have gone to hell anyways so all you did was hurry their sentence along sooner rather than later.” Covered in blood and reeking of swamp water was certainly going to make getting anything difficult. Determined still, he dragged Dracon over to the edge that was situated near a wandering heard of deer. ”There, go get one. We can leave the body at the butchers so none of it will go to waste.”

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius was left to ponder for a moment what it meant to know nothing about oneself. What would he have done in this man's shoes? Perhaps things would have been better then. It was difficult enough to survive without the constant knowledge that he was damned. How blessed it would have been...He pushed the thoughts away. It would not do to think thus. Even if he forgot, he would still be a vampire, just like the stranger who now stood before him. He gave a quiet nod to his words. "I...I hope the memories return soon, sir." Surely, it would not have been comfortable to know nothing. Draconius imagined the other felt rather embarrassed, though he could not say he commiserated. He knew, however, what it was like to know so little about what he was.

Draconius almost wilted at the frown he was given, but he hardly had time to respond. In the next moment, the stranger took his hand and drew him in the opposite direction. Aurelius found himself struggling to keep up, and dropped his book along the way. "My book!" He cried in protest. "I need that!" He tried to pull his hand free so that he could run back to get his book. His lower lip jutted out as he was scolded. How was he to tell sinner from saint? He didn't know, didn't know where to begin looking. Even without his memories, this man seemed to know more than the days-old vampire.

"B-But how much is too much? What if I take too much? The man didn't tell me anything! He just...He just left me." His voice shook, but he fell quiet within moments, as Armand had led him to the empty side of the cemetery, which was little more than a field. In this field, a herd of deer had gathered, and they bent their heads together while they ate in the peace of the evening. He crouched down so that they would not be seen, and looked to Armand as he spoke. "W-What about you? Aren't you going to eat?"

[Armand de Romanus]

The memories that were missing held information that he felt he needed. But somewhere he felt fearful of what he would learn when he regained his memories. Even with this fear, he wanted his memories back. He wanted to know how old he was, where he had been, what his bloody name was. “I hope so too boy.” Turning to the other, he gave him a smirkish smile. This childe was young, just like he probably was, but together they could learn and survive. That, that was more important than a name at the moment.

His head turned and he stared to the other as he cried out, practically begging for the book that he had carried. T’is only a book that can be replaced. What is so important about the book anyways? Yet as he thought that, somewhere in his mind he felt a twinge of pain. Of course books were important, filled with knowledge that someone didn’t know before. They were his friend at one point, he guessed. A heavy sigh escaped from his mouth as he merely hurried along. Once he knew Dracon was on his hunt he would return for the book and search for it. “Walk quickly, once I see you on your way to your meal I will return for it. But only if you are on your hunt!”

The shaky questions that flowed from the young man’s mouth seemed almost endless. And to hear he was abandoned, it just grated something inside of him. He knew he wasn’t abandoned or else would he remember to pull away before his soul was sucked out? If he ever found out who turned Draconius, he was going to rip the person’s heart out and then beg for forgiveness. “Listen to the heart boy, listen to its beats. As it grows weak and thready, that is when you pull away. You will lose your soul if you don’t. And don’t be worried about too much at the moment, just worry about survival. Didn’t he at least tell you that?” He released a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as he squatted down behind the bushes. What little he knew he was going to have to somehow drill into the other’s head. When he was asked about him eating, he merely smiled and pointed towards the blood on his chin.

“Do not worry about me, I had already eaten. Unfortunately I had to hide two bodies lest I be discovered.” He blinked, shocked that he had remembered that he had to remain hidden. As to why, he still didn’t remember. Shaking his head, he pointed towards the deer and motioned Dracon to hunt. “Go silly child or I will not go find your book.” And there he sat squatted behind the bushes, waiting for Draconius to go after a deer so he could find the book.

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius chewed his lip as the other spoke. He supposed that, without his memories, he wouldn't have even the beautiful recollections of his humanity. He would have forgotten his brother and the university, his mentors. Everything. That idea alone was agonizing, and he almost started to cry just thinking about it. He knew he could never have those things back, but he wanted to always be able to remember them. That was what was important. Oh, how he missed his brother. Markus would have known what to do.

He reached back for his book, trying to pull his hand free of Armand's though he wasn't as strong even as the soaked vampire before him. He squirmed and balked like a child throwing a tantrum. That book was his key to survival. He had to have it! If he lost it here, he didn't know if he would ever be able to find one to replace it. It had been difficult enough finding this copy. He had searched all over, and had at last found one in the possession of a seedy bookseller. It had been his only one. He wanted to argue with the nameless man, but he could tell that he wasn't going to budge on his insistence. "Promise you'll find it?" He insisted. He had to have the book. Surely, the both of them would be lost without it.

He fell quiet as the man spoke, telling him things that weren't fully detailed in the book he had found. He made a slight face, but nodded in understanding. His dark eyes searched the other's features, and his brows knit. He was grateful he hadn't ever gone so far yet, the thought terrifying him. He was already damned. Losing his soul forever? That would have been beyond bearable. He looked down, as if ashamed when the other asked him if he had not at least been told what he judged to be a vital piece of information. He shook his head in response. "He...He didn't even tell me what I was," he said quietly. "I...I tried to go to work a few days later, and I almost burned to death." He crouched near the other, anxiously preoccupied with thoughts of the book lying in the graveyard.

The man had killed, then. Two people. He felt his stomach twist slightly, and then looked out at the deer. A soft sigh left his soft, red lips, and he pouted slightly when bid to hunt. "I'm going," he mumbled, and he stood up straight, before he broke into a quick, inhuman run. The deer he had set his sights on scarce had time to lift her head before his arms coiled around her neck, crushing like a massive cat might have. He forced her down, fangs sinking past fur and flesh so that her blood filled his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut, and he moaned softly. Blood. Blood. Blood.

It was some time before he raised his head again, and when he did, he found himself choking for needless breath, crimson staining his pretty features and soaked into his cravat and white shirt.

[Armand de Romanus]

Words could not describe the lost look of the other when he was practically trying to drag the elder vampire towards the book. His words sounded even more lost and pleading. The poor lad must have gone through hell just to get a hold of the book. Even he knew that such rare books should not be left abandoned on the ground. Others would not know how to handle such a rare book, spilling ink on its pages and manhandling its pages. Staring into the deep brown eyes of Dracon, he gave a slight nod, promising that he would get the book. Unfortunately, blood was more significant than the book at the moment.

He reached his left hand forwards and placed it gently on the other’s cheek. The velvet fabric covered his hand and as he stroked the other’s cheek, all he felt was the soggy material. Still, he wanted to reassure the other that he wasn’t alone anymore. Being alone was something no one wanted, especially him. “Then it was a fool who had made you, someone who was filled with greed and wanted to take you. I hope that this, shire of yours is nothing but rotting flesh.”

Silence fell over the unnamed man upon hearing the word burned. He closed his eyes and covered his face, trying to hide himself. In his mind he swore he felt ashes in his eyes and his body bursting in pain. His lungs constricted and he let out a pitiful whine. This memory, if it was indeed one, was not a happy one. He bit down onto his bottom lip, worrying it with his fangs and drawing blood. The pain drew him out slowly, forcing him to be reminded that it was only a memory, be it an unhappy one. Slowly he licked the blood away, feeling his lip heal rather quickly. Once he felt himself calm, he pulled his hands away and looked to the other with a weak smile. “It seems I too know of something similar.”

Once his fright was over, the man watched the other sigh and pout at the same time. He sat there watching Dracon go and hunt a deer. There he remained behind the bushes until he heard the quickened steps. It was then he decided to get the book, using similar speed to go to where he had last seen the book on the ground. Lucky for him, the book remained untouched, flipped open and a few pages curving from the covers weight. Reaching down, he grasped the book quickly and drew it close, but far enough that the pages would not be ruined by the dampness of his clothes.

Upon his return to the bushes he had seen Draconius enjoying the deer. The rest of the heard had scattered in the wind. Slow steps he took as he wandered up to the childe and waited. When Dracon pulled away for breath, he laid his hand on the other’s shoulder. “It feels wonderful to be warm again doesn’t it? When I was pulled out of the water, the people said I looked like hell and I felt as if I was deprived for many years.... The colour is returning to your cheeks. Come, let us head to your abode.”

[Draconius Marius]

Dracon hadn't been lucky enough to have a maker who gave a damn about him. The man had wanted his blood and his clothes, and that had been the end of it. The turning had been a case of seeing if he was capable of it or not, and upon proving to himself that he could, the vampire had left his new child for dead. He had never dreamed that the boy would have made it even a few days. When he left him naked in the park, he had thought he would lie there until the sun rose, and then die. But Draconius had forced himself home. All he wanted was to survive. It was terrifying to face the concept that death had seized hold of him. He didn't want to succumb to it. He wanted to live, and as he had no maker to guide him, all his answers lay in that book. He was relieved by the promise, and he gave a soft sigh. "Thank you."

The wet velvet touched his cheek, and he looked up to the other in confusion. He wasn't accustomed to such contact, especially after his turning, and it made him feel a bit nervous. What if the man wanted to hurt him? He wasn't very strong, being so incredibly new and inexperienced. He had no choice but to trust that the other meant him no harm. He was too afraid to think of the alternative. He didn't understand why someone would do this to him. Had he sinned badly enough to deserve this? Surely, feeling stirrings in his heart when he looked upon beautiful men wasn't enough to render such a punishment.

Draconius looked worried as the vampire before him suddenly seemed quite frightened. He wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder in consolation, but he suddenly was not sure that was such a good idea. He didn't want to cause the other to lash out, or to suddenly become angry by unwanted contact. Still, he searched Armand's stance, trying to find some means of offering comfort. Soon, however, it faded away, and the soaked man offered a faint smile. Had his maker left him, too? Maybe he wasn't the only one. But if that was the case, how did this man, who didn't even know his own name, know so many things? Perhaps his being abandoned was not a normal thing. The thought made him sick.

He was unaware of the search for the book, lost then to the hunger of feeding. He lingered near the deer, even after he had his fill, and rested a hand on its still-warm side. With the other, reached about for his hat, which had fallen away while he ran after his meal. He gave a shaken, albeit contented sigh, and licked the blood away from his lips, though he could not reach his chin. He rocked back and forth, as if trying to comfort himself. Still, a thrill ran through him. The hunt, the blood, the relief of feeling full, even if it was on animal blood. It would do for now.

He startled upon feeling the hand on his shoulder, but he looked up at the other with wide eyes. Blood stained his soft skin, which seemed an almost beautiful hue of ivory in the moonlight. A rush of color had entered his features, and he gave a faint, bloody smile in return. Slowly, he rose to his feet then, and motioned for the other to follow him. "It isn't much, but it's a shelter. I...I hope you don't mind cats. I was adopted by one when I moved into the place. I c-call her Pandora." He looked the other over, feeling that, even in his condition, the stranger was quite beautiful. "I'm sure you'll look and feel better after a bath and some clean clothes." He led the way to his little house, where he unlocked the door and motioned for the other to enter. "I'll get a fire going so that we can dry your clothes." He removed his jacket, laying it across the back of a chair near the door. Immediately, the feline occupant scurried up to him, meowing at him. "There are clothes in the bedroom. Down the hall...I'll be in that room there..." He pointed to the right. "Lighting the fire."

[Armand de Romanus]

He stood there, watching Dracon’s actions to what he had just done. Somewhere in his mind he thought that maybe this was the lad’s first real meal since he was turned. If this was so, he was going to force him out more often to catch whatever he could. Animals at first he decided, they were easier to ease him into the knowledge of being a, whatever they were. The wide eyes staring at him made the other look so innocent, even with the blood stain on his chin. When the other stood, he handed Dracon his precious book and used his sleeve to remove the blood from the other’s chin. To him it didn’t matter, he was already covered in god only knows what but he wanted to keep the other as clean as possible. “It seems we both need to work on keeping ourselves clean. Maybe we could work on this together.”

Draconius’s home, yes he wanted to go to the shelter to clean himself up. “As of right now, anything is better shelter than the swampy water I resided in. The information about the water may be useful later on.” Thinking of the feline made him smile. He never had a pet, at least as much as he could remember he didn’t have one. The cat would be good company if he stayed long enough to grow attached to it. A smirk appeared on his face as he thought about the bath. “I am sure I will look better but as for feel, I felt much better after feeding. Though, the removal of the stench of the water would be a plus.”

The walk to Draconius’s home was silent on his behalf. His mind was lost in thought as he tried to figure out if the feeling of ashes in his eyes and the feeling of being lit on fire were associated to each other. It wasn’t until he heard the sound of a key unlocking a lock that he drew out of his mind and looked around to where they were. It was crummy by rich standards but right now it looked like a peace of heaven. He felt as if he had not stayed in a house for a long while and the change was certainly something he wanted to grow accustomed to. Stepping through the door, he glanced around at the main entrance room.

Hearing the word fire caused his eyes to go wide and filled with fright. Almost immediately he forced his face back to his normal face. Why does fire frighten me so? He had hoped that Dracon was too busy doing what he was doing before hand to realize that he was frightened by fire. To help hide his slip-up, he worked his way out of his robe and allowed it to hit the floor with a wet thud. The blood stain on his white shirt could now be seen. Slowly he began to walk towards the little bathroom, wondering if there was a stove in it to heat up some water or if he was going to have to ask Dracon to heat some with the fire he was going to stoke.

“Tell me Draconius, how am I to gather water for my bath if you do not tell me where your well us? I highly doubt that this little house would have a well just outside of the kitchen door.” There was seriousness in his voice as he looked towards the other. He really wanted a warm bath after being hauled out of a cold swamp and he wanted one as soon as possible.

[Draconius Marius]

Dracon accepted his book, holding it close to his chest. He offered a quiet thanks. It was odd to be watched like this, and he wasn't sure he liked it. No one had ever really paid much attention to him. He kept out of the way, and things were better for it. The man's guess, however, was correct. Dracon hadn't eaten properly since he was attacked, and to be full now was a pleasant sensation. He stood still, childlike, as his face was cleaned off, and gave a shy, meek smile at the words. "I...I suppose," he mused quietly. "I was so busy...trying to get as much as I could, I didn't even notice."

His home was tiny, but clean. There was a public pump nearby, and while the water wasn't sparkling clean, it was better than nothing. Better than the swamp water that his fellow vampire had dwelt in for the past ten years. He simply hoped the other wouldn't think ill of him for living so poorly. It was truly all he could afford. One didn't make much on teaching young noblewomen of a broken country. "I shall have to get a new shirt as well." His own was quite stained. He wondered if the blood would ever come out, or if the shirt was ruined. He hoped not. He didn't have a lot.

He did not ask further questions as he led the other to his home, but once inside, he went about tending the fire and putting his book down on his desk. There were books everywhere. It seemed to be the only thing the boy had in abundance. Books, books, and more books. On every subject, too. He had love for few things more than his books. He noticed the other looking around and felt a pang of worry. He hoped it didn't seem too base for the other. He knew it was only the bare essentials, but it was home to him.

He slowly gathered up Armand's wet robe, moving to drape it across the grate before the fire. He stopped, however, mid motion. It would be better to clean it first. He would do that while the newcomer bathed. Still, he felt embarrassed by the question. The house didn't have a lot of fancy things, but it had enough. "There's a public pump in the street. I...I'll get some water." Saying this, he clumsily hurried into the tiny kitchen, grabbed his bucket, and began to make his way out to the pump, where he proceeded to fill the bucket, bringing it in to fill a basin, which sat upon the stove. He took a burning log from the fire and pushed it into the stove, standing awkwardly to the side. "I'm terribly sorry," he murmured. "I didn't expect company."

[Armand de Romanus]

Books, books and more books. It didn’t matter where he looked, they were practically plastered in every nook and cranny. He allowed himself to smile knowing that he would not exactly be bored when Dracon slept. That was, if he didn’t mind sharing the knowledge that he had. Walking up to a book case, he ran a finger gently along one of the many books spine, taking in the feel of the leather binding the pages together. “To have this many books would make you either a scholar or an educator.” He stood up tall and shifted his body so he could glance at the other and smile softly. “You are too shy to be an educator but a scholar earns no wages. My guess is you are an educator for the rich women. I heard that they always liked the shy men to teach them. Less risk in being hurt.” His hazel eyes drifted to the blood stain on Draconius’s shirt and shrugged. “Soak it in cold water and scrub it with strong lye. It could salvage the shirt enough to be worn as work wear.”

There was a twinge of worry radiating from the other and he could immediately tell that poor Draconius was worried about his life being too simple for the nameless male. Simply shrugging his shoulders, he continued to examine the rest of the house, finding that all it needed was a few touch ups. If he got a job and earned a meagre salary, he could fix up the place while Dracon could pay the rent. Still, it was much too early since their meeting to ask such a question. Maybe after he was all cleaned up, dressed in warm dry clothes and have chatted with the other he would ask. But he was unsure of what to discuss. He had no recollection of anything besides a few survival techniques and a few memories here and there.

As quickly as he was heading for the bathroom, he turned around and walked back to the room where he had last heard Dracon’s voice. The fire was just beginning to lick at the fresh wood that was inside its hearth. Near the hearth was the entrance to the kitchen and beside the entrance was the thick iron wood stove. It was of good quality even if it was not the newest style. He felt that the older styles of things were always better. Resting on top of the stove was the large basin, begging to be filled with water. One of his hands rose to his mouth, his fingers gently touching his plump lips as he watched the other work so hard to start the water boiling. His eyes turned to the other and he smiled softly. “And I was not expected to be found in a swamp but the unexpected does happen. All we can do is work with what we are given my friend. Now, where is that bucket, I shall go get the rest of the water to fill the tub.”

After his short search, he proudly held up the bucket and smiled. “Ah, here it is. Now you stay inside and find some lye.” He knew that asking for fragrant oils would simply be too much for Draconius’s wages. Even some of the rich couldn’t afford the expensive oils that had to be imported. Stepping out the door, he walked over to the water pump and filled the bucket once more before returning. While he was filling the bucket he noticed that it was not as clear as he remembered water was to be. Still, water was water at the moment. The walk back was even quicker as he practically stormed into Dracon’s house.