Lost

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius had been collecting books since his early childhood. He had never gotten rid of one of them, which was why his collection was now so extensive. Some of them were quite damaged, but careful, painstaking work had restored them as best as was possible. His father had once gathered all of his books together when he was twelve, and thrown them into the fire to be burned. Dracon had burned his hands saving them, but it had been worth it. Of that he was sure. He had spent years restoring the books, and never regretted a single moment of it. He bit his lip as the other spoke. "I...I am both. I'm a tutor to a young lady." He brushed his hands off on his waistcoat. "It doesn't pay well, but it's what I'm qualified for." He listened quietly, soaking in the information of how to clean his shirt. He hadn't ever worried about it before, but he had never eaten so messily.

He watched the other anxiously for a moment as he looked around. No one had come to his house before, and he was worried that it wasn't clean enough, or that it wasn't comfortable enough for others to be in. The only sitting surfaces he had were small, and he wondered for a moment where he was going to sleep. He fully intended to give the stranger his bed. He would likely lay a blanket out by the fire and hope for the best. He wondered if he had blankets enough to cover the windows better. That way, he wouldn't get burned while he tried to sleep.

He was on his second trip back from the pump when the other spoke. He gave a quiet nod of understanding. "Y-Yes, I suppose you're right." More hair had fallen loose and framed his pretty face. He tucked it back, only to have the silken strands return. He smiled gratefully, but was about to refuse the offer to let the other fill the tub. As it was, Armand picked up the bucket and told him to stay inside and get the soap. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes, sir."

When Armand went out, he went into his wash room and gathered supplies together for the other to bathe. Soap, a towel, and clean clothes. He found, too, a spare toothbrush, which he set down near the rinsing bucket. It wasn't fancy, but it would do the job. He wrung his hands together anxiously, and startled when the other returned. "I...I found the soap." He held it up to show his new friend, like a child showing his mother a flower he had picked from her garden.

[Armand de Romanus]

So, the young lad is both a scholar and an educator. Yet he makes so little money. Had he not bothered to make a book? He watched the other’s nervous habit of wiping his hands on his waist coat and bite his lip. “If you are both, why had you not tried to make a book? I do not see one book made of nothing but parchment paper and thread. You should be spending your free time taking all the knowledge you gathered and try to create a book. There are not many scholars out right now. Even scribbling down just a few pages a day would help your scholar career tenfold.” Almost immediately he felt bad for shouting but to have such talent go to waste bothered him. He didn’t know why but it twisted his gut in a knot to think that Dracon wasn’t making a book.

He stared at the other, watching as hair fell into Dracon’s face. Draconius pulled the hair back only to have it fall back into his face once more. Standing there with a smirk on his face, he had a hard time keeping his chuckles to himself. The other was really quite innocent and cute when he was nervous. It was one of the few things he thought about when he went out the door and returned much quicker than the other had. And the sight he had come back to made him burst into laughter. Draconius was standing like a nervous child was holding a pretty present for his mother. He bent over and tried to regain his composure before standing up and begging for forgiveness. “Please do forgive me but I found that much too adorable. The last time I did something like that I was a child holding up a painted egg to my mother.”

Placing the bucket onto the ground, he smiled at the other before looking around. “Do you have a wash basin here? We could add some of the cold water now and begin scrubbing our shirts as we wait for the water to boil. Maybe when it is done, the blood will be out of at least your shirt. I doubt my clothes can be saved.”

[Draconius Marius]

Dracon didn't have much in the way of time. When he woke up in the evenings now, he went to work. When he came home, he researched. Before his turning, it had been the same. Only now, he slept during the day and studied at night. He hadn't even let the thought cross his mind. Poems and scribbles, yes, but never a book. When Armand began to speak, the boy's eyes went wide, and he swallowed hard. The other's tone startled him, and he looked up to him with wide, frightened eyes. He bit down on his lower lip, shaking a little. He hadn't yelled...loudly, but enough to startle the nervous lad. "I...I d-don't have the time. And I doubt anyone would want to read my writing."

When Armand returned, Draconius was surprised to hear him laughing so. His brows furrowed, and he shifted in discomfort. He hadn't done anything wrong, had he? Nothing silly or ridiculous...Still, Armand seemed ready to weep for his laughter. He blinked slowly and lowered the hand that held the soap out. His embarrassment showed clearly on his face as Armand explained why he was laughing thus. "Oh...Well...I see." He set the soap down, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yes, there's a bucket in the back of the room for washing clothes. I'll get it." And he did so, going to pick it up and bring it over. He set it in the middle of the floor, along with the washing board. He suddenly realized something, however, and became rather shy. "B-But I...I'll have to take off my shirt."

[Armand de Romanus]

Seeing the fear in the other’s eyes made him feel a bit like a barbarian. He had not meant to startle Dracon at all. All he really wanted to do was get his point across. It seemed that Draconius was indeed a shy and nervous lad. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh and placed an apologetic look on his face. “Forgive me for startling you. Still, you should not lie to yourself. Even simple little poems put into a book form could be sold. And as for people not wanting to read your writing? It is complete nonsense until you try to publish a book and it doesn’t sell. You never know until you try.” Chewing on his bottom lip, he tried to think of another way to encourage Dracon to achieve higher standards for himself. “Tell me, what do you want to do in a few years? Keep making poor wages? No, probably not. Try setting time aside to make a book, any size of book. Even one with only 50 pages could sell rather well and be cheap to publish.”

Once he felt his body fully under his control once more he walked over to the other and drew him into a full hug. “Now now, none of this nervousness. I was merely stating how cute you were acting and how it reminded me of something. If anything you should be happy. Your jester made me remember something. Be proud, you are helping me by just simply being yourself.” Releasing Draconius from his hug, he felt his smile grow as he decided to draw his attention to the basin. He didn’t want to make poor Dracon more embarrassed anymore than he had. And with his attention drawn to the basin, he hoped that he would be easing the other slightly.

He pulled his hazel eyes away from the basin when the other stated he was rushing off to get the wash basin. As soon as Dracon had left the room, he began to unbutton his shirt. It was filthy and he needed to show the other how to try and salvage a shirt. At least he hoped he knew how to salvage a shirt. Surely it isn’t that hard to scrub a shirt with the washboard. And I hope the lye he has is strong enough. Watching Draconius put the wash bin and washboard in the middle of the room, he chucked his dirty shirt into it and poured the water into the bin. It was enough for soaking the shirt but that was it. Inside he sighed, knowing it was going to be many trips to fill both the tub and the wash basin full of water.

Hearing that Dracon was nervous about taking his shirt off he rose a brow. Here he stood shirtless in front of the other and the other was nervous. “Surely stripping your shirt off is not so bad? You will still keep your pants on. Besides, the sooner we wash the blood out, the less it will stain.” He let out a sigh and ran his left hand through his hair and down his neck to his chest. When he ran his fingers across his chest he stopped. Just above his heart was a scar, though it wasn’t very long it was wide enough for a sword’s blade. Feeling it made him wonder how he had gotten it and if he was supposed to be dead. The scar was just too close to the heart to be a survival wound, even with medical attention.

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius tucked the same, bothersome strand of hair back as Armand spoke to him. He noted the look that had come across his features, and knew that he had not intended to startle him. He cursed his own meekness, as it always seemed to make things difficult for him, as it did now. He rubbed his arm, thin fingers causing the fabric to shift. He bit his lower lip and nodded. "I...I guess I could try." He was worried of being rejected, of his family finding out. So many things. The last thing he wanted was for his father to find out and be angry with him for it. He shrugged at the question. "I...I used to want to teach at a university when I got older, but...I can't exactly do that now. What...What am I supposed to do? My book says that...we live forever, and...and I don't know what to do with forever." He sighed and shook his head.

The contact surprised him, and he almost squeaked. He hadn't been hugged since he left home. The sudden, close contact startled him, but he remained as he was, even going so far as to slowly wrap his slender arms around the other in return. He was glad the other had remembered something, though he wished it had been his name, or something like that. Still, he wasn't about to complain. "You're welcome?" He laughed softly. He was happy to help, though, even though he hardly knew the other. Despite what had happened, Draconius was still a good, gentle soul.

Dracon had washed his shirts before, but none of them had ever been this bloody. He hadn't been careful in acquiring his meal. All that had mattered to him was getting the blood at long last, and he had devoured it wholeheartedly. He brought in the wash basin, which was set then in the center of the tiny kitchen. The water on the stove was taking its sweet time to heat, and as such, it gave them plenty of time to worry about washing. However, upon returning to his kitchen, he found the other without a shirt, and he stopped in his tracks. This man, no matter how beat he might seem, was stunning. He stumbled slightly, dumping the last bucket of water into the basin, and sloshing it all over the floor.

Very slowly, the boy began removing his own shirt. His features were marked by embarrassment, but he said nothing as he bared pretty, pale flesh. He worried his lower lip with a fang, and held his shirt close to his chest. "I hope the stain comes out. I should have been more careful. This was one of my nice shirts." He glanced the the other, wondering, too, how the scar had been attained. But then, he didn't exactly have any answers of his own. He knew next to nothing about the man in his tiny house. "Is there...anything else I can do for you, sir?" He asked quietly.

[Armand de Romanus]

There was a pleased air surrounding the nameless man as he had managed to get Draconius into trying something that he thought was not possible before. “Trying is all I ask for. Who knows, maybe you will be a wonderful writer. Making books to entertain both the poor and the rich. Why I bet with time you may even be able to write a play.” He could tell that the other was nervous about something. A soft sigh escaped past his lips as he stared to the other and tried to think of a way to help the other. “Look, maybe you should stop worrying about what is bothering you. It obviously is holding you back and that is never healthy. Let whatever it is go, be free and yourself for once. Whatever is bothering couldn’t possibly hurt you.”

Forever, now that wasn’t a concept he had thought of since, well he couldn’t remember ever thinking of forever. Alas it was now a thought that he now had to dwell upon, and live it, it seemed. As he thought, he listened to the other about how he wanted to be an educator for a university. A professor, well paid and often respected. It took years to become a professor.. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt as if he had done many things before to pass... Years it seemed but what he did and for how long remained a mystery for now. “Unfortunately I do not know what to do with forever. Times change and as we grow older we will figure things out to do. My guess is that there eventually be night jobs, more available than there is now. We could get jobs, or go to classes, or find something to pass the time. Just because we don’t know what to do now does not mean that we will have to constantly be buried in the ground and sleep our lives away.”

Laughter spread from low in his chest to out into the air, filling it with the sound of joy. Draonius was truly a shy being, something that he would unfortunately have to break if he was to survive and be well at the same time. But for now, he could enjoy the company of his shy friend. “Such a meek and pleasant soul. If you worry about redeeming yourself to the Lord you truly should not.” Upon speaking His name, he felt pain spread like fire inside. Flinching only slightly, he kept his composure and his infinite smile. In his mind though, he wondered as to why it hurt and knew it was something he would have to look up. “I am sure you will be able to help me regain most, if not all, of my memories. We should make a book or two, record all that I know and who knows, maybe you could make a book for enjoyment. We may have to change a few things but I am sure it would still be quite enjoyable.”

Upon seeing the other stumble and spill some water on the floor as he poured, the nameless male immediately rushed over and helped steady Dracon before letting go. “You must be careful. What if that was hot water? I do not know if we heal quickly but even if we do, it would have been agonizing if you had spilled it all over yourself. Please, be a little more careful. I doubt I could fix you up if you were injured.”

Feeling Dracon’s embarrassment, he looked away until the other was undressed and only bothered to look at the other when he heard the mild splash from the shirt hitting the water. Even then his gaze was mostly on the shirts soaking in the water rather than the other. Still, he couldn’t help but look occasionally. Draconius was indeed a pale beauty. He felt as if he should do something, capture the beauty forever but was unsure how. Slowly he stepped up to the basin and squatted down, sitting on his knees. Reaching forwards, he grasped onto his bloody shirt and began to scrub the blood out, first by using simply the cold water.

As his hands were in the water he noticed how he felt no difference. Somewhere in his mind he felt as if the water should have been at least a little cool. Is this because I have been in colder waters? Or is there something else? I hope it is nothing too serious. He smiled as he listened to the question and shook his head slightly. “Until the water is warmed, I am afraid there is nothing you can do. You do not make enough money for the fancy bathing oils that I wish and such luxury is not necessarily needed. All I truly need is a good bar of lye and time to scrub myself of the filth covering my body.” As if to put emphasis on his statement, he pulled his hands out of the water and showed how even just water made his skin appear cleaner and more its palish colour.

[Draconius Marius]

Draconius wasn't sure that anyone would ever have interest in what he wrote. He had been convinced, as a boy, that his writings were useless, pathetic. He had been convinced that the world consisted only of men like his father, and that soft men, men like himself, were something of a pathetic subspecies. His face flushed at the mention of a play, and he glanced down. "Oh, I'd never...never have the courage to do that. Even writing my poetry is further than I've gone in a long time." He fell quiet then, as the stranger spoke, and chewed his lower lip. He couldn't explain how deeply ingrained his fears were. They just...were. That was all he had known. He had only been a vampire for a few days, and letting it go was difficult.

Since discovering what he was, Draconius had been terrified of what forever would be like. He was so young still, The concept didn't fully work for him, but it terrified him nonetheless. How was he supposed to care for himself for so long? How was he supposed to live? He didn't imagine he'd ever have the chance to find a woman willing to love him, and at the time, that was all he had accepted as possible. Though, truth be told, he had doubted his own ability, even as a mortal, to find a mate. He was too shy by far for such things. He didn't understand how the stranger, who seemed to know so much, and yet so very little, could be so optimistic. Still, it was nice to know that someone had hope, no matter how foolish it might have been.

Dracon's fingers tangled in the end of his rich, dark hair. He wasn't aware of how the other thought of his shyness, hadn't even considered it himself. In his mind, it was just part of who he was, no matter how much of an inconvenience it might have been from time to time. His thin fingers took hold of the ribbon that kept back his beautiful hair, and he allowed it to fall free, tumbling around his slender shoulders. He certainly hoped that the other was right, that he would be able to not only redeem himself, but to help the newcomer to regain his memories. That, he supposed, would be an excellent mission. What better way to spend his immortality than helping others? He managed a shy smile and bit his lower lip. "I'm flattered that you'd trust me with the story, but I'm afraid I'd not do it justice."

A look of embarrassment, bordering mortification, crossed Dracon's features as he was admonished to be more careful. He hadn't meant to stumble, but the floor was as cheap as the rest of the place, and sometimes boards came loose. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm sorry," he offered quietly. He wasn't fully sure of what else to say. He could pay more attention in the future, but accidents happened, even to immortal souls. He made his way to the tub, and knelt there, preparing to pour the contents of the bucket in.

The stranger began to help, and the boy wanted to do his fair share. As such, he reached in as well, and began to dunk the shirt, ringing and scrubbing at the spots that had been placed there, hoping to at least begin the process of removing the stains. He glanced up to the beautiful stranger, and noting how a bit of hair fell into his face, felt as though ice had been dropped into his belly. The hair on his arms rose, and his soft, pink nipples perked. He almost gasped, but he managed to catch himself from making the sound and turned his blue eyes down shyly. He worried his lower lip and brought up a wet hand to push a silken curl from his face.

Again, he felt ashamed for his being poor. He wished he had fine things to offer the stranger, but all he could give him were his own, worn clothes for temporary use, a somewhat comfortable bed, and a bath in a little, wooden tub. Still, he didn't imagine that Armand meant to hurt his feelings, so he pushed it aside and did his best to ignore it. He was being silly, and he knew it. "M-Maybe if I save up a little, I could...I could get some nice oils. I...I don't have to pay for food any more, so that's a large chunk of money saved, I think." That was, perhaps, the only advantage. Food didn't cost any money. He was quiet a moment. "Is there no name that I might call you? I feel so strange, knowing nothing."