Castle Praenunthius

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She listened to his words thoroughly, with ears that were not shared of any other sound. A rather wistful sigh came from her, her doleful gaze falling once again upon the portrait of which the scene depicted had inspired the discussion. She would avert her eyes, to gaze upon Sheaman, taking in the proof of his sincerity of the matter. She rose then, making her way toward him as if she wanted a more intimate of seating choices, all the while cautious in movement as to not inflict a laceration upon him as a result of clumsy gesture. "I've spoken of an explosion that occured in my shoppe one tragic day, but I must elaborate." She sat a beside him as a juxtaposed image, highly contrasted to his normal appearance and disposition. Her right arm draped over her lap, the vicious tips of her talons tilted down at the floorboards.

"I was toiling with my usual habits, creating curatives that would remedy the various complaints of the community. But a fateful gaffe on my part, a consequence of hurried actions and mind, some vials knocked together creating a volitile combination of spilled chemicals that rocked the very foundation of the structure I occupied. My listless body lain beneath the shattered remains, my spirit rested upon the doorstep of the heavens. Suddenly a resurgence of life tore me away from the firament I was asoar, and I was once again confined to body. But, I was...changed. A mortal made immortal by the sugary crystalizations that enarmor my frail form." As if to emphasize that her body had went though an inward transition as well, a sugary sediment mixed with her saliva flowed down her chin in sticky rivulets, congealing into ample drops before gravity brought them down upon her bosom.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, I hope this is not too off-putting." She spoke apologetically, turning away so that she could remove her dentures and clean them of the grainy substance that clogged them. Using the folds of her skirt to wipe the sickeningly sweet stuff away, she had not realized that she had turned back in his direction just enough to give him an unobscured glimpse at the uniform lumps that descended from her gums.
 
Sheaman listened to his story and was intrigued by it. It filled him both with emphathy, for how the poor girl unwillingly into a monster on the day she was supposed to die, and disgust, as making him think more and more about her sweet anatomy brought that upon him. He stared at her as she catiously moved towards him sititng closer, giving him an even closer look at her. Beauty afar, seemed to hide the monstrosoty closeby. She wasn't paticularly awfull looking, but....The talons and the fact that her face was covered in a mask of sugar....was not exactly a turn on, as far as he knew. It was strange though. How he saw the droplet slowly descent upon her chest, and it didn't even change anything. All it made him do whetever it was the same sickening sugary taste that all the other things that were here, or whetever it was different. Of course, such trivial and odd questioned, deserved no attention, and soon he finished staring at her bosom, or rather, the droplet of sugar that she tried to wipe off, and looked back at her face.

"I still don't know what to think of you" He thought out loud, as if he didn't realise she heard. "But you've been nice and open up untill now and you've not been a pain in my arse, so that ranks pretty high in my rankings." He said as he turned in his chair, trying to face her, which was difficult since the chair prevented him from turning too much around. "I'm sorry to hear about your..unfortunate accident, to say the least. It must've been quiet a task living alone in this huge castle, all alone, with your condition, being chased by hunters." He summed up, tying all her suffering as far as he had figured it out yet. "However, that is, if I'm assuming that you live here alone, which I'm guessing you are."
 
Her answer danced upon her tongue, but it was short lived as the syrupy sputum slid down her throat, making her choke upon the unused syllables. The strange replication of teeth flew off of her lap and skittered under the end table, as she desperately tried to expel the muck which was problematic to her breathing. Her coughing subsided moments later, without requiring aid from Sheaman or a drink to help ease her. "Would you like me to show you? Her words were heavily slurred, as her mouth no longer possessed the teeth which were nessecery to enunciate with clarity.

Her teary gaze fell upon an unwelcome rat which had scuttled across the floor in front of them, her forefinger lashing outward as if in following its tracks. "I can show you if you corral that -pest- for me." Clearing her throat to loosen the little amount of phlegm that remained, then smiled softly. If he so chose, he would witness firsthand the peculiar trait that belonged only to her. "I've changed the other pests...all the other pests." There was a cruel note to her laughter. "And now there is but another pest in my midst." Its meaning was meant to be mysterious, as she did not clarify that it was directed toward the vermin, and not him.
 
He looked at her and frowned shortly before he let out a deep sigh. He was not physically tired, but tired of feeling like a toy. He wasn't sure if she was aware, but she was in the upper hand in this. He lifted himself up and got out of the chair as he looked at her. "I'm just going to assume you're still talking about that rat over there." He said calmly. Somehow, he wasn't as nervous or as catious as before. Maybe that was because they got some of the tension out of the atmosphere. Either case, it was nice. "Sometimes....you just gotta exterminate pests." He remarked as he saw the rat on the wall, opposite of him. Slowly he led the knife slid into the palm of his hand, where he held it tightly and slowly raised it, untill the tip pointed towards the ceiling, with his arm stretched. "Requiescat in pace." He said softly, though his voice still sounded loud. Upon the last words passing his lips, his hand suddenly dropped and as if some witchcraft, the knife was gone when he had it near his buttocks again. He had thrown the knife onto the animal, killing it instantly...or so he had hoped.

As he walked over, he noticed that the rat still squeeqed, which kind of suprised him seeing how he actually hit the rat quiet spot on. He was amazed how much fight the rat still had in him. The will to survive is what they call it. He never understood it. Having dealt with death all troghout his life, ghosts and actuall murders, he has come to accept death. However, he never had felt that urge to survive. On the contrary, he even rememberd how he lay there, lifeless on the ground as he held that bottle of poison in his hand, back the house of the shaman. The shaman found him just in time and was able to cure him of most of the poison, though remanants still were left in his body, which caused his liver to fail. He guessed that was the reason he had a lot of trouble drinking alcohol. The shaman made him say, no, made him promise, never to do that again. But now that the old guy was gone, that promise too seemed to have faded, though he had never tried it afterwards.

Suddenly, he noticed that he was still staring at the little tortured mouse, having been lost in thought. He shook his head shortly as he tried to get back to the here and now, and kneeled near the mouse. "Requiescat in pace.....iterum" He spoke in a midly sympathical, but more over irritated voice, as he took the other knife in hand now. He struck the creature on his head with the flat side and it died instantly....this time atleast. He took his knife back and wiped the blood off on his coat, as he put both of them back in the sleeves. He picked up the rat by its tail and walked back to her and looked at her. Upon sitting down he noted "Having to die like that is somewhat better having to live or die in a coat of sugar." He said as he placed the dead creature on the table. He looked at her, and upon doing so, immidiatly widened his eyes, realising what he just said, and looked away, shamefully saying "s-sorry...." He laid eyes upon the rat again, and made a request. "Can you show me now?....please?"
 
Candie's lips were peeled in an unusual, saccharine smile. It was as if she had rued the taste of her modified saliva so much that she didn't wish any part of her flesh to encounter it. Momentarily occupied in retrieving and cleansing her dentures, the lanky witch finished with personal tasks and gazed upon Sheaman with intrigue. "What sort of twist of tongue was that?" Inquiring of the language used as he performed the favor, she wasn't privy to the occurrences which had taken place when her back was turned. The rodent dangled achingly close to her, but she diverted her attention back to the one which had ensnared it.

"Where do you hail from? Do you know of your origin, Sheaman?" The wriggling pest tempted her, as she couldn't help but to look to it from time to time. She had stalled long enough. "I shall expose my powers, but do not run from me." Fingers splayed before him, the crimson and white streaked talons forged of the melting process of flesh and bone hovering below the defenseless little creature as if her hand was to be a blooming flower, to trap him inside a crushing fist. "You've heard my tale, I wish to hear more of yours. We are friends, aren't we?" Soggy sugar spewed from her, as she threw back her head in laughter.
 
Sheaman looked at her as she peformed her 'trick'. It seemed like she did it with the most ease. She didn't even pay any attention and instead reverted to trying to peel more information out of him. However, she might not have been impressed by her own, but Sheaman was, and he stared at the small rat with quiet a big suprise and amazement. He knew better and not to, but he still wanted to touch her talons. Those...disgusting things, intuged him, like the intestines do to doctor. To each its own. He almost forgot to ask his qeustion as he watched up close and learned more about his field of expertise. He licked his lips as he almost felt the scent of sugar growing near them, as the rat slowly started to reverse decay into a structure of horrid eerie candy, and yet, that too he wanted to touch. He wanted to figure out more, but the feeling was visa versa apperntly. They wanted to know about each other......was that....friendship?

"My story is long and boring and doesn't have happy end.....not yet." He said as she was done peforming her cursed miracle, and he leaned back into the chair. "That was uttermost impressive. I wouldn't think of running away from that, though it does make my fears of those hands of yours bigger"....hands...he just called them that to flatter her, and to make sure not to anger her, but they probably both knew those things only merely resembled hands, and that their appearance was far from it. But....it'd be harsh to say. She was cursed with them and didn't want them herself. She'd be happy with normal hands. "I don't know of my origin. I was found near the bed side of a river by a folk's shaman, hence the name Sheaman" He explained. "I don't know my real name or parents, but all that I can guess is that my parents left me adrift in the river or even tried to drown me. Either way, I got to live and to work for that shaman untill he died, upon which the blame of his death got brought upon me and I was exiled. From that moment on I've just been trying to survive in the only possible....ways I knew." He sighed as he rubbed his eyes shortly. "Also, something interesting would be that I was found with a small mark on the back of my right shoulder, which apparently already there the day I was found." He added, suddenly being reminded of it. Her laugh was odd and obvious, but it couldn't help but made him chuckle too. It was not a nice sight, but ponies and rainbows were not a common thing in his life and thus he had learned to laugh about even the most horrid things. "Friendship. That's a word I don't hear often. Regardless of what we are, now you know my tale too" He said with a genuine smile. "I wish I could've inspected your hands a bit more carefully but they seem a bit too dangerous for that." He truthfully admitted. Somehow, the atmosphere was comforting and cozy. They actually started having a nice chat.
 
Just a simple nick upon the rat's body, would release the strange magick of her talons, and it too, would be transformed into the substance that had wrought the forest and the things inhabiting it with a delectable, however damnable curse. As she listened to him, she was very pleasant in disposition, until the moment he mentioned the horny protuberance upon each of her fingertips. She fidgeted in her seat, giving them all individually an awkward glance. Her features would then adopt tranquility under the transparent mask of spun sugar, and she nodded softly.

"I'm afraid that you will never be able to touch them without consequence, but you are welcome to inspect them by other means. I will not use them against you." She thought back to his story, eying him all the while. He seemed a man of normality, nothing about him deformed or so different that one would cast him to the river bank to ultimately perish from hunger or the elements. Why would someone leave him, as he would be unable to defend himself against the various predators which would roam the shore in search of a meal? The creatures would not possess the mental faculties to process sympathy and the like, they thought of survival and procreation.

What of the peculiar birth mark he spoke of? She could simply ask him to allow her gaze upon it, but he would have to remove his shirt. Her gaze would divert from his direction, and if it were possible to for her flesh produce a rosy pigmentation to her cheeks, the thought would have certainly done so. "Do you have any theories about the birth mark?"
 
Sheaman shortly looked at her and then looked at the rat. He leaned forward toward the table and looked away again as he his eyes darted the pockets of his coats. He grasped in his pockets, only to reveal a trasparent and empthy vial, covered with a plastic lid. He opened the lid and brought the vial close to the table as he crumbled some parts of and tried to catch them in that vial. He filled it up good enough upon which he closed the lid again and put it in his pockets. He shortly commented on this happening by favoring her with a meetup of their eyes and the words. "That's for research" He nodded once, as he returned to the matter of th subject.

"Okay. That's good to hear. You'll find it suprising to hear, but I'm actaully pretty interested in you." He said with an odd look at her talons. "I've got till tommorow morning. I have to leave then, but untill then, I can take a look at it, I hope. Who knows? Maybe I'll even find a way to reverse it." He said, trying to persuade her. He wasn't sure about it, and even if he was, he wasn't sure if he would've helped her achieve that. But it was merely so he could look. As he moved a bit closer to her, he looked at her face and smiled shortly at hers. ...Something.....was odd, though he couldn't describe it. Was it a feeling or was it physical? Quickly he glanced down as he suddenly felt his cheecks warm up strangly. "I-I.." He stuttered too. Shortly he thought back of her drink....had she poisened him...he coudln't taste any, but still.... He cotninued anyhow. "I don't know. I couldn't make sense of it back then and I couldn't now. I've given up on it really. Why? Do you know somewhat about such things?"
 
"Wi- will you be coming back?" She questioned frantically, her head turned toward the exit of the room as her features depicted the horror of his words. She knew she couldn't persuade him if he was set on his goals, and she couldn't coerce him. He wouldn't become her hostage. It seemed as though she had her first taste of human interaction since over two hundred years ago, but after an awkward start, she blossomed before him. Candie didn't want him to leave, for once he crossed the threshold of the forest, he might never find his way back to her.

Then, something he spoke had struck her with bewilderment. Could there really be a way to reverse what had metamorphosed her from a simple human into a monstrosity, which didn't even possess the beating heart of the former? "I know not of such things. Perhaps you shall peruse my library, and something of the literature shall contain the wisdom you seek. I shall make up a bed in which for you to rest." She rose, her steps carrying her toward the stairs. Once she had tasted the joys of companionship, she knew it would hurt all that much more the moment they had to part.
 
Sheaman looked at the door too, but didn't awsner the qeustion. He didn't feel like it. Just as much as he felt like leaving, but that was his live's philosophy. He had to, in order to survive. And following his one and only rule, if she'd come to be in his way, he'd have to....He didn't want her to. He was suprised how glad he was to finally have a normal talk with someone or finally have someone to have atleast somewhat of a connection to, may it only be something as thin and barren as companionship. Yet, what he felt.....he couldn't describe it, but it wasn't much like any other companionship he had felt before. Though, he had to leave, but maybe he would be able to return? Concluding it all, he just awnsered. "...Maybe..." Still unsure himself.

He followed her for a brief moment, before he stood in the voyer where the stairs were, where he for the first time, touched her. On her shoulder to be exact. And he simply added the words. "Thank you" along with it as he departed another way, trying to find his way to the library soon finding it somewhere down the small corridor below the stairs. The library wasn't too big, but for a librar inside a house, it was pretty dense. It contained a lot of books, though not all the shelves were completely filled. The empthy ones caught dust and were dirtied up by spiders or rats. The ones that were full, seemed to be in good shape, though it was obvious some left marks of use. By her. A sugary mark. She had read them. The one that suprised him the most was a thick book with a special cover. He picked it of the shelve and immidiatly was struck by the front page. It was the same sign as he bore on his body. This picture was colloured though, but he could remember his own sign to be much like this. It was the famliy tree of the one who owned this place. ....Was that really the same symbol? Was there really any connection?
 
The bed seemed all but completely unbearable, with a lumpy mattress that was torn with the use of whomever had lordship of the grand manor. It smelled of must, but Candie changed the linens and attempted to poke in the bits of fluff that were showing. The room was spacious, but there was an obvious lack of a woman's touch to it. A simple, warped dresser, and a window that allowed for a hint of moonlight to permit through the dusty pane.

It was a room that had escaped her examinations until now. She simply had no reason to come up here, it was just another cubicle of space which had received a glance in passing. But now, someone had come along to occupy it, to obtain the recooperation and energy a night's worth of sleeping would bring. Perhaps he would dream. She could still conjure up a vague recollection of her own, but they were mostly bits and pieces of her mundane existence.

Faces of her past. She tidied up as much as she could, and by the only portal to the outside, she stood, forlornly. She would ponder some, imagining her life in his absence. She couldn't cope with his hasty retreat, and couldn't bear the thought of pining away, she couldn't even produce tears to nurture smallest seedling of hope that he might return.
 
After he had tried to discuss with himself, whetever or not the symbol on the book was alike the one that was on his back, he started taking a quick glance into the book itself. Of course he wasn't doing so completely without a purpose, seeing how he was trying to find her name. Her real name perhaps, seeing how her given name was quick too....fitting, to be her reall name. He wasn't too surpised he couldn't find it really easily, even after he found the legacy of the Cayne. However, after a moment of search, he did find a name, which would echo in his ear like her alias. "Candrichnine Cayne..." He mumbled as he read what stood there. She was almost last in the tree, but she still had some people following after her. She didn't seem widowed or married to any one, and brother and sisters seemed to have lacked. There was some information about her, as if it was some memoriam, but it spoke of a Candrichine Cayne...One that only lived in remains in the personality of Candie Cane. It's not suprising that someone's personality would change after their life had so drastically changed.

He closed the book and held it under his arm. If he was gonna inspect her, indeed he was gonna need some more books than just one describing the legacy. He strolled around the library quiet some time, and had trouble finding suiting books. Books on how to cook, or books around 'Hansel Und Grethel' were at large in the shelves, but it's seemed to be deserted of medical or supernatural ones. Even so, he did find 2 books, one more usefull than the other. One was about the anatomy of the hand, and everything that went along with that, for example, the mechanoreceptors, noiciceptors, thermoceptors, two point discrimination, the skin, ect. It seemed like quiet an in depth book and would serve well if he was to find more about her hand. Also he found a book about a witch, which at first seemed just a mere kid's story, but suprised him with accuracy. After doubting, he chose to take it anyway, because he would always be able to place it back if he found it useless anyhow. Aside from those 3 books, he decided to take a notebook he found on one of the tables, taking it with him, so that he could make notes in case it was needed.

With those assets, he walked back to the foyer, and followed his hand, up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, he stopped to take a look around. He could not see her and the doors seemed all closed, so it was a mere guess, as he walked towards one of them, opened it and found nothing more than a closet, which he closed, to inspect other rooms. After having seen a bathroom and another bedroom, he soon found himself by a door with a small slit in it, which he looked trough, only to be greeted by Candie...or Candrichnine Cayne's back. She seemed busy preparing the room for him. A small grin appeared as he realised that he never been treated this hopsitable, but maybe that was due to his nature of work. Slowly and silently, like a ghost, he pushed opened the door, and leaened against the side of it, as he stared at her. "Candirichnine Cayne" He anounced, as he tried to get her attention, and continued speaking when he did so. "I want to thank you for what you did, but I still have one small favor to ask you. It's just a minor one." He asked politely, his eyes darting to and from her hand to the rest of her body, still not used to it.
 
She was drawn from the outside world upon hearing the tone of his voice. She figured that the monicker he spoke was just a rather lengthy mispronunciation of 'Candie,'it seemed just a faulty twist of a tired tongue as far as she was concerned, so the name itself had not awakened any memories prior to the incident. Her gaze fell upon the sizeable book that he had apprehended. What had it contained that was of such importance to him that he'd move the cumbersome tome to such a great distance? Or, perhaps it wasn't a lexicon of great legacy, but simply a mere collection of fables and fairytales he would wish to engross himself in before the shutting of heavy lidded eyes allowed him to see no more of it.

"You may place it upon the dresser if you,d like. I've turned down your bed for you, and there are some blankets you may use. A good shaking of them should remove most of the dust. If you require anything else, I shall be here at your call." She had made preparations to relieve him of her presence when something about him caught her eye. It seemed as if he had gained some sort of hidden knowledge whilst he was away. She knew that it would be improper for her to pry into such things. If he chose to elaborate on such matters, it should be of his own wish.

"The moon is full, tonight."She spoke instead, trying to compose herself of the would be blunder that was poised upon the tip of her tongue. "There is only a matter of time before the night consumes it, as it always does."
 
It only took a glance to notice that the room had been tidied up, if only slightly. His best guess was that she was again hospitable enough to make his stay as pleasant as poossible. Of course, she wanted him to stay longer or come back so, that was to no suprise. Apparently, she too had lived a very lonely life out here. There was one thing tough that fellt notable to him. Even tough he used her true name, she gave not the slightest flinch. She didn't even seem to notice it, which was strange to him. His best guess was that she tried or simply forgot the life before the accident. It wouldn't be unthinkable. Maybe she hardly even knows anything about herself. It'd be dumb to provoke it, because after all, she must've had a reason for forgetting it. "It almost feels like you're treating me too well. I'm just a mere traveller after all." He said, a grin pointing out that it was merely a joke. "If I do require your aid any more, I will ask your aid."

Suddenly, it felt random to him, as she started talking about the moon. He looked outside, out the window and commented. "Full moon. The time of the month it's said the lycans would appear. The day that the whole world, enfulged in darkness is still lit by the light of a magnicifent celestial object. It's nothing special, yet any artist would know that it's certainly beautifull." Darkness. Surely she would be known with it. After all, hiding herself in the darkness would seem easier for her than standing in broad day light. "I probably should get some sleep soon, and meet you back in the morning, but as I said, I do still have one favor. An odd one too. Here." He said as he handed her the book carefully, trying to make sure their hands wouldn't meet. Suddenly he turned around and continued his favor, as if he gave her no choice. "You asked about that symbol earlier. I thought nothing of it, untill I saw the symbol on the book." He said, as he got of his coat, and threw it on the bed. His hands reached up his own shoulders and started pulling the clothe towards the front, slowly revealing his barren back. There was a scar near his hip, but of course the most notable thing was the symbol near the right shoulder. It bore resemblance to what the book was covered with. "I cannot see my own back so I'm gonna have to ask you this. Is the symbol on my back the same as the symbol on that book?" He asked, as he held the cloth in that position.
 
"Lycans?"The word seemed foreign to her, although once it had been spoken, it had drudged up the memories of having seen the beastial creatures illustrated in fairytales. They were the cursed ones, their bodies mutated into an eruption of claws and fur, their faces becoming the elongated snouts of such feral dogs, that they were damned in the eyes of the public, like she. "Should you need anymore of that honey liqueur, to quench your thirst and help lull you into a peaceful sleep? I could make some more for you." Then, any further words would be lost as she witnessed his hurried movements in the act of disrobing, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the flesh that was revealed to her.

She could feel something well up inside of her, almost like too much water added to a sive. She wished to touch his flesh, feel a body that was not enarmored by the sweet stuff that her was. It would be pliable, its warmth would radiate unto her form. The symbol was exposed, she had recalled a design similar, somewhere before. Surely he would leave her by morning, the vigilant orb of Ayilta casting a golden glow upon him as he would move further from Praenuntius, to approach civilization.

She would perform no trickeries, like hiding the book or stealing his attire. It would be a negative influence to her conscience, and she would feel guilty. He would simply venture out into the world, leaving her once again subdued and to her own thoughts. "What.."She felt a lump in her throat, perhaps it was another clump of congealed syrup secretions of her body. "What made that scar?"
 
Lycanthropes. In his life, he had only seen one. And unlike he expected, he didn't envy the creature. Instead, he emphatised with it. Of course, that was after he got to know the guy and his 'curse', as he called it. Of course, that'd be the best way to describe it. But who would know? Everyone thinks nothing of it but fairy tails and wonders and fears strikes upon them who think they are reall. It almost made him chuckle to see how suprised she was to hear about a lycanthrope, having sugar coating murderous hands herself.

He waited for an awnser to his qeustion, but was met with silence, as he only guess that she was staring at him for whatever reason. Having no human contact can result in strange behavior, he knew, but still it felt weird when she was just being silent behind him. All he did was hope she wasn't going to touch him, or kill him, but by now he had already figured out the chances were slim of that happening...or so he thought. Instead of an awnser, his qeustion got ignored and instead she bothered asking him something else. He tried to look on his back at the scar, but it was of no use, and he gave up on it quickly. "Quiet funny really. I work with dangerous people, objects and what not, every single day, and the only scar I have is one made by a mere human." He said, scratching his neck. It must've looked weird how he spoke the word 'Human' in such an odd way. It was as if he had trouble passing the word from his lips. It was like the word was a taboo, and that it was a waste using his breath to say it. "I....kinda had a bit of trouble with one of the people I worked for. This shady character. He wanted me to take care of a so called vampire. Upon finding the person, I managed to find out that she wasn't a vampire. She wasn't human tought, and she meant no harm, much like you..." He paused for a moment before he continued. "..I nearly killed her. I stopped before I did so and let he go. I let her flee and live her life in a more safer place, or so I hope. When I got back to the person who hired me empthy handed, we got into a little fight. I tried to reason with him, but to no avail. He eventually stabbed me in the back and with that as souvenir I fleed myself." He tried to glance back at her, and managed to catch a glimpse of her face. "It's not the best bed time story, but atleast it's better than that weird Frankenstein story." He commented on himself as he chuckled softly. However, this one was not genuine. It was a way to try and comfort her. In fairy tails, happy ends occur all the time....In reallity....He found her body butched not short after he fled...But he wasn't going to tell her that. "Um....I find it nice to tell you stories, and I wouldn't even mind telling you a bed time story, but...could you please check the symbol on my back. After all that's why I was pulling up my shirt in this cold."
 
"If it is what you ask, then I shall."She moved as if she were restraining herself from an unpredictable action, her feet crept nearer to the half barren body with caution. "I do not fancy that book."Her emerald gaze shifted in that direction, upon a neck that turned uncomfortably. "It..it seems to speak of a family tree, of which your name is scrawled. So, the truth is known at last. You are the progeny of the evil forefathers that once reigned over Praenuntius."She didn't know to to react to this revelation, for the thought had been interred never to be unearthed again.

She recalled reading the book, it was among one to the many sequels produced that spoke of the family lineage. She read them all, even if they hadn't stirred within her a reminiscence of doing so. The books were the written catalogue of events which had taken place in the lives of others, and she wished to step into their shoes as long as those words kept flowing. "You can remove that plague to my vision, the very evil which radiates from it has adversely affected this room already! The tomes that were sealed within the library has awakened the ghosts of the past, and so does this one!"
 
Stunned at first, he just glared at the door in front of him, having revealed his past for him. So he was the heir to a lineage of kings and queens who once ruled here....but then, how come he was dropped off at a river like that? To protect him from the revolt. It didn't make much sense, since he would've died there anyhow if the shaman hadn't found him. His line of thought got obstructed by the girl again, as out of the blue she started rambeling. Slowly he lowered his shirt, as he listened to what she was saying. He turned around, just to be greeted by her, having crept up on him like an assassin. "Uh..." Quickly he snapped the book out of her hands and released it from her pointy grasp. "It's...just a book." He carefully...observed. The words came out synical and he was still quiet suprised why she made such a big problem out of a cover filled with paper which had letters written upon them. "I could take away your pain and fear by taking the book away and ...burning it if you want to." He said as he slowly lifted his arm to show the book, and shook it shortly. "I don't need this book anyhow. So getting rid of it seems like the most plausible option." He added.

By now, he was't sure what to think. Was he supposed to inherit this all, and share her fate? Was he still connected to this place? Fidning out about his past got him no where further. Nothing changed now that he knew this. He couldn't take over the place since he didn't have enough money to renuvate it. He probalby had lost all his power as royalty. But one thing he did give a though though: WHat did that make Candie Cayne? Part of his legacy or family? A relative?
 
"Its venom will not be cleansed of this room, its words will cause a necrosis that will become stubborn for the scalpel of the most competent of surgeons to excise!Can't you feel the malignant speck growing now?" Candie succumbed to her hysterics, her gaze fluttering about the room crazily. As he mistakenly caught her attention with the movements performed to lower his shirt, she leapt across the room, her body penetrating the shield of air between them.

But, a thought broke through her muddled mind, and she wheeled away from him, the graceless acrobatics causing her to crash collide with the window. She was unscathed,but there were some visible scratches upon the hardened outer husk she had been encased in. Broken shard of glass shone like glistening teeth in the moonlight, the resulting hole was like a cavernous maw.

She thought of reaching for the book, to destroy the evidence of its infernal existence somehow, although a living substance would have to envelope it. Perhaps a generous smearing of blood or skin to fashion a make shift coat for its cover. Candie tried to dispel the gruesome musings by focusing on Sheaman's butchering of her name earlier. "Candrichnine Cayne." It was a tongue twister, indeed.
 
His eyes widened, as if he tried to keep her completely in his gaze, as she dashed closer to him, leaving almost no space between them. He could smell her skin. Her rottten sugary taste was even stronger as odour and the stence nearly got painfull up close. Also, having to see her mask up close like this, made him fear what was under. Curious yet detest of it. He didn't want to know. Before he could react, she had already been gone and smashed hersellf up against the glass, which seemed painfull, but she didn't seem damaged whatsoever. No cuts or bruises. Only but a mere gaze on a mask.

He would've panicked, or reacted quicker, but he didn't. The night was out and what could a man do when the moon had risen on it's highest place in the sky, creating an silent and dead atmosphere, where every creature lay to slumber but him. His body was fighting it, but he knew what it was. Fatigue. He was tired and it started affecting him already. Slowly he walked over to the bed, and sat down to where he had dropped his coat, and started fiddling with it. Out of the sleves, he made a knife appear, wihch was the same as he had used before, and penetrated it trough the book. "Candrichine Cayne. An ambitious young woman, who we expect a lot from. She has skills in many different things, yet we praise her the most for her personality. She's always willing to help. We're sure that she'll grow up a fine lady." He suddenly quoated, trying to remember the first part he could. "The past is the past and the future is the future. You can be what you want to be and no one can tell you what to. However, you seem to have trouble laying down as to what has happened." He started walking on thin ice, and he knew, so before he continued, his fingers crawled to his other blade, ready to defend himself. "How come you cannot accept the past? Lay down with it?" He said as he looked over at her.
 
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