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Somewhere between the hours of five or six in the morning, Vergil's eyes opened. The clock did not wake him up, and since that had not woken him up, the hour of six must not have arrived yet. As golden eyes stared up at the ceiling above, the vampyre really started to feel the weight of all that had happened over the past ten days. Everything was so…foreign. Everything felt heavy. Compressed. Sick.
The faces of those he'd left behind flashed before his mind's eye, faces of family, friends, lovers– even acquaintances and strangers he simply passed on a regular basis. As did the places he'd likely never see again, memories of a city that was vibrant and full of life. For all the criticisms one could lobby towards Zaichaer, it was a city full of people just trying to live as much as any other. None of them deserved what had happened.
Given the circumstances, Vergil and his elven companion were remarkably lucky. For one thing, they still drew breath. For another, their bodies were not affected by the Mists. They'd found safe passage out, and now, they'd been handed a new place to live and granted the opportunity to start anew. It felt lucky, and it felt this way because it was…but what was luck now, when everything they'd known and loved was gone? Maybe it would have been better to die in the city's flames.
He felt exhausted, drained completely, yet wide awake. He blinked, long and slow, but when he opened his eyes, the alarm had gone off.
He sighed. In many ways, he wished he could simply cease to be. With sluggish movements and dragging pace, he got out of bed, dressed, and left his room to finish getting ready.
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Hector awoke as the grandfather clock chimed six. He'd let his emotions exhaust himself the night before and, as if his body was pitying him, his sleep had been surprisingly restful. While such a thing was most definitely a boon, he still found himself nearly as overwhelmed as he'd been the day before. And the day before. And the day before.
Everything…it wasn't going away. He couldn't find any calm.
Emotions flowed like water and bled into one another, thoughts crashed like waves, jumbled and incoherent. Memories. Images, sights, sounds, tastes, scents, the textures of the air– everything, everywhere, all at once. That's the worst part, every waking moment was a cacophony.
Hector was well aware he had things to do today. That there would be unspoken expectations of him. That the conditions of their stay hinged on their use to this…Imperium. And so he would have to wade through this storm, and he pretend everything was fine, and–
Well, he would try.
His saving grace was that he was not alone. Without Vergil, he would likely be so unstable that this strange, foreign nation would conclude he is more costly than he is worth. Then what would be his fate? Disposal? Locked away somewhere? Or what if, even though Vergil is here, they decide he's too much of a burden anyways?
But these thoughts had to stop.
It was time to get up. So he did. He, too, would dress and leave his room to get ready the rest of the way. Emerging from the small nook where the bedroom and bathroom doors lie, it was six forty.
Vergil had taken a seat on the sectional in the living room; he was just…sitting there, appearing to be mired down in his own thoughts. He blinked and turned his gaze towards Hector as he emerged and the older vampyre breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The tension he'd held had finally started to lessen at the presence of his companion. The elf walked over and joined him, sitting by his side and letting his head fall onto his mentor's shoulder
His eyes drifted shut for what felt like only a second and there was a knock at the door. Hector startled slightly, though Vergil stayed still as stone. One deep breath later, the larger of the two stood, forcing the elf's head back up much to his disappointment. He didn't want to do anything.
The person on the other side of the door was the elven guard that they'd met yesterday. Well…maybe saying 'met' wasn't quite the proper word as they hadn't actually exchanged a single word with the man. Either way, Hector stood and made his way over as the man introduced himself as Teran. Hector saw him as somewhat unreadable; he couldn't tell how the stranger felt at all and the lack of any obvious warmth or friendliness made him anxious. It really was good he had vergil beside him, lest he feel entirely isolated in this place.
He tried his best to be amiable, swallow the fact that he felt as if his head were about to explode. The three of them made their way down from their apartment and then out the front of the building. In the nearest parking space was a car, a driver waiting within. Teran directed the pair of mages to the back of the vehicle while he sat in the front and told them simply that they were going to a cathedral named for Saint Aegan.
Once arrived, they were escorted deep within walls of consummately crafted stone to a small classroom. While the cathedral itself was beautiful and almost serene, the lack of windows and open space made this room feel claustrophobic to the elf, which served his nerves no benefit. Something about the blandness of it was particularly off-putting, too.
There were weren't alone in the room, there were others. That was both very nice and very terrible all at once. Being part of a group made it easier for Hector to avoid specific focus being pointed at him, but at the same time, he was so sensitive to any input right now– audio, movement, so on– that their mere presence would be profoundly distracting.
Vergil rested his hand on the elf's shoulder and directed him over to one of the tables and the two sat down. There were four tables total and only one other person at the one he'd chosen. With sixteen Acolytes altogether, their faces ranged from perhaps Hector's age to middle age along with some races who had ageless features. A mixed bag of men and women, too. Some of them looked almost pleasant, rather mundane. Others held themselves with the sort of intimidating, arrogant sort of coldness that the wealthy and powerful of this nation appeared to carry. He supposed the class was composed of children of those senior in this organization, those with money and connections, those switching careers, and a select view chosen via talent or circumstance. How lucky for them.
The bishop that stood at the front of the room was an older woman that appeared human. She had a very austere disposition, yet didn't come across as incredibly harsh when she addressed the room. First, she gave an overview of what this particular class would cover and then she spoke of what would generally be expected of him. She came across as serious in nature yet reasonable and understanding, but that what she expected of those here would be high.
Vergil had studied in a lecture hall and this class was structured much the same way, although with far fewer people than he was used to. For Hector, the opposite. His parents intended upon passing their business down to him and so he'd received all of his teaching directly from them. It was weird to sit and have somebody just…talk at you like this for what felt like ages, especially with his state of mind. He had trouble maintaining anything akin to focus, constantly losing track of the Bishop's words. The only real reassurance was that she had said there were resources available should they ever need to review anything, books they could borrow from the class itself and whatnot. He knew that Vergil would help him at the very least.
After two hours that felt like ten, they were released for a break period. Neither of the vampyres opted to get up, as neither of them really had anywhere pressing to be. Hector idly leafed through a book that covered detailed descriptions of that which Inquisitors were able to do, under what circumstances and so on. Not really because it was particularly interesting, more because it was simply a distraction. Some of the others did stand to leave, however, and gradually over the course of the next twenty minutes they would funnel back in.
At the precise mark of twenty-five past the hour, the Bishop took her place back at the head of the class and resumed going over the Inquisition's early history and structure. The latter part of the class had Hector feeling quite impatient, though he did his best to hide any emotion from his face. It truly was a relief when they were told it was over, but before making their way out of the roo, Vergil opted to take advantage of their ability to borrow the relevant texts.
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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech