Only the occasional rustling of paper was heard in the dimly-lit corridors surrounding the library nestled in the Crypts. All else was completely silent save for the sound of air moving through the never ending passageways that snaked far into darkness without depth.

The lone soul who presently dared to venture into the catacombs was searching for answers. Answers to truly odd questions that his duel with Nauleth were centered around. Something was off center, not quite right, peculiar. Vincent could feel it. It was extremely subtle, but whatever the albino felt from the younger boy disturbed him.

And so, he researched. Looking for the questions that puzzled him so greatly that he felt the only way to find them was to venture into the dark.

Athrym walked through the dark corridors of the Crypts like they were familiar childhood thoroughfares. She knew the safe places to go, and the reverance and quiet to maintain. Keeping her blue cloak drawn around her, hood up, she passed by dark archways and rusted locked doors, following the path that led her to the crypt Library. It was safe here, not just from the ghosts, but from the students. As she neared the bookshelves, a field could be felt, hidden behind wooden casings. Frowning, she pushed back her hood, walking a little slower.

"Nauleth?" She called out quietly, knowing full well that wasn't his field, but chancing that he might be around somewhere. Turning one of the aisles, she stopped short and blinked at the boy in front of her.

"Oh! You." The blonde said in suprise. How long had the albino student known about this place...probably longer than she had considering he was in Final Form. Standing a little awkwardly, perhaps even slightly embarssed by her abrupt exclimation, the blue eyed girl didn't know what to say.

"I er...I didn't actually think anyone else knew about this place. Sorry to have interupted you."

Vincent's glasses flashed from the candlelight as he looked up at the new arrival. He didn't move very much in his seat, partially because he was still very sore from his duel with the visitor's fiance the day before. The freshly healed tissue in his chest pulsed as if on cue.

The boy nodded his white-locked hair in a friendly greeting.

"Good evening, Athrym," his voice rumbling like a muffled engine across the quiet, dusty room. He slowly closed the book that he was poring over. "You did not interrupt. To be honest, I also thought that only I knew about this room. I suppose that there are several other students like us who know of this room thinking that only they know of its existence."

He realized abruptly that he had nothing to really say after that comment, and quickly groped around for something to fill the awkward silence. The last time they spoke was when Nauleth had sent him away from the apparently reserved table.

"Do you ..." The boys red eyes roved the environment around him for something to focus on. Those eyes fell upon a chair not very far away at the same table that was partially piled with books that he pulled off of the shelves around the room, the long study table that he was seated at. He gestured to the vacancy in attempt to be polite.

"...wish to sit? I believe that there is adequate room for the both of us."

The gioran boy's voice echoed a little in the deep, stoney crypt, reminding Athrym of what she had read about their casting technique. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she suppressed a shiver. Looking at the vacent space, she nodded, moving to the seat. Placing her bag on the table, she removed her cloak, hanging it on the back of the chair and smoothing out her blue dress. Sitting, she sat awkwardly silent for a moment, before clearing her throat.

"So, you know my name. Interesting. Obviously the rumor mongers are still healthy and active. I don't know yours though, Mister...?" She left the question hanging, studying his features with pale blue eyes, comparing him to her mother, and herself.

"Bianchetti," his uttered even more quietly now that the younger student was in closer proximity.

Now that there were no distractions such as loud children, hearty food, and other such assaults to the senses in a public place such as the cafeteria, Vincent finally had the time to actually look at her. His eyes glanced over the pale blonde hair and the light skin. Was someone in her family Giorian?

Vincent himself had traveled back to the homeland of his father several times over the years, and had become accustomed to the regular make-up of his race's appearance. He never before had met anyone even remotely similar looking to him outside of Gior, much less a galdor. The thought produced a vague sense of hope for camaraderie, even though he wasn't sure yet if she had been birthed by one from the homeland.

It was a curious feeling for the albino, for he was at this point in his life resigned to the fact that he would always be different from everyone that he would meet in Anaxas. Not that he cared, however. If he truly gave a damn about how different he looked, he would have dyed his white hair a long time ago.

Athrym nodded at his name, expecting a little light conversation. Instead, she watched him study her features...closely. Waiting for a moment, she found a blush creeping up her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she took out her note book and a text book from her satchel, opening them up on the table awkwardly. After a moment, she flicked her pale blue eyes to him.

"So...your...Gioran, right?" The blonde asked casually, ignoring the blush and the study he'd been doing, as though it was a perfectly normal thing to stare at a girl with such intensity for so long.

Vincent registered the girl's awkward pauses too late to pass off the stare as being focused on...that book that she was holding. His eyes snapped away quickly from her features and his face went hot with obvious embarrassment. What has been wrong with him lately?

Clocks! Now she'll think that I'm a pervert, the albino berated himself. Too much was already on his mind to properly focus on having polite conversation.

"My apologies," he rumbled in a clearly embarrassed voice. He dearly hoped that the situation thus far was not being interpreted in such a way that it seemed he was hitting on her. "It would seem that my extended stays down here always make me forget my manners."

He set down the manuscript that he was still holding and picked up the next one that he was going to go through and check through for references before the sudden arrival.

"I am not Giorian. However, my father is native. He emigrated here to Anaxas and met, then married my mother before I was born," the older boy gave a rare wry smile. Not very many people accurately guessed at his heritage. He was proud of the stock from whence he came.

There was more to say on the whole matter, but the red eyed boy's brevet answers meant that the girl would have to ask more questions if she was so eager to know.

The blue eyed blond smiled a little, shaking her head dismissively, unwilling to keep the discomfort going. Picking up her quill, Athrym twirled it in her fingers, glancing at her open Living Magic For Intermediate Classes grimoire and skimming through some of the pages.

"Don't worry about it. Of all people to talk to about manners, I am definitely not the first on the list." Her smile turned wry, referring to the well known incident at lunch days ago.



It was hard to hide the disappointment that cropped up on her face briefly. He wasn't really Giorian, he was just like her. Hiding the small sigh she made, the blonde nodded.

"You look like you stepped right out of Qrieth if you don't mind me saying so. My mother is Gioran. Moved to Anaxas when she got married I believe. Silly really, I didn't even really know until recently." Looking up from her book, she tapped her cheek with the feathery pen.

"Have you ever been there?"

Qrieth? Nobody had ever complimented him quite like that before. The boy's ego grew a little bit. More fond memories came back to him. He had a cousin whom he visited in that huge city the last time that he traveled to Gior.

"Qrieth is fantastic. The cuisine is excellent, and the sights are quite unlike anything that I have seen anywhere," Vincent had become more noticeably animated. "I had family who took me all over the city. It truly felt like I was home."

The more animated speech from the boy had Athrym wound up in the images, and her pink lips drew into a half smile, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"It sounds wonderful. I would like to go one day." Pausing, she crossed her arms on the table, leaning on them and looking at him thoughtfully.

"Did you ever study them casting? I read they use the canyons to...amplify the spells." It was obvious her interest peaked in this area.

In the dim candlelight, Vincent's eyes took on a composition of molten iron. The effect spoke of barely contained elation and wonder from the snowy haired boy.

"As a matter of fact," his rumbling seemed to curve in the still air. He couldn't contain himself to his chair and began to pace around the table. "I have. Their casting is very much similar to what we do, and yet so different. The somatic components...it's true. And yet much more than what is told in books. No one in Anaxas can recreate what sounds like the sky itself tearing apart. Greater than thunder, and deeper than wind. Such a phenomenon cannot be truly told about with words found in our woefully limited language." He caught himself mid-gesticulation. Becoming self-conscious of with how much energy he now rambled, he offered a small smile. I'm such a nerd, he chided himself. He settled back into in chair, coughing lightly.

"But I wax poetic," the older boy concluded simply, with a faraway stargazing look in his eyes.

To say Athrym was captivated was saying the least. Her blue eyes almost sparkled as he spoke, images of white haired people arms up, face hard, shouting into an opened granite crevasse as the wind whipped around them and lighting split the sky and...



The blonde shook herself, with a grin.

"It sounds amazing. I wonder if there is anywhere in the vicinity where we could...test it. You know, considering we both have Gioran heritige, maybe we've got like...an inherited ability." She was grabbing at straws, but the idea still swirled in her head. Vaguely, she played with the corner of her notepad, staring almost past Vincent.

"Do you plan on returning to Gior?" She asked suddenly, focusing on his red eyes again, daydream subsided.

(( I am SO SORRY that I'm only now getting to this. Commuting to college from my house was crazier than I thought it would be. =\ ))

Vincent was still riding on the emotional high stemming from fond memories, and was feeling rather charitable at the moment.

"One could possibly say that we did get something from our heritage," he said as he idly fiddled with his book laying face down on the table. He bit his lip thoughtfully at the question. It was a poser, as his father was angry enough the last time he paid it a visit. How would he react this time? Probably worse. He frowned a little bit in irritation at the intrusion of previous ill wills, and tried to put it aside for the girl that made conversation to him. She wouldn't understand. Nobody ever did.

"I would love to go back if I could," he said distractedly. This was getting into territory where he didn't want to go with someone he didn't know well. "So you've really never been to Gior? That's a shame. I think that you would like it there, even if only for a visit."

Athrym shook her head, a wry smile coming to her lips.

"I've never visited before, because there was never a reason. I didn't even know I was Gioran till this year. I just assumed my mother was a heartless sod with incredibly pale features. The whole Gioran thing never really occured to me. Stupid right? Ahh, anyway, now that I know about it, I would like to go, but I have more pressing affairs here. I can visit Gior after." Her smiled turned a little softer and her eyes a little distant, before looking back at the albino.

"So, what exactly do you focus on? I'm more in tune with Living magic. Its like breathing, so natural and flowing."