Nightingale (2012)
Genre: Mystery, Epic Tragedy, Vampire!AU
Rating: PG-13 for mild mention of blood and curses
Word Count: ~4.1K+
Summary: Bomi Evans, (A.K.A. ‘Bea’), has been sent to Bast Academy--a notorious as well as unknown private school in the middle of nowhere. Through her journey to the school she meets someone strangely familiar, stumbles upon interesting allies, and later finds out that myths come from some form of truth.

A/N: I like how no one seems to understand the hints i dropped in the last chapter. Let’s see if ya’ll catch the ones here~ Also, apologies for the tardiness. /hides
 

Chapter V.i

“Not going around flaunting your intelligence again, are you Jongin?”

The shock of electricity that ran through her is nothing short of a surprised feline out of bounds, caught in the rain as it were and, naturally, defense for the unwelcomed assault.

She whirled around, ready to give an impression he wouldn’t soon forget for not announcing himself properly. Kai followed her action promptly, though movements choppy and hesitant--she can sense that whoever interrupted his lecture on hominid beliefs is not someone from whom he seeks kindness or remorse.  It doesn’t take a Ph.D trained in high level of both psychology and sociology to understand his discomfort; Kai’s stiff spine says it all and to be honest, she doesn’t like it.

Not one bit.

Bea isn’t used to such submissive nature from her friends; the batch back home are rowdy to say the least, and that’s on a calm day.

By the rate that his demeanor switched from playful to serious--all too quickly to be considered normal--it made his exterior feel no longer convivial to be around. If that wasn’t enough to stir stew, Kai’s response overflowed the pot.

“Monsieur. N-no, absolutely not.”

“Is that so, Jongin? It seemed more like you were inviting a student onto forbidden quarters, trying to expel her so quickly, I expect better from you of all feeders.”

“No, sir! I would never,” Kai had a hand on his chest, domed brows over earnest eyes.

He’s a mess.

To say the least, Bea has never encountered such a look of utter helplessness. Kai’s face of worry is far different from anything she’s ever seen, it’s almost as if he were physically afraid of the new acquaintance. Ah, that’s wrong, for she indeed has witnessed that look cross someone’s face, in films where the scene involves domestic violence--her thoughts are filtering the path of warped again.

She mentally shook out those negatives images, taking the chance of their conversion to run her eyes over the person standing just outside the cut-glass door.

Odd how she didn’t hear the echo of his polished shoes on the vitrestone floor like she heard Abigail’s little heels dancing away--she leaves a clanking impression. It’s the light-haired guy, the one that caught her looking out the window. He wears a mild smile that spoke louder than Kai--at this moment--could ever retort against, eyes on the person still talking behind her.

“Please accept my deepest pardon, Monsieur. I was just. We were…” Kai fumbled for words, palm open in her direction to confirm who ‘we’ is. Bea looked back at him when he cleared his throat, his next words more confident than the last. “Excuse me, sir. That is not my place.”

Not my place?

Monsieur waved him off. “You are quite alright to speak, Jongin. But, refrain from disobeying me in the future. Am I understood?”

“Yes. Uhm, please excuse me, Monsieur, Miss Bomi. I’ll be going now.” Kai began to retreat, fully intending to leave without any resistance when warm fingers kept him from retreating to the mahogany door.

“I told you to call me Bea.” She corrected, dropping her hand then directing toward Monsieur in tone not-so-friendly, “Who are you?” Because it’s not right for his mere presence to scare off her friend.

Monsieur’s gaze lowered as he bowed slightly from where he stood. “Think of me as your , m’lady. If you would be so kind as to follow me, we will be on our way.”

“I’d rather not. Strangers are on my ‘Not-To-Follow’ list.” She reached without thinking for Kai’s scarf--who tried to sneak off--and yanked him still with a tug. Whether he disliked being treated so or not is beyond her, Bea’s eyes are trained on the stranger.

“Bea,” Kai hissed, obviously more worried about Monsieur’s reaction than choking. “Go with him, I have things to do anyway. We’ll mee--”

“No.” she said stubbornly, giving another light tug to silence him--lucky his black scarf is on the longer side. “I don’t want to go with him. Besides, Abigail said she would return in a bit and I should stay put.”

A contradiction, that means she can’t go out with Kai as long as he’s watching. Darn.

Her attention returned to the silent observer, eyes narrowed as he mirrored her analysis. Dark attire with contrasting pale skin, round coal-lined eyes that could be honey or amber--from this distance she wasn’t entirely sure--and a pair of wide lips that looked very familiar. In fact, he looked a bit like…no. Can’t be. A coincidence. Yes.

‘Have we met before?’She wanted to ask, but that might be creepy and with a mental kick to the cerebrum, Bea pulled a fake smile that she’s pretty sure is convincing enough to mask any expression that might have crossed her face while thinking.

“She will not be returning for you here.” The way he eyed her transpired to dissecting, like he was a scientist picking apart an experimental lab rat.

“What, why not?”

“She had a last minute setback and sent me in her absence.” He took a step back, extending one hand to the empty space behind him. “Shall we? We are pressed for time.”

“Shall we where?”

“To your room.” Kai murmured.

The golden haired male kept a tight smile. “Yes, that is correct. Jongin has pending tasks to complete at this time and it would do him good to finish before the day end.”

It sounded more like a threat than a fact and Kai’s warm fingers were on hers, gently freeing his scarf. “It’s true, I have a lot of things to do.”

“But--”

“I’ll see you soon, Bea. She’s all yours, sir.”

Chewing on the inside of her cheek--and only half concerned with Kai’s declaration of ‘all yours’ before he punched in a series of beeps and disappeared behind the mahogany door--she followed reluctantly behind the soft smiling to the elevators (with her loyal paperwork rolled in one hand and rooms keys tucked safely in the other).

He said nothing while they waited for the lift to rise, not even sparing a glance. She might as well be invisible; a concept she’s not comfortable with.

Once inside she stuck herself to the corner, eyes on the patterned carpet. In an attempt to exempt herself from exchanging rude words she may or may not have began to indulge in tracing the printed decoration; yellow whirls under their feet danced to and fro in one long, curvy line. And just when she was really getting into it--

“There is no end to them.”

“Huh?”

Embarrassment is definitely not painting the apples of her cheeks; Bea realized that he was talking about the swirls. His feet shifted when she looked up, meeting the back of his golden hair. He hadn’t been looking in her direction and the reflection is anything but clear. Was her unsociable stare so obvious that he felt the need to point it out?

He breathed in, face directed upfront as he spoke. “I do hope Jongin’s manners were anything but improper. You have to excuse him, he has not yet been debriefed.”

Bea cocked her head. “Do I have to refer to you as Monsieur, too?”

He dropped his head for a moment then and turned his waist, a knowing smile on his lips. “You are a student, Miss.”

“Yeah, I realize. Same question.”

“Jongin is new to the Academy.” He and I both. “In his position--any staff member for that matter, calling a student with honorifics is perfectly acceptable. Do you understand?”

“I guess that makes sense.” Treating staff so rudely is another matter that she preferred not to press on at this time.

“This may be too forward but would you mind if I take a look at your eyes?”

That’s one for the books.

Bea’s brow quirked. Her eyes are nothing to brag about. They’re the same generic dark brown that half the world has; only a little darker than norm, enough that it was difficult to make out her pupils unless someone brought their face this close.

“No.” She said flatly, straightening her back and flipping her hair to the side. Because she’s a girl and when a guy wants to have a closer view of your face, you should give him full sight of your beauty. “I don’t mind.”

Arms remaining in his circle of personal space and bowing at twisted waist without moving his feet, his own pair of unique eyes bore into hers. They’re another round of Abigail’s fusion twist; his eyes horn flecks of blue among honey irises and the khol around his upper lids did wonders to make any spectator think he was a foreigner. And he might as well be, with sandy coloured hair, living in a boarding school and titled Monsieur.

On a scale compiled in her head: these are three seconds much too long, but she wasn’t about to break contact first, she’s much too proud and rested on using words.

“Any time now, bub.”

He didn’t answer, instead narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly, as if he realized what piece of the puzzle is missing but had no idea how to retrieve it. His fingers hovered near her right cheek--

--before she slapped his hand away.

He backed off. “Apologies. That was out of line.”

“You bet it was.” She huffed. Stay behind that invisible line mister.

“I have no intention for you to disli