The Underworld Blues [M]
 

We may or may not be seeing crime, a bit of violence, and romance here. The warning is just to keep on the safe side.

It's a long known fact that cities don't sleep. Not anymore, at least. They may have had their rest in their youth, when criminals were fledgling and the law was powerful. Evil was not tolerated in those days. Today, the streets are slick with evil's residue. The alleys are not safe. Not every business is wholesome and law-abiding. Today, cities don't sleep, because the wicked never sleep. They stay awake, always watching, always waiting for their moment...

The night would have been darker had it not been for the towering buildings with lights all the way at the top, and it would have been colder had the alley not saved the small group from the winter wind. There, huddled around a trash can with a fire burning inside, was a group of homeless, huddled together to share warmth. They were two women, one man, one little girl resting in her mother's lap, and one young infant, wailing into the night with illness. They listened to the muffled radio sitting in the windowsill near them explain that it would be a cold one tonight folks, bundle up, and don't stay out too late at night.

Before the end of the broadcast, more showed up, and not all of them were homeless. It was no longer a small group, but a small flock that gathered around the fire and around a narrow and heavy iron door. They whispered and murmured to one another about the creature they were waiting to see. Some came from other cities to ask for guidance. Some thought it was simply a hoax and they came to prove it. Some said it was an angel behind that reinforced door. He healed the sick, after all, and that must make him good. Some said she was a devil, lying in wait to claim souls with her dark magic. The claims grew more and more fantastic, even though most could not agree on whether or not the creature was male or female, or really, what the creature even looked like. The crowd felt a hush come upon them as the door opened and a young man in a three piece suit ushered the first guest in.
"The good doctor will see you now..."

Vincent is not oblivious to the danger in the world, that's why he tends to keep to himself when he can. The less attention he gets, the better, especially after some things that have happened in his life.

Tonight, he's out with his trenchcoat like jacket, bought from a thrift store. See, he's heard of a rumor. And while he knows about the possible danger, if the person isn't just the basic scam artist, his curiousity demands that he checks out the rumor. It sounds interesting whether it's true or not. If it's true, maybe the person can help him. If not, well, he got outside today? He's standing off to the side, watching the growing group.



(Here's what I was thinking for my character http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lt...lnbyo1_500.jpg And I'm sorry it's bad...hopefully it'll get better as we go D: )

(I think it looks just fine! Glasses, dark hair, blue eyes, right?)

The first to answer the doorman's beckoning is a mother. She's heavy set, and she's holding the sobbing baby from earlier. She herself has been crying. A man near Vincent gossips in whispers to another man near him, and apparently the child has pneumonia, and the mother can't afford conventional treatment.
"It's lucky the doc came by this week," They repeat to one another, "It's lucky, it's lucky indeed..."

The door closes behind her, to keep out the crowd as it presses closer and closer to the door. The murmuring kicks up once more, almost all of it speculation. Many seem to believe the child will come out as sick as he went in. There are bah humbugs and tut-tuts and tsk-tsking. It lasts for all of a few minutes, until the door opens again and a still silence overtakes them all.

The woman comes back out. The shadows hid her baby at first, but as she steps into the alley, the streetlights illuminate her and show her red cheeks, stained with tears, and a smile. The child in her arm fusses, but he breathes again, he doesn't howl.
"My baby, she healed my baby!" She sobs into the little bundle. There is silence, a few approach to examine the baby. An old man hobbles to her and looks the bundle over, and then he turns to the crowd and announces, "God is good! His angel healed the little one!" There is awe among the crowd. Before the excitement turns into a stampede, the door man booms,
"Line up! Queue up in order, now!"

The crowd shuffles into a line. Some run to the front. Line cutting seems to be very prevalent here.

Vincent thinks that if he really heals people, it might be more of a placebo effect. It's happened before, not that it is a bad thing. If people just need a certain someone to tell them they're better to get better, he isn't against that. It's better than them staying sick and dying. He curls up kind of on himself as he waits. Who knows? Maybe the man does actually help people instead of tricking them. Though, he does hope the child gets better. No child deserves to be miserable like that.

The child kind of disproves his idea of the placebo...at least somewhat. It definitely wasn't a placebo with the child. A baby wouldn't be like an adult like that. So he is surprised. Even medicine cannot work that fast. His curiousity is just growing by the moment. He frowns a bit though, he thinks God has nothing to do with this, but he's a bit bitter maybe on that subject.

He stays back from the line. He doesn't need any medical help, so he won't get in line and delay someone who actually needs help. Especially when this could be their only choice on getting help or getting nothing. He's just glad it didn't become a complete madhouse or anything after that.

(He's a good person even if he doesn't love people XD)

The line is not so much a line as it is a chunky, informal gathering of people in an oblong shape. Vincent finds himself standing near a teenage girl, obviously under-dressed for the cold weather, shivering. Her eyeliner is streaked down her cheeks and she shivers with her arms crossed, glaring straight ahead. On his other side, he finds a middle aged woman with coke bottle glasses, her eyes wide in a sort of awe and her face lit up with a grin. She turns to him as they wait,
"Can you believe it? I've always known all my life magic is real--ever since I was a little girl, you know, I always knew--but here it is! There's another witch out there like me!"

Of course, standing in line takes time. Each person seems to take five minutes to twenty or thirty. Some are in and out quickly, some pitter-patter around inside the building and come out significantly longer. Vincent will have to wait...

(I know people like that :,D)

Vincent, after a bit, starts feeling a bit guilty watching the teen shiver. He takes off his coat, a sweater underneath, and holds it out to her. "Here." He says simply. He'll be fine, maybe a bit cold, but she has even less to keep her warm than he does.

He tilts his head at the woman's words. "You believe in magic?" He can't help but ask. To tell the truth, he's never met anyone who does believe in it...that he can remember at least. He does smile at her words. Even if it isn't true, at least it makes her happy.

The teenager shakes her head, "I'll be fine, Jesus." She seems quiet adamant on ignoring Vincent's existence. Strangely enough, she takes the jacket and throws it over her shoulders. she refuses to look him in the eye...

"Well of course I do darling!" The woman brightens even more. Her smile could light up the whole alleyway. "I've been a practicing Wicca since I was twenty! Why, I first started out with burning candles when I was sixteen, but I hardly knew what I was doing back then--and it wasn't as popular as it is today either!-- but I burnt candles, you see, and I always made a wish over them, and soon enough, I got my wish! But even before then, I knew about magic! You see, my great auntie Marie..." As she yammers on, they move closer to the front. The teenager rolls her eyes and the older woman, who has somehow moved on from the topic of Wiccanism to the year her auntie set the roof on fire trying to revive the dead...

Vincent just lifts an eyebrow before rolling his eyes as the teenager takes his coat. She just reinforces the idea that some people just were not raised right....but he's hoping she's just having an ungodly bad day or something.

He can't help but smile as the woman does. It's infectious apparently. "I don't have a religion." It isn't that he's atheist, he just doesn't know at this point really know. He nods a bit as he listen. "I'm glad it worked for you." He's still skeptical about it all, but if it helps the woman, why shoot it down? "Oooh....I don't think I'd want to do that. If someone is dead, I think they should stay that way....it sounds like too many things can go wrong...like things catching on fire in this case...."

The teenager remains sulking right near him. She watches as the older woman rambles on, only stopping to hear Vincent speak and then pick right on up where she left off. "Why, of course, that's what I told her at the time! But like I was saying, I was such a young child, she didn't listen to me, and she kept right on with her ritual, but of course her husband never came back to life and now she has a permanent fear of fire. Did you know the spell to ease anxiety about fire involves using fire? It's true, I saw it on the internet! We tried it several times but dear old Auntie never did go through with it..." As she babbles on and the line trudges closer, the teenager nudges Vincent, "I think she just likes to hear herself talk."

Those who needed healing were at the front of the line, and each of them came out singing the doctor's praises, but now that they're taken care of, those who came for advice walk in. They frequently come back out looking angry. Someone comes back out in tears. Many come out happy enough, but it's disconcerting to see the frail old man wave his cane around and tell the crowd that they're visiting a fraud, and an ugly one at that.

Vincent just smiles as the other talks. He shrugs a bit at the teenager. "She might, but there's no harm in listening to a story or two....not like I don't have some time." He says softly, still listening to the other as best as possible. Even if the story isn't true or is true, it's still more interesting than talking about the weather or other things. "The fire thing...it just kind of makes me think of just facing your fear..." Though if it works, it doesn't matter what it's called.

He sighs, seeing all the people angry. "If you don't want the advice, you don't have to go in....and you don't have to follow it. There's no point in anger." He shakes his head a bit. "If a fraud gives people hope, I'd rather visit a fraud than you." He can't help but say to the old man. He tries to be nice and polite...but there's only so much he can do.

The old man lets out a sort of angry yell, and as he walks away with the gentle old woman he came here with, he seems to cry onto her. After a lot of chatting, the next woman in line is the one who had been talking to them for so long, the Wicca woman. She nearly skips in. The teenager crosses her arms. "She's going to be in for a big surprise. I saw him a few years back on the east coast and he's not some kind of Wicca priest or something. He's just some weird-ass mystic who stays in town for a night and then up and leaves."

(I know it didn't seem like they were out for long, but I didn't want to add too much filler to the rp, especially so close to it's start. I do apologize ;; )

Vincent sighs a bit, shaking his head. He can't know exactly what the advice was, but his words still stand. Life isn't always pleasant, neither is the advice you can get for it either. "Well, she might still be happy about it unless he's some demon or something like some said. Because sometimes....you have to take what you can get. If he does magic, well, they've got that in common no matter the religion." He says, shrugging a bit. "What are you here for? If you're willing to say that is..."

(It's all good :3)

"Yeah, well, people like hearing what they already think out of someone else's mouth. Not everyone thinks like you, punk." She huffs and shivers and pulls his coat closer around her shoulders. "I'm here for substance abuse, okay? I broke up with my boyfriend and did a lot of drugs to get over it and I'm having withdrawal and I can't go to the hospital because I did illegal crap. Why are you so nosey?" She again refuses to look him in the eye. She shakes even with his coat over her shoulders, it may be she' not shaking from the cold. There's a loud yelling sound coming from inside the building, and the doorman has to run inside. It's then silent again...

Vincent shrugs a bit. "Well, we've all got to accept the truth sooner or later...and it is worse to decieve yourself." It'll just end up hurting more in the end really. "You could go to the hospital. To my knowledge...they wouldn't especially if you're trying to quit...or get through it and never do it again..." He's trying to help. "Though...I don't blame you for trying to go here either..." Here is free, and if he charges, it can't be as much as a hospital would. "I was just wondering. If you didn't want to tell me, you didn't have to." He says softly. He pads over to the door, opening it a bit once the yelling and the doorman runs in. "Everything alright in there?"

The teenager grumps and harrumphs and, if she had feathers, they would be ruffled up. "Aren't you a peachy keen little optimist. You think joy and happiness is all there is to life and a little help goes a long way. Flash news for you, it isn't. Sometimes life hands you the short straw." She seems to bury herself in the jacket, and now she really does look like a chicken with her feathers fluffed up.

As he peers into the darkness, he sees a shabby-looking hallway. One of the rooms to the left is lit up, and the doorman has his arms under the Wicca woman's shoulders from earlier. "Demon!" she howls, "Demon scum, you've been tricking all these people! Demon!" She screeches. The doorman seems as if he'd rather be anywhere but here and his face makes that clear as he grumbles and drags her out of the hall. He shoves her outside and quickly ushers Vincent in, and to keep the Wicca woman from charging in and potentially hurting the doctor, the heavy door is shut behind him.

It's dark in here without the light from outside. The building smells like mildew and urine. There is one door open down the hall on the left, and it has a welcoming warm light spilling out from it. There's something peculiar about the light. It feels like it reaches out to greet him, as if the light itself moves to say 'welcome'. Of course, it can only be a trick of the light...can it?
He hears a voice call out to him from the room. He finds it sounds male, but it's oddly smooth for a male voice. "Please, come in. I apologize for the last woman to visit, but these things happen..."

"No, but by law, hospitals are supposed to take care of your health before they bother with the police. A person can't be punished if they die." Vincent isn't an optimist when it comes to himself, but for others? He can be a bit optimistic. "And sometimes...the short straw is used to decide who wins instead of loses."

He kind of whines when he hears the thing about the demon. The guy could be a demon for all he knows....or she could be flipping out. Neither is a pleasant option right now. He moves out of the way a bit for the doorman, looking a bit sad. The woman was excited for this. That's sad to him.

Once he's inside, he blinks a bit, trying to get used to the darkness and all compared to outside. He tilts his head at the light, maybe he's going crazy? He's wondered that one his entire life actually. He'll jsut asume it's a trick of the light for the sake of his sanity. When he hears the voice, he has to think for a second maybe he really is a demon. Demons are supposed to be smooth, aren't they? Either way, he's in here now so he might as well find out. "I think she was just disappointed...and it's easier to be angry than disappointed." He says as he heads for the room.

(Would one magic user be able to sense another?)

(They might be able to, and that's a good thought. I'll be sure to include what Vincent could feel from my character in the descriptions form now on. I hadn't thought of that.)

He turns into the room and finds that the light source comes from floating balls of light that seem to hang from the ceiling. Some are pinpricks, like stars, and some are the size of baseballs. They glow a pink and cast a warm, radiant light on the whole room. Despite how measly the room is--there's two folding metal chairs and a table with only three legs--the light makes it seem much nicer. Someone sits in the chair across from the table. Whoever they are, they have dark skin, the colour of chocolate mocha, and darker hair--and how long it is! It falls into the person's lap and curls around a few times, it's so long. Their eyes are a green, but cataracts that look like white clouds in front of his pupils cloud their vision. It's hard to tell what gender this person is. They wear a coat, like a doctor's coat, and a long, slinky dress underneath that sparkles the same colour pink the light does. Their hands look large and manly, and his face looks angular, but what kind of man has legs like that, and wears glittery eye-shadow? More importantly--what's that feeling in the room?

If he pays attention, he can feel something. It's a strange feeling, much like that of viewing the northern lights. Something powerful and likely a little bit old dances in the room, and though he can't see it, it's still very much there.

"I think it's more fear than anything. She was expecting some fraudulent hippie with candles and happiness and she found me instead." They speak, interrupting whatever thoughts Vincent might've had. "What's your name, and why have you chosen to deal with me tonight, hm?" They lean forward, folding their perfectly manicured hands on top of the table.

Vincent can't help but tilt his head a bit, looking at the lights. He's never seen lights like these, though that doesn't mean much to tell the truth. But this place wouldn't have newer lights like these. And pink usually isn't a popular color for lights though...he does snort a bit. He's thinking of a song-Rose Tint my World. This is the literal version of that one. Excuse him because when he looks at the other, it turns into staring as he tries to figure the other out. He's never seen anyone quite like this before. He's seen drag queens before, but this guy doesn't fit that group....not enough make up...and not enough faked parts.

He just tilts his head, it feels like warning bells are kind of going off in his head. Something's off here but he isn't sure what exactly because he hasn't felt like this before.

"Well, if I expected that, I would see no point in coming and waiting." He can't help but say. "I'm Vincent." He isn't getting a last name. "And to tell you the truth? Curiousity."

(And he's not getting a last name because I don't have one.)

(Well, I just thought of it...because normal humans can sense ghosts and demons to some extent....whether they realize it is a ghost or demon or not)

The creature smiles and gestures to the seat. "What questions do you have Vincent? I'm afraid I don't have all night, but it'd be a nice break from babying everyone." They sit back and they start to run their hands through their own hair, as if idly thinking. Maybe considering? "I don't charge, not unless you came for sex. If so, you're going to have to wait till morning, and my rates are relatively high then because I haven't slept tonight. Oh, and nothing /too/ freaky." They smile, almost chuckling at Vincent. "Though, you're cute, I might discount for you."

Vincent eyeballs him a bit before sitting down. Something about him just puts him on edge. And it isn't the slinky dress or make up. He makes a strange noise and stares at him before he starts to blush brightly at his words. His brain just broke. Give it a few minutes to reboot. "I....I did not come for that." He's able to get out at some point. "What are you?" He asks after a pause. He's decided to just go for questions right now. He has no clue about magic beyond fiction books that he's read which don't really count.

"A man." He answers plainly, and finally he has an answer. The man twirls hair between his finger. "Are you sure you didn't come for that? I'll be honest, I don't find cuties with glasses like you just anywhere. They don't have a cutie department store. Do you even swing that way?" Though obviously blind, it's peculiar how this man's eyes stay trained on Vincent's face. Somehow, he also knows what he looks like.

It's hard to tell sometimes. Some women look like men, some men look like women...it's hard to distinguish sometimes. He makes a strange noise of his, that blush coming back force. "Wh...why do you keep bringing that up?" He does swing that way, but he doesn't feel the need to say that outloud. He's never had anyone be that straightforward before unless it was a club, which he never went back to, or there was alcohol involved, which he would turn down.

"I'm hitting on you Vincent." He sits back and laughs, a genuinely happy sort of laugh. It feels warm, like the lights around them. "I'm hitting on you is why I keep bringing that up. Let's face it, you're hot and I'm into it." He smiles and leans forward into the chair again "Have you never been hit on before, Vincent? Wait wait--" He sits back again and tries to hide that big grin of his. "You had questions for me. I'll hit on you later. Questions first."

Vincent just looks away, still blushing brightly. That blush isn't going to go away for awhile to say the least. He just shakes his head a bit. "Unless you count the club or the bar...no." He kind of mumbles. He doesn't because...now that he thinks about it....the one at that club was probably drunk too. He looks at the other, a bit unhappy. "Well, same quesiton again, just not about your gender this time...like some people were saying you were demon before she was yelling it..."

"Ah." He nods, then scratches his chin. His smile changes, it seems more thoughtful now. "Well...I'll have to start by asking you a question." He settles himself in, and he watches him with paradoxically blind and seeing eyes.

"Have you ever had moments, Vincent, where it seemed like things just lined up perfectly and either something really good or really bad happened? Maybe little things, like you got angry over something and the water in your cup began to boil, or you have an unusual ability to know what plants think, or maybe your shadow moves without you moving for it. Maybe you're just really lucky or really unlucky. Anything like that?"

Vincent just tilts his head a bit, raising an eyebrow at the others words. Well, he'll try to answer the question, though if it's anything about his sexuality, he won't. His eyes widen as the other talks. None of those in particular have happened to him, but he knows what the other is getting at. "M-maybe." He says, not exactly sure where this is going...so he can't get himself to say yes either.

His smile widens. "Well, tell me what you do. I can tell you're special. Something about what I said rings a bell to you, I can see it in your eyes, believe it or not. What sort of tricks do you pull?" He leans forward on the table, propping his head up on his elbows.

Vincent isn't looking at him. He's always felt ashamed of what he can do and all. "U-usually....it's when I'm scared...." He says softly. "People...end up hurt..." He get quieter as he talks. He's never severely hurt anyone, but it always freaks him out when it happens and all. It's also why he doesn't like to be around people.

"That's common enough." He beams, "And there's no need to mumble. I've heard worse. There was this young girl--oh nevermind it." He laughs again. He acts as if he's already a friend, as if they've known each other and just met for a casual meeting. "I am like you, but a little different. You use magic, and so do I. The only difference is what kind, and where it comes from."

With that said, he holds out both hands on the table, palms up. There is nothing remarkable about the palms of his hands. They are soft, and that is all. Then, before his very eyes, Vincent watches as his hands fill with tiny stars, just like the ones that float above them now. He can even feel the change in the room as he uses his power, how it shifts towards his hands. The stars overflow out of his hands and fall onto the table. Some of them float into the air the way dust would. "I can do so much more than this, but these seem to be the most comforting thing I can summon up. you can eat some if you like. I do sometimes, they just make your stomach glow a little and they fade away."

Vincent just looks at him. "Is it really?" He has some doubt on that one. He has some curiousity when it comes to the girl, but he doesn't ask. It's none of his business really at this point. "So...it is real?" Though that lady was probably believing in this kind of magic...it exists?

He can't help but stare as the other makes little stars. "That's....amazing." Is all he can say as he stares. At his words, he stares at the stars before going with the juvenile urge of eating one to watch it glow. He can't help but giggle when it actually does as he says it will.

Liethell smiles and watches him. The stars spill off the table and hang in the air around him, slowly drifting to the ceiling--except for the one currently illuminating Vincent's stomach, of course. It feels like nothing, tastes like nothing, and doesn't even provide him the feeling of fullness that food does, but it's entertaining.

"To answer your question, I am human, but not fully. In order to use this magic, I have drawn upon the powers of a friend of mine, who is not human at all. Together, we are a mixed breed of sorts. I'll be willing to answer questions about that too, if you have them."

Vincent can't help but giggle while watching the light in his stomach. He just pokes his stomach a bit. Yes, he has become a two year old that quickly. He isn't surprised that it feels like nothing is in his stomach....why would light act like food? But anyway, he still likes it.

He just seems confused as the other talks. "Then what are you? Who is your friend...what is your friend?" That last question is probably the best one out of them all.

"Well, Vincent, I'm half a human, and my friend is half a demon, for lack of a better name for him. Together, we're one creature. It's complicated stuff, magic is." He sits back and crosses his legs. "My name is Liethell, and my friend's name is Ganymeade. He isn't here right now, I'm afraid he's not exactly the prettiest thing, and people don't react well to large, frightening monsters and cross-dressers in the same room." He giggles a little. It sounds masculine, and strange coming from someone so feminine. He strokes his own hair out and begins to braid it as he speaks. "He's considered a 'demon'. Really, he has no affiliation with hell or Satan though, it's just the only word we can call a purely magical creature like him. He looks like a very ugly dog-lizard, if you're going for an image, but don't tell him I said that." He snickers to himself, "But we're bonded. We've fused ourselves into one essence, and from that, we share powers and a very, very long lifespan.

"I'd like to point out that you are most likely not the same kind of magic user I am. Whatever your magic is, it probably comes from somewhere else. If you like," He starts to lean towards Vincent with a sultry smile, and his voice starts to sound deeper, smokey and husky, "I could teach you."

Vincent looks confused. Mainly because....what was he before they were one? Or have they always been one? He doesn't ask this...mainly because it doesn't really matter. Not at this point at least. "I don't think that second half affects the reaction much if it all." Cross-dressers don't bother him beyond a possible double take to make sure. The large demon thing probably would though. He starts to try and image that dog lizard, and he tilts his head. Yeah, none of those look right to him and he just shakes his head a bit. "Question....are there actually demons like how people think of demons?" Like hell and Satan. He has no clue. And he's curious. "What does Ganymeade get out of this?" He assumes the demon isn't doing it to just be nice, though maybe it wasn't a choice either. He wouldn't know.

"How many kinds are there?" Sad thing is, he's thinking of video game mages and the like. He leans back, starting to wonder if almost everything is sex with this person, but he isn't forcing himself on Vincent. That's always a plus. "What would you want in exchange?" He has a feeling. Just a little one, of what he'd want possibly.

Liet laughs at his comment, "Obviously, you've never cross dressed Vincent. Come to me after spending a day in full drag and tell me what kind of treatment you get." He grins, and he listens to his questions with the same sort of bemusement.

"Well, Vincent, I suppose that depends on whether you believe in a hell to begin with." He shrugs and smiles. "Demons exist, in a way, but whether they come from hell or not depends on your perspective of them. Most demons would never say they come from hell at all. As for what Ganymeade gets out of this..." He bites his lip, and his eyes seem to train themselves on one of the floating stars in the room. "That's a personal question, Vincent. I don't think it's up to me to tell you that, even if I wanted to. I can assure you he is not malicious in the way we normally think of demons. He's not doing this simply because he'll gain something from it. Demons are just as complex and as emotional as we are--and just like us, there are numberless kinds of demons. They have powers that correspond with different elements, but even then, there's so much overlap. and for your last question..." He sighs and leans back, his head turns and he leaves his hair un-braided.

"Of course, I get powers and an extended lifespan. Technically, I'm a lot harder to kill. But you have to realize Vincent, there's more than that. Despite common belief, magical creatures feel compassion..." He sighs, as if saddened, and begins to braid his hair once more.

"None of what I am and how I came to be means anything to you, obviously. you're a different kind of magical being. A human born with his very own magical reserves. I know men and women who would quite literally murder to be in your position. Wherever you draw your magic from, you draw it on your own. It's a special form of magic. You should treasure your abilities, and more importantly, I believe you ought to find someone to teach you how to use them. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste..."

"Well...if someone wants to dress in drag....that's their business really. They can do their thing and I can do mine." Vincent shrugs a bit. He tries not to judge people too much...especially since he doesn't know why they're doing it. He can't always keep from judging a bit. Like judging Liethell's fasion choice in sparkles...but that doesn't effect anything...but considering the light and all, the choice matches. "And I don't think drag would cause fear like a giant monster..." Though people may take it as a threat to their masculinity or something.

He shrugs a bit-he really has no thought on whether hell exists or not. If it does, he's not partially to burning for all eternity. "That's fine." He says when the other answers his question...or not really. It isn't a question that just involves the other so that's understandable. "I only ask because most people do things to gain other things be those things physical or not." Some people do things just so they won't be alone, for companionship, others do it to gain material things. Very rarely will someone do something just to be nice, in his opinion at least.

"Well, why wouldn't they have feelings like that? Just because they're magically doesn't make them soulless." That's the best way he can think of to voice what he's thinking-that they're people...and even if people try to look off all emotions, they'll still get out once in awhile. And even if he believed in demons in the traditional sense, the Christian sense, he would have to believe they have feelings and the like...otherwise they would have never rebelled.

He pales a bit at Liethell's words. He does not like the sound of that at all....especially when this magic has caused some bad things to happen. No one is dead, but still...bad things. Maybe that's why his parents gave him up as a child. "And who would be able to teach me?" He has to ask.

(Note: He does not know if his parents are alive/dead...were alive/dead when he ended up in the orphanage...his memories are blurry.)

He listens to his other statements and lets them go. He finds flaws with them, but for now, what matters most is Vincent's safety. What he needs is a mentor. He wouldn't last a night in the underbelly of a city like this, and the people who walk about in the day would not take too kindly to him either, if he couldn't control his magic.
"I would take you on. There are many better than me, but the familia comes first. As far as I see, though, you are part of the familia. The magical one." He smiles and folds his hands in his lap, sitting back. "It will change your life. You will commit crimes. You might get mixed up with drugs. You might not ever be a part of the normal populace. But if you don't find someone to help you, your powers may grow out of control. They may hurt more people. They may hurt you. I want you to weigh out the consequences before you tell me you truly want a mentor. This isn't a light decision..."

(duly noted! I'm pretty sure Liethell wouldn't know of his parents either...)

Vincent, after any time his magic would act on its own, he would isolate himself for awhile, afraid that it would happen again, maybe hurt someone severely which he definitely doesn't want. And part of it was due to guilt. He looks at the other, tilting his head a bit as he talks. It's obvious that he doesn't like the idea of commiting crimes or anything to do with drugs. Though truth be told, he did think of turning to them to see if they'd help at all. Last chance type of thing...obviously he hasn't done that one yet. He seems, if his face is any clue, to dislike the idea of hurting other people more. He seems torn. He doesn't want the crime or drug thing....but he doesn't want anyone to get hurt because of him either. It feels like a lose-lose situation either way.

(I'm just saying because he thinks they abandoned him whereas they might have been killed or whatever)

"It's a hard decision." He repeats. He reaches up and digs in his chest--in his bra, really, but why would he need a bra?!--and pulls out a hair tie. He finishes off his braid with the tie and folds his hands in his lap. "If you need, I'll give you time to think it over while I see the rest of the people out there. There's no pressure to make the decision now."

Vincent can't help but look at him, just blinking, before shaking his head. He's met plenty of women who use that are for storage as well...so why shouldn't Liethell? "Yeah...I...I need time to think." He says, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn't know if he wants to be a part of that. It would be nice to control his power, at least enough to keep himself from hurting others if nothing else.