one day this will fade {open}

[Costin Dracula]

Costin didn't often go home for the weekends - almost never, in fact. Being around his fathers was an increasingly unpleasant venture the older he got (and they didn't), and even though he hated this school and just about everyone in it, he hated being at home even more. This weekend had been an exception. Back through the portal he had gone, Friday evening, and directly back through the portal he had come, Saturday morning. What had happened in between was no one's business but his own, but his hasty return and general demeanor upon arriving back at the school were pretty clear indicators that it hadn't been enjoyable.

Not that Costin's demeanor was usually bright and cheery, but tonight, as he made his way to the library under the cover of the falling darkness, he was as sullen and brooding as ever, pulling his coat around his body, collar turned up, hands plunged deep into his pockets as he strode forward purposefully. He had no bag with him; this was much more of a recreational outing than anything meant to further his studies, so he had left his textbooks and assignments back in his room. This was mostly a distraction, something to get him out of his room. Besides, he was losing days of youth at a devastating rate; he had so much catching up to do before he would ever be as well-read as his parents, what with their centuries of wandering around reading as many books as they wanted on as many planets they wanted to.

He pushed his way in through the front doors of the library and made his way to a table somewhere in the center, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of a chair before moving off into the shelves. He was looking for nothing in particular, but he found that none of the books on the main shelves struck his interest. They were all too modern...the jackets were all glossy and bright, the type printed and slick. Cheap, he thought. Cheap and pedestrian. Once he'd spent an adequate amount of time thinking condescending things about modern publication practices, he sighed disdainfully and made his way to the antique books section. This was much more like it, he thought, running a fingertip along the spine of a particularly old-looking book. The title of the book was in Latin, which Costin definitely did not speak, but that didn't matter. He picked the book up, signed his name on the little registry paper at the desk, and took the book back to his table.

Dramatically spreading out at the table, he opened the book, being sure to hold it where anyone would be able to see the cover. He understood maybe every third word of it, only so much as similarities to Romanian would allow him, but that wasn't the point. The point wasn't really even for someone to see him reading it (although he certainly had positioned himself so that would be possible), the point was that it made him feel just a little closer to ancient, and he would take that in whatever form he could get it.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred loved the library at Tintagel. Here, at his very fingertips, was a wealth of knowledge that the ancient guardian of the Camelot libraries could only dream of. And even better, there was no crusty old man chasing him away from certain texts; he was free to read, study and absorb anything he wanted.

As someone who didn't believe in study, this was a truly enlightening experience.

Bypassing the modern texts, which Mordred had scanned and dismissed early into his discovery of the library as being glib and pointless, he made his way straight to the area that contained the older texts. Originally he had planned to simply read what he had been denied back at home, but it hadn't taken long to discover that there were entire histories here, histories of things that, in the world his mother, father, uncles and aunts still resided in, had not yet come to pass. Having possessed the Sight for as long as he could remember, Mordred was used to knowing what was going to happen - but this was different. This was history, hard, cold facts describing his future, his family's future, the future of his uncle's kingdom. His grandfather's legacy, left to Arthur and, in the future, to Tristian.

He had sensed there was a danger in reading these books, but Mordred had never cared about danger. In fact, he enjoyed it; it made life much more interesting if there was a risk of serious injury, death or destruction. And what could be more destructive than knowing what was going to happen?

And being able to change it?

Today, Mordred could be found deep in the stacks, comfortable slouched in a chair with his expensive and highly fashionable shoes resting up on the nearest desk, his nose stuck in Geoffrey of Monmouth's 'History of the Kings of Britain', with Malory's 'Le Morte D'Arthur' open in his lap.

Now these were truly fascinating reads. Turned out, who knew? Mordred was going to bring down Camelot. He couldn't put the books down, but glanced up as another student entered, somewhat nervous it might be one of his many cousins. He watched as the boy picked out a book in some completely foreign language, and strategically placed it so it was obvious to everyone what he was reading.

Mordred smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Can you actually read that, or are you just trying to look particularly smart and well read? Because I'm not sure it's working."

[Costin Dracula]

Costin hadn't even noticed that Mordred was there, and when he realised there was a person nearby he hadn't detected, it was enough to send a rush of irritated anger through him. People sneaking up on him was one of the things that bothered him the most; it was just a reminder that he didn't have the preternatural senses that he wanted so badly to possess. This boy didn't know that, though, and Costin wasn't in the mood to unload his life story to him. (Despite how much he'd whined to Gwyn about it, he actually didn't bring it up to other people these days unless they pried enough to make it unavoidable; he was utterly ashamed of it, and wasn't interested in more people knowing about that than he could prevent).

He had a couple of options here. He could lie, say he was completely fluent in Latin and was reading this book for fun...and while he was a very good liar, he did not in fact speak Latin, and the lie would fall apart if this guy spoke it himself and tried to engage him in conversation about it. Telling the truth...well, that was right out. He could do a combination of the two, though, and that was probably the best choice anyway because the most convincing lies always contained an element of the truth.

"I'm immersing myself for the sake of education," he said smoothly. "I'm by no means fluent, but it's similar enough to my native tongue that I'm able to navigate it." He was a little irritated that Mordred seemed to already have his number, and was eager to deflect attention away from himself (for once). "Although I have to say, you're not in much position to judge anyone for trying to appear smart, are you, Sir I'm-DefinitelyReading-Both-These-Books-At-Once?"

He looked away from Mordred and back down at his own book, which he had begun to suspect was some person's ramblings on civil service or some such thing. He had a feeling it wouldn't have been that much more interesting even if it'd been written in English or Romanian and he'd understood every word of it, but he had committed to his path, and giving up now would imply weakness. And if there was one thing Costin hated above all else, it was weakness. Well, weakness and unreasonable optimism, those were fairly close on the scale.

[Mordred Le Fey]

It didn't take the Sight to pick up on the defensiveness oozing from every pore of this one. Mordred was close to fluent in Latin himself; his penchant for books he wasn't allowed to read, and most of them being in Latin, had meant that the 'dead tongue' was one of the few things he had committed himself to in his studies back home.


"Lex autem civilis ministerium in MCC." Mordred read the title of the cover with ease, wrinkling his nose. "Gods, if you're having trouble sleeping I can hook you up with something much better than that stuff." Mordred pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and shook it gently. "This stuff works a treat." He casually tossed it towards the other boy.

He shifted slightly on his chair, smirking as the other boy passed judgement on his current two-text situation. Rolling his eyes as the boy turned back to his snooze-fest book on the Laws of Civil Service in 1200, Mordred slowly and loudly turned a page in his own book.

"Believe me, looking smart is the least of my concerns. Who needs to look smart with smouldering good looks like these?" He raised an eyebrow with a smirk, running a hand through his hair with perfect precision, allowing his hair to fall exactly back in place. "No, no, my linguistically-challenged friend, this is double-book situation is purely about self-improvement."

Winking at Costin, he turned back to his book, almost chuckling as he read the next line.

Wherefore Sir Mordred made a parlemente, and called the lordys togydir, and there he made them to chose [hym] Kynge; and so was he crowned at Caunturbyry.

"Incredible..." He muttered with barely contained glee.

[Costin Dracula]

Costin was pleased that he hadn't been far off base in his suspicions that this guy might speak Latin - gambles that paid off were the best, obviously, but not taking a gamble and finding out you were right in not doing so was a close second. Also, he'd been right about the general content of the book, which was also satisfying, considering he hadn't actually read the title before he'd brought it back to the table. He thought that would be that, but no, the boy kept talking, and about his own attractiveness, no less. Now, having been raised by Vlad Dracula, Costin was used to conceited people. That didn't mean he particularly liked them, quite the contrary, but Mordred's jab at his linguistic skills got under his skin much more than his bragging.

"Excuse me," he bristled, "I speak three languages." He was a little distracted when he said it, already looking down at the bottle of pills Mordred had thrown at him. "That might not be much to some people, but I think it's respectable, especially since all three of them are still spoken by people somewhere." He set his ancient book down, and was reading over the label on the pill bottle.

"What is this?" As reluctant as he was to keep this conversation going, he was curious; a person he didn't know had thrown drugs at him, and Costin wasn't stupid enough to take anything without knowing what it was. He wasn't even sure Mordred heard him, what with how enthusiastically he was reading. How did a person manage to turn a quiet, solitary activity like reading into something annoying? Costin was almost impressed. "And what are you reading, then, if your book is so much better?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

What was it in Mordred that just seemed to attract all these issue-ridden individuals? It was like he had some huge internal magnet that just drew issues to him. It was incredibly tedious.

At least he himself was completely and totally issue free. That made things much easier.

Mordred had to admit, though, that the fact that his linguistics comment had gotten under this guy's skin. He was full of these excellent one-liners, jabs and insults, but it was so much more gratifying when they hit a weak spot and he got a reaction - the more knee-jerk the better. He had to admit, it kept life fun.

Although, three language was somewhat interesting. It was a truth universally acknowledged that a man who could speak more than one language was infinitely more attractive to the opposite sex. There was a real sex appeal in saying things to a girl she had absolutely no comprehension of. And, oddly, here in Tintagel Latin just didn't have the same effect as it did back home.

"Three languages, huh? Well, you must be a hit with the young ladies of the community." Mordred drew himself away from the history of his overthrowing of his uncle to pay a little more attention to his associate.

He smirked at the boy's question. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. It's just a little recreational medicine that helps you drift off into that deep, natural sleep you so clearly crave." He pulled another bottle out of his pocket. "You can keep those, a gift from me to you." Opening the bottle and dropping two pills into his hand, he grinned at the other boy, before throwing them into his mouth. "Of course, taken with the appropriate beverage, they can have the opposite effect, and give you a fantastic buzz." With a quick glance around to ensure he wasn't attracting an audience, Mordred pulled a hip flask from his jacket pocket and took a swig, before holding out the flask in offering to his companion.

He gave a small laugh as he was asked what was so much better about his book. "Well, my friend, I am reading something that has the power to change my life, and the lives of my nearest and dearest exponentially." He grinned, holding up Le Morte and showing Costin the cover. "It's my history, and boy is it a compelling read."

[Costin Dracula]

Costin had never gone out of his way to try to impress a girl in English, Romanian, or Spanish, if he was honest. Romance in general was a strange concept to him; his whole concept of relationships was based on his fathers, and...well, when your only basis for romance was a centuries-old love affair between ancient vampires, it just made the idea of dating seem foreign and utterly alien. It wasn't that he didn't have desires, he certainly knew beauty when he saw it and he had thoughts about what it made him want to do, but until he was immortal and could have the kind of love that he knew was possible, he just didn't see the point.

"I am not a hit with young ladies," he denied. "I am occasionally hit by young ladies, but that is neither here nor there." He was distracted again by Mordred pulling out yet another bottle of pills. "What are you...are you some sort of dealer?" He asked that without a trace of judgment; he had no thoughts on the morality of drug dealing. Growing up in an essentially constantly murderous environment left one with a peculiar set of values, and one of the things Costin had always been raised to value was hedonism.

He reached out and took the flask, because he wanted to, and because he didn't see why he shouldn't, tilting it back and taking a good sip before handing it back.

"Thank you," he said. There was no reason to be antagonistic in a library, after all, especially when someone seemed to be offering him enjoyable things for free. He looked back down at the bottle of pills, and took one out, inspecting it closely. He didn't want to sleep naturally - Mordred had that all wrong, but the other effects promised certainly interested him. "You should know that if this kills me, you might have two...well, maybe one...angry vampire who will want to speak to you." He still wasn't convinced that Dracula wouldn't be thrilled to get a sorry your son died letter from the school, but he was relatively certain Tulio would at least want to know what happened to him.

He peered at the cover of the book, and frowned thoughtfully. "How do you have a book about you in the library? What's it about, your childhood?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

That was enough to make Mordred put the books down, place his feet back on the floor, and lean forward, staring at this guy with his eyebrows raised. "You speak three languages, and you get hit by girls, instead of hit on by girls?" Mordred was struggling to fathom this. "That makes, quite literally, no sense. You have to use your Gods-given talents, my friend! Zero personality? Flaunt your money! Nerdy loser? Bring up the fact that you're a prince! Socially challenged? Speak to them in another language!" Leaning back again in his chair, Mordred folded his arms and shook his head slowly. "You may well be in need of an intervention. It could be fate that brought us together this day."

"I'm not a dealer - I'm offended at the very suggestion." He put a hand on his chest and feigned an offended look. "I'm just extremely well stocked and prepared for any eventuality. You never know when you might need a pick me up." He winked at Costin. "Seriously dude, I think you need me in your life." He watched Costin inspect the pills and rolled his eyes. "It won't kill you. Well, one won't anyway." He grinned. "Everything in moderation, my friend."

He picked up the book again, and put his feet back up on the desk, taking another swig from his returned flask. He eyed Costin over his book. Sure, he looked like a square, but Mordred felt like he could have some fun with this guy. Or if not with him, at least at his expense. He might be worth a little effort.

His grin widened as Costin asked about the book. "Oh my childhood, my teenage years, my adulthood - this book is about everything." He tapped the cover reverently. "It turns out, my life is the stuff of legends. Literally. Perks of being part of one of the most famous historical legends in the world, I guess." Mordred couldn't help but allow his chest to puff slightly with pride.

[Costin Dracula]

Costin lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, feeling slightly discomfited by the sudden interest Mordred was showing in the way Costin used his talents. He couldn't rembember the last time someone had cared enough to give him advice on that sort of thing. Maybe it had never happened at all. "An intervention..." he echoed, the slightest trace of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, completely unbidden and unexpectedly. "It's not...I'm not a prince. I'm a viscount, but..." Why was this person interested in helping him? Surely he was scheming something unpleasant. It had to be a ruse.

"I wouldn't care if you were a dealer," he assured him, still trying to wrap his mind around the turn this conversation had taken. "I very much doubt I need you in my life. I have never needed anyone in all my days."

Adding to his confusion was the fact that Mordred had just told him this book he was reading was a chronicle of his whole life, which seemed impossible unless...unless he was immortal, and he wasn't the age he appeared to be. That would really just be too much, Costin thought, his heart sinking in his chest a little. He glanced back down at the book again, then back up to meet Mordred's eyes.

"Alright then, Arthur," he said, deciding that if the book was about the guy, that must be his name on it. "If I take one of these pills, what's going to happen to me?" He didn't wait for the answer before he lifted his hand and placed the pill on his tongue, then held a hand back out for the flask.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Waving Costin's comments away with his hand and a shake of his head Mordred shrugged. "It doesn't matter what level of nobility you are, my friend, the point is you have to learn to use it to your advantage. That's the key." He raised an eyebrow at Costin's declaration of independence. "Well, that's just sad. Everyone needs someone, even if it's just to make them look better in comparison." Mordred grinned. "You have so much to learn - trust me, you need someone."

The grin disappeared from his face as Costin spoke again, and he deliberately withheld the flask. "Well, now you really have offended me." He said seriously, an eyebrow raised. "Arthur is my uncle, I'm Mordred." He held up the book again as he handed over the flask. "Lesson number two: just because a story has someone's name in the title, does not make them the most important character." He offered the boy his hand to shake. "I'm Mordred Le Fey. And that little pill? That'll help you see the world that little more clearly." He smiled, his own pills beginning to take effect and his pupils darkening slightly. He felt hyper-aware of his surroundings, his leg beginning to bounce like a hyperactive child.

[Costin Dracula]

Well, Mordred certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. For a moment, Costin entertained the thought...what if he took this guy up on the offer? Asked him to teach Costin all his ways, how to be more impressive socially, what drugs would make him feel more immortal. It would be admitting that he had a lot of work to do on something he had never been interested in to begin with, but it suddenly sounded like it might be something to occupy his time while he sat around waiting for his fathers to decide he was worthy of their legacy.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have said something offsensive before he could even agree to the situation. He quickly discovered he had called Mordred by someone else's name, apparently his uncle. "Mordred," he repeated, shaking the hand that was offered to him. "I'm Costin. And I apologize for calling you by your uncle's name." He hesitated, then added. "It is terribly unpleasant to be compared to family members." He swallowed the pill dry, feeling a little like he'd overstayed his welcome as far as the flask went. "Is this really going to make me see better?" He glanced down uneasily at Mordred's bouncing leg.

"Supposing I wasn't interested in dating anyone, or whatever thing you were thinking I'd stand to gain from approaching young ladies in languages they don’t speak. I’m not overly concerned with forming romantic attachments here, you see, I’ve a bit of a situation where I’m not long for this life.” That definitely sounded like he was two days from death, but...he was off his game st the moment and wasn’t phrasing things clearly.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Gods, he loved this feeling. The feeling of hyper-awareness, aware of everything around him - he could feel the blood pulsing through his veins, he could hear Costin's heartbeat, his ears pricked at the sounds of pages being turned by other students deeper in the stacks. Mordred had been playing with herbs and potions since he was old enough to sneak into Merlin's chambers -his lessons with Merlin had taught him enough to know the names of the potions and what to mix with what for certain remedies and effects, but it hadn't taken him long to start experimenting, mixing herbs and taking them in the secrecy of the wooded copses outside of the castle walls.

And it helped that getting high enhanced his powers. The things he'd seen while under the influence of one herb or another would scare even his mother.

And in Tintagel, he didn't even have to mix the stuff himself. All he needed to do was head to the town pharmacy and he could get half the stuff over the counter. Most of it was harmless on its own, but add half a bottle of whiskey and Mordred's senses were heightened, his Sight enhanced. The sense of power it gave him was almost more heady than the effects of the drugs themselves.

He grinned at Costin's question. "See, yes, but perhaps not in the literal sense of the word." His leg continued to bounce as he closed his eyes and put his face to the ceiling, letting the effects wash over him. "Can't you feel it?" He almost whispered. "Everything gets so much sharper. Clearer."

At Costin's next statement, Mordred opened his eyes and returned to this plain, looking at Costin with an eyebrow raised. "You're not long for this world?" He repeated incredulously. "Then why are you worried about whether this stuff will kill you?" He giggled as if he'd made a hilarious joke.

[Costin Dracula]

Costin watched Mordred closely, unsure what to make of his shift in demeanor. He swallowed hard, discovering that despite all his best intentions, his hopes had soared exceedingly high. Was it possible that something chemical could give him even the slightest taste of what he had been longing for his entire life? Was that even remotely an option? He leaned back onto the table, resting his weight on it and holding one hand out in front of him.

"It's not that I'm going to die," he explained, flexing his fingers, watching the contrast between his skin and the world around him. "Or, well, I suppose I am, but only so that I can become immortal." He licked his lips slowly, looking back to Mordred. "I can't die without one of my parents around to make that happen, though. It's got to be the right circumstances."

He didn't know how long this stuff was supposed to take to kick in; it had only been a minute or two since he'd swallowed the pill, but he was impatient. "They can sense nearly anything," he mused, "in the dark, they can see better than we can in daylight, and they can smell things...nothing surprises them." He traced a fingertip along the grain of the wood of the tabletop, and felt his pulse quicken, heart giving a little leap in his chest for no apparent reason. "Can I really...am I sensing things, or does this drug give me the impression that I'm sensing things?"

Costin had learned long ago not to trust his own senses, because he knew they weren't what he wanted them to be, and he knew he couldn't rely on them the way his fathers could. But this...this made him want to believe that he could. "Mordred," he said, quietly, "have you ever met a vampire?"

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred's laughter died, and he stared at Costin as he explained - immortal? Now that, that sounded cool. That sounded like something Mordred could get on board with. He leaned forward in his chair, shifting so he was right on the edge of it, completely absorbed by Costin's words. He didn't fully understand what he was saying - something about dying in front of his parents... he didn't care. The word immortal was bouncing around Mordred's hyped up brain.

"Immortal...?" Mordred said the word quietly, liking the sound of it even more out loud. If the books he'd been reading were to be believed, immortality wasn't part of his future. But then, the Mordred in the books didn't know his future, couldn't change it. Immortality was a total game changer.

Costin's parents sounded cool. Like, really cool. "How?" Mordred blurted out, intrigued by Costin's parents hyper-sensitivity. "I mean, do they have magic? Do you?"

He grinned as Costin asked about the effects of the drug. "I don't even know, man, it could be real, it could be in our heads, but who cares? Whether it's real or not, it feels good." He pulled the flask out again and passed it over to Costin. "Gotta keep hydrated though." He grinned. "It'll enhance it, drink."

Mordred stared at Costin as he asked his next question. Vampires... he'd heard of them. Of all the magical beasts, creatures, people, druids, everything that passed through Camelot, vampires were not one of them. But he'd read about them - they were intriguing. He studied Costin. "A vampire? No... do you know one?!"

[Costin Dracula]

Mordred stopped laughing and stared at him, and all Costin could think in that moment was that this was exactly the reaction someone should have to being told that the person they were talking to would be immortal soon. He found himself quite appreciative of it, mostly because Mordred was the only person he could ever remember having that particular reaction in all his years of prattling on about vampires.

"Yes," he said, leaning back, a little self-satisfied. "Immortal." He had thought Mordred might have put the pieces together by now, between Costin's mention of vampires avenging him, immortal parents, and his clearly intimate knowledge of their abilities. But then, Mordred was under the influence of something (as Costin himself was swiftly making his way towards), and he was feeling uncharacteristically generous now when it came to passing judgement. "I know two. They raised me, since I was a small child."

He took the flask and took another swallow from it. "They have...blood magic, I suppose you would say. They can do many things humans can't. I haven't got any magic myself yet, but...once they make me like them, that will all change." He closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the sudden rush of sensation that was pulsing through his brain. "They never come here, but I go home on occasion, perhaps sometime you might come along and meet them, if you're interested."

Costin had never invited anyone home with him, mostly because he never really wanted to go home more than he had to. This past weekend had been further confirmation of that. Every time he went back there and returned without the thing he wanted most, it made him a little more bitter, a little more resentful of his fathers and their refusal to grant his greatest wish. And he had only met this boy moments earlier but...it had to be the drugs, it was definitely the drugs. Not something stupid like...budding friendship, or whatever.