Once again the Headmaster’s eyes drifted away from him, and back to the pile of papers in front of him. Rafael let out an audible breath, and then calmed himself enough to breathe in quietly the next time. He hadn’t felt this way with anyone aside from his father. The realization caused his throat to burn, tasting a faint bit of bile rising. He swallowed hard, and forced himself to stare at the figure sitting calmly across from him

He was pale, with raven black hair. It looked to be fashionably short, and slicked back, though as the man bent over the papers on his desk, Rafael saw it was merely tied back in a tight braid. He had severe features, his eyes looking nearly white in their paleness. The light of the nearby fire cast shadows upon the man’s frame, making the effect eerie in nature, shadows flickering across pale skin. The man was impeccably dressed, and everything he wore screamed expensive. He had on a grey sack suit, with darker grey stripes running vertically, and even sitting the man looked to be tall, and slim. The suit had a low cut, revealing a pristine white shirt and maroon tie. There was a golden band around his wrist that shimmered in the lighting from above. On his hand there were a few rings as well, one onyx gemstone gleaming particularly brightly. Vincent Filmore was quite obviously wealthy, and took no steps to hide it.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and Rafael nearly jolted out of his skin at the sound of paper shuffling and being set down. The Headmaster was the first to break the silence, and Rafael felt a jolt shudder through him as their eyes met again. This time, though, Rafael was prepared, and stared back- pursing his lips as he returned the stare. It felt what he imagined staring into the face of a some large predator did.

“St. Ursula has made a name for itself bringing in troubled boys, and turning them into fine men,” the man started. His voice was smooth and cold, like the marble that paved the castle floors. “You will be no different, Mr. Clark. Though I do wonder what exactly it is your father hopes to accomplish by sending you here…”

The alabaster toned man cocked his head to the side, a faint light shimmering in his icy gaze. “I cannot say,” Rafael managed to say, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. “I hardly know what goes on in my father’s mind.” It was the truth; one stained in bitterness and vendettas.

Vincent Filmore stood, then, his chair creaking as his weight lifted from it. He ran pale hands down his chest, rings catching the light of the fire, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in his Grey jacket. Once again their eyes met, remaining glued together as the headmaster moved around the table, and towards Rafael.

Rafael stood in place, curling his fingers against his palm, the biting pain keeping him from losing to the man. At his full height, the headmaster was several centimeters taller than Rafael himself, perhaps nearing 185 Centimeters. The man was abnormally tall, which only added to the imposing nature of the man. If there was anyone suited to running an establishment of this nature, Vincent Filmore fit the bill.

The man moved towards Rafael, and then slipped past him, not close enough to touch, but Rafael still felt the presence of his movement. Lord Filmore stepped towards the edge of the fireplace and stood there, shifting his hands, clasping them behind his back. “The world is a cruel place, my boy.” The man started, his back still facing Rafael, “You would do well to remember that. Within these walls, we will do our best to be sure you are…rectified, and may return to the world outside without shaming your family.”

Rafael bristled, turning to face the man more fully. The words welled up within him, his nails cutting into the palm of his skin. Rafael felt the faint burning sensation of blood breakin through skin, using that as an anchor against the somehow instinctual fear that thrummed through his veins. He saw Vincent tense, and then glance over at him. The Headmaster watched him with narrowed eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. There was a warning in the man’s eyes. He hadn’t said a word yet- Did the man somehow have the ability to read minds?

“No need to be so dramatic, my boy,” The man whispered, turning to face him fully. His hands were still clasped behind his back, head tilting slightly to the side again. “You will understand eventually, trust in that.” The smile that the headmaster gave Rafael chilled him through to his core.

Rafael’s hand relaxed slightly, and he lifted his chin, green eyes burning into ice-blue. “We will see about that,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears. Lord Filmore’s eyes half narrowed, but he let out a snort of air and then turned back to the fire. The crackle of the flames took over the silence of the room for a moment, the heaviness in the air alleviating somewhat.

Until the headmaster turned to face Rafael once more, a dark look flickering across his expression.

The man let out a huff of air that could almost be called a chuckle, if his eyes weren’t frigid as all hells. “Your type,” the man spoke carefully, stepping closer to Rafael. Rafael’s heart thundered harder with each step. His instincts screamed of the danger held in those eyes, and sharp features. “Your kind,” he said, stopping just before Rafael, “Does not like to take the advice of others. But you should heed my next words.” Vincent towered over Rafael. Rather, it felt more like that. The man was only a handful of inches taller than himself- it wasn’t like he was a child anymore, though he certainly felt like he had returned to his childhood days, standing before his father- but he seemed so much…larger, in presence.

The headmaster spoke again, lips curling into another faint, chilling smile, his words were succinct, and firm, though spoken softly in tone. Rafael had to strain his ears to hear the man’s voice over the crackling of the flames. “You will learn your place here, or your name will fall into obscurity.” Vincent’s eyes narrowed at him, and Rafael resisted the urge to shudder at the way the man looked at him. Like he was dirt on his boot.

No, that wasn’t right. It was like he was a butterfly pinned on a setting board. Rafael found himself frozen as the man leaned down, inspecting him closer.

Something passed in the headmaster’s gaze, and abruptly his expression shifted to something neutral- If the man did not so clearly dislike him on principal, Rafael might have thought here was a flicker of curiosity within the icy depths of his gaze.. Rafael let out the breath he was holding, feeling once again the sensation of his legs shaking. He had never quaked in his boots before- not even when his father was at his highest raging point- but before this man, he felt like a cornered animal.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and then time Vincent gave a faint, deep chuckle as he watched Rafael. “You and I will be sure to see each other again, I am certain,” Vincent drawled out softly. Rafael’s shoulder burned where the man squeezed his shoulder tightly. Because of the heat of the flames, perhaps, the man’s touch was cold, burning like ice against skin. The odd sensation lingered when Vincent flicked his gaze over Rafael again, before pulling his hand away. For a moment, it almost seemed like the man’s eyes lingered on the silver necklace around his neck. But the moment passed too quickly for Rafael to be sure. Surely the man wasn’t looking at his neck….?