[quote=Argetlam350]
What greeted him on his return was something that always made him curious. Once again it seemed that the one called Liz was trying to commit what the humans called suicide. At least that was what he assumed. He had seen her do it before but never stopped her really because he had very little knowledge on how to socialize plus she never seemed to be in a mood to actually speak towards anyone and assumed that like he, she preferred to be alone. Yet despite how she seemed to have an aura that pushed others away, Sealameet did actually admire her and felt sorry for her. She was unique and beautiful for what she was as he saw it, why would she wish such an untimely end of her life? If he could actually work the nerve and speak to her perhaps he could get an answer but for now he merely walked towards the school.
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Through the blurriness of her tears, not a whole lot was able to be made out in crystal clarity, just a bunch of bizarre and convoluted shapes amalgamating with one another into this indiscernible mass of colors, yet a few of the colors stood out to Liz, familiar shades of blues and whites that seemed to form a stray figure casually passing just a few feet from where she would've nearly crashed into the ground. She wiped her eyes with the side of her hand, and in that instant everything returned to her clear, even the figure. She had known that somewhere in this school, there were others like her, the mixed breeds known either as Fallen or Nephilim, Fallen usually being the male determinant. Liz hadn't actually known, but she knew of the Fallen called Sealameet. In ways, he was just like her, a loner, an outcast, an asocial creature that chose not to associate with anyone or anything of this academy. He was always so mysterious to Liz, her sometimes pondering upon what his true face resembled, the face he always hid behind some cryptic illusion or in the thick, obsidian shadows of his hood. Sometimes....Liz herself wanted to approach him, wanted to speak to him, perhaps wanting to know who her fellow Fallen was.....perhaps......to gain a companion she could find some solace in.

But nine times out of ten, she was dissuaded from even pursuing some kind of inquiry of Sealameet, held back by such damning fears. What if he was just like them? What if he too rejected her? What if he wasn't interested at all? These assumptions, they would turn her course away from the Fallen and back to their own accords, back to Liz exiling herself from the rest of the school and finding some place to hide, usually the academy's music room where she would draw in her sketchbook or fiddle with the grand piano that sat perched beside the large bay window overlooking the surrounding forests. Hell, she always felt safer alone.....just never understanding why. With a debilitating glower darkening her eyes, Liz breathed quietly and fished from the pocket of her hoodie a small red pack, surprised it didn't fall out in yet...another failed attempt on her own life. She ripped open the pack with one of her sharp claws and pulled from it a cigarette, shoving it in her mouth and clenching it between her lips. She had no lighter, but that didn't hinder her at all, for she raised her hand to the bent cig in her mouth and soon it ignited into flames lighting the cancer stick. Liz took a drag of it and into the cool breeze of nearing autumn she exhaled a phantom wisp of white smoke before realizing, "Shit!" She left her bag atop the belfry. Again her tattered wings flourished from her back and to the air she took, landing with both feet once more upon the spot she had fallen from deliberately. She snatched up her black messenger bag, adorned with a few buttons and key chains and only containing a few books, most notably her sketchbook, and again flew back down to the earth below, dismissing her wings once she was mere inches from landing.