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[i]The night was refreshingly crisp as it whipped past Kieran’s face as he raced through the dark forest. There was a taste of pine needles and grass in the air much to his delight, as the all of his senses seemed to be working in overdrive to fully take in the beauty of the night. The fact that he was running on four limbs did not seem strange at all, in fact it actually felt [b]right[/b]. With a leap he burst into a clearing, catching a glimpse of the beautiful night sky. He turned his snout up, marveling at one object in particular.

It was yellow and full, shining with a brilliant light that seemed to beckon to him to him ever so seductively with the promise of freedom…[/i]
									
Kieran woke from the dream with a jolt, a cold sweat covering him. His breathing was ragged, as if he had actually been running, as he took in his surroundings and realized that he was still in the dimly lit Workshop. Memories of the day before caught up to his racing mind, reassuring him that he had indeed spent the night working on his research rather than kid himself into believing he could actually get a good night’s rest. Well, it looked like the joke had been on him.

Wolf dreams weren’t uncommon among those afflicted with lycanthropy, especially as the full moon neared, which prompted Kieran to quickly check the lunar calendar he kept by his desk to make sure that he indeed still had a few days before his monthly administrations of Wolfsbane Potion. Satisfied, he placed two fingers on the side of his throat to monitor his all too rapid pulse, yet another side effect from the all too vivid dreams. Calling them nightmares was a bit too overdramatic for Kieran’s tastes, but there was something undeniably frightening about how they made him feel.

Once his pulse slowed to a more reasonable rate, the werewolf let out a sigh as he realized just how gross the combination of last night’s clothes and his recent cold sweat was proving to be. He barely wanted to imagine just how sorry he must have looked, but before he could take a shower he needed caffeine as he was all too likely to fall asleep while standing in his current state. So with more effort than he cared to admit, Kieran more or less threw himself out of his desk and left the Workshop in silence. He slowly trudged through the halls of the Dormum, looking much more like a zombie than a werewolf at this point, hoping that it was still early enough that he wouldn’t run into anyone on the way.

[color=silver]”Is everything quite alright master Kieran?”[/color] the all too familiar voice of the Dormum’s caretaker called out, causing the regulator in question to slow to a stop and turn to face the sad creature.

[color=slategray]”It’s nothing to worry yourself over old man,”[/color] he said softly, not quite able to meet his eyes. Part of him wondered if the strange man ever slept, but he was hardly in the mood for conversation.[color=slategray]”I just pulled another all nighter, so a cup of coffee will sort me out well enough.”[/color]

The Caretaker merely nodded his head solemnly and continued on his way. To where or for what, Kieran was never truly certain, but part of him couldn’t help but identify with him on some level. After all, they were both no longer quite human. Perhaps that was why he was the only being within the Dormum to receive a nickname from the somber werewolf, even if it was as lackluster as “old man.”

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Much to Kieran’s displeasure, there seemed to be a small crowd already using the kitchen by the time he got there. But seeing as he had already come this far, it was a bit too late for him to turn back now. Besides, he seriously needed that coffee if he was going to have any chance of staying awake for the next ten minutes. So with his usual frown he entered the room, drawing as little attention to himself as possible, and made his way to the coffee machine.

It didn’t take a genius to see that the rest of the room’s occupants had about as good of a night’s rest as he had. Fuji’s feelings of guilt were almost physically permeating the air, while Vallon had completely abandoned his usual inviting demeanor. And then there was Greenwood, who looked like she had spent the night trying to water DeVito’s garden with her eyes. It was only when the sweet, sweet sound of the coffee machine working its own special kind of magic filled the room did he realize that everybody in the room had been impacted by the loss of Twycross.

[i][color=slategray]’What a bloody mess you left us,’[/color][/i] he thought bitterly, his expression darkening ever so slightly. With his back was to the rest of his colleagues, he doubted anyone would notice. And for now, he could find no reason to break the awkward silence that dominated the air, so he waited for the pot to fill as patiently as he could.