Even in the coolness of the shadows, the sun still became a hindrance to Liz, forcing her once more to escape the painful rays in that miserable throng of otherworldly creatures she came to despise in her broken and cracked heart of obsidian, bantering and chortling loudly and ever obnoxiously in the school's densely packed hallway. The Nephilim couldn't even breathe trying to push her way through the bastards, coldly shoving a few out of the way and in a sense...not really caring if anyone was injured or hurt if they fell to the tile floors below. In a way, they deserved it for obstructing Elizabeth. Eventually, as she struggled to find a space of her own in the raucous crowd, she came across a familiar face, or in considerable terms, a familiar hooded face, a familiar shade of darkness obscuring such a face....a face that may or may not only exist in the imagination of Liz. He stood at the window, alone, erect as though a statue carved and hewn from the finest block of marble etched from the side of a cold and misty mountain, a rather....stunning masterpiece of ancient art.....that was slowly forgotten and neglected by the very ones who created him from the sweat of their brows and the tears of their eyes. But how.....how could something- no.....how could someone like him be so mistreated....so abandoned? It never made sense....or in a way to Liz....it made some. Abandonment, the Nephilim was no stranger towards either.

 So much was Sealameet an enigma to Liz, that hell....even she, a novice artist, was able to capture fully his mysterious likeness in charcoal. Silently, the girl stood by, intently observing the Fallen, perhaps not knowing if Sealameet could feel her presence just a stone's throw away from him. She watched as his hand moved forward, a skip of beat in her heart anticipating him to pull back his hood and let her inadvertently glimpse upon the very face part of her seemed urged so sudden to see. But his hand paused mid-air. Her eyes flickered with the flame that ignited in that almost stone-like hand, marveling the dark, wispy ember as though it were a precious gem of amethyst. His movements though, the apathetic unclenching of his hand, the way his entire body stayed solid and immobile....it revealed many a truth to Liz. Sealameet.....he was just like her in every way. It brought pain....such grim agony to view him any further, to see his own pain exhibited before her ghostly emerald eyes. She wanted to approach him.....she wanted to step across the hallway....just to stand at his side.....just to let her presence be known. But....still she felt restrained, smothered by her own fears, her own apprehensions towards yet another ostracizing spout of words, another cruel and misgiving rejection....even by her own kind.

Already defeated, Liz sighed, but she reached into her bag and once more retrieved her sketchbook. She figured.....at least let him know someone acknowledged him. It was the least she could give to him. She opened her book to the drawing of Sealameet, carefully ripping out the page and scrawling upon it a message,

[i]"People never realize, nor do they understand what lurks in the dark, and that which they do not understand, they grow to fear and to hate. But for those who do peer into the shadows, we discover that it is not monsters nor beasts that dwell within the dark, but others......others the same as us."[/i]

Sealameet, it was possible he would realize who it was who drew the image....or so Liz had secretly hoped. She let the paper go, carefully watching it to make sure it fell beside Sealameet's feet and that it wasn't crushed by any careless students. Once she knew it was safe, the Nephilim turned and continued walking the other way. Maybe now she could find out which dorm she was staying in. Hopefully she wouldn't have to share with anyone and have a place of her own.