[hider=Useless | Jan. 2019]
[i]BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP--[/i]

Aaron groaned as his alarm stirred him from sleep, eyes feeling like they were full of sand as he slowly pried them open. And, as he had every single evening since the incident, he wondered why he bothered; he was staring into darkness. There was nothing to see. Still, he blinked as he sat up, looking around like he always had for his phone. But the movement was nothing more than habit now, it wouldn’t help him. Useless. 

Reaching over to his right, he felt around the nightstand for his phone, alarm yelling at him all the time. Every additional beep as he searched only served to annoy him further, and by the time he finally found the damn thing he was significantly pissed off. Pressing the button on the side to silence it, he exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. This was no way to start the night. 

When he put his phone back, he frowned, feeling a slight warmth on his hand. He felt around and found the base of the lamp; as he slid his fingers upward it grew warmer. Dammit, how long had that been on? A few nights at least. There were no freaking doors on his room, why didn’t Varis tell him he had a light on?

He moved his hand up into the lampshade, searching for the switch to turn it off. But as he felt around, he must have touched the bulb, because his fingers seared suddenly and he instinctively jerked his hand away. But his hand got caught in the lampshade, and he heard a crash when he pulled the lamp with him and it toppled to the floor. 

“Fuck!” 

Growling to himself, Aaron fell back onto the bed, sucking on his burnt finger and clapping his other hand over his eyes. Shit, he had definitely heard the bulb break. Now there were probably shards of glass on his floor, and he didn’t know how far they’d spread. Fuck!

Taking another few deep breaths, Aaron needed a lot of willpower to calm himself down. He had slippers he could wear to at least protect his feet for now, but without knowing how far the glass had spread, he wasn’t sure he could clean it all up on his own. He groaned again. He’d have to ask someone to help him. Because he couldn’t do it on his own. A grown man, but he couldn’t sweep up a little glass. Useless.

Rolling over to the other side of the bed, he reached down to the floor, and by the grace of some force somewhere his slippers were over there. One positive thing. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and slipped them on, finally standing. He trailed the bed with one hand as he slowly crossed the room, reaching out in front of him when he could no longer follow it. He could hear glass crunching under his feet as he carefully made his way to the bathroom, feeling his way along the wall until he found the doorway. 

Once inside, he could find his way around more easily, with most of the furniture within arm’s reach. He went to the shower first, making sure the lid of the toilet was [i]down[/i] this time before he put his pants on it, taking particular care to be mindful of where he set the shower knob and where he put his towel and slippers. He didn’t want to trip over them again, as he had in the past. 

The shower went more or less okay, him having figured out where to set the knob and having arranged his products in such a way that he could remember which was which. Shampoo on the left, conditioner on the right, body wash on the lower shelf. There, at least he could retain the dignity of being able to wash himself. 

He [i]very[/i] nearly tripped on his slippers when he stepped out but managed to remember, found his towel with little difficulty and got himself dried off before wrapping it around his waist. Feeling along the edge of the counter, he centred himself in front of the sink, staring blankly forward where he knew the mirror was out of habit. 

Sighing, he brushed his hands over his face, mood souring when he got to his jaw. His stubble was approaching beard status at this point, and it made him feel dirty and unkempt. But he had yet to work up the courage to try shaving blind, and tonight was [i]not[/i] that night. 

Feeling for the sink knobs, he adjusted them to a good temperature and went about washing his face, expecting his products to be where he left them. But when he reached for his face wash, his hand collided with a few other bottles, and he heard at least three things clatter to the floor. 

[i]“Fuck!”[/i]

Growing heated, he used the towel around his waist to dry his face before he stooped to collect whatever fell. He had heard three bottles hit the floor, but to his considerable frustration, he could only find two. Motherfucker! Varis must have been going through his things again, and didn’t have the courtesy to put them back where he found them. And now Aaron had no idea what he did and didn’t have available to him. 

Growling to himself again, he hurried through the rest of his routine, brushing his teeth and combing his hair to the best of his ability. It was almost funny that he still tilted his head this way and that as he combed, muscle memory from looking in a mirror for 23 years. Luckily he could pretty much tell if his hair was in order by touching it, and after a moment he decided to stop messing with it. 

Unfortunately, dressing was more of a challenge. Hearing glass crunching again, Aaron slowly made his way to his closet, taking a roundabout path by finding the bed and following it to the wall, and then following the wall to the closet. “Siri, what time is it?” he asked, his annoyance probably lost on the AI he was talking to. 

“The time is seven thirty-three PM,” Siri reported. 

Aaron suppressed another groan, stepping into the closet. Seven thirty-fucking-three. Half an hour, it took him! Just to get through [i]washing![/i] He used to be able to do everything in twenty minutes, start to finish. He knew it wasn't reasonable to be so angry with himself, but he couldn't help it. He hated all this inefficiency. 

Running his hands over the things hanging in his closet, Aaron was grateful that his wardrobe was rather plain. He could tell more or less by the fabric which pants were which colour, being that the suit pants were all either black or grey and the khakis were all, well, khaki. He selected a pair of suit pants he hoped were black and a belt that he hoped was the same, before turning to the other side of the closet where the shirts were. When Lilie had come and helped him organize his clothes after the incident, she had set it up so that the shirts got darker from left to right, starting with white and ending with black. It had been extremely helpful at first, but as time went on he found the flaw in the system: once the shirts had all been washed, he couldn't tell which was which when he went to put them back. 

Hedging his bets, he went with the one furthest left and plucked a tie from another hanger, not caring what colour it was. If his other clothes were what he thought they were, it wouldn't matter, though from the texture of the silk it seemed to have a pattern. Whatever. 

On his careful way out he pulled some underwear and some socks that didn't feel argyle from a drawer in his dresser, luckily a task that hadn't gotten all that much harder after he'd lost his vision. As he shuffled back to his bed he tried to collect most of the glass in one place with his foot, though of course he had no idea if he was making any progress. He gave up after only a moment, having to feel around to make sure he actually found his bed. 

The act of dressing wasn't too bad. He had figured out a way to do his buttons without looking long before he lost his sight, and tying the tie was almost second nature. He could tell that everything was straight and properly creased by how it felt on his body, so at the very least he knew he had himself mostly in order. Now he just hoped he didn't pick clashing colours and look like a fool. 

“Siri, any notifications?” He asked as he put his slippers back on and went about making his bed. 

“You have two text messages. Would you like me to read them?”

“Yes.” 

“First text message, from; Lovely: ‘Evening! Are you coming to class today?’ colon, close parenthesis.”

Aaron sighed as he listened, sitting on his bed in the middle of making it. She had sent him a smiley face, but Siri apparently couldn't understand it. Aaron was almost surprised by the lump that grew so painfully in his throat, though it wasn't a new occurrence. He hated the way his phone read Lilie’s texts. It had that classic “AI” sound, passable but still awkward at times. But even if Siri’s cadence were perfect, Aaron still would have hated it. It was one of many things he missed; he could no longer read her texts in her voice. Another little encouragement, torn away. And now, they couldn't even send private messages, because every damn text had to be read to him out loud! 

He fell backwards onto his bed, feeling like he could cry. In fact, he did feel the sting in his eyes of new tears as he listened to the next message, though he blinked them furiously away. 

“Second text message, from; Alderman: ‘I’ll be by at nine, but I'm not waiting.’”

Max’s gruff wording helped Aaron calm himself a little, the man sighing and sitting back up. Eris had been sending Max by every night to help guide him to class, and even though Aaron had turned him away multiple times in favour of wallowing in self pity, he still came. Eris probably wouldn’t let him stop. 

Gathering his breath and his energy, Aaron forced himself to his feet, ignoring the crunch of glass as he grabbed his phone and shuffled out of his room. He almost tripped over the lamp, but luckily he’d been going slowly enough that he could correct his footing. Slowly, carefully, he made his way into the living room, leaning over to feel for furniture before he bumped into it. Moving so slowly and gingerly pissed him off - he was used to walking with purpose, never one to meander - but there was no other way. He’d been told he would eventually memorize the layout, but he was still a long way off. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Varis to rearrange the furniture without telling him. 

Arriving at the far wall, he went about feeling along the windows, making sure the heavy drapes were sufficiently drawn. “Siri, what time is sunset tonight?”

“Sunset time tonight was seven fifty-two PM.”

“What is the time?”

“The time is eight oh-three PM.” 

As if on cue, there was a sharp knock on the door. Breakfast. At a maddeningly slow pace Aaron went to the door, following the walls and stepping carefully. There shouldn’t be anything on the floor to trip him, but not seeing what he was stepping on still freaked him out enough to keep him walking slowly. 

When he opened the door he was greeted by a sharp, freezing wind and the gruff voice of the delivery woman, telling him to sign a clipboard. He scrawled his signature on it somewhere and held out his arms, where the delivery woman knew by now to arrange his packages as sturdy as possible. 

“Do I look like a fool today?” Aaron asked her as she gave him his package. 

“You’re fine, honey,” The woman replied, tapping him on the bottom of his chin. Aaron jumped at the unexpected contact. “With a face like yours, no outfit could make you look foolish.”

“Wha--” Aaron’s concerned reply was met with the sound of the door slamming as the delivery woman made her leave, and he was left to wonder why she’d said that. [i]Did[/i] he look like a fool? Was he wearing a purple shirt and yellow tie or something? Was his tie tied inside-out? What the hell kind of encouragement was that for a blind man?

Left to drown in his own doubt, Aaron made his way to the kitchen, walking along the wall and dragging his bicep across it to find his way. He had to bump over both his and Varis’ doorways on the way, then the wall lead to the edge of the counter. 

He placed his packages on the counter and ran his hand along it to find the coffee machine. Luckily it was a simple one, all he had to do was fill the grounds and hit the only button, and he went about it by muscle memory, setting it bubbling away in relatively little time. But as he waited, eating, he took note of the smell, or lack thereof; normally the kitchen was awash with the smell of coffee as it brewed, but there was nothing. But he could hear the coffee machine running, so what was going on?

He was suspicious as he ate, and got up immediately when he heard the machine beep. He very, [i]very[/i] carefully brushed his fingers along the counter, searching for the machine (he had burned himself more than once just [i]reaching[/i] for the damn thing) but on his way, his fingers found a little pile of granules. 

“Fucking damn it!”

He almost swept the coffee grounds across the kitchen in anger, but had to remind himself to stay calm as he slowly made a fist. He'd missed the damn grounds tray when he was filling it, and had just been pouring coffee directly onto the counter. Good lord, he couldn’t even manage to make [i]coffee![/i] He was a grown man, he used to do this on autopilot, and now he could barely manage to feed himself.

“What the hell is this?” 

Aaron jumped at the sudden sound, whirling around to where he thought it came from. He heard Varis [i]tsk[/i] irritably, and imagined that he was probably gesturing flamboyantly in his annoyance. [i]“Again,[/i] boy?” 

“Again, [i]Varis,”[/i] Aaron replied, equally irritated. 

“Watch that tone with me boy,” Varis retorted, probably looking smug and skulky. Aaron heard faint [i]tink[/i]-ing and figured Varis was pulling out a bottle and a glass. “What was all that racket earlier?”

“A couple of things,” Aaron’s voice was painfully bland. “Knocked some things over in the bathroom, broke a lamp.”

“Did you clean it up?”

“I don't know where all the glass went. I'm going to call facilities to come take care of it.”

Varis [i]tsked[/i] again, and Aaron could hear him starting to walk away, muttering, [i]“Useless.”[/i]

Aaron followed the sound, scowling. “By the way, you're going to have to find a way to get over that attitude,” Varis added, now a little further away, “You only have two nights left to mope, and I'm growing tired of drinking from bottles.”

Aaron hung his head, fists forming at his sides as he heard what must have been the study door slam shut. More than a little bit angry, he finished his breakfast quickly and put his plate in the sink. “Siri, call facilities.”

“Calling: Facilities.”

Aaron did his best to wash his plate as the phone rang, turning off the water so he could tell the operator what he needed. 

“You said glass?” The operator asked.

“Yes, in the first bedroom, but I’m not sure how far it spread,” Aaron admitted, carefully putting his plate away. “I think there’s a mess in the kitchen too, but…” He sighed. “I’m not sure where.”

He heard keys clicking on the other end of the line. “Alright, we’ll have a custodian out to you in about an hour.”

“Thank you.”
[i]
“Mail, boy!”[/i] Varis shouted from the study, voice a little muffled. 

Aaron rolled his eyes as the operator hung up the phone. “Yes, Varis, I didn’t forget.” 

Making that long, slow trip down the hallway again, Aaron probed along the walls near the door, feeling for his coat. He had started leaving it with one arm inside-out to find it more easily after having accidentally put on one of Varis’ one evening. Finding it, he put it on fairly easily, feeling to make sure he’d gotten every button before searching for his boots. Marking them had been more of a challenge, but so far storing them with the outsides together rather than the insides had been helping. Laces were a bit of a pain, but so was everything, and finally he turned back to the hook for his cane. 

This was, in his opinion, the worst part of the evening. He snapped the cane open as he opened the door, tapping it on the sides of the doorway and the porch and listening for the change in pitch on the different materials. He stepped cautiously, careful not to trip on the door frame, and reached further forward with the cane until he felt the slight drop when it found the stairs. 

He approached the stairs as frustratingly slowly as everything else, feeling around for the railing. Only when he found it could he descend, counting the three steps before his foot found the stone of the walkway. Sweeping his cane in front of him, he listened for the stone; it was the only reason he could walk any semblance of a straight line. Still, he [i]despised[/i] the cane; it was harder to operate than one would think, having a penchant for getting caught on uneven ground, and worst of all, it publicly broadcast the fact that he was blind. He might as well have been wearing a sign on his back that read, “Hey look! A Light mage who can’t see! Isn’t that hilarious?”

He counted fifteen steps before he started swinging the cane wider, looking for the edges of the gate. Still, he was surprised when the cane hit something; for some reason it always shocked him, and his first thought was always that he was going to walk into a pole or something. But it was just the gate, and he walked even slower until he could touch it with his hands, following the freezing stones to the mailbox. He could feel that the indicator was up, and turned it down before opening it, pulling out a few letters and reaching inside to make sure there was nothing left. Satisfied that he’d gotten everything, he closed the mailbox and turned to make his slow way back into the house. 

The wind was starting to pick up, and Aaron used his mail hand to turn his collar up against it. But no sooner had he done so than his feet went out from under him, and before he knew what was happening he was on the ground, tailbone and elbow throbbing. 

[i]“Fuck!”[/i]

His cane was tied around his wrist, so he still had that, but he’d lost his grip of the mail in the fall and he thought he heard his phone clatter off somewhere. Growling, Aaron turned over onto his hands and knees, tailbone and elbow loudly complaining as he felt around the ground for the letters he’d dropped. Fuck, he hadn’t counted them either! And now he was on his hands and knees in the yard, making a fool of himself, where the whole neighbourhood could see. He almost whimpered, he was so embarrassed; apparently, losing his sight also meant losing his dignity. 

“Aaron?” A female voice called to him some distance away, and Aaron heard the clopping of footsteps approach him quickly. “Are you alright?”

Aaron whipped around to where he thought he’d heard the voice, ears burning as the footsteps grew closer. “Countess Marivaldi?” He asked, looking around despite the fact that his eyes couldn’t help him. 

“Yes,” she told him, much closer now. He flinched when she put a hand on his shoulder, and she withdrew, apparently realizing she’d startled him. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Aaron’s stomach twisted, humiliated. “I’m fine, Countess,” he assured her, though his voice wobbled a bit as he tried to get to his feet. “I just slipped, I think.” 

“Here, let me help you,” The Countess insisted, placing her hand on him again. This time it didn’t surprise him as much, and though he would have preferred to get himself up, he knew he needed the help, as he didn’t know where he could safely put his feet. He felt only further humiliated as he clung to the woman’s arm, feeling her pull him up more than he should have needed. 

The Countess held his shoulders for a moment, gently guiding him a step back. “Stay there for a second, you have mail all over the place,” she told him. He heard footsteps all around him as she apparently collected the letters that had fallen. 

“Thank you Countess, but that’s really not--” his protest was interrupted when the Countess pressed a bundle of letters into his free hand, along with his phone. Exhaling slowly, he dropped his head, tapping the mail against his leg. “Thank you, Countess.” He repeated, defeated. 

“No problem,” she told him, patting his arm. “Do you need help getting back inside?”

Aaron shook his head, more out of principle than anything. “I think I’ll be alright, thank you, Countess.”

She seemed to consider it a moment before taking her hand away, and he heard her take a step. “Well, have a good night then,” she seemed to concede, “Be careful of the ice.”

Aaron nodded, offering a wave in what he hoped was her direction. “You too, Countess. I’ll do my best.”

When he made it back inside, he nearly slammed the door behind him, propping his cane up carefully in the corner before heading to the study. Feeling along the wall, he stopped at the second door and knocked, waiting politely until Varis beckoned him in. Staring ahead (probably) he carefully took three steps into the room, bowing once holding out the mail. 

Varis snatched it from his grip, and Aaron heard him shuffle through the letters before pressing one back into his hand. “That one is for you,” the Count informed him, sounding thoroughly inconvenienced. 

Aaron bowed again and turned, feeling for the doorway and closing the door behind him before going back to the foyer. Siri told him it was almost nine, so he elected to put his boots back on and sit on the bench in the hall to wait for Max. Not like there was anything else he could do. 

As he waited, he put his face in his hands, breathing heavily and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. Normally it took a concerted effort on Varis’ part to humiliate him as much as he had been just now. Sprawled out in the yard, with a [i]Countess[/i] helping him to his feet, collecting the things he’d dropped. Was he really so helpless? So damn useless that he couldn’t get to his feet on his own, that vampires of high standing felt so moved by their [i]pity[/i] that they stooped to aid him? What the hell kind of attendant was he?

He was pulled from his self-berating by a sharp knock at the door, which he opened without even standing up. “Who’s there?”

“Who do you think?” Max was just as friendly as ever, it seemed. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

Aaron gave him a deadpan look (well, a deadpan [i]expression[/i]) as he stood, grabbing his cane from where he left it in the corner in his left hand and holding out his right. Max took it and guided it to his arm before leading them both down the stairs, Aaron holding onto his arm and following a step behind. 

“Walkway’s icy,” Max informed him. 

Aaron glared in Max’s general direction, his tailbone and elbow throbbing in response. “Thanks, I know.” 

Aaron imagined that Max rolled his eyes as they turned out onto the sidewalk, Max leading them at a brisker pace than Aaron could accomplish on his own. Of course, Aaron couldn’t find his way to class on his own anyway, so he supposed it didn’t matter. He was just happy to be able to move with some urgency.

“You look like shit,” Max said after a moment. 

Aaron groaned. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Max replied, turning them slightly, “You’re obviously tired, not to mention pissed, you’ve got sort of a homeless beard going on, and of course there’s the [i]eyes…”[/i] 

Aaron rolled his useless eyes at Max, scoffing. “Do my clothes and hair at least look okay?”

Max paused a moment. Aaron assumed he was looking him up and down. “Yeah, they’re fine.”

“What colour are my pants?”

“Grey.”

“Damn,” Aaron huffed, “Thought they were going to be black.”

“Close enough,” Max replied, and Aaron felt his arm rise a little with what was probably a shrug. 

Aaron pulled up his coat sleeve to reveal his shirt. “And the shirt?”

“White,” Max reported. 

Aaron pulled down his coat collar. “Tie?”

“Red.”

Aaron thought for a moment. “With the diamond pattern?”

“Mhm.”

Aaron thought again, putting the outfit together in his head. After a moment, he nodded to himself, looking down. “I guess that’s fine,” he admitted. 

Max led him dutifully to Cerulean Hall, where they arrived slightly earlier than the other students in their Affinity Mastery class. Aaron had spoken to school administration about his concerns, but they had told him he was still required to attend the class, his protests about literally being unable to manipulate [i]light[/i] without [i]vision[/i] having gone ignored. Apparently they still saw value in his attendance, even if he didn’t. 

Max guided him to a set of bleachers he knew were to the side of the observation balcony, where all the vampires up top could get a good view of the crippled, useless mage sitting out the session. Once seated, Aaron folded up his cane and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He stayed like that for a long time, listening as other students made their way in and the class began. He could hear and sometimes feel the magic flying around, taking particular note of the metallic sounds of Max practicing. 

All the while, Aaron fumed. All he could think about was how jealous he was, how he missed the rush of magic, tricking the eye and messing with what could be seen. Flying illusions around the room, creating illusory voids of nothing, ghosting around, invisible to the world. Seeing through a proxy’s eyes. Now he couldn’t even see through his own eyes, and his magic, which affected only the very sense he had lost, had effectively been torn away from him. It was like losing a part of himself, and it hurt even more than the loss of his sight. 

As if to add insult to injury, Aaron heard the professor call, “Mr. Starag, why are you sitting out?”

Aaron gave the most incredulous look he could muster in the direction of the noise, snapping his cane to its full length for emphasis. “I’m [i]blind.”[/i]

“So? You still have magic, don't you?” The professor asked, voice closer now. Aaron guessed that he was standing in front of him. “Come on, you're falling behind the rest of the class. Get up and come practice.”

Aaron stood, but he continued to be skeptical, bordering on angry. “I’m a [i]light mage.[/i] Who is [i]blind.[/i] I'm only going to make a fool of myself.”

The professor muttered something and Aaron felt himself being pushed from behind. He had no choice but to follow, hearing the room go eerily quiet. 

“Do you have your focus?” The professor asked. 

Aaron held up his left hand, thumb spinning his ring. “Yes, but--”

“Good, then make me a beam of sunlight please.”

Aaron was not amused. “Professor, even if I can accomplish that, I have no way of knowing where it's aimed.”

“So?”

[i]“So?!”[/i] He hadn't meant to reply so contentiously, but that knowledge did nothing to abate his anger. [i]“So,[/i] don't you think a mage capable of throwing [i]sunlight[/i] around with no way of knowing [i]where[/i] he's throwing it might be deemed unsafe?” He was raising his voice, though he had no idea if he was even shouting in the right direction. The professor tried to reply, but Aaron cut him off. “Don’t you think there's a risk of such a mage having his power sealed permanently, and having what little magic he has left taken away?!” 

The room was silent for a moment, Aaron breathing heavily. “That’s what I thought,” he spat, clicking his cane around him. But he didn't know where in the room he was; for all he knew, he might as well have been stranded in the middle of nowhere. Growing only more heated, be took off in some direction, arriving by some stroke of luck at the door and throwing it open, storming out. [i]“Fucking useless!”[/i]
[/hider]