Briza

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Aleksandr slipped the pen into his bag. He ignored the fact that Sylv and Jamie had bonded over work so quickly.

He sprinted to his blue bicycle, shifting through his pocket for the key. After unlocking his bicycle, he shoved the U-lock into his messenger bag and hopped on his bike. The rain was pouring heavily, soaking his hair. He could feel the fingers of the rain seeping through his shirt.

As he biked through the sidewalk, small puddles had formed. He skidded through them, watching the puddles splash in both directions from the swiftness of his bicycle.

He woke up covered in blood, naked. The coldness of the tub was painful as the white acrylic touched his bare skin. The faucet was dripping on his foot.

"Aleksy?" A low soft voice asked.

The door opened.

"I'm changing..."

His father stood confusingly in the doorway, "Aleksy, what happened to you? Are you hurt?" His voice wasn't as concerned sounding as the look on his face. He wasn't being sincere.

"I..." He looked down at his chest, rubbing his face with his mouth, "I..." he swallowed hard--chunks of blood slid down his throat, "I got a bloody nose," he said sharply, annoyed that his father had barged in on him. He already said that he was naked.

His father apologized, "I've been looking for you for over half an hour..."

"I'm sorry," Aleksy tried not to hiss at his father. The situation was awkward enough, and disrespect would not help the situation.

"You're not doing drugs, again, are you?"

"No!"

A grave and solemn look settled on his father's face. He slumped out of the bathroom and closed the door softly behind him. There was a dark cloud of guilt hovering over him as a parish priest. This was unacceptable behavior. If looks could kill, a thousand deaths Father Seraphim would have already died from the glare in Aleksy's eyes...

Aleksandr pedaled past the Urban Grind Café. His face turned hesitantly to look at the café. Rain was running down his face. He turned to face forward and kept pedaling. The day was getting uglier by the minute. A crack of lightning hissed across the sky. The sound of thunder roared shortly afterwards.

Taking in deep breaths, he pedaled as quickly as he his fit body could possibly send him. He reached the neighborhood and relaxed, feeling the closeness of home. A reserved frown had formed back on his pale lips. He parked his bicycle in the dying yard, which probably needed the rain more than anything in the city. His father's old, gray Toyota was not parked in the drive way. His father must be visiting someone from the parish. There were some days he didn't know how his dad could be so sympathetic and secretive towards other people.

He unlocked the front door and walked inside the house. The air was not on, and the coldness of the outdoors lingered on his skin as he dripped to his bedroom. He closed his bedroom door and removed his clothes, deciding to hop in the bathroom for a shower.

As he stood in the shower, with the lukewarm water beating on his bare skin, he felt an unusual need to think of the people he had met. The person who came to mind most of all was Sylv. He squirted some shampoo onto his hand and massaged it into his scalp and hair. Maybe he could convince his father to let him drop out of college. He didn't like thinking of ladies, especially when in bathroom. It could only lead to trouble. He'd have to tell his Confessor... not that he particularly believed in the sacrament of Confession, but he did have some sort of respect for the party on the other side listening to his sins. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Aleksandr watched as Sylv shut her book before speaking, "Do you--" Suddenly, the clock tower began ringing before Aleksandr could finish asking Sylv if she had a spare pencil or pen he could borrow. A dagger flew and bluntly hit the door closed. The peach hair on the back of his neck struck a pose when Dr. Yale flicked it from her desk. Jamie had been right. Not that Aleksandr had doubted his source; Jamie had no reason to lie. A breath escaped from between Aleksandr's lips when Dr. Yale began speaking.

Her voice somehwhat charming. Aleksandr blushed as she spoke, watching her every movement. She had an affinity for control over herself and her students. Structure was something he actually enjoyed--having been brought up hardcore Orthodox Christian, structure was never underappreciated. However, he couldn't shake the fear she was instilling in him. It was a deep rooted fear that made him think of the nightmare haunted him last night.

"You're a murderer, boy! A Murderer!"

Blood and drool was seeping from his mouth as he crouched on all fours. Something was pierced into his side, causing him to shake uncontrollably. He couldn't control his lust for the ladies standing in front of him. He wanted them, all of them--but something, like a tiny voice was telling him not to do it. His eyes glanced at his now, human fleshed hands. His soiled lips were quivering in pain as he tried to stand on his own two legs. He spit up some blood on the grass and looked back at the two women, gritting his teeth. Were there two or four? His vision was failing him. They both held up their weapons--

"Hey..." a student whispered to Aleksandr, poking his arm gently with the corners of the packet. Aleksandr twitched a little, nervously. He frowned at the student and wearily look the packet, grabbing his own, and passing the packet to Sylv. Her scent was blossoming next to him, and when he turned to pass her the paper he couldn't help but admire her skin. He quickly glanced away from her and focused on Dr. Yale. He was suddenly angry at himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. He hated when his passions took over. Aleksandr was usually rather unemotional--as being a stoic young man. He easily recognized his passions and generally was left apathetic towards other people's emotions for better or for worse.

Maybe he should not have sat next to Sylv. Maybe next class, he would try not to sit so close to her. Today was one giant mistake, but God, she smelt heavenly... better than Romanian Rosemary incense. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Aleksandr let out a sigh as Jamie spoke about Dr. Yale. Another weird professor. He always thought his own father could be quite strange, especially being a priest. However, the oddness of the professors here seemed hard to believe, except he was living in their oddities so it had to be believed. Was it a pre-requisite to be extremely eccentric in order to teach at Darcy University? He was debating whether he would alleviate stress by explaining to his father what mental torture this university was turning out to be, "I'll try not to anger her, I guess..." he trailed off. He never really got in trouble at school, except for slacking and looking depressed.

Aleksandr walked outside and saw Adair Hall close by. The building had its name sculpted in gothic lettering over the entrance. He turned to look at Teimhnean. The letters were printed above the entrance, as well, in the same gothic lettering.

He turned back around and looked at the darkened sky. It looked like it was about to rain. He actually did not mind bicycling in the rain, but something told him to be. It was probably the negative attitude he was forming over the entire day. His father always tried to tell him to stay positive and never lose hope. However, he had watched as his father's hope slipped through the seams of the his black cassock from these past years. The move seemed to be fresh for his father, and the thought of his son going back to school to get a good education was also a positive impact on his father's mood as of lately.

As he entered Adair Hall, he opened the heavy wooden doors. The building was similar to Teimhnean. He looked for room 119. He spotted it easily. When he entered, he saw Dr. Yale. She was nothing like he had imagined her to look. He felt a slight burning in his cheeks. He tried not to stare at her, so he looked forward at the desks. Sylv was already sitting. He decided to sit next to her. The amount of estrogen in the room was making Aleksandr feel uneasy. His unwant for Jamie's presence turned into a yearning for him to enter soon.

Aleksandr put his messenger bag down next to the seat he had chosen. I forgot a writing utensil. Right. He leaned over to Sylv. He knew she didn't want to be bothered, but he didn't want to be a bother to Dr. Yale, "Excuse me?" he tried to ask nicely, sincerely. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Urban Grind Café

Urban Grind Café Uniforms

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

"I think we better follow, we don't want to be late."

Aleksandr felt the quietness of the classroom scream at the two young men to leave as Sylv took her exit. Her scent was lingering slightly. He felt a twitch of his left hand as the scent faded. The woman was obviously in some sort of turmoil. She needed help, "Right," he said to Jamie, letting out a small sigh. He really did not want to get involved with any of her affairs. He had watched Jamie's reaction. However, his senses picking up her scent had him slightly curious.

His left hand rubbed up the messenger bag's strap. He felt the burning sensation, once again. He followed Jamie, looking at piece of crumple paper with his class schedule on it. He was a bit embarrassed at how wrinkled the paper had gotten. Normally, Aleksandr was well organized--at least, in his home life. It reminded him of his mother, always cleaning. However, for school, that was a different story altogether.

"Adair Hall 119. Professor Estonia Yale," he spoke aloud, "Is that the same as you, Jamie?" He didn't particularly care for Jamie. He was not sure why. He just felt a strange competition between them. Maybe it was an under the table testosterone battle of some sort. Whatever it was, he found himself slightly unattracted to it. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

He wrote down his email. It was easier than expected, as was many things he discovered throughout his life. Aleksandr stood there motionless as the two discussed time tables and the like. He was disinterested in the actual details of the situation. The two humans seemed to be discussing work time. Aleksandr has never held an actual job. It wasn't quite feesible with how much his father wanted him at Church. "Reader Aleksandr." His father was so proud to have him ordained a Reader. Aleksandr knew exactly what his father wanted--to find a nice woman and eventually be ordained Subdeacon and eventually priest of some parish. Aleksandr knew full well he could become a Bishop quicker if he didn't get married. Bishops were never married.

It wasn't likely he would be bishop anytime in the future. Ever since his mother's death he hadn't came to a full Confession at the monastery. He was too addicted to the vanity of standing in line at Communiion to mention the murders he had committed. His father was at a damnable cost for allowing him to partake of Communion. However, his father made the excuse of not being his Confessor. Plus, his father still seemed to be in denial.

"I have English next, too," Aleksander exclaimed solemnly. He tried to sound excited about the fact that Jamie and he might perhaps have the same class together, but sounding excited appeared to be harder than he thought. His voice had come out flat and slightly unenthusiastic about it.

Going to College by force was almost worse than being forced to go to Confession by his father. He was patient, however--something standing actively behind the altar during Church services had taught him. He quickly forces a small smile to make up for his lack of clarity in emotions when speaking. He wanted to sound friendly but wasn't sure he actually wanted friends. He was a bit of a lone wolf. And it seemed to be safer that way. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

As Sylv's face drained of color, the night of August 18th flashed before Aleksandr's eyes.

"Look, Mommy! A doggy! Can I pet her?" a tiny girl with cherry cheeks beamed under the tall, black street lamps emitting halos onto the nicely kept sidewalks. A car drove by the mother and her child who were walking home from a last minute grocery run. The headlights of the car revealed a tall shadow hunched over on all fours; its body was drowning in the darkness of the evening, "Is it a boy doggy, Mommy?"

"Honey, stay close to me..." The mother whispered and took several steps backwards, pulling her daughter's hand close to her body. Her face drained of color as the shadow stood on its hind legs. It's eyes were glowing. A reflection of light glared on the monster's teeth as he emitted a long, low growl. The woman's eyes widened as she saw the size of the terrifying beast before her and her daughter. With slight hesitation due to shock, the woman dropped the grocery bags and grabbed her daughter--attempting to run in the opposite direction of the monster. But, she couldn't run. There was no way to run. He had already leaped and gotten ahold of her. His claws punctured her ribcage and tore into her face with his mouth. The monster hated her eyes, hated her voice, and most of all hated her daughter.

Her daughter was screaming, but no one went outside to help her. She was all alone with a dead mother and a monster. However, her screams did not last long, because the monster ate her alive.

Aleksandr watched Sylv's body language carefully. She seemed terrified of something, she smelled differently. He frowned. She was lying; and it was obvious. Not only could he smell the lie on her, but he doubted Jamie believed her, as well. It really was none of his business. If he had learned anything from having a priest as a father, it was not to pry into people's personal business. It wasn't his job, and he was not about to make it his job. He had other things that worried him more than a simple phone call, like September 16th.

Aleksandr opened his messenger bag and pulled out his notepad, "Umm..." He waved his hand in the air, trying to grasp his words, "Could I borrow your pen?" He asked Jamie. He let out a small sigh, "I don't actually have a cellphone--so, I suppose just reach me through e-mail or whatever," he was going to say something about contacting him through his father's cellphone, but that seemed a bit complicated. Electronic mail was just as sufficient as a text message, right? @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

The floral scent began approaching and growing closer to Aleksandr. He turned his attention to glance at the female. The hair on the back of his neck rose when she began to address him. She was rather direct and sassy. He was slightly confused by her. He had not heard anything about his professors. Of course, he had just moved into town. He supposed he could have looked them up on the intern--"...Would you happen to know who Aleksander is?" She asked him inquisitively.

It bothered him strangely that she was so bold. "I..." he was cut off by James "Jamie" Halloran. He closed his mouth and waited for the two to finish introducing themselves. He felt like an altar boy behind the altar serving for his father--just standing solemnly as the priest and deacon did all the work.

When the window of opportunity to speak arose, Aleksandr cautiously interjected, "I'm Aleksandr Kulik," he grimaced lowly. His blue eyes studied the expressions on the two other students, hesitant to smile, "It's really nice to... meet you both," he was not sure what he was saying at this point in time. He noticed something was happening between Jamie and Sylv. Of course, their interactions made the situation nothing but awkward for him. The situation reminded him as to why he was not so fond of humans in general. University was already turning out to be another negative experience. Considering that he was used to horrible experiences, it was not a surprise for him by any means. I guess, I can add it to my list.

He glanced at the door. The students in the room were slowly fading out of the class as they paired off into groups. His hand slid down the strap of his messenger bag; he could feel the burn on the tips of his fingers. It brought relief to his anxiety. He looked back at Sylv and Jamie. God, I need to get ahold of myself. He felt so tense, especially knowing she--Sylv--was in his group. What is that smell, anyways? Shampoo? Conditioner? His thought process paused as it began to wonder if her skin was just simply that delicate smelling. His lips quivered a bit, thinking about her being so beautiful to smell. Quickly catching himself, he forced an easy smile on his face, "We should probably exchange...e-mails, right?" He almost said, "cellphone numbers," but he remembered that he did not have a cellphone. In the former town that he lived, cellphones were not that big of a deal considering everyone lived so close. Also, reception was not that great in the rural part of the country. He never felt like he needed one. It would have been a useless expense. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Seeing as he was the only one in the classroom, Aleksandr closed his eyes and let his forehead silently thud against the desktop in front of him. He drew in several breaths, feeling a bit of nervousness begin to bubble inside of him. He had not touched school for a whole two years, and today seemed to be the start of a new adventure of his life. He was not really feeling up for another adventure. He was not much of an adventurous human being.

His ears perked when the door opened. He could smell her keenly as she walked through the entrance of the classroom. His eyes immediately shot open at the first whiff. Every once in a while his sense were keener than normal, and it would startle him. He did not have much of an explanation, but at this very moment he was dead set on blaming his nervousness. She smelt florally, and it was nice. He choked down a smile, keeping his usual stoic face.

The door opened, again. Footsteps walked over towards the window and stopped. A loud sigh was heard.

The door opened a third time but stayed open this time. A crowd of students started piling into the classroom and filling the remaining empty desks. Aleksandr picked his head from the desk and slouched back in his seat, watching carefully as all the each student took his or her place. They were all like pawns, just picking their places on the chess board. Where's the Queen? Aleksandr wondered in his head. His eyes watched the door. The professor should be here any minute. He ran a hand through his wavy curls in anticipation, and dropping his hand back into his lap.

There was a incoherent chatter drifting through the room in small waves. Aleksandr had always felt a little odd when this phenomenon would happen because he usually had no one to talk to. It also did not help with his father being a priest. There was always something so strange about admitting his father to be a widower priest. His sense kicked in, again when the suddenly swung open. He straightened his back, trying to contain the noise that pierced through his ears. He looked around. No one else seemed to be phased by the noise. It was as if he was the only person that had heard it. A small hint of anger took over his nervousness. There's the Queen. His eyes narrowed slightly, realizing he needed to get a notebook of sorts out of his messenger bag. He bent over to remove a pad of white paper from his bag. He placed the pad of paper on his desk and stuck his arm back into his messenger bag, fishing for a pencil.

The professor had pepper hair. He seemed youngish, except his hair gave away his age (along with his crows feet, which were hiding under his tortoiseshell framed glasses). A pesky smile was perked on his lips as he took long, lean steps towards the Professor's desk. He set his brown, leather briefcase on the desk. He did not say anything for a while as he unpacked. He ran a hand over his nicely slicked back hair and readjusted his glasses on his face. His smile was still as perky as when he first entered.

"Hello, everyone," he stood quietly. There was something very quiet about his demeanor that annoyed Aleksandr.

The silence lasted for several, long seconds.

"I said, 'Hello, everyone,'" his smile widened. Several students responded with greetings. Aleksandr remained silent, glancing around to see if everyone was participating in the professor's introductory dance.

"Hmm," he said dissatisfied with the amount of students who responded, "For such a large class, I would have expected a more wholesome response." He looked down at the desk in front of him, and unlocked his briefcase. He pulled out a black binder and opened it, "This is Western Civilization I. I am Dr. Ethan Jones, but you may simply call me Dr. Jones," he paused, looking up from his desk and smiled at the class, "I am passing the roll sheet around, if you could please initial by your name so I know you are present," he opened the black binder and pulled out two pieces of stapled paper and walked it to the desk closest to his right, "Just find your name, initial, and pass it along," he said quietly to one student. He winked at the student and walked back to the center of the classroom, "This is a core class, and I know most of you are Freshman and Sophomores. Unforunately, Darcy University has a tradition of weeding out students that do not quite meet the academic criteria. I do not hand out A's. I rarely hand out B's, and I do not give 'Gentleman C's,'" he looked around the class through his spectacles. There was something diabolical about him.

Aleksandr felt twitchy. Not only could he smell that woman, but every move the professor made was some sound of inappropriate proportion. He clenched his jaw, quietly grinding his teeth back-and-forth, trying to keep his composure.

"Don't worry, I am on your side," Dr. Jones continued. His pinched smile grew to his rosy cheeks, "I have pre-selected groups in which you will work, because I understand the importance of networking in college. Each group will be giving a presentation at the end of the semester. I think starting on the project early is better than starting on it later in the semester. Doing the latter will only make you frustrated, and remember, the presentation will be worth 25% of your grade. Might I also add that you should exchange numbers, e-mails, and socials with each other. You never know from who your next job shall come," Dr. Jones rubbed his palms together as he spoke. He flipped through several papers in his black binder and held the paper up, "I have your groups assigned and named. The project will be over a famous historical figure we shall be going over in this class. I have a list," he held up his other hand which was holding another piece of paper, "of historical figures your group may choose. The groups are to read at least one work by the historical persons the group has chosen. I expect PowerPoints, handouts, and twenty minutes minimum per presentation. You also must have at least five sources, not from the internet. One will be the primary source. See? I am on your side," his smile grew back to touching his cheeks. He pulled out scotch tape from his brief case and taped the papers on the large, white-wall dry erase board. A student stood up and handed him the sign-in sheet. "Class is dismissed." With that, Dr. Jones put the sign in sheet in the pouch of his black binder, slid his binder back into his briefcase, and buckled his briefcase. Swinging the briefcase as he took long, lean steps out of the classroom, the professor quickly disappeared from the students' presence.

Aleksandr sat like a deer in headlights, his eyes were glazed. As students began to leave their seats, he slowly started packing his things. He placed his notepad back into his messenger bag. He never did find a pencil, so there was that positive aspect of the lecture. He stood up, slinging his messenger bag over his body. If the class was going to be that aggravating, he may actually kill the professor. The thought lingered in his mind for several seconds too long. A student pushed past him and jolted him from the sadistic thought. He walked to the front of the classroom but there was already a crowd of students gathered around the Group Sheet. I feel like I'm in a herd of sheep. Unexpectantly, the fact that he had not had breakfast caught up with his psyche. A pain in his stomach pained him. I hate life. @Arista

Beauty & The Beast: An Advanced Mature Werewolf Role Play (18+)

Aleksander | Father Seraphim

“Bye!” Aleksandr called through the house before he closed the front door. He carefully placed the key into the lock of the doorknob and turned it gently, trying not to make a sound. He pulled the key out and walked towards his blue bicycle. He was not fond of riding a bike everywhere. However, he had grown used to doing things he disliked. In fact, his whole life seemed to perpetually revolve around doing things he hated, like going to school. He had predetermined University would not be any different.

His father, on the other hand, was pleased to see Aleksandr so eager to leave for “University.” His poor son seemed unenthusiastic about school in the past. He knew Aleksandr needed more structure in his life. Perhaps, a job or a career or something that would allow him to be independent. After all, he would not be around to support Aleksandr forever.

He thought about ordaining Aleksandr as a Subdeacon. However, ordaining Aleksandr to Subdeacon seemed like it would be too pre-emptive if he did not already have a wife. Indeed, Aleksandr could possibly find a decent lady at “University,” and Father Seraphim knew for certain that he would not find anyone of the sorts staying cooped up in the household.

“I am sure he forgot his morning prayers,” Father Seraphim spoke softly to the icon of the Last Supper hanging highly on the wall by the table. His eyes studied the details of the iconography for several silent seconds. He finally let out a reluctant sigh and excused himself politely from the wooden table.

Father Seraphim slowly walked himself to his own bedroom. In a corner of the bedroom was an icon corner. A small table was placed in the corner, with incense and a white ten day candle burning, “Perhaps, an Akathist would be wise,” he went over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a small, thin book titled, Akathist to the Mother of God, Nurturer of Children. Father Seraphim knew full well his son was not a child, but the Akathist seemed to always bring him some sort of comfort.

Aleksandr pedaled his bicycle at a fairly swift pace. He did not want to work up too much of a sweat on the first day of school. A small barely noticeable smirk was set on his face. As much as he hated biking, he had learned to enjoy small things about it: the cool wind was brushing against his cheeks and running its fingers through his hair. He tilted his head upwards, breathing in the hastiness of his atmosphere. The wind felt absolutely heavenly.

He allowed his Converse to cease pedaling and let the bicycle sail independently through the neighborhood. Darcy University was only a ten minute bike ride from his neighborhood, and the neighborhood wasn’t too large of an area. There was something humble about the neighborhood that Aleksandr appreciated. It may have been the unkept lawns and lack of a proper Home Owners Association, but either way, the ratchet situation made him feel more at home than anything.

As he got closer to the University, the scenery improved. A sidewalk even started. He hopped his bike onto the sidewalk and followed the smooth, light gray path all the way to Darcy. It was a classical looking college with much greenery and shrubs. It was clear the upkeep was rather expensive.

Father Seraphim did not mind spending the extra money to get Aleksandr into the University. Sts. Peter & Paul was a larger parish than what the two were used to back in their former town. Therefore, the parish paid a bit more.

“If we’re frugal, enough—we might get away with a payable debt, Aleksy. Just, try not to get kicked out for bad grades. Colleges don’t shoe their students along the way public high schools do…” Father Seraphim had this talk with Aleksandr at least three times, and by the looks of Darcy, he realized just how real his father was being.

Aleksandr hopped off of his bike when he saw a bicycle rack. He paused, letting out a deep breath—one that he had been holding almost ever since he had entered the courtyard of Darcy. He had not realized he had been holding his breath until he had gotten off of his bicycle.
He looked around and proceeded to wheel his bike up to the rack. He opened his heavy messenger bag and pulled out a U-lock to hook his bicycle to the rack. Standing up straight, he opened his messenger bag and fished for his class schedule. He had printed it out and crammed it into his bag with several of his books he needed for the day last night. He frowned, remembering how organized he had to be for school. Damn, he thought to himself.

It was as if cussing did the trick. He found the paper folded at the bottom of his messenger bag. He had not recalled folding it, but then, again, his memory was a bloody battlefield.

He unfolded the paper: “8:00 – 8:50 AM Teimhnean 204…” What building was Teimhnean? How do you even pronounce that? He looked around and began walking in a random direction, leaving his bike on the rack.

The wind picked up and rustled his hair. He began walking quickly towards the nearest building. If worse comes to worst, he would have to tuck his tail and ask for help. His father was embarrassingly good about tucking away his ego and admitting defeat. Aleksandr had a bit of trouble swallowing his pride. He did not even know how pronounce the name of the building he was looking for. Maybe there was a map somewhere. There was no other option than to find a map. I should have printed one out last night! God, Aleksy, what were you thinking? You're so dumb. He cursed himself silently inside his mind as he pushed the ornate, wooden door open to one of the many gothic style buildings of Darcy University.

The sudden blast of air conditioning felt good on his skin. He bit the bottom of his lip, to keep from grinning at the sensation of the artificial environment. The University building was large with high ceilings. There were four wooden staircases on the first floor leading to the upper levels building. Being inside the building made him feel like a little lost insect. There were more students in the building than he had expected, as well. They all had the appearance of knowing where they were going. God, I'm dumb.

"Excuse me!" Aleksandr asked an elder gentleman, who was clearly a professor. He was wearing a tweed blazer jacket and a bow tie. There was something traditionally prestigious looking about him. The old man looked Aleksandr up and down. Alesandr was wearing a pair of straight jeans, Converse, and a button down shirt. The man made a slight look of approval and smiled, letting steam from his nose.

"Yes, sir! How may I be assistance to you?" His voice was old and worn. He most likely smoked as a younger man.

Aleksandr showed him his piece of paper, "I'm looking for Tymenee-on."

"You mean Teimhnean." he leaned close to Aleksandr before continuing, "You already found it,” His eyes narrowed in at Aleksandr before abruptly turning around and walking away from the conversation.

Aleksandr’s eyes widened as he watched his elder walk out of the building. His mouth was slightly ajar, trying to grasp the situation. He shook his head softly, Room 204. Okay. He ignored the students around him and hastily made his way towards the stairs. His first step startled him as the stairs were creaky and worn. Unfortunately, he did not have enough time to contemplate the conditions of the stairs and hurriedly jogged himself up each step. When he reached the top he saw Room 204 from across the hall. He actually made it!

Why was he so excited feeling? @Arista