` silence is golden [open]

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

Next to empty churches, libraries tended to be Raphael (otherwise known as Constantine to his peers) loved to lurk. The silence and the serious aura that surrounded libraries tended to put Raphael at ease. A library was a no-nonsense place, where studious persons went in order to enlighten themselves further and seek more elevated levels of entertainment than that trash that was always on television. Disgusting, really. It seemed that everywhere one turned was sex, murder, and general debauchery. Were there no more good, upstanding values left in this world? It seemed to be unlikely.

Except in books. Raphael turned to novels, because he adored learning, and he had a horrifying secret; he liked fiction. It seemed odd, considering the man was so serious and stern that the idea of idle fantasies of far off kingdoms with high adventure and romance would appear to him. Ah, but it did. Besides, he was sure to pick only novels that appealed to his upstanding moral values. Those where men were always chivalrous, and where those who would do wrong were ultimately and soundly defeated. Needless to say, it was still a bit of an embarrassing habit. If the others knew that Raphael wasn't only at the library to pick up more historical reading material, he might be made a mockery of. And Raphael was someone who couldn't stand being humiliated. He knew that his worst sin was pride, but he tried to keep a tight control on all the others.

Raphael furtively glanced about, his cold blue eyes making sure no one observed as he selected a book entailing a historical fantasy (his favorite type), before scuttling back to the safety of the non-fiction section. Raphael wondered why he always felt so unnerved by slipping into that area. It wasn't like any other students were going to be in the library anyways; he'd already clarified that point often enough with his griping on the failings of today's youth.

Sighing slightly, Raphael settled into a secluded table within the vast library. He chose a dark corner where he would surely not be bothered. Besides, this was why he liked the library; other students didn't venture here. At least, not the types that would pull out the notion to bother Raphael over some tedious concern or ever. By the good Lord's mercy, if he had to have one more curious, silly blond strumpet approach him and ask him the dread question, "What are you reading", he would lose his temper. It seemed that they just got bolder as they got older, these women, with their exposed navels and long, voluptuous legs and batting eyes and - well, the point was made anyways. Sighing slightly, Raphael leaned forward and engrossed himself within an innocent enough looking book, but with the most intriguing content he'd come across in a long while.

[PETAL PAIX]

(but duck tape is silver!)

Petal was her usually happy self today despite the cold. She was used to this kind of weather and loved the feeling of cool air against her face. She sat on the library steps for a awhile and then turned to face her new... adventure.

Ah, the library. Petal remembers when her parents took her here as a little girl. It was sooo extraordinary to her then. Now here she was walking into it like she was walking into her apartment. Weird how things turn out.

Sadly she could spend the day marveling at the amount of books the library held. Today she had to work. You'd think that when you're majoring in Dance that you won't have to write papers right? Wrong! You do. History of Ballet, The Language of Dance, The Origin of Hip-hop. All of them she had talked about. Now it was time for a 10 page research paper on how dance has effected society. TEN PAGES! Petal didn't fret too much. It was just one of those milestones of college.

She walked over to the reference section and found it nearly empty of people. Petal skimmed the isles. Her skirt made the loudest swishing noise in this eerie silence. She just wanted to break out in a fit of awkward giggles. She decided to hum instead. Then she spotted it.

The Arts Section.

Right behind a college guy she didn't recognize from her classes.

Petal probably could have asked him to move but he looked so engrossed in that book. She decided to slip around him. She walked slowly toward the section and quickly walked behind him. Then she realized, it was the wrong day to wear a peasant skirt. She got the hem caught on the foot of his chair. She looked over at him and smiled a bit, "It seems like I'm stuck."

(http://www.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/a4/b/AAAAC4Xw3gIAAAAAAKS6nA.jpg to give you an idea of the skirt)

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

Ah, a book by one of his favorite authors. The glittering tales of knights and bravery immersed him thoroughly, such that Raphael lost awareness of his surroundings. Thus, when he heard a voice behind him, he started a little. Turning in his seat, he found himself blinking up at a woman who looked just about his own age. He blinked in surprise as her words finally registered in his mind. Looking down, he noted that her skirt, a long and ruffled looking thing, had somehow found itself under his chair. Well, that was unfortunate.

Rising with dignity, he lifted the chair legs and pushed it into the table. Raphael was vaguely surprised and a little uneasy about the fact that this girl looked close to his own age. What if she, by some small chance, happened to be a peer of his or know someone he did? Had she noted the book he'd been reading as a silly fantasy thing. He dearly hoped not. Discretely he moved the book behind a stack of others, his expression mild as he assessed the girl from the corner of his unnerving blue eyes. He felt wary. Though she wasn't dressed scandalously as those females he scorned, why would a pretty girl be in the library? Perhaps it was cynical stereotyping on his part, but most studious types he knew had fewer acquaintances who would be willing to do work for them. Or, else, they didn't do it at all and expected to glide on with their looks.

"My apologies," Raphael said smoothly, though it was sure the whole affair wasn't hit fault. His face was carefully schooled not to reveal much emotion. However, Raphael's features were never that reassuring. With his austere, black formal clothes, his intense, fierce gaze and his tall height, he looked rather like many unpleasant creatures. A raven, the most common analogy. Sometimes a spider, even. Either way, it was easy to tell that very little escaped his sharp gaze, and that his scrutiny and judgment on every encounter might make or break his opinion of another person. His calculating and general aloof superiority obviously made the young man fairly unpopular with others with the poor luck of running into him.

Raphael was simply a bit difficult to get along with, as most strongly opinionated young men are.

[PETAL PAIX]

The guy got up and moved the chair leg. He didn't have to get up... So polite. She looked up at him. He DID NOT look that tall sitting down. He had the appearance of a middle-aged tree. Not thick trunked and with spindly branches. He wore all black and his eyes seemed to look into you're soul. She imagined most people would be scared of this but Petal found it intriguing. What did the city people call them? Gothic? Emo? Those words hardly desrcibed him.

She saw him slip his book into his stuff. Was he planning on talking? Petal hardly had the time... Well... she didn't want to be rude and did need to make more friends so why not? The Dance paper wasn't due until late March so she didn't have to worry too much. She was about to apologize but her opened his mouth to speak.

"My apologies,"

"Oh. It's not your fault!" His face seemed to be frozen in that expression. Petal smiled her signature smile. She's the one who wanted to wear the frilly skirt. She loved the way it swished. When the skirt was free she checked it for tears. None. This was turning out to be a good day. "I'm Petal!" she held out her hand cheerfully.

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

With the utmost wariness, he watched her. Her smile was quick and large, and was nearly infectious. Nearly. Smiling wasn't something that Raphael often indulged in, and only when he was truly pleased. Whether he took the world or himself too seriously, it was hard to tell. Either way, some theorized the possibility of Raphael in fact being a black hole of fun, absorbing everything cheerful and comedic into a vortex of self-righteous importance and general "prickery". Nonetheless, he gave a polite nod in acknowledgment. He'd known he'd had no blame, but was a man of utter propriety. It was only polite to apologize for an accident, even if no blame could be directly be placed on him for simply sitting in a chair.

However, he couldn't help but be taken aback. Not by the extended hand, no, but by the name itself. Petal? Was it some kind of fluff-headed pseudonym, or were her parents really so shameful as to name their children after a structure on a flower? It seemed a little ridiculous to him, either way. He couldn't rightly take anyone with that sort of name with actual seriousness. But Raphael, for all the snob he was, wouldn't think of causing a scene by acting openly cruel. He would not cast the first stone, in any case. Not unless said person deserved it fully, which he wasn't sure of. Raphael believed in aiding his fellow man, no matter how silly and irresponsible that man (or woman) may or may not be.

Cautiously, he took her hand, giving it a light shake. Already his mind was phrasing the word: hippie. Or hippie parents. But then again, the hippie contagion had a habit of spreading to the offspring, didn't it? He couldn't say, precisely. Keeping his expression discreetly neutral, he supposed there was no harm in proffering his own name as well. "I am Raphael Constantine. Most call me by my surname," he articulated, with precision. He was not sure how it had gotten about that most called him by his last name in the first place. Perhaps it was respect, or perhaps it was just that Raphael was so grave and formal it felt like calling him Raph or Raphael would seem too intimate to bear, as if he would never be anything other than Mister Constantine, the fellow who looks like a mortician. Well, regardless of reason, Raphael didn't particularly care. He didn't feel close enough to anyone to ask them to call him by his first name, anyways. Other than his brother.

[PETAL PAIX]

Ahhh, the sweet stench of judgement. Petal could smell it in the air. The guy looked her up and down and probably gave her a label like "tree-hugger" or "hippie". Not that she really cared. She took pride in her free way of thinking. She kept her charming smile as he weakly shook her hand.

"They call you Constantine? Like the emperor?" She gave her a mental pat on the back for remembering that from...oh what was it? High school Sophomore history? She had been wrong about Raphael wanting to talk. Either that or he did up until he figured out she wasn't his type. Oh well, he's to stiff anyway. She pulled a few loose strands and tucked them back into her french braid before speaking.

"Well Emperor Constantine, It's nice to meet you, but I have to get back to my research paper." She walked over closer to the arts section of the reference area. Hmmm... maybe she should say something else. See you around maybe? No... oh, here's one. "Good luck reading your book. I find historical fiction both enjoyable and educating at the same time. I wasn't a big fan of that one but our tastes are probably different." She turned around and search through the books.

She found a huge book of "Dance Through the Ages" and pulled it out. This was going to take a while. She tucked the book under her arm and found the weight awkward. She walked over to the next section of tables and sat down. Time to begin....

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

He twitched slightly at the title. He searched her for some sort of mocking, but could find none. Nevertheless, his lips twisted downward slightly, giving him an even more ominous appearance. "There were nearly a dozen emperors by the name of Constantine," he said stiffly. He knew she was most likely talking about Constantine I, the most notable of the Roman emperors who shared the name. Also known as Saint Constantine, of course. No nobler a man could Raphael take his surname from, and he was often pleased immensely by this small connection to the first Christian emperor. Superficial, indeed, but there nonetheless.

However, he didn't quite know what precisely she was thinking of. It could be the noblest Constantine, or might be one such as Constantine VI, the horribly unpopular Byzantine emperor who cut out the eyes of one of his uncles and the tongues of all the others. On the third hand, most likely he was just overanalyzing it all and she was simply making an unnecessary observation with very little knowledge before the fact.

He nearly went cold when she noted the book her was reading, and felt a small bit of ire that she could possibly entertain the idea that they might have similar tastes. He watched as she flounced off, and satisfied himself further when she picked up such a silly thing as a history of dance. Dancing! Ridiculous. A frivolity for those who didn't bother themselves with truly benefiting their fellow men, and simply aping about in order for some sort of surface entertainment. He turned away and gathered his things. Raphael had quite suddenly lost his desire to remain in the library. His own quarters would be much more suitable for privacy and would eliminate the chances of an undesirable encounter.

Without a further word of good-bye or good riddance, he stalked towards the checkout counter.

[PETAL PAIX]

The look of disgust on his face irked her a bit but she shook it off. She got comfortable and opened the book to pairs dancing. She imagined giving all her trust to a man and letting him sweep her across the ballroom floor. Beautiful but only at a glance. Personally Petal had never tried dancing with a guy. She really didn't want to. She would rather make herself jump and make herself spin.

She read through a few pages and checked the time. OH NO! Her first class was going to start in thirty minutes. How did the time go so fast? She quickly gathered all of her stuff and picked up the book. Could she check it out? She began to walk briskly over to the checkout desk. She looked up from her book and paused. There's got to be another checkout desk around here right? She didn't have time.

She walked up and waited in line. The guy actually was showing some emotion: disgust. Petal couldn't help but feel guilty. Her smile waned a bit as she moved forward. You don't have time to talk, you don't have time to talk. She looked up at the books and counted them as she waited. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, besides people that close-minded won't care if you apologize. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11...

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

What was this? He barely glanced over his shoulder and felt a flicker of annoyance and suspicion. Was this girl following him? She'd come fairly quickly behind him to the checkout counter. Raphael shook himself internally. No, she wasn't following him. He wouldn't be so self-flattering as to assume he was worth tagging alone with. Still, she'd seemed like she was going to settle in reading until he'd left and came up to the counter.

It was almost unbearable. He didn't particularly want to converse with someone like this girl. But Raphael felt quite awkward simply ignoring her. He was only human, after all. But what was he to say to the likes of her? He'd nothing in common, surely. He could tell her type from a mile away. Frivolous, shallow, without the ability to discern a higher meaning in this life. Always walking along the surface without truly putting ones feet into the water of deep understanding and questioning. Raphael, for all his failings (of which he was horridly ignorant of), was quite passionate about life. Not to mention, knowledge. He threw himself into learning with a craze, and found all manner of subjects fascinating, especially those in the realm of the philosophical. Eccentric? To say the least.

Yet so quick to condemn. He made focused eye-contact with the unfortunate clerk stuck with checking him out. She seemed to be a bit uncomfortable underneath his scrutiny, to say the least. Raphael was entirely concentrated in not looking behind him and fully acknowledging the presence of the the girl, Petal. Even just thinking her name made him want to roll his eyes at the utter childishness of it all. However, Raphael would feel impolite to a point of rudeness that he found improper to be directed at a woman, especially since she had yet to prove all malcontent towards himself.

Thus, when his books were finally in arms, he turned sharply towards her, his expression still grave as ever, without even a suggestion of good humor. In fact, one might think he was forcing himself to even speak to her (what a thought!). "If you do like historical fiction -" there was almost a suggestion of doubt there! "Then you ought to read Colleen McCullough's Masters of Rome. No Constantines, but some interesting emperors in there, anyways." He raised one eyebrow, as if daring her to do so. There was certainly a great bit of doubt in Raphael that she'd even looked at serious reading before - anything beyond an instruction manual, including one for dancing.

How delightful that Raphael's contempt could show in his body language but not his actual words. As he turned away, he strode as if he were the master of the domain. And indeed, this was his element, the place of scholars and the learned. The girl Petal, to him, was an intruder, someone whom he couldn't comprehend, based on outward appearances, as being able to comprehend the profoundness of higher cognitive skills. It would be undiplomatic to tell her to leave, so he acted frosty in the guise of being even remotely pleasant.

In short, Raphael didn't feel comfortable around her, and thus his extremely waspish side was exposed, the sort that would make him feel petty if anyone of great importance were to witness it. As it were, he didn't even think about his behavior at the moment, not finding it pertinent to examine why he felt as hostile as he did, for no reason. He simply did. Raphael had always felt a bit outcast in life, and thus rarely extended himself to be kind to those he thought unworthy or not needing it. Best to exert himself only to be saintly to those truly in need - hence the charity work. This mercantilism approach to goodness and the amount of it to go around would be a bit amusing if it weren't such a flaw in his character.

ooc: If this doesn't make sense, I blame it on the head cold I have right now. And that it's late. And my friend is constipated.

[PETAL PAIX]

12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, eighte- Petal nearly jumped when Raphael talked to her. Wait, what did he say? Masters of Rome huh?
"I enjoyed Caesar's Women the best out of all of them. Which one was your favorite?" she asked. Her smile returned.
"Can I see your library card?"
He seemed still closed. Petal wondered if there was a reason for this. She imagined something could have happened to make him this way. Maybe it was the way he was brought up. Maybe he used to be like her and then something horrible happened. She couldn't imagine him smiling. Much less in colors. Maybe grey bu-
"Ma'm?"
"Hmm?"
"Your library card please?"
"Oh I'm sorry. Here it is."
She checked out the book and quickly picked up her stuff to leave. "Have a nice day."
"You too hun." The lady at the counter smiled.
Petal walked quickly out the door. She ran down the stairs and walked to the sidewalk. Don't worry you'll make it. she thought.
ooc: Sorry for the short post.

[JULIUS FORTESCUE]

Yet again, a twitch of surprise. It could almost be passed off as a tic. He would not have suspected her of having any idea what he was talking about. But he'd been proven wrong. Raphael didn't particularly like that, but he listened politely. Caesar's Women? Ah, of course she would like that one. He pondered for a moment before slowly answering her question. "The October Horse," he said softly. Oh yes, perhaps it was a bit silly, but the ultimate end, the assassination of Julius Caesar, was enough to stir up the blood of any man. At least, that was the excuse of the scholarly, polite Constantine to possibly revel in the vicious brutality of the death of such a powerful figurehead.

And now it was time to leave. Having no car, he usually walked or took a bus. This was no exception. Raphael wearily exited the library. He didn't particularly mind walking, of course. Except, the snow did make things a bit more miserable. There were times when even a dower-faced right-wing radical might wish for warmer and brighter days. Oh yes, he wouldn't mind sitting under the sun to read a book. And, of course, the summer meant more frequent visits with his beloved younger brother - as sordid and sinful as he was, Raphael loved his sibling with an astounding patience he seemed to deny any other person.

Entering the cold, he let out a slow breath, barely noticing Petal hurrying along as if she'd somewhere important to be. He was mustering himself for the walk back to his quarters. It was quite good that Raphael was so intelligent and dedicated to knowledge - as he was not a very rich man, he was fairly dependent on the sponsorship and scholarship of others to put him into a good university. Always quick to acknowledge the grace of God and its form of philanthropy, Raphael was quick to return the kindness given to him in the form of charity for the truly needy.

A strange man of contrasts, Raphael Constantine was. Looking down without cause, helping without need to, reclusive, yet actively charitable. He was a man of extremes, and still, still somehow unsatisfied with his life, as if he were missing a key component that he'd never had...

So he set off into the snow, with his books in a bag over shoulder, heading off into the dark to seek sanctuary from the cold and the prying curiosities of humanity - those people he cared for so tenderly yet rejected and downgraded just as quickly.