Dirty Little Secret .:Frey:.

[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

If he had believed in that sort of thing, Nightingale could have sworn this was karma. What in the world had he done to deserve it? Every movement brought a heavy case of vertigo while every sound felt as if something were splitting his head open. From the inside, too. He sighed in frustration, glancing around to make sure there was no one around to extend the torture before rubbing his temples gently. Oh, how he regretted that trip to the library. Actually, that wasn't true; the library itself was fine, verging on the edge of amazing. But the people he just happened to run into there were a different matter. It was perfectly reasonable to blame his current situation on that man. He was the one who startled him, after all.

It was too much to be couped up in his dorm all day. All the ruckus of others going about their business may have been painful, but the dull silence of his dorm room was just torture. It was only then that he could actually feel the throbbing in his head, and at that point he just wanted it to go away. So, although reluctantly, he had slipped back into the long, blue-tinted strands of his wig and the uncomfortable material of the dress before wandering back outside. At least he had gone with wearing darker colors; the brighter ones just made the throbbing worse. And he just felt so much less noticable. What Theodore had been thinking when he planned all the bright, extravagent outfits was beyond Night's way of thinking. All he knew was this dress, navy blue in color, was better, and that it was a tad pitiful for a male such as himself to even be thinking such a thing.

It only took a few moments of being lost in thought for Night to get lost. Really, was a sense of direction much to ask for? He glanced around, scowling. No, he definitely didn't recognize these surroundings, which meant that there wasn't a chance of his being able to get back to his room. With a frustrated groan, he turned and begane walking back through the corridor. It wasn't as though staying there was going to help him find his way. Yet, it was rather unsettling. With no idea where he was going, he had no idea who he'd run into. His stomach flipped at the idea and he reached up to adjust the small hat keeping the hair over his red right eye. Night didn't particularly handle meeting new people well.

With a small click, Nightingale opened one of the doors in the corridor. Had he really been so out of it as to not notice if he went through a door? Either way, he felt the need to investigate. The room he stepped into was, well, white. The bright color sent another spike of pain through his head before he stepped into the room, squinting his visible teal-colored eye in order to block out a bit of the blaringly plain color. It looked like he had managed to stumble into an infirmary. His eyes widened a bit at that. An infirmary was probably one of the worst places for someone such as himself, meaning hiding a secret as large as his own. A hand went up to rub at his temple again when the pain suddenly increased, causing him to wince. It was too much, dealing with the situation with a headache like this. He needed to get out of there before someone saw him, or he might be forced into an exam. If that we to happen, he'd probably be out of Stella Fiore as fast as someone could say it. What a pain.

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Word Count: 623 (short...)
Status: COMPLETE
Muse: Innerpartysystem Don't Stop
Tag: Frey Vermundur Dagursson
Lyrics By: 30 Seconds to Mars A Beautiful Lie
Template By: ARRO FROM CAUTION 2.0!!

[FREY VERMUNDUR DAGURSSON]

syringes and cupcakes
give me something sweet, i'm good enough to eat
heart made of sequins
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sick bowls didn't clean themselves and apparently Stella Fiore had other, far far more important, things to pour the sledgeloads of money it raked in every single year into. Than employing people to do the cleaning for him. That was the only downside of this beautiful Italian school - lack of minor staff. Frey turned the taps off and dried his hands on a convenient towel. The bowls - as he had learnt from long experience - were not able to be washed by a dishwasher. There was something about - plastic; it tended to melt under hot water. He shook his head, remembering the clinical metal versions they had had in London, and in Berlin on his overseas year of training. Now, metal could be washed in bloody washing machines, but oh no. That was too simple a task.

He supposed it was - being one of the limited bad things about this infirmary - rather pitiful compared to the amount of extraordinarily good things to come out of working here. In fact, Frey had frankly surprised himself in getting this job. He could still clearly picture the online application glowing on his laptop screen back in his London flat. He even recalled the exact tune that was playing the background when he pressed the send button - '...there's no map and a compass wouldn't help at all...' Could that be considered ever so slightly sad? Possibly. Frey shrugged the idea off. Well, he was here now, in the breathetaking scenery of Italy, with a clean room and his own lodgings. Long hours, but it was a boarding school - they needed him on site, practically. And the sports...

Frey didn't even go there. Horseriding, fencing - probably shooting if he bothered to look hard enough. He was surprised there had been no broken necks and shattered limbs in the time he had been here - from the moment he was slipped surreptitiously into the system at the beginning of the year. Few had spotted the new face rarely seen outside the infirmary and fewer still had commented on it. Thankfully. He wasn't a very private man but he was more of an introvert than someone who was out every night. He would rather sleep soundly than stumble back to his apartment at four in the morning, feet feeling something akin to walking on hot coals. It didn't mean the Icelandic didn't know how to; he simply prefered not to. Doctors frankly didn't have time to waste-

"Hello?," Frey's ears picked up the sound of stumbling footsteps inside the main area of the infirmary. He blinked - they sounded ladylike, but they were unaccompanied. Where was her butler? Short as he was, it didn't take him long to step back into the large white room, greeted immediately by the smell of industrial cleaner. That was one job he fortunately didn't do. However, the overpowering stench was probably not helping the lady in question - rather unsteady and probably, a quick eyeflick told him, in pain. As to where; the hand belied it was most likely a migraine. One hand gently encircled her wrist and the other steadied the lady's side, guiding her towards a conveniently placed bed, sheets neatly tucked in around the edges. Frey's eyes flickered to the washed and neatly stacked bowls. There could be a use for them now.

"Lie down - or sit, whichever you prefer," he instructed her quietly, "and don't rub your head, you'll only make it feel worse." Frey had to be careful with her - these ladies were, however indirectly, the people paying him to be here. But first he needed to scan the records before he administered anything - particularly tablets. And to the find the right file, he needed a name. Soft eyes scanned the lady's pained expression, but couldn't match the face to a name. Obviously not a frequent visitor then. "What's your name?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
jawbreakers and morphine
give me something sweet, i'm good enough to eat
candy hearts and bruise
tagged: noire
lyrics: cupcakes taste like violence - jefree star
muse: hollywood - marina and the diamonds
notes: ¬3¬ the lyrics within the text are from human behaviour by byork
template: (c) me!

[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

A lot of people feared hospitals. Though it was quite irrational, Nightingale could still at least partially see where it could be justified. The infirmary, even if it wasn't a hospital, was a significant example of what a hospital was like, from what he had heard; he had never actually been to one. Of course, he had undergone examinations like every other child, but because of the secrecy that made up his existence, those exams were always done by a doctor at the manor. He had always been a healthy child, if not a bit on the smaller frail side. Yet, this was different. The smell of antiseptics hung in the air, overtaking any other odors that may have been in the room. It was enough to make Night wrinkle his nose a bit in distaste; in cleaning things so thoroughly, they had eliminated any chance of there being such a thing as fresh air in a place where people would most likely need it. Not to mention the fumes weren't doing much to ease the pain in the boy's head.

The voice drifting from the other room brought Night back to earth. He hadn't expected anyone to notice he had entered the infirmary, yet he wasn't particularly surprised that they had. Though he had often practiced his 'female strut' as Theodore so mockingly put it, Night certainly wasn't the most graceful person in the world. His steps always seemed to echo slightly with the authority he tried to hide. And then, of course, there was his rather frequent tendency to be accident prone. Horribly timed mistakes always seemed to be attracted to him, especially when he thought he was safe. Such things included cursing when a certain annoying butler was walking past, tripping and quite nearly falling off a bridge, and of course, the fact that he was at Stella Fiore in the first place. He never asked to be there, yet he had no choice. Miserable circumstances seemed to find him a favorite toy, after all.

Even if Night hadn't been shocked by the voice, he certainly was startled when the person grabbed his wrist and steadied him. Sadly, he hadn't even noticed how much he had been wavering on his own feet. Yet, even if he was slightly grateful for the extra support, his eyes widened all the same. Touching wasn't good. Touching could expose him. Touching needed to stop. Night quickly snatched his arm back before scowling at the man, hands placed firmly on his hips in direct defiance. "Excuse me," he muttered, though the words were thick with the sarcasm laced in his tone, "I don't recall asking for your help, nor do I recall wanting it." The boy's one visible eye narrowed, the blue iris flashing with dignity. He had never been one to accept help from others, even if it resulted in his own discomfort. Either way, he still sat on the dge of the cot, slightly dizzy from the pain in his head.

Night listened carefully to the words coming from the person busying himself with taking care of him. Either he was a doctor or some highly caring person. Both would result in the same thing; distrust from Night. He raised an eyebrow once the man finished, leaning his head to the side and ignoring the stab of pain the movement sent around his head. "Who are you, anyways? I would assume you're a doctor for the school, but you don't particularly look like one." He shook his head slowly, resisting the urge to rub his aching temples once the pain sprouted again. Certainly, this person couldn't be a doctor; he may have sent Night's nerves on edge, but he didn't look like one to study medicine.. He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning suspiciously at the man. "I don't suppose you would mind telling me why my name is important, since I can't see why you would need such information. Maybe he should give the man the benefit of the doubt, but he didn't particularly feel like it. His mood was rotten due to the migraine, and didn't seem as though it would improve any time soon.

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Word Count: 698
Status: COMPLETE
Muse: All Time Low Lost In Stereo
Tag: Frey Vermundur Dagursson
Lyrics By: 30 Seconds to Mars A Beautiful Lie
Template By: ARRO FROM CAUTION 2.0!!

[FREY VERMUNDUR DAGURSSON]

syringes and cupcakes
give me something sweet, i'm good enough to eat
heart made of sequins
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Frey restrained himself for grabbing her arm back, but the brief flash of indignation in his eyes belied the irritance at the dismissal of help. Still, he had to be polite - these people were, however rich and snobby, the people who paid for the Macbook Air in his apartment, the Levi's jeans in the drawers, the rather expensive Rolex watch that was currently inside its leather case on his desk back home. Frey remembered these things - it was all he could do to not snap back at the prisssy little lady. Looking down her nose at him, despite the fact they were about the same height - he was possibly taller, come to think of it.

He replied patiently, "I noticed someone in my infirmary," Frey put emphasis on the 'my', he had no delusions about who ran this part of the faculty, "and I have it in my job description to help those in here. I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I left you to boil away in the corner without any assistance." For one with a short fuse when provoked, surprisingly he kept his voice level and calm. Frey didn't have the time or excuse to be snippy today. He simply wanted to get on with a quick head examination and then give her something, let her lie down or whatever, then get shot of her. That would be the best course of action. Of course, he had to be polite when listening to her natter on.

"I am the doctor of this school," Frey avoided looking affronted like the plague, "do I look much like a butler?", he shook his head lightly, and ran a practiced eye over her face again. Definitely in pain - and probably wanting immediate relief, that was no doubt. "I suppose I don't look much like one - but how does a doctor look?", an eyebrow raised, Frey keeping his tone still level, "I cannot help being how I am, though I would prefer if people didn't point out my inadequacies for the world to see." He finished softly before turning aside, satisfied she was seated and not about to lash out. He might snap then. Instead, he opened a cabinet, hand flicking through the bottles inside. There had be some of the stronger stuff in there - and the backup, too.

"Anyway, I require your name to look you up on the records," without removing his head and right hand from the cabinet, he gestured with his left to the door through to the other compartment of the infirmary - where the computer was. Faithful computers and their huge databases. "It's quicker than going through the school's entire database and looking for your face," Frey stepped back, two unlabelled bottles in hand, and looked at her with eyes like calm seas - the hints of irritance had disappeared. "Apologies - I need to find out if you're allergic to anything in migraine medicine - you appear to have a migraine judging from your facial expression and demeanour - and since I am not rattling off the entire ingrdient list of this," Frey waved one of the bottles in the air, "it's easier to look it up."

"Oh, and I need to log that you turned up in the infirmary, in case someone comes looking for you," he added as an afterthought, in a much more good-natured fashion. "Come, now, it's not like I'm going to turn you into the secret police or something." Little did he know exactly how relevant that statement or not.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
jawbreakers and morphine
give me something sweet, i'm good enough to eat
candy hearts and bruise
tagged: noire
lyrics: cupcakes taste like violence - jefree star
muse: whistle - kill bill ost
notes: this post is so crap i don't even
template: (c) me!

[NIGHTINGALE ASHES DYMONDE]

Stereotyping was a terrible habit among humanity. Opinions based on a single person were usually not only incorrect, but also quite insulting. Yet Night had learned to expect it once he was told the purpose of the school; after all, there wasn't a lot more you could expect out of rich, highly privileged girls, the majority of which who were young teenagers? Gossip, catty insults, and drastically inflated egos were high up on that list. Night personally didn't get along with such females since there was too many conflicting opinions, but he had learned to be able to tell when such a thing was being expected of him. Even with the first few words out of his own mouth, the doctor had probably placed him in a category with the other students at the school. Not that Night could particularly blame him; the man probably had to deal with fussy ladies constantly, and his own denying help might seem like a bad start. But that didn't mean he was going to accept it.

Night raised an eyebrow at the doctor's over-pronounced possession of the infirmary, but didn't say anything about it. If the man wanted to ride a high horse about his job, then he was plenty free. He just didn't want anything to do with it. Yet, to his next words, Night shook his head. "Saying something is in your job description is the same as saying you have to do it, and that you aren't happy about it. Have you considered maybe switching jobs?" He crossed his arms over his chest, giving the doctor a curious look. Of course, there were always those people who stayed in a job for the surroundings, or the people, or something else like that, even if they disliked the job itself. If Night were to guess, he'd have to say this man didn't like the people that came with the job, but that it was one of those 'it pays the bills' reasons.

Night settled farther on the mattress, though he wasn't planning to let any sort of treatment be done on him, whether it be a shot, pills, or a simple examination. He stretched his arms above his head before leaning back on his hands, smirking slightly at the man bustling through a cabinet. "Ah, but don't you believe in the phrase 'appearances can be decieving?" The phrase itself was pretty much the defintion of Nightingale's being. Under the appearance of a fragile, small lady was the truth; a boy who, though slightly fragile and rather small, was as cold of a person as one would expect out of someone with a terrible past. His wasn't difficult enough to use as an excuse for his personality, though he wouldn't anyways. "as for your inadequacies, if I'm able to point them out, does that not mean the world can see them already?" He shrugged lightly, a bored expression on his face, occasionally penetrated by a wince of pain.

A scowl of displeasure crossed over Night's face before he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "There's no need to go digging in my records. I'm not taking any medication. Pain is bearable, and one who can't even handle a migraine without taking something to ease it could be considered weak." He punctuated his words with a sullen glare directed at the floor. The idea of having the pain taken away, it was so tempting. But he had experienced such a thing before, and knew it would pass. It wasn't like him to take the easy way out of things, unless it appeared beneficial in the long run. Taking medicine was just a temporary moment of relief, no to mention the fact that, since half of the things in his records were fictional, he didn't want anyone in there. Sometimes, having someone believe things that were false was almost as bad as having them find out the truth.

Night's eyes widened a significant deal at the freely uttered statement. Oh, if this person only knew. He needed to lay low, keep himself under the radar. If anyone knew he had been in the infirmary, particularly a certain nosy butler, he wouldn't have been able to manage even that much for a short amount of time. The so-called secret police were much less of a threat than his uncle. Unable to plaster a charming smile on his face, he instead went with an innocent, bashful look. "Could we maybe, um, sir, just keep me out of the log? I'm quite certain that no one will come looking for me." Night paused, taking a deep breath on the inside, trying to look bashful and uncertain for asking such a thing. Being a lady could help sometimes, after all. "You see, I wasn't meant to leave my dorm, but I did just to get some fresh air and, well, I got lost. It would be very helpful if you could help me keep this a secret, sir." He winced inwardly as he smiled slightly, as though embarrassed. Truthfully, he hated using such methods, but he truly didn't want to be put in the log. He hadn't even meant to come to the infirmary in the first place.

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Word Count: 871
Status: COMPLETE
Muse: 3OH!3 Colorado Sunrise
Tag: Frey Vermundur Dagursson
Lyrics By: 30 Seconds to Mars A Beautiful Lie
Template By: ARRO FROM CAUTION 2.0!!