Ivan's one of those kids that wants to grow up too fast. But not because he wants to, mostly because, with his intelegance levels, he's expected to. And he tries, he tries very hard. But once in a while, sometime you just need to abandon all causes and throw it into the air. Today had been one of those days.

Although Ivan looks like a kid that people want to stay away from their children, he's got a personality that'll melt your heart. He'd come to the beach by chance wandering around town. He was dressed in pants that covered his feet entirly, hung low low on his hips and wad held by one sliver, handcuff linked belt, then decorated by another drooping pyramid belt and another leather belt with false bullets in them. He didn't have a shirt right now, discarded in the sand a few yards away. His chest was flat and bony, leading to suspicions of anorexia, two looped nipple rings. A thin trail of blond hair into his pants on an otherwise hairless torso. He's burnt pink too, on his fair skin. On his head is a cowboy hat, worn and faded, hiding easter-egg-pink hair that's in a short, messy ponytail. A dog collar around his throat, he wore a set of handcuffs clasped to one wrist, a black and white arm warmer over the other.

He'd spent the day chasing kids around the beach, soaking his pants up to the knees, making noise, screaming shouting, telling a story that was made to frighten children but he made it funny. Bloody Bones, the child snatcher. He pretended to be bloody bones with a glopped mound of seaweed on his head for effect, and let the kids attack him.

Then they and their parents left for dinner and Ivan was left alone on the beach, laying on his back. The sun had begun to sink and cast an orange glow over everything, making his burn look redder. He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth like a very pleased cat.

She had sat there all day, on the old green bench by the beach. She had watched and laughed, as if this teenager was her own son. But she knew what was going to happen to him, Margaret Alexander knew what would happen to this innocent teen.

When the day was coming to a close, and the sun was going down, Margaret stood up, and walked with her normal limp. The last of the days sun was shining onto the Teenager's red skin, "You should really put some sun lotion on that?", Margaret said this as if she knew what his reply would be, but she stood there and waited no matter.

He opened his eyes, squinting up into the orange sun at her and flashed his straight, white smile, a straight blessidly because his aunt hadn't given in to his whining and moaning about braces. His arms were up, folded under his head, so it made his shrug look a little lopsided.

"It'll just peel away later." Even if it burns now. That'll stop. He closed his eyes again, without eyeing her, looking her over. It was rude to stare, and he'd already gotten a few good glimpses of her through out the day, well enough to remember her face. "I didn't know I was coming or I might have."

"Oh dear, its a good job i braught some after sun with me then isnt it deary!" Margarets caribean acent was very clear, she took the after sun lotion out of her bag and dropped it in the sand next to the teenager.

"So dear, can i pull up a lump of sand?", Margaret's joke was suttle but she chuckled and sat down any way. She put her cain on the beach. "So dear, how old are you, and shouldnt you have been in school today?"

He watched the bottle fall and stared at it with one eye for a very long time. The vile, evil bottle full of lotion that was pointless. At least, at a teenager's veiw. This woman was like his Aunt, she probably carried everything aside from the kitchen sink in her bag. He sat up, sand clinging in a thick coat to his sweaty back and to his hair. His hat tumbled off and he didn't bother. His pink hair was made hot pink by the orange sun.

"Thanks." He picked the bottle up and squeezed a bit into his hands and applied it to his face, possibly the only part of exposed skin not covered in sand.

"I'm sixteen." As for school he was quiet a moment. "A normal kid would have been in school today." He said normal like he longed for it. "I'm in college, I have mostly late classes and they're on monday, wednesday, friday, and satureday. So." Shrug. "No school today." He grinned, he knew it wasn't polite to ask a lady of her age, but to Ivan, age didn't matter. He's a shameless flirt, if only by nature and no seriousness intended. "How old are yooou?"

"woo, me lad im to old for a cute little lad like your self, but if you really wont to know im, 68" she laughed about his gentle, and she took up her bag from the sand. She opened it and took out a packet of crisps, this was a real old lady thing, she opened them and started to eat them quiet.

"So lad, whets your name or am i going to have to keep calling you lad or boy?", Margaret popped another crisps in her mouth and silently crunched it.

He grinned at her again a smeared white lotaion down his chest without rubbing it in. It gobbed at his nipple rings and he ignored it still. Wiping his hands down his pant legs to dry them of the lotion, he picked up his hat and looked at it with a contemplating face.

"Nah. That's not too old." And he grinned again. He enjoyed her accent, something new. His was distinctly russian. Definatly forgien. He then put his hat back on his head and fell backwards into the sand again. "You can call me whatever you want, darling." Shameless. "But my name's Ivan Gothric."

"Ivan, what a lovely name, i am Margaret Alexander." she smiled and she stood up, "i think you should come with me, i ened to tell you something." Margaret stood up and didnt give him the choice but to follow.

He rolled over onto his stomach when she stood up and began to walk away. He lay there for a long moment, as if he didn't plan to follow her. Mommies always tell you not to talk to strangers. Ivan didn't have a mommy. Daddies tell you stupid sayings like 'curiosity killed the cat' but Ivan hadn't had a daddy either. And, after all, Ivan was curious but he wasn't a cat.

So he followed. He picked his shirt up off the ground as he passed it and as he walked, sand sprayed off his body and off his shirt. "Where are we going?"

"To my house deary, i need to show yuo something, it may come of some kind of importance to your self?" Thats all Margaret said, she kept on walking till they were off the beach onto the concrete side walks.

The house was old, it actualy looked abit scary, but she knew that Ivan wasnt scared, she knew it, it was her job to know it.

No. It was scary. And he was scared. But it didn't mean it would stop him. He was curious, interested, mildly suspicious. That combonation creates quite a disturbing effect. He brushed at his arms and swatted his back with his shirt, freeing away most of the sand. Then he gave his pants a shake to make the sand fall out of his pants.

He pulled the shirt on. It happend to be a short sleeved shirt meant for a girl rather then guy, but on his frame it fit. It said 'Blackout' across the front. "What do you need to show me?"

((keep in mind, Ivan is Uninitiate, suspicion of magic or not. I want him to remain Unnish.))

Margaret hadnt thort of an excuse, but she lead him up to her front door any way, she opened it with an old fationed key. "I think you should know something, it will help your mind."

Margaret knew Ivan would understand what she tells him, and she knew he wouldnt over act, or would he. Margaret was starting to get a second fealing about this, but she led him in any way.

Ivan hoovered at the doorway at that reply.

"My mind? My mind doesn't need anymore help." He hates being as smart as he is, most of the time. He hates that he gets singled out for it, in trouble for it, praised for it. But he stepped into the doorway anyways, looking around.

"Hey your not a nut are you? Because I reeeally don't want to die today. My Aunt would kill me." Yes, he meant to say that.

Margaret chuckled, she walk in front of him into the kitchen, "Close the door behidn you Ivan, do you prefer tea or coffee?", Margaret, spoke like his nan, strnage enouth though, Margaret already knew what he would aks for.

"Dear you can never be to smart, knowing is good" Margaret had to shout this, she didnt know were he was at this stage, "You can go sit in the living room if you wont?"

"Neither. I don't need caffine. I'll take water though."

He's a hyperactive kid, he knows that, and he knows that caffine will only increase that hyperactivity. While being hyper is alright, being bored because there isn't enough to keep you entertained is not alright. He didn't seat himself in the living room but instead followed her into the kitchen.

"You didn't answer me. My aunt will kill me if I'm late for work. And I don't need dead right now, by her hand or yours."

Margaret sighed, but only because she knew Ivan was beginning to worry a little, of course you would though wouldn’t a strange old woman drags you to there house and then hesitates to give you something that’s he said she would. what would you be thinking, RAPIST, but no Margaret went over tot he book shelf and picked out a big leather book. "Here darling, i wont you to have this." Margaret gave him the book, it had a weird feeling to it, but she made shore he took it.

"When you are old enough you will be able to read it, it will come naturally honestly!", Margaret turned and poured hot water into a mug, the coffee at the bottom turned it dark brown. "Your Aunt is expecting you, she will be waiting at the door for you when you get home, and be careful in work, don’t stand by old printer." Margaret smiled and pushed him to the door. Margaret nearly threw him out but she smiled and waved as he started to walk down the path.

Ivan took the book and scowled at her. "Don't you think I can read?" He sounded almost insulted. But when he opened the book he was entirly unable to read the book. It only deepened to scowl further. For all the complaining he does about his IQ and his knowlege and ability to learn, his intelegance, he hates not being able to understand. "What is it. Some forigen language?"

He didn't sound very pleased. He looked at the little keychain watch hanging off of his belt and scowled more. "I don't have time to go home. I've gotta work." Grrrr. No matter how much of an adult he wants to be, he's still just a moody teenager.

He began down the pather, threatening to be back and make her teach him this weird language. And of course, scowling.

Margaret smiled and chuckled as she saw this stroppy teenager walk down the street, "Just like me when i was his age, OH man this is going to be a long year!", Margaret chuckled and sang a old slaves song her mother sang to her along time ago.