It was afterhours at the museum, and Helen was itching to see what kind of works were inside the local gallery.

Helen snuck around in the shadows behind the building, careful to avoid any mortal walking around. Passing numerous trees, and benches scattered along the area, Helen blended within the shadows beautifully.

As she came to the "back door" of the gallery, she grinned, a rare grin at that. She stuck her thick nail into the lock, and twisted it slightly. Opening the door, she peaked inside, looking out for a security guard. The door made a soft clicking noise as she carefully let it close behind her.

She crept along side the walls, and looked thoughtfully down the empty employee hallway.

Michael felt her long before he smelt her, saw her... About two floors up, wandering around an exhibit that exemplified shading and shadows, he became alert at once. The vampire was young... Not a fledgling quite, one with skills but still young.

What was she doing here? Well, if she came to obtain unearned wealth, she was out of luck this night. Not only were the security systems well armed and ready and several security guards patroled the exhibits periodicly, but Michael wouldn't let her take a thing from these walls.

But of course that was if she was here to steal something. And of course he would never accuse anyone of doing something like that without proof first.

But he was still curious.

Moving in the shadows to avoid the cameras Michael made his way down the two floors... She was near by... But where...?

"So where are you my young one..." He said almost playfully in his mind to hers. With his talents, he would hear her... "Where are you hiding... And why have you come?"

Helen's ice blue eyes darted around, no one was in sight, but he was in her head. She raised an eyebrow, "I'm not hiding... I wanted to see the paintings..." Her voice was almost innocent. Though her intentions were true. One of her status couldn't just waltz inside the gallery during normal hours.

She continued down the hallway, in the shadows, nearing the doors that entered into the gallery, paintings of marvelous artists awaiting her. She could almost hear them calling her name. She couldn't wait to see them. It had been quite some time since she'd been able to visit a gallery, or museum. Her excitement increased. Which was rare for her.

But was it really the paintings calling her?

"I see you Helen..." He said in a laughing tone as he spoted her from the shadows. But he was staying hidden in the shadows, clinging near the celing. He had simply plucked her name from her head, something he rarely did as he thought it rude and intrusive. But he wanted to have a little fun tonight for some reason.

He watched the girl intently, for she was still a girl to him...

Pale and so delicate looking. Her hair gave off a soft shimmer in the dim light that his sensitive eyes could catch. He wanted to see her eyes though... Wanted to see what color they were and the expressions they gave. A curious little creature she was... Most young ones like her weren't interested in the relics of the past...

"Peering through history and time... Just what do you remember... What have you seen with your own eyes..." He asked with a grin through the shadows, his question more rhetorical than anything. But it was always interesting to compair stories with other vampires, be they young our old. For even though he had lived many year sand seen many things, he could not be everywhere at once, or see things from different sides.

The mention of her name, stopped her in her tracks. Her blue eyes flashed, she looked right, left, and finally up. Not seeing anything but an empty hallway. Where was he? Why was he in the gallery? Why wouldn't he just let her go and enjoy the paintings she so longed to see?

"Then why don't you come out and show yourself?" Her tone was stern, and cold, like the ice that colored her eyes. She continued to look around the dark hallway, seeing nothing but stone and drywall.

She wasn't exactly ready to share her life story with this man, let alone her name. But he had already pried her mind for that one. She didn't even know his name. She couldn't even see him.

"Don't be so angry child... I know many things you do not." He spoke this time, his voice soft as a whisper, too quiet for humans to hear. "Why do you not try to find me? A game perhaps..."

He saw her eyes... There... Yes... A cold blue... Like... Almost like the steel of a cooling blade when the metal is still setteling in it's new form. He couldn't help but watch her from his vantage spot. He noticed however that she looked up above her last... Still partialy in the human mind set perhaps? Most humans fail to ever look above them... But a vampire knows that an enemy could be anywhere.

But he of course was no enemy to her. He was simply curious.

"You will only see me if I want you too child." He said with a hint of amusement. "Perhaps if you ask nicely... I will give you a nice tour of the museum. It is a favorite place of mine that I haunt quite often..."

Helen shut her eyes, and breathed deeply. "I don't enjoy being toyed with sir." Her voice too, was quiet, and whispering, floating on air, traveling to his own ears.

She took her hand, and pushed a small chunk of hair out from infront of her face, and behind her ears. She continued to look around her. She turned around for a brief moment, looking up, to the right and left again. She rolled her eyes, and shook her head. "I can't see you..." Her tone was almost in a defeated sadness.

She was so used to looking for something... But never finding it. Perhaps it should be no surpise that she could not find him. Her mouth was flat, and her eyes continued to flash.

A tour? How lovely... "Would you sir, please reveal yourself... And give me a tour of the gallery? I... find much joy within the walls of artwork." Her voice, soft, and almost as if the cold surface was melting, but only slightly. Using the manners her grandmother had so slapped her wrists into using, she hoped he would indeed, give her the tour.

She liked the idea of sharing beautiful artwork with someone else. Usually she had just read the information descriptions, and toured such things alone. It would be nice to see them from a different perspective of another being.

"No one really enjoys being played with... At least not in thus such way." He said mischeviously. He wasn't implying anything of course. Just having fun. He couldn't play with Claudia like this... It would be fun, but she wasn't ready to learn the truth about him.

He slid down the wall nearly, stepping out of the shadows in front of her.

"Michael DeLamont..." He said with his soft French accent and a soft bow. "And I prefered that little attitude you gave me before." He said with a fanged grin. "It is much more entertaining dear child." He said as he stepped up towards her. He was just over half a foot taller than she... About a head really... Like his darling Sarah... His little princess...

He shook his head with a small smile, chasing the thoughts away.

"It is delightful to meet another art lover... I have been here several nights yet... Not a soul ever joins me but the guards. I was alive when all of these were painted just about... I've seen most of these event in the flesh. Quite interesting to see the way they are portrayed these days..."

Helen raised an eyebrow, and smirked slightly. She shook her head, and shrugged. "I suppose not."

She was almost about to curtsie, when she realized that not only was she not wearing a dress, that would allow her to curtsie, but she was well beyond the day and age of curtsies. She just nodded her head in aknowledgement, "Helen Gustare... But it seems you've already figured that out. Excuse me, but after so many years of being beaten into manners, I remember I need to use them. I tend to flash back to them every once in awhile."

Her memories of her grandmother always followed her around. She could never rid herself of them, since her grandmother had been her only living relative for the majority of her life. Helen's murder was unfair to her grandmother.

Her eyes showed a certain bitter saddness to them, but she quickly brushed it off. "What's more interesting, the actual event, or the painting? I usually take more interest into Renassiance artworks. I wasn't around then, however." She was extremely eager to see the paintings.

"The Renassiance... Indeed an interesting period in the life of humanity... I spent most of that tine asleep though I dare say... Or perhaps living with the Sheiks of the Muslims who had once been my enemies." He mused.

"But was more so refering to the current interpretation of the past events. Most of the paintings were done after the time periods which they reflect upon... Even the styles are off slightly. But no matter. Most of the ones here, or at least the well noted ones are of course replications." He said knowingly. Art was one of the many things he colected, along with swords and other weapons. He had a room for the latter, and the former was spread across his flat.

"May I ask where you are from child?" He said with a soft smile. He didn't mean to be diminutive, but she seemed like a child... Wanting to grow and prove herself, blossm into a woman. "You're accent seems truly familliar... Italy perhaps? It is one I have heard long ago..."

Helen listened to his wise voice weave the tales of his pastlife for her, and she admired his history. Truly, he had been through more than his eyes showed her. She studied him as he spoke. Calm, strong, and without hesitation.

As he spoke of her motherland... A tear welded in her eye, thoughts of her parents, haunting her. "Yes, a place I have not been for many years... I was born in Italy. But spent my growing years in England." Her voice was distant, and whispering. She wondered if she would ever return to Italy.

"What of your life Sir DeLamont? Where are you from?" She was very curious about the old vampire's life. Her eyes glittered as this man, with so much history, could tell her more about the past than a painting her could.

England... Yes, he knew the island well. And he nodded as she spoke.

A deep chuckle came from his throat as she asked where he was from. "Can you not tell litte one." He smiled. "I was born and raised in France. Called away to the Holy Land to defend the religion I still strongly believe in. But that was long before your time. Long even before you were a thought in your ancesters minds." Well, it had to be at least seven generations, maybe eight or perhaps even nine or ten.

"Old?" He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Do you think me old little one? Simply because I've seen so much in my lifetime? One thing to keep in your mind for future years... You are only old when you have nothing left to see... Nothing more to experiance... And this world is always changing. More things than ever to experiance."

He turned from her slightly and made his way to a sculpture, a modern peice of what passed for art these days, a wraught iron piece that was twisted in a way it seemed one large knot... Elegant in a way... But not truly artistic...

"Some more worthy to expreiance than others I dare say though."

If Helen still possessed her mortal body, she would have been a beet red. She smirked, and chucked slightly. "Doesn't matter, it's still polite to ask..." Her intention at his prying her mind for her name. She planned on playing with him slightly too. She chuckled again.

Again, if she had the mortal powers of blushing, she would have let on more of her embarassment. "I would think a vampiric old would be more appealing than a mortal old. By implying you are old, I mean you are wise, and one would like to think, worth heeding such words." She chuckled, teasing him. "But of course, that never stopped me." She weaved sweet words, trying to mask her true foolishness of such a loose tongue.

As they passed the twisted iron, she raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sure what to make of this peice, but smirked. "Looks like a giant was trying to make something, and got frustrated."

"Ah, yet another mistake young one. Never associate age with wisdom." He said quickly. "With age comes knowladge of course, it is inevitable as night into day unless one is completely oblivious to their world. Wisdom however... I have seen to be the application of knowladge in ways to better oneself and others. Even young ones can be wise in their own ways, and just so even the most ancient can be foolish." He said simply as he staired at the work curiously.

"A giant... Perhaps... But I have seen Turkish Warriors on hashish do simmilar things with the swords of their enemies... Terrifying to see in your first battle when you encounter it..." He blunk curiously at it and tilted his head a moment. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had been terrified in battle. It was the warrior that overcame that fear and charged ahead even when he knew death was near certian.

He broke his gaze and smiled at her with his dark brown eyes for a moment. A child indeed, never seeing some of the wonders of the world. "It was an amazing place to be young one. Battles have become less bloody, but more deadly over the years it seems... Less honorable too if you ask me. But we are here for art, not war." He glanced around the foyer they were in.

"Was there any exhibit that you wanted to see in particular?"

She shrugged, dismissing his lecture, but putting it away in her mind for a later use. She wasn't in the mood for lectures, but artwork. She wondered however if she would be considered wise. She never thought about it, just went by rational thinking, well, what she believed to be rational thinking. However when you are alone, all you really have are the effects of your own actions, and no one else's to worry about.

This man was curious about bringing up her most feared memories. First, her grandmother, her parents murder, and now even her own. "I have never been in a battle, but I have been in a fight for my life. Which I lost. But... was given a second chance." Her tone was bitter, but still whispering and soft. She was surprised at herself how much she was revealing of herself to this man.

Less honorable indeed...

She looked up at Michael and thought for a brief moment. "I have never been here before. I am unaware of what is available. Why don't you show me your favorites?"

"A second chance at anything is a blessing." He said simply. But she would come to learn that in her own time.

"Perhaps though... Next time you are in a fight for your life... You will not loose. Perhaps you will be wiser, better trained." He would of course offer if she seemed interested, but why would she be? She seemed a lady all about, and he found they weren't too keen on fighting.

As Helen looked up at him he caught her blue eyes. There was something behind them he couldn't quite tell, but he didn't want to pry into her mind of course.

"Well, you spoke of the Renassiance with interest... Perhaps we could see what we can find of that and maybe I can brush the dust off of some of these memories? Memories... Can be like paintings at times..." He mused with a slight smile. But of course she was young, and probably not interested in the ramblings of an 'old' vampire like him. But it was indeed true.

Memories were snapshots of a moment in time, an event... They could fade away and perhaps be lost forever, or perhaps restored by one wanting to preserve the past. It was all up to the artist, the person.

"But does that idea seem suitable little Helen?"

She wasn't sure if it was a blessing. She had unwillingly abandoned the only person she truly held dear to her; her grandmother. Helen's everlasting guilt of the events taken out of her hands, still haunted her. She nodded relunctantly however.

Learning to defend herself was against everything she had been brought up to believe. However, she wasn't sure if she would be so lucky to have a vampric guardian to drip blood into her mouth as she died. "Better trained?" She grunted, "I have never been trained in my life. Your typical lady of the 1850s. I wasn't a hard target. Just at the wrong place, at the wrong time..." He spoke of being dishonorable. Attacking a defenseless young bookworm walking home. She wasn't aware of a more dishonorable state.

She could hear her grandmother's voice in the back of her head, as she recalled a memory of her early childhood. A young boy across the way and herself had been engaged in a game, which she had become frustrated, and started hitting the young boy. Helen, you settle your disputes with words, not your hands.

Coming back to reality, Helen just nodded at Michael, quite frankly unsure of what he said to her. Something about the Renassiance. She was interested in anything dealing with that subject.

"Well, if you have an interest to start, I would be more than happy to help. Even women should know how to fight. Many have inborn skill that is simply left to rot because they are women... Pity really."

Michael looked at her curious as she thought to herself and shook his head. THat wasn't always true... Though it was better when you could not to fight... Sometimes you delt with those who were simply... Stupid... Who refused to listen to reason. And a great pity that such a situation was getting more and more common place.

"Are you okay though my dear?" He asked as he turned from her. She had nodded at his idea, but... She seemed a little out of mind at the moment. As if she were thinking of somethign more important. "Are you sure you would rather see the Renassiance exhibits? Or is there somethign else you would prefer?"

Helen nodded at his suggestion to help her be able to defend herself. "I would like that, thank you Sir DeLamont." Maybe if she was given such a chance when she was 17, her whole life wouldn't be how it was. No matter, things seemed to be slowly turning around for her. Her ice wall from others seemed to be melting, finally, if only ever so slowly.

She looked away, at his question, her eyes darting everywhere but his face. Then, she moved her eyes slowly, meeting his gaze. Her mouth twitched slightly. "I'm fine.." She muttered. With more enthusiasm and voice, she added, "Let's go see the Renassiance works. I have not gotten to see them in quite a long time."

An obervant once, he was. Even if he could read her mind, he noticed things that most other beings didn't. That she didn't always pay attention to the things happening around her. That often her mind was off in the past, or even just in another universe. She would be more careful to let her mind wander with this one around.

He nodded without a word as she thanked him. It was nothing really... He had been in need of company for some time now. He had been alone really since... Since Sarah's death. He had always distanced himself from others emotionaly and physicaly, and now perhaps it was time to change that.

Not completely for himself either, but for her. This girl... This little one... Needed someone to guide her. He did not know about her sire... She had been attacked she said. But he did not believe by her sire. And nor had she spoke of him. That was all still a mystery.

But as she looked away again, aprroving of the destination he nodded and stepped closer to her. She seemed troubled, and he wished to ease that... But he was unsure of how to go about such a task...

He put his arm lightly around her shoulder giving her a soft squeeze in an affectionate, friendly manner. "Do not let thoughts of the past ruin za moments ahead. It ez indeed foolish to wish ze past different, or fret over it when nosing can be changed." He said softly, his accent stronger with the whisper. "You have the present and ze future to worry about more. For zey are what matter..."

Helen almost winced at his arm around her. It was truly comforting, but she wasn't ready to be touched. She felt safe, with his arm around her, but still, she was scared to be close to someone. In fear of her abandoning them. Or letting them down, in disappointment.

For the briefest moment, all her barriers and walls were put down, and she let out emotions she had kept deep within her for more than a hundred and thirty-seven years.

Tears welding in her eyes, and she nodded almost crying. She leaned her head on Michael's chest, as he held her. This was the most human contact she had been given in ages. She missed the touch of someone else. The touch of confort, and reassurance that everything was going to be okay...

He saw deeper into her than she had been willing to reveal. She was bothered by this, but let it go, because it was nice not being so guarded all the time. She just hoped it wouldn't be let all to folly.

He gave her another squeeze as she leaned in to him, Michael's hand moved to her head as his fingers ran through her hair. Soft... He liked that... He knew that this one he called 'little one' really still was like a child, more than he knew to begin with. "You are safe with me little Helen... Do not fear..." He whispered into her mind with a reasuring voice.

In all his years he had done his best not to let a soul down. He had cared for his wife, his children as best as he alway could. His officers and later his men in the army, he had alwasy feen and example. He had cared for his little Sarah all her life untill her death, her had been there when the las breath left her body.

He would not let her down. It just wasn't in his nature to do something like that.

So they walked in silence, his arm around her, stroking her hair softly.

Safe? When in her life had she ever been safe... Her past crawling with murder, and least of all safety. She hated being called 'little' and 'child' but in her heart she knew it to be true. She at this point in her life she was truly fragile, and scared. Hopefully soon enough, with the help of Michael, she'll overcome that.

Soon enough she put up her barriers again. She returned Michael a thankful squeeze, and let go of him, wiping away her watery eyes. One can't admire beautiful artwork with blurry eyes now can they? "I'm okay, I'm okay..." She murmured, more for herself, than Michael though.

To her embarrassment she kept one hand on her face, and through her fingers, staring at the floor she spoke, "So...where are these paintings I've been longing to see..?"

Okay? No... She certianly didn't seem okay. After all he could see the crimson tears that vampires shared in her eyes. He had always thought tears were a sign of weakness really, and he could only remember one time in his life that he had cried... He had been weak then, he could not deny it. It was as if his life were passing away before his eyes.

Her last moments were never far really from his thoughts...

"There is no need to cry Helen. No need to fear anymore. I am here and I will not leave unless you ask it of me." Why he felt compeled to be by her side and take her in as his own... He didn't know... He had never had a fledgling before, and he could only assume she had never had a sire...

He pulled her in to his arms in a close embrace, resting his forhead on the top of her head. He gave a soft sigh before letting her go. "Stop hiding your face little one. can you not see your own reflection to see your own beauty?" He asked with a small shake of his head as he walked towards the main stairs first, scoping for cameras. "We must make our way to the east wing of the third floor. Easy for me to go without being spotted, but perhaps difficult for you... Do you know if you can blend in to shadows?" He asked simply. If she did not know, it would be easy enough to find out really.

"There is no need to cry Helen. No need to fear anymore. I am here and I will not leave unless you ask it of me."

Her big blue eyes stared up at him as he said this. She was both scared, and happy as he said this. Her mind raced, remembering, trying to forget, thinking of possible futures, good and bad. Would she do to this man, like she did to her grandmother? For now...For now she just accepted his help.

As he pulled her in, her arms were curled at her chest, so she could not return the embrace. She would have mentioned the fact she has no reflection. But that would be somewhat obvious.

Helen nodded slightly, "I can blend into the shadows.." Her voice trailed off as she sifted away as she moved towards the shadows against the corners of the room. "See?" Her mind connecting with his.

Well, some vampires did have a reflection. He had met a few who did, but he himself did not. If she didn't... And she could blend in to the shadows, for he watched her slip in to them, perhaps...

He nodded at her skill. His trained eyes could see her, a slightly darker shape in the shadows, but a human, or their cameras would never see her. It was intrueaging that she had discovered this on her own, as he suspected she was never raised properly to begin with.

"Helen... Do you know what Coven you are of? What coven your sire belonged to?" He asked the shadows curiously. If she was indeed a Nephim as he suspected, helping to train her, to teach her about herself would be much easier indeed, for he knew what she would be able to do and what she wouldn't be able to do. Of course there might be variances, but there were a few basic abilities and weaknesses that they of the same coven shared.

She came out of the shadows, in seem to a small victory. A small smirk creased her face, as she neared Michael. Nodding at his question, Helen me this brown eyes, with her blue ones.

"I belong to Nephim, Sir DeLamont. My sire wasn't a vampire... He died when I was very young..." Indeed she had come to love her parents very much, but hardly knew them. She was very, very young whenever they had passed.

SHe was due for another visit to their graves... Much had gone on that she needed to tell them. But, she had found a new someone to talk to. Which was in truth, the only reason she talked to her parents' graves... And then she thought they deserved to hear what was going on in their daughter's life.

"I thought as much. But when I asked of your sire, I didn't mean your father. For a sire and father are two different things. A sire is simply the one who bread you the way you are. A father raises and teaches you how to be strong and wise."

"But I take it that you do not know who turned you then... Well, he must have been a fool for leaving you, and if he was a fool, better that then raising another one to walk the earth. There are enough of them already." He couldn't help but grin.

"But, to move on with our little tour for the sake of time, we'll need to travel in shadows to avoid the cameras the security has put in place." He said simply. "I would say speed, but that would leave behind som eindication that we've been there, and traveling by shadows ensures that we will not be seen by anyone or run in to anything."

Raising an eyebrow at the misunderstanding, she just shrugged. Shaking her head, she continued, "No matter... I didn't know the vampire who turned me, either."

Helen chuckled slightly at Michael's comment. Walking close to Michael, her eyes wandered on the ceilings, looking for the cameras he spoke of. She had never noticed them before, but usually was in shadows, so it didn't matter so much.

Helen nodded, and sifted back into shadows, but was still near Michael. She didn't want to lose him. After he would turn into a shadow, she wouldn't be able to see him anymore. Her blue eyes were the last to fade, as the small ice b lue orbs slowly faded away into shadow.

The excitment was building in her heart. Not only was she about to go and admire the works of her heroes, but she was about to admire them with another person. In addition, this person had agreed to take care of her. It made her feel weak, and pathetic to require such assisstance, but she knew she needed it.

He moved into the shadows just ahead of her, his grin the last thing to disappere. "Just follow me to the exhibit." He said to her mind.

On their way they passed by a guard on each floor, and he always looked at them with a curiocity like a person at a zoo. Humans were facinating creatures, with so much potential to do good in the world, but then... They could do such terrible things as well. And he had seen examples of both.

It was only a few moments in silence when they came to the third floor.

"Wait a moment after I appear..." He instructed before seeming to peal himself away from the shadows. Looking around and sniffing for scents he nodded. "It is safe for now. But be sure to be on your guard... It would be most unfortunate for me to have to disable one of these guards for simply doing their jobs." He said almost wishfully. There were some who had the power to alter the mind of mortals... He had been meanign to find some of these and see if he too could have that talent. It would save him a deal of trouble some times.

Helen nodded into the darkness, and followed Michael's scent through the dark gallery and occassionally stopped for the briefest moment as something would catch her eye. But soon she got over her childish curiousity, and followed Michael's scent closely.

She eyed each of the guards with a certain smirk, entertained by the fact that she couldn't be seen. But then again, the same power had led her into shadow from the entire world. Making her invisible.

Waiting for a moment, she eyed his movments. Will approval, Helen slowly came back to substance as she brought herself out of shadow. Helen nodded at his warning, and scanned the surroundings. "I'm ready when you are."

IN the foyer now he waved his arm towards the wing that had the exhibits they were looking for. "After you m'lady. Shall we have a look around before I just jump off into my lecture mode?" He said with a smile at her.

"One thing I will have to teach you is how to spot others hiding in the shadow... This way you will not lag behind when you cannot follow my scent clearly." He began to walk towards the hall. "But that is one of the many things that would be bennificial to your training."

He was silent for a moment as they walked slowly, his eyes and nose keen for any sign of the guards.

"Do you also like architecture? That kind of art and such? Like cathedrals and castles... Monuments and palaces? They can be just as beautiful as a small work of art, even more awe inspiering though..."

Helen almost smiled, but not quite, as she admired the various scultures, and paintings which surrounded the foyer. She returned a glance to Michael, and nodded. "I would like to hear your narration to these works. I think they'll be more interesting first hand, than silly old desriptions." She winked, and smirked.

Helen clicked out of her awe, and followed Michael, who was heading for the hallway. "That would be nice. I was paying attention to some other paintings... But, well, nevermind..." Her voice trailed off as she gave up on looking for an excuse for her lack of tracking skills.

"I enjoy architecture very much. Especially European styles... and that of my home country." Her eyes continued to wander around the museum, in total bliss of the works.

Looking back with an amused grin he gave a sigh and shook his head. She was taging along, just like a little child who wanted to see every little thing that they could see. It was rather charming really.

But in an instant he was behind her, his arms shot quickly around her waist. To other humans she might have only looked a child, but Michael was sure there was a woman inside as well... One who wanted to be free.

"Your lagging behind Helen. You aught stick close just in case someone should spot us." He said with a smile, resting his chin on the top of her head. He moved after a moment then and took her hand and walked with her. If she wanted to see everything, he was't going to stop her. This was more so keeping him close to her.

"If you see anything you like... Just let me know... I won't talk about a simpl thing I don't think you wouldn't be interested in that I could talk about for hours." He grinned.

Helen's eyes went wide with surprise as his arms found themselves against her waist. She let out a small sigh, realizing it was only Michael, and leaned back slightly.

As he moved away from her, she looped her fingers in with Michael's, in a way of reassuring herself that he wasn't going anywhere. And niether way she. She grinned slightly. "I'm sorry. It's been awhile since I've broken into a gallery." She chuckled, and shrugged.

She looked up at him with eyes full of curiousity and hope. "I want to see everything! I may not look like much, but I really do enjoy seeing the different perspectives of the past. Self-expression especially."

As she walked slowly with Michael, she continued to scan the area. She moved a small bit of hair out of her face that had fallen from her ear, and kept watch for anyone around. Although she wasn't as attentive as she probably should be. She was having too much of a good time to think anything could go wrong.

"Ah... Self-expression... One of the art periods that I doubt I will ever understand... That was what is that one Cubism? Pablo Picaso and the likes?" Michael shook his head. "I don't care for abstract art too much. To me art is beauty and beauty is suposed to flow... Glide across the mind too smooth for words to express." A woman... Clad in nothing but the night was a work of art, a work of beauty so delicate and awe inspiering...

"Perhaps you will be able to explain and teach me of it. But I doubt I will still understand." He smiled again as he ran his free hand through his long hair. "But you should not worry... I will keep watch so that you may enjoy the displays."

After all, was that not why she was here? To see the exhibits? He would of course not deny her that. He found it hard to deny a woman anything so long as she was sweet and appropreate. Or charming and witty... Yes, women were his weakness, he couldn't really help it, but they were.

Helen nodded, in recognition to Picasso. "Yes Picasso... Not a very good artist, in my opinion; he has his goods and bads. But he is a very interesting man. Quite the lady charmer. You know he spent a good deal of his life in France? But as for self-expression... It's not more so for other people, but for yourself. It's not what things look like to the world, but to you, and you alone. You take what is inside your heart, and you put it on a canvas. That, is self-expression." She winked, and shrugged, "How's that for an explanation?"

Helen walked over to a wall, pulling Michael along with her. A nice Renassiance piece. Madonna and Child Enthroned with Saints circa 1504 by the famous Raphael... A painting holding so much beauty. Her blue eyes scanned it up and down several times, and she sighed, in much respects for the painting before speaking. "You know the Renassiance started in Italy? I like to think I come from a country of creative minds." She laughed, and eyed the painting. "Any commentary on this one?"

She wondered what kind of opinion Michael had on this one. She liked it, because it was a mother, and child. Something she could never be... Something she had never known... Motherhood was a mysetry to her, but she respected it full-heartedly.

"He was also missing an ear if I remember, cut it off in a drunken fit... Quite a drinker... I would never see him as a lady charmer really. Nothing like me." He gave a grin down at her, raising an eyebrow as if knowing she would agree. But he truly didn't know one way or the other if she would.

"But If they were really artist, they would know it's not what they think, but what the world thinks. They would know they are only here for a flicker of time in this world but their art will only be seen, their names only uttered if they make an impression on the world. That is the only way a true mortal could live forever." He said simply

"Like this man... Raphael Santi... A brilliant man with everything... He is truly an imortal human..." He said with an admiering nod. "However, the reason why the Renassiance started in Italy was because of what makes the earth go round." With that he pulled an ancient gold coin from his pocket, one from his own time period, a good luck charm of sorts. "Money the trade from the muslim countries and china were lead strait to the ports and cities of Italy my dear one. The patrons of Rome, of Florence and many other city states had money to spair. Partonage and art was a way that they could preserve their money forever. Something lasting and more perminant." He gave a soft chuckle. "And did it not work?"

"Having creative minds is one thing... but the money to support it is something else entierly."

Helen sighed, her reality seemed to be so much nicer than reality, most of the time. She referred to his actions as an act of love, and passion. Shaking her head, she looked up at Michael. “I believe he did it as an act of love… Anyways, that’s what I’d like to think. Give him the benefit of the doubt.” Shrugging, Helen pondered, and laughed at Michael, “Sure, no one could compare to your charm.” She was somewhat sarcastic in her tone, but half meant it, he certainly did have a way of keeping her around. Rather than letting her mind wander as much as it usually did in the presence of others.

“Well, I don’t have to worry about that then, do I? I prefer to do what I please… I don’t really bother myself with what everyone else thinks of my own works. But then again, they are more for me, and passing the time.” She smirked, and continued to admire the works of Raphael.

She nodded, still paying close attention to his details. She laughed at Michael, shrugging, “Thanks, I’m so glad you’ve cleared that up for me. I was in such wonderful denial…So what am I? Creative possibly? Because I certainly don’t have any money.” If Michael was going to have a habit of bursting her nice little reality bubbling, Helen wasn’t sure what she would do. Her tone was somewhat sardonic, but more playful, than anything else.

"Well, You see... It wasn't just one or the other. The money would have been useless if there were not great creative minds like the one who originaly painted this work. However, could Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni," Yes he used the man's whole name. "have painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for five years with the help of all those assistants if they had day jobs so they could eat and buy paints and plaster?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"So not only would you have Michaelangelo, DaVinci, Raphael and all the other big names without... the Medici family per se. Great wealthy families like the Gonzagas. And not to forget Alfonso the fifth of Aragon." He trailed off for a moment. "But there was one other important patron of this time period. One whom you can tell was there simply by looking at the works."

With this they stepped in front of a replica of The Last Supper.

"I'm sure you could tell me who."