The year is September 12, 1867; Helen is mortal, and living in London, England, with her beloved grandmother. It has been several months after her birthday, which had been in July. Getting used to being 17, and her grandmother giving her the freedom to roam the London streets alone.

Helen was dressed in her petticoats, and long over coats, and hoops, topped off with a small bonnet, scheming in hues of dark blues, and purples. She was on her way to the library, after escaping hordes of suitors her grandmother so insisted on pestering her with. Yes, she loved her grandmother, and knew she only wanted her to be happy, but Helen did not want to find love with some arranged meeting.

The streets bustled with people from the highest, to lowest classes in all of England. Helen loved London, and enjoyed her every moment there. Occasionally a poor woman selling freshly made bread, or roses, trying to feed her family, would pester Helen, but she was in too high of spirits to be bothered by poverty. Helen would simply give them two or three pounds, and be on her way, not taking whatever it was they were trying to give her.

Arriving at the marble stairs of the magnificent library, Helen sighed. A big smile creased her face, and her ice blue eyes lit up like stars. She trotted up the stairs, eager to stick her nose in the vast pages of Renaissance literature, and books of art and paintings. It was only until she returned home to an empty house, with only her grandmother, that she would attempt her own works of art.

Nafalen walked through the many shelves of books, not really paying them much heed. He was looking for his next victem. Nafalen had been having a craving for educated mortels for some reason and he couldn't understand why. Whatever the cause, they stated his appetite at least.

As he turned the corner down the next aisle a book caught his attention. It was a black leather book, with red binding and brown raised text. Taking the book off the shelf Nafalen read the title, 'Streams of Silver.'

'Why not,' he thought and sat down at an empty table. It had been a while since he had read a good novel and he had some time to kill. Wrapping his cloak around him Nafalen opened to the first page.

Helen opened the big library doors, stepping inside. She gave a friendly nod towards the librarian who had often helped her, and whoever was assigned to accompany her, pick out the perfect book. The librarian was a kind lady, wispy gray hairs speckling the deep shades of black above her ears. She wore thick reading glasses, and returned a small gave towards Helen.

Helen moved quietly through the rows of books, feeling them, reading their backs, and flipping through a couple. She loved the library. It was her personal escape. Her smile never left her, and it was as though the sun shined through her blue eyes. As for her hair, it was tucked into a tight bun, as she pulled off her bonnet, folding it and sticking it into her belt smoothly.

As she walked passed a man reading a leather-bound book at a small table, Helen found the book she had been looking for; The Hunchback of Notre Dame, by Victor Hugo. It was a fairly new book at the time, written in 1831, and Helen was dying to read it. The commonly talked about hideous beast with a beautiful heart, saves a gypsy woman. She was definitely looking forward to indulging into such a book. She pulled it gently off the shelf, and walked towards where the man was reading, and sat down a couple chairs away from him. She gave him a friendly smile, and nod, and cracked open the new book.

Nafalen looked up from the book as the girl walked in. She was pretty, for a mortal that is. As she walked past him, Nafalen returned to his book. He glanced up just in time to see her sit down three chairs from him and flash him a smile. He raised his eyes and looked at her with a questioning glance. Laughing sarcasticaly to himself Nafalen leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs on the table.

Returning to his book Nafalen finished his page. He looked back at the girl and saw her reading. He looked back down at his book, but couldn't concintrate on it for some reason; his gaze kept returning to the girl down the table.

Standing, Nafalen tucked the book into one of his back pockets, deciding to finish it later. Streching his neck, Nafalen walked around the table and leaned against it, next to the girl. She would be a good dinner.

"Hey you," he said. "How's the book?"

Her eyes scanned the pages line, by line, taking in the first couple of pages, before the man who she’d been friendly to came and sat next to her. He was lacking of manners, for sure. She almost laughed to herself at the thought of what her grandmother would do with him. She raised an eyebrow and turned her head towards him, slowly closing the book.

She smiled, and shook her head. “Well first of all, my name isn’t ‘you’, it’s Helen. Second of all, you really need to work on your manners, sir. Third of all, yes, it is quite entertaining, that is, until you interupted me.” She laughed, and set the book gently on the table near her chair. She studied this strange man, wondering where his own grandmother was to teach him his manners. “Didn’t your grandmother ever teach you any manners?”

"Actually I have very good manners, when I choose to use them. So Helen, what is your most interresting book about then?" Nafalen asked with a hint of sarcasm. He loved to play with his food.

Leaning back in the chair, Nafalen balanced it on one leg, his amazing agility holding it steady.

Helen nodded, and shrugged, folding her legs politely behind the leg of the chair, and rested her hands on her knee. It was the proper lady positioning. She smiled, her rosy cheeks reddening slightly. “About how to love a mentally gentle person, trapped inside a grotesque monster.” She glanced over at her book and shrugged. She noticed his sarcasm, and decided to not act like she noticed it. Perhaps she’d even play dumb… But she wasn’t fond of that.

She raised her eyebrow at the balance the man had, and found it quite rude he was doing so, however. One was not allowed to play with the furniture. She leaned forward a bit, and tried to see down the bookshelf if anyone was nearby, seeing this going on. “So, what is your name sir? And what brings you to this wonderful library?”

Nafalen followed her gaze around the library. He watched as her legs wrapped around the chair. Leaning foward, Nafalen brought the chair back to all four legs. Leaning on the table he replied casually,

"You may call me Nafalen madam, at your service," he assumed some form of composure and manners, just to show her he had them. "And if you must know, I came here looking for food, but found a novel that cought my fancy. And what brings you out so late?"

Helen smiled and nodded, "Nice to meet you Sir Nafalen." She held out her hand, for him to shake it; her wrist crooked, in the proper fashion. "Food, in the library? Why, thats a silly thing. There is no food in the library, I am afriad. What book have you found yourself reading?" Her eyes wandered again as he asked why she was out so late. Another evening of suitors.

Her eyes wandered back to Nafalen's face, and she frowned, "Another night of my grandmother's endless suitors; which I have no liking for. I find refuge here, in the library. All my troubles disappear behind these walls..." Her blue eyes dropped to her feet, and she smirked to herself. She really loved this library.

He smiled, "Ah yes, food in a library. Silly." He took her hand and gently kissed it twice.
"The pleasure is all mine."

He watched as her eyes wandered and then finally dropped. "Would you care for me to show you another refuge? One that I particulary injoy very much. It is like mothing else." He gazed into her eyes, piercing her mind and feeling for her emotions.

Taking her hand back to her knee, Helen blushed slightly. She nodded, and studied Nafalen's face. It was old, persay... But it looked as if he's seen many things beyond his years. She saw a coldness in them too, as if they had seen many terrible things, almost unthinkable.

Helen raised an eyebrow. This man was curious, and she wasn't quite sure about him. "And where is this place...? I tend to be quite happy here." She raised her head, her eyes never leaving his. She wasn't exactly quick to take off with some stranger. Especially one as strange as this stranger.

He watch as she studied him, allowing full access into his being when she gazed into his eyes. He smiled at her question,

"Oh not far, just up aways. It will not take long to get there at all. And you may come back it you like it here better, I won't stop you." He closed his eyes for a second so they wouldn't betray his desires to feed. Opening them he locked eyes with her, compelling her with his mind to accept his offer, although he left he free to choose.

Even though she would be his neck meal even if she did refuse. Having willing prey was always easier though.

Her smile faded from her face, and she tilted her head. Up? Very peculiar. She nodded slowly, however she really didn't want to go... Though something in his eyes, made it seem like she should...

"Alright, I'll go with you Sir Nafalen..." Her eyes never left his, as she reached for her book, holding it softly in her right hand. She didn't notice anyone else in the library but herself, and the strange Nafalen sitting before her; which was very odd... She was sure she had noticed several other people inside...

Nafalen stood and took her hand. He led her through the maze of books and out the front door. The whole time his eyes never left hers. Once they were outside Nafalen took her into his arms and jumped nimbly into the air, his telekenisis powers catching them and guiding them to land on the rooftop.

Nafalen led her to the edge of the roof where there was a perfect view of the city. Releasing her from his spell Nafalen pointed.

"Look, the whole world is at your feet."

Nafalen manuvered so he was behind her. He brushed her hair from the right side of her neck and put his hands on her arms.

"Isn't it lovely my darling?"

Helen rushed through, her hand taken hostage by Nafalen. As he fixed his eyes on hers, her own eyes darted this way and that, trying to figure out where he was taking her. Out of the library they flew... They litterally flew! She shrieked, as he took her in his arms, and she squeezed his neck, afraid to fall.

As he let go...upon the rooftops... She was breathless. She put her mouth to her hands, and she looked up at him... speechless. It was beautiful. Her beloved city... Right in front of her, glowing and sparkling. Her gaze returned to the city, as he moved her hair from her neck. Holding her.

Darling? Since when was she... darling? However, she was too much in shock, and in awe, to fully realize what was happening to her. She didn't take issue with him calling her darling, because she was too busy admiring the city she had so come to love since she was a young child. She hadn't taken issue with the fact that he basically flew from the ground up onto the rooftops... Her sensibility was lost from her.

Nafalen leaned closer to her nexk, extending his fangs as he did. As he grew closer, anticipating the kill, a scent cought his attention. She smelt wonderful, sending his world into oblivion. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't bite her for some reason.

He stood and turned from her, letting out a low, primal growl as he retracted his fangs. Composing himself, Nafalen went back to where she knelt.

"Lady helen, would you allow me to buy you dinner?" he asked in his sweetest tone.

Letting go, Helen looked over her shoulder, seeing Nafalen's back to her. Curious, she kept where she was, but was concerned in the same respects. She moved a few wispy hairs behind her ear that seemed to escape her tight bun. "Are you alright, Nafalen?"

Dinner? Hmm... With a man she barely knew... That her grandmother didn't already approve of. She would have a cow... No matter, Helen was seventeen, and had the capability of making her own decision. "Yes, Sir Nafalen, I would enjoy having dinner with you."

She looked up at him and smiled, then returned her gaze to the city. If anything, Nafalen had work to do on his part, clean himself up and what not, but he wasn't a bad man, as far as her shocked state could tell.

"Yes I am fine. Thank you," Nafalen said, turning back to her and smiling. He walked back to her and sat down. "So where would you like to eat Miss Helen? Anywhere you like is fine with me."

Nafalen shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, pretending to be chilled. He had decided to pretend to be a mortal around Helen for a bit. It could turn out to be fun he thought and besides, he didn't really need to feed for w few more weeks anyway.

Helen shrugged, and decided to sit down next to him. She thought about where she wanted to eat... She grinned, "You know that old family shop, that serves Italian food? My grandmother hates it; but its my home country food, I love it." She smiled to herself, being completely rebellious was nice, especially at seventeen.

She raised an eyebrow at him shivering, and grew cold herself. She took her bonnet out of her belt, and unfolded it, wrapping it around her head. She took Nafalen's arm that was near her, and rubbed it, trying to make him less cold.

"Yes I believe so. It's over there I believe," he said pointing down to a nearby street. "I never would have guessed you were Italian. I love it there. So powerful, so great."

Nafalen looked down as she rubbed his arm, if felt good to be touched be a woman again. Standing, Nafalen took her hand into his.

"Come, let us sate our hunger M'Lady."

Helen smiled, and her eyes glittered in the night sky, showing a blue brilliance. She wasn’t sure if it was a good, or bad thing that he didn’t know she was Italian. In a way, she was proud of her true roots, but then she had only lived there until she was about five years old or so. In all honestly, it really wasn’t her home. England was. “I would love to return there someday.”

She let him take her hand, and held it gently. She looked down, then back at him nervously. She gave him a slight squeeze. A nervous squeeze. Her eyes showed fear, and her smile faded to a pathetic smirk. "Okay..." She breathed.

Nafalen felt the squeeze of her hand, and the fear in her eyes. "You are safe," he assured her and seemingly stepped off the rooftop. When he looked down, however he was standing on a wooden plank. Scaffolding had been set up to refurbish the library.

Nafalen led her down to the street and through the alleyways of London until he reached a restraunt where he stopped.

"Is this the one?"

Helen almost screamed as he stepped off, and they didn't go anywhere. It was like some cheap joke. She glared at him playfully, and squeezed his hand as the dropped to the ground.

Her eyes gained its sparkle as she relaxed. The small little restaurant with vines growing up its walls, and flowerbeds lining the gates… Almost reminded her of her small farm back home. She could smell the various pastas and sauces boiling in the kitchen.

She nodded, “This is most definitely the place.” She smiled, and looked up at Nafalen, who looked amused with her current fright.

Nafalen opened the door and followed her inside. As they sat down Nafalen looked about. There were three chefs and two waiters. A rather small restaraunt. He watched as a young waiter poured to much water into a glass, causing it to overflow all over his pants.

Chuckling to himself Nafalen called over the other waiter, ordering a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses. Nafalen leaned back in his chair and got comfortable. Playing a mortal could be fun.

Helen beamed, as she entered the sweet little restaurant. She took in the smells, and looked back to Nafalen, to make sure he was still there. He almost seemed like a figment of her imagination, and away she let him take her away to an unreal world in her mind.

As she took her seat, she looked lovingly around the place. When the poor waiter spilled the water, she gasped, grapping her napkin and rushing over to him, handing it to him. She gave him a reassuring smile, and a nod, returning to her seat. “Poor guy,” she muttered to Nafalen.

Nafalen chuckled a bit. "If you say so."

He handed Helen her menu and unfolded his, glancing over it quickly. He knew that he wasn't going to eat any of this mortal food, but he was a good actor. He folded his menu and placed it perfectly on the corner of the table. Sipping his water slightly so he wouldn't gag he said,

"Won't your grandmother be worried? I mean you are out alone, there are lots of...strange...people around."

Helen thanked Nafalen, and took her menu, unfolding it gently, scanning the different dishes carefully. She found a particular appetizing dish that included a rich creamy white wine sauce, eggplant, chicken, and of course, noddles. 'Chicken Aristocrat', they called it.

She glanced up to Nafalen as he asked her a question. She smirked, and shrugged. "Well really, I'm not supposed to be out at all. But, I grew angry, and just left. She probably just thinks I'm still at the library. No matter. " Her eyes glared, in rememberance of the barbarian men bumbling around, seeing who could win the prize first. "I'm not a prize after a won contest." She murmured. More to herself, than to Nafalen.

After brushing off her anger, she smiled, her life coming back to her rosy cheeks. "So, what are you getting? I have my eye on the particularly delicious dish called 'Chicken Aristocrat.'"

Nafalen clearly heard her comments, but decided not to continue with the subject. Glancing down he rearranged the silverware on the table in front of him.

"I am going to have a Classic Caeser Salad, although the Chicken dish you are going to order does sound appetizing."

Nafalen smiled to himself, not letting her know how he knew what she would be ordering. He sipped his wine and shrugged.

"I'm not a big eater tonight."

Helen raised an eyebrow, and gently refolded her menu, and waited for the serve to come and take their order. "Well, are you not feeling well?" She studied his face, but couldn't read anything that was telling her 'sick'.

She looked around, noticing the waiter who had spilled water on his pants had changed, and flashed her a wink. She blushed.

Then, the other server came and asked them for their dishes. "Chicken Aristocrat, please." She smiled at the waiter, and looked to Nafalen for his order.

Nafalen grinned at her.

"No I am fine, just had a big lunch," the waiter came over to take their order. "I'll have the Classic Caesar Salad."

When the waiter left, Nafalen leaned on the table.

"So what's the deal. Why does your grandmother want you to be married so bad?"

Helen sighed. Why did her grandmother want her married so badly? Well, that was an easy one. She looked back into Nafalen's eyes, and shrugged.

"Well, it goes like this: Her own husband died at a young age, leaving her as a widow for the majority of her life. So naturally she's a sad, lonely woman. And, being my grandmother, and basically my parents for most of my years, she doesn't want me to end up like she did, and become lonely, widowing, or sad. It's a security thing."

She looked around the small resturant, and sighed, looking at Nafalen's face, studying it. His expressions were different. Not wierd, but somehow different from anyone else she had ever met.

Nafalen shrugged, "Ah well. You'll find someone. Someone charming, handsome, sweet, handsome, you know. He'll come your way."

Nafalen leaned back as the food was brought over. He leaned back in his chair and picked up his fork. He forked one piece of lettuce and ate it slowly so that he would not choke. he nearly gagged, but held it down.

"Have you been with anyone that you have liked?"

Helen grinned, and took in the sweet smells of the food as it was placed in front of her. She picked up her fork, and twirrled it around some noodles, while speaking, "Not really. They are usually far to old for my tastes, and besides, they aren't looking for love or a wife. They are looking for someone to cook, clean, and basically be their slave. Just so happens she has a pair of breasts is a plus." She shook her head in discust at the men who called her to they're fancy.

She took a bite of the noodles, and chewed, swallowing. "Yes... Prince Charming as yet to fall into the lap of Helen Gustare." She shrugged, "It's quite alright with me. I don't mind being man-less." She laughed.

"Haha. Prince Charming. He's not all that great you know. He can be very stuck up at times," Nafalen said jokingly. "You know sometimes flaws make people attractive. Like faded scars on their arm or things like that. Have you ever been attracted to anyone though?"

Nafalen took a big sip of his wine and set the empty glass down, waiting for it to be refilled. He looked down at his salad with disgust. He hated human food. He played with a cruton for a bit before setting his fork down.

"How's your dinner?"

Helen raised an eyebrow, and glared at him jokingly. She set down her fork, and looked at him with suspicion glowing in her eyes, and filling her cheeks. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward.

“Your not like, some spy sent from my grandmother are you? Someone to figure out what I like, and figure out why I keep avoiding her meetings?” She smirked, and leaned back, her back pressed against the cushion of the chair. She folded her arms, and her big blue eyes scanned Nafalen.

"And if I am what will you do?" Nafalen asked with a grin. "Run to grandma, tell her you found out, I'll be fired and probally yelled at then we all go on with our lived. Come on Helen. If I was a 'spy' don't you think I would be a little more subtle in my questioning? And wouldn't I get to know you better and earn your trust first. Like maybe during a moonlight stroll through the park tomorrow?"

Nafalen laughed and gazed deeply into her eyes.

"No," he said simply. "I am no spy."

Completely unmoved by his explanation, she continued to glare, questioningly. Everything about this man was suspicious. The way he looked at her, the way her approached her, the galiant jumps onto the rooftops, everything. Her head quaked with questions.

She unfolded her arms, and picked up her knife, and fork, and started slicing the cooked chicken into small bits. Setting down the knife, she pushed the metal fork into the chicken taking a small bite. After chewing, and swallowing, never taking her eyes off the myseterious Nafalen, she finally spoke. "I don't know. You are quite the mysterious one. Then why, Sir Nafalen, are you so interested with my love life?"

She set down her fork once again, and took a sip of the wine waiting in the glass. Bringing her napkin from her lap, to her mouth, she dapped it. The curious interest he had in her private life was quite unsettling. They had barely met, and he persisted on asking her about the many suitors which filled her life.

"I am mysterious, yes. I'm just curious. I thought a beautiful young woman like you would be engaged by now that is all. We can change the subject if you wish."

Nafalen sipped his recently refilled glass of wine. Placing it down Nafalen took another painful bite of his scarsly eatined salad. Picking up his knife, Nafalen twirled it around his fingertips skillfully. He leaned back and glanced around the restraunt before returning his gaze to her.

Helen laughed, and shrugged. She didn't think she was beautiful. For the most part, she thought she was a scrawny little girl who needed her grandmother's help to find a date. She shook off her insecurities, and smiled at Nafalen.

"Well thank you Sir Nafalen, but changing the subject would be nice. How about you tell me about yourself. You already know me so well, and I know virutally nothing of you." She picked up her fork and started twirlling it around some noodles, as she listened to whatever he was going to say about himself.

Nafalen knew that this question would come sooner or later.

"What would you like to know? Where I was born. My occupations. Hobbies. Likes. My history. There are more things the you know that I could tell you about me."

Nafalen smiled at his little personal joke.