Gyendal had never felt so weak and pathetic in all the eight-hundred-and-thirty-two years that he had been alive. Not only had he been turned into a human, the very race that he had thought so despicable that he had tried to enslave, but now he found himself having to walk, talk, and act like a human. He hated every minute of it, but he had no choice. It was the only way to get to the Darkthrop Whelp.

The idea had come to him in a rather peculiar way. He had been visited by a strange specter like girl in the forest, who advised him to change his method and warned him that he would never obtain her if he did not. At first, he refused to trust her, for she looked unnervingly familiar to him, yet he couldn't seem to figure out who she was. However, as he began to consider what she had said, he realized that she was right, and that he might be more successful if he tried to earn her trust and lured her in that way.

The only problem was that he had no idea how to act like a human, having been a vampire for far too long. So, he had spent some time lurking about in the dark alleys of Peliad, observing young human men and how they behaved. Once he had learned the basics, he cast a spell on himself, changing his appearance to fit that of a handsome young thief and went to put his plan into action.

And so, he now found himself browsing through an expensive quill shop, waiting for Mel to appear. He had never been a patient man to begin with, so waiting was not an easy task for him. It did not help that the shopkeeper was basically looking down on him, claiming that his quills were far too expensive for him to afford. Gyendal rolled his eyes at the old man. If only the fool knew who he was talking too. He was sorely tempted to reveal himself and blast the man into a wall, but he refrained from doing so as he suddenly heard the door open.

Glancing over towards the door, he caught a brief glimpse of her walking in before he was forced to retract his gaze. He kept his head down, as he pretended to examine all the different Quill's on display, but he kept a close eye on the Darkthrop Whelp, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me, but how much for this quill?" Mel asked the shop owner.

The old man looked her up and down, his face full of scorn as he saw how grubby her clothes were. "I'm sorry, miss, but the quill's in my store are dreadfully expensive. Well beyond your means, I'm sure."

Gyendal could see that shopkeeper was treating her exactly the same way he had treated him. In the shopkeeper's eyes, they were simply a couple of worthless street urchins, and for some reason that made Gyendal think. Why was this shopkeeper looking down on members of his own species? As much as he loathed the idea of identifying himself as a human, he couldn't exactly continue referring to himself as a vampire. Regardless, he was still confused by the man's behavior. When it came right down to it, him and Mel weren't much different from the shopkeeper, aside from the fact that he was clearly dressed better.

He quickly shook that from his mind, casting it off as insignificant, as he returned to task at hand. Seeing that the shopkeeper was clearly not going to let Mel purchase one of his quills, and appeared to be quite distracted by her, Gyendal slipped one of the quill's into his pocket and quickly snuck out of the shop before anyone could notice, leaving the two to their argument.

Ducking back into one of the alleyways, he watched and waited for Mel to come back out, and fortunately for him, he didn't have to wait long. He soon heard the door of the shop slam shut, and a few moments later, Mel came storming past, cursing the shopkeeper to the other side of the moon and back. He couldn't help but chuckle as he heard all the different insults she came up with. She certainly was creative, he would give her that.

Gyendal sprung into action, scurrying out of the alley, he went around the back of the post office and was able to catch up with her on the other side. As he walked up to her, he had to repeatedly remind himself to be charming to her. He couldn't address her as the Darkthrop Whelp, or give her any reason to suspect who he truly was. He had to be convincing for his plan to work out the way he wanted.

"Excuse me, miss, but I happened to notice how rude that old man was to you in the quill shop," Gyendal said, feigning sympathy. "It wasn't right of him to treat you that way."

Mel glanced over at him, stopping dead in her tracks. Her eyes revealed that she did recognize him, probably from the shop. "Maybe not, but I'm used to it. I've been treated that way my whole life," she replied.

Gyendal was tempted to ask her why that was the case, but he held back, figuring that it might be uncharacteristic of him. After all, he was impersonating someone who was supposed to be just like Mel. He was probably supposed to understand why it was that she was treated that way. So, he simply nodded his head, not knowing what else to do.

Pulling the stolen quill out of his pocket, he reached out and presented it to her. "Anyway, I stole this for you," he said. "It might not be exactly the one you wanted, but it's better than nothing."

Her pale, dirt-smudged face lit up with surprise. It took her a few moments to accept the gift, as she appeared to be hesitant, but she eventually did. "Thanks, it might sound strange to some people, but I actually like stolen gifts. Although, I usually prefer food."

"I'll have to remember that," he said, making a mental note of it in the back of his mind.

Fortunately for him, he already had some idea of what her favorite foods were. It seemed that spending so much time spying on her through the purple haired moth had come in useful after all, even if that plan of his had failed miserably. After all, it had resulted in him loosing his immortality. He wasn't the proudest of that one.

"Anyway, I'm Mel," she said, extending her hand to him.

Gyendal reluctantly took her hand in what the humans called a handshake. It seemed like a pointless gesture to him, but he went along with it for the sake of the charade. "I'm ... Spook."

Mel raised an eyebrow at him. "That's an interesting name," she remarked.

Gyendal mentally chastised himself. Of course it was a weird name to her! He knew that he should have picked something more normal, instead of choosing the name of one of Te'ijal's old house ghosts! He thanked the Goddess that his sister wasn't currently traveling with Mel. She would have caught on to the reference right away and blown his cover.

"Y-Yes, well I chose it myself," he made up an excuse. "I didn't exactly like the name the orphanage gave me."

Mel laughed. "Don't worry about it," she assured him. "I'm not exactly happy with the name I was given either. That's why I shortened it."

Gyendal was actually surprised by that. He hadn't known that Mel was only a shortened version of her actual name. He was a bit tempted to ask her what her full name was, but decided not to, figuring that it didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was that she was a Darkthrop, and held the key to accomplishing his ultimate goal.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mel, but I should get going," Gyendal excused himself. "Try not to get into too much trouble."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I think that's pretty much impossible for someone like me."

Gyendal chuckled. "I believe you."

Then with a polite nod of the head, Gyendal backed away and retreated into the shadows, watching Mel for a moment as she hurried on her way back towards the library, where her friends were surely waiting for her. He smirked. His newest plan might not be the easiest, but he got the feeling that it might actually work. Mel seemed to fall for his masquerade well enough. Obviously it would take some more time and effort to gain her full trust, but it was a good start.