Mullen Institute, Dublin
9 May, 2011
12:27—N'Dour's Perspective
:-:
Time waits for no one: The afternoon is already here.
The rain has come to a pause, but the sky is still cloudy and windy. It could start raining again at any given moment.
Operations at Mullen Institute have recommenced. Officials are either busy instructing students, working in the laboratory, or guarding the confinement ward.
N'Dour, on the other hand, is monitoring the slumbering Dawnavan, who was awake for over 24 hours before falling asleep earlier.
To pass the time, he's reading a good book: The Art of Peace by Ueshiba Morihei; a bestseller about aikido, a gentle martial art.
As soon as you concern yourself with the "good" and "bad" of your fellows, you create an opening in your heart for maliciousness to enter.
Testing, competing with, and criticizing others weakens and defeats you.
This excerpt stands out to him, touching basis with what transpires in the world: Everyone's fighting; humans and nightwalkers alike… It's safe to say all earthlings are barbaric creatures.
Ironically, no matter how much one side struggles to achieve victory, they're defeated in the end...by their own selves.
It's true, so very true… Why are we fighting each other, when, in the end, we're losing so much more than what we're gaining?
—The church is a den of fools, and, sadly...we're no different from them. We say we're "fighting to protect" something, but so many people are dying in the process… This world...it… If this madness keeps up…
N'Dour dreads the possibilities set before him.
The chances of what could result from this war: No matter how he looks at them, the apprentice sees nothing good.
The conquest for unity, the battle for the feed; nothing but death.
It's much too late to propose a treaty. The Old Man would decline it reflexively, and capitalize on all innocents in his midst.
The UN has no say over anything; no world leader does. The Old Man is pretty much the lord of this planet… Everything they say means nothing to him.
"Y-a-w—!" The apprentice is startled by the awakening Dawnavan.
Oh! He's up…finally. That *yawn* though.
"My, my. That was *magnifi*—"
Eyes meet for the first time: Dawnavan and N'Dour; total strangers.
"—cent… Um, hello there."
N'Dour smiles. "Good afternoon. How did you sleep?"
"Good…'afternoon'? It's *that late* already?" Dawnavan puts his frustration aside, remembering he's questioning a total stranger. "I'm sorry, err…
—we've never met before. And I don't know where I am, so—"
"Youssou N'Dour, apprentice of Dr. Lyte; a friend if you'll have me."
N'Dour responds abruptly, but not malevolently. No doubt to eliminate the possibility that Dawnavan might be cautious of him.
He retains a smile to refrain from appearing suspicious to Dawnavan, but his acquaintance isn't trustworthy of strangers; for personal reasons.
Something in Dawnavan's past, something he has trouble discussing with others… He hides such things in the back of his mind, hoping no one will *ever* discover them…because…they're much too damaging.
—Is he alright?
I hope I haven't troubled him.
"Who is 'Dr. Lyte'?"
Dawnavan asks this question to evade his memories.
"—!? *Oh,* well…
Dr. Lyte is the director of this institution, Laurence J. Mullen.
It's a vocational school, but you can pursue a normal curriculum here as well. Mullen is also a maximum security prison, a research facility, and a training center for new-bloomers like yourself." Answered professionally and with knowledge of the institution; proof of N'Dour's studiousness, perceptivity and adaptivity.
Even when presented with sudden questions, N'Dour remains calm. This trait is received well by Dawnavan. He's smiling. Good, real good.
It'd be nice to have a friend, besides the doctor of course.
"So, N'Dour—I like that name, by the way…"
"Thank you."
"—are you…Senegalese by chance?"
"Yes, you could tell?"
"With little difficulty...because I'm also of the culture." A chance union: N'Dour and Dawnavan both have Senegalese roots.
—My people… I feel so relieved.
"What's your name, brother?" The apprentice speaks warmly.
For the first time, Dawnavan acts out-of-character: He blushes. Perhaps from encountering someone like N'Dour; one of his people.
"Dawnavan Crowley.
My family moved to New Zealand, and my name was Anglicized to blend in with the culture. Hearing names like N'Dour is very exotic to me… It's handsome."
Handsome? *My* name? I'm flattered, but…
—it's out-of-character, but I should tell him.
N'Dour closes his book, turns in bed and places his feet on the floor. He rests in a slumped manner, hiding his eyes from Dawnavan.
A quick breath, and N'Dour enlightens his acquaintance:
"Don't discredit your own by reverencing mine. 'Dawnavan' is a play on the Irish/Gaelic name 'Donovan,' which means 'dark' or 'dark-haired chieftain'.
'Crowley' references a clan with origins from Dakar; slaves turned by invading Welsh vampires, liberated by witches and given a chance to smite their killers. In time, to escape the violence, the Crowley rebels returned to Senegal by boat."
Dawnavan places his feet on the floor, giving N'Dour his undivided attention. No doubt from finding intrigue in his acquaintance's revelation.
"My family…were once slaves. And we—"
"—killed your enslavers; 'ate' them, but not by mouth.
Your blood is special, Mr. Crowley. It liberated your clan and scarred the church; the ones who employed those monsters from the start.
I…want to watch over you, Mr. Crowley. I want to help you grow, so we can somehow stop the fighting. For good." It's so overwhelming: To hear his lineage summarized so eloquently in front of him… Dawnavan doesn't know *what* to say.
It was sudden, but it had to be said.
I really mean it: I want to help him, and Mr. Bennett as well.
What the church did to their families… *Unforgivable*. But we mustn't seek revenge. Instead, we should take another path; a new way.
"N'Dour, you want to help me. I appreciate that.
But how can you do that?
I don't understand. Nothing… I don't understand anything at all." In his mind, after hearing Dawnavan's confusion, N'Dour wrestles with himself.
Perhaps it was strange of him, coming off so strongly. But his heart was in the right place, so his intentions were good; very good. He has Dawnavan, Stuart and their affiliates' well-being in mind and at heart.
—I should apologize. That was much too sudden.
"Dr. Lyte will explain everything to you. More vividly than I can.
Mother Katherine will have you and Mr. Bennett stay here. You must be prepared at all times. The church will kill you without a second thought; nothing like our newest inmate, Prince Gorgon Mycenae.
He didn't want to hurt you two. Why, I don't know. But I saw it for myself: Surveillance showed his actions against you, Mr. Bennett and your friends. He was leading the church into a web of lies. Father Theodore helped him in the end.
Dr. Lyte has asked me to not meddle, but I think it unfair: Him, suffering a sentence he hasn't earned.
The prince *did* kidnap you two, and he used self-defense against officials. But he *didn't kill* anyone; *someone else* did the killing, not him." Once again, N'Dour speaks suddenly, proving how troubled he is by everything.
"Don't overstep your boundaries. As an apprentice, your ideas can only go so far; truthful, flawed or in-between.
You have that man's best at heart. Good, *very* good, but don't put yourself in the hot seat with your superiors. That's not where you want to be.
I'm 'Mr. Bennett's' manager, not just his boyfriend. So, I know a thing or two about conformity and taking charge… I'm also a fellow reader, and someone who finds substance in Morihei…*surely,* you can do better than this."
Dawnavan silences N'Dour in both thought and spoken word. Not out of annoyance or spite; Dawnavan isn't that kind of person.
He sees quality in N'Dour.
As a person attracted by this, Dawnavan speaks in an encouraging manner. He doesn't want to see N'Dour defeated by his own self. So, as his elder, Dawnavan remains firm but displays gentleness in medio.
He's right. Me, behaving so…
—I think I'm going to enjoy working with him.
"You'll be moved to a room with Mr. Bennett by this evening. You'll enjoy your stay more with him at your side.
I'm looking forward to working with you, Mr. Crowley. Discard the initial awkwardness; I'm under a lot of stress as of late.
Your belongings are still where you left them; in Dr. Farrelly's car. Our facility has supplied you with essentials to get freshened up, and you should have a warm meal waiting for you when you meet Dr. Lyte.
You're safe, Mr. Crowley. You'll grow here, I'm sure of it. And until you and Mr. Bennett fully blossom, I'll do my best to watch over you."
The first thing Dawnavan does after waking up is make a friend.
Quite the inviting initiator. However, there's more to this acquaintanceship:
N'Dour wants to end the fighting once and for all. To do this, he'll need friends strong enough to silence the Old Man's madness. N'Dour already has the support of Infinity, which is good. Dawnavan and Stuart's support, however, is paramount.
"—Thank you, N'Dour. That means a lot."
Dawnavan's support has been secured. Now, he must befriend Stuart, which may prove difficult considering the man's violent past.
"You're welcome, Mr. Crowley."
"Please, call me Dawny. All my friends do."
"Alright… Dawny. I can't *wait* to meet Mr. Bennett." Dawnavan is tickled by N'Dour's eagerness; proof of juvenile excitement.
"Stu is a nice man, a bit *too* nice. He's quiet at first, but you'll get used to that after you talk with him a little.
I ensure you, we'll get along. All of us. Alright?"
He's making this so easy, so inviting… I like that. And I'm glad.
Dawny, my friend. I have someone else to talk to now. Hopefully, Mr. Bennett supplements these feelings.
God, *please,* I want this work.
Our bond… I know it'll create a miracle.