Chapter 34: A Manora Romance

What could one do but wait? Everyone sat and waited in that lunchroom, eyes drifting from the clock to the door. It felt like a drawn out, tortuous eternity when in truth it was only a half hour. Casper could see Thatch was the most impatient. He kept pacing around, fiddling with his cloak nervously. A few times he would go to the door, open it and just peer out before he shut it and resumed his pacing. He was utterlty distressed.

Casper softly sighed, sitting between Ra and Mantha as he tried to decide what to do. Thatch's pacing was driving everyone insane but he understood the vampire was nervous, who wouldn't be? Thatch's poor, mourning mother was talking to the ruler of the Underworld. His mother, who hadn't dared step a foot outside in years had suddenly left her castle, the stone walls, the mortal world to come here- and to do what? Talk to the most terrifying ghost in the whole known universe! Thatch looked like he was about to be sick, and Casper could feel it too. Even Slither, the emotionless pale monster was rattling his tail. He was watching the vampire intensity like he wanted to say something, but fearful as if when he opened his mouth he might be sick.

Casper looked at Mantha for some sort of answer, and the zombie made a brief motion for Casper to go do something. The ghost shook his head and crossed his arms. He wanted to wait for Clementine and Kibosh to return, what could possibly a friendly ghost like himself do to help this situation?

"So… That was your mom?" Mosshead timidly piped up from his seat. Harpy squawked in curiosity as well, her huge eyes watching the vampire as his pacing stopped. When the pacing finally stopped the students naturally seemed more relaxed. The former bully was putting everyone on edge without even meaning to.

"Yeah, that was her…" Thatch muttered, his eyes narrowing as he took a more defensive stance, facing the students with his back to the door like he was some sort of guard. Casper could understand it, to Thatch, his mother was a queen, royalty that needed to be protected and praised. Vampires were so... weird.

"She was pretty," Wolfie commented, trying to lighten Thatch's mood. Wolfie wanted to keep on friendly terms with the vampire. After Thatch had panicked and took him to the nurse the werewolf found himself more caring towards the vampire, even if they had despised each other before.

"She's more than 'pretty'." Thatch replied coldly, probably without even meaning to. "She's an utter grace, a queen of her time! She used to have an army of maids to obey her every order, she ruled with an iron fist but had a kind heart to those who deserved it." Thatch started to rave. The students were all listening, curious. Homelife was rarely discussed at school, so it was natural for students to wonder about other people's family, especially if they were a different type of monster.

"Tell us more," Mosshead muttered, and his words were met with a general agreement from the students. "How is she so brave to stand up to Kibosh? They seemed like they knew each other."

"They do," the young vampire said proudly. "Kibosh and my dad used to work together. Mom often baked cookies and stuff for when he dropped by." Thatch grinned. "Mom and dad are very respectable after all, some of the best vampires in the world! Mom's very reserved though. She doesn't like to leave her home… In fact, she hasn't left home in over a hundred years…" He muttered, his gaze drifting back to the door, but the students didn't seem done with the vampire, their curiosity getting the better of them.

"Tell us more about your home!" Quasi called out. At this point, Casper was getting a bit done with everyone questioning his vampire. Casper rose from his seat and walked over to Thatch, gently taking his hand to give Thatch some comfort, and just to pull his attention away from the distressing situation.

"Come, sit with me. Pacing won't make the time pass any faster." He softly spoke. Thatch looked reluctant, but the blue-eyed ghost guided Thatch back to their table despite their classmate's groans, then Dummy Girl had to go and ruin it all.

"I don't see the big fuss. She's just a dumb, dusty old vampire. She wasn't even that pretty. She looked like some crusted old clay doll!" She shrilly laughed. No one joined in.

Casper grabbed onto Thatch's arm to hold the vampire back, but he couldn't stop him. Thatch yanked free and pretty much lunged at Dummy Girl, knocking her over and onto the floor. He started to hit her repeatedly, pulling her fake hair and letting the old English insults flow from his mouth. Casper quickly flew over, trying to pull the vampire right off of the idiotic puppet. "Thatch no, she's not worth it! Leave her, Thatch!" The ghost pleaded, but his words weren't getting through. To Casper's surprise, he was almost pulling Thatch off, but he just couldn't separate the two. Living vampires actually weren't that strong, maybe that's why Thatch always tried to act all big and bad.

"Thatch, come on man," Ra hopped up and hurried over, helping Casper dragged the vampire off of the living puppet, who scrambled to her feet and took off running to the back of the cafeteria in pure tears. "Come on man, she's just an idiot, leave her be." Ra tried to comfort the vampire as Casper clung to him, letting the vampire's head rest upon his chest. This method seemed to work for calming Thatch.

"There we go," Casper softly whispered, smiling at the vampire. "Come on, how about you keep talking about your mom? Tell everyone how amazing she is, forget what Dummy Girl said." Casper decided. The ghost wanted to prove that dumb living puppet wrong at every turn, to shut down her options and make her feel like an utter fool. Besides, talking about Thatch's mom seems to calm the vampire anyways.

Thatch took a deep, calming breath as he lifted his head, flexing his hands out like he was trying his best not to make fists anymore, he was probably imagining beating Dummy Girl up again. "Okay… Sure," the vampire whispered as he slowly pulled away. Casper kissed the vampire's cheek real quick before he moved back, watching as Thatch resumed his nervous pacing in front of the crowd.

"Well, my mom can do a lot of things a normal vampire does… She's strong, fast and can even read the minds of mortals- normal vampire stuff." He shrugged the thought off. "The actual vampire stuff I find rather boring to explain, we'll skip over that." Thatch decided. "Mom is a great negotiator. Even when mortals turn on their own kind, dividing themselves by their sex she was well respected." He recalled fondly. "It was her intelligence and status that captured my dad, who was just a pitiful commoner with dreams of being an inventor. Mom was the daughter of a wealthy man who owned several farms and hundreds of workers to do the farm work for him. Mom tells me this story all the time," he explained at the confused looks. "And yes, my parents were once fleshies. After all, that's how most vampires are." His gaze went back to the ghost, who could only watch with a fond look and motion for him to continue.

"My dad was ahead of his time, a genius stuck in a terrible place. The rich wanted to stay rich. The rich also wanted to keep the poor poor, out of the way and under their thumb. Dad was born pitifully poor, but with a mind of a prodigy, he was determined to break out of his status and become one of the wealthiest men in the world with his inventions. He worked a pitiful job, shared a home with other poor people and was honestly not in a good place... When my dad first saw my mom he was utterly enthralled with her. He urged her father for permission to court her, but seeing as my dad was an utter nobody he was turned away at the gates…"

Vincent sighed pitifully, gazing through the barred entrance to the enchanting mansion laid far back on the plot of land. The beautiful stone steps led up to the large oak doors, engraved with gold and silver trim. The dozens of tulips that lined the path were in full bloom, he could smell their sweet scent from the gates. He could see workers unloading carriages of food and packing them through the side entrance, most likely to the kitchen. His hands gripped the cold iron bars, and after a moment he let out a frustrated yell and shook the gate, the clattering metal making quite the ruckus. The guards that had just tossed him out turned back around, for they had started to march back to the building after tossing him out and locking the ironed gates Vincent was now shaking.

"Leave intruder, or else you will be arrested!" One of them warned harshly. Vincent growled, but knowing better than to get into trouble he turned away from the beautiful gates and left, heading down the well-laid cobblestone road as he started his long tedious walk back into town. Oh, this dreadful town where the rich were rich and the poor fought for scraps of food. One was lucky to get a job.

Vincent glared at the ground, seeing his pitiful worn shoes with the hole in the side. His clothes were awful too. Gray stained pants, a ripped up white button-up shirt. He was an utter pity to look at, a failure. He had no fancy clothes which he dreamed of, no nice hat, tailored suit or a walking cane. He was a man in rags. Vincent dragged himself back into a small shoe shop, going through the back door of course so no one would spot him- as was required by his fat wealthy boss. He sat down in his common seat, his eyes narrowing as he begrudgingly got to work repairing prosperous men's shoes. He knew he was made for so much more than this, he wanted to be famous, a grand inventor with an actual future, not some dumb assistant shoemaker… guy. He had dozens of plans swirling in his head, grand plans and he knew they would work if he just looked the part.

Vincent sighed heavily, his eyes drifting around the small workshop. He needed to get out of here. He peered down at the shoes he was repairing, nearly complete. He turned them over in his hands, examining their size. They could fit him…

After a quick glance around he hurriedly repaired them, then removed his old shoes and slipped on the repaired and nicely polished black shoes. They looked so much better, but his outfit was still an insult. So, he grabbed his favorite bag where he carried his personal belongings and rushed out of the workshop. He hurried down the street, rushing through the back allies to avoid being seen. As he drew close to the tailor shop he slowed down, hiding behind piles of garbage that the shops always tossed out carelessly. He knew this tailor shop, this is the same shop all the rich men go to, with their golden cufflinks and big potbellied guts.

His eyes narrowed and he stayed in wait, watching and biding his time. The little boy working at the tailor shop opened the back door, dragging out a large crate, the wood making a horrible screeching sound as it scraped against the stone. The small lad panted and groaned, straining his back. It was despicable how these shops would 'employ' orphans to save the quick buck. The only things they gave the poor children was a meal a day, but it was better than starving so many of them accepted the work. Vincent slowly stepped out as the boy was distracted, slipping into the tailor shop. He hurriedly looked around. He could hear people in the front room, the owner chatting them up like rich men often do.

Vincent rolled his eyes, quickly searching the racks of clothes that have been sent in to be modified, mostly around the stomach region due to rich people often getting fat because they didn't know how to stop guzzling down loads of fancy food. But these would suit him, he found a suit that nearly matched his dream look. The white buttoned up shirt with a nicely embroidered chest pocket and the long black coat with a pocket just for a pocket watch!

He snatched a fine shirt and tailored coat off one rack, and a nice slick pair of dress pants off another. As he turned to leave he came face to face with the small boy. His mouth was agape in shock, and Vincent's heart plummeted. He was going to call him out.

"Oh no no, no don't." He quickly kneeled before the boy, taking his smaller hands in his own. "No screaming, this looks bad but I swear it's not. If you keep this a secret, between you and me I'll be sure to repay you one day." He spoke smoothly, letting his accent slip out with ease.

"You're stealing."

"Borrowing, let's call it that young lad." He said easily, patting the back of his hand and flashed a charming smile. "I'm just borrowing, don't worry." He then ruffled the lad's dirty short hair before he took off running, leaving the boy slack-jawed and confused at the choice he had been left with. Vincent had no time to care, he just stole from two different stores so he had to make his plan quick. He ran all the way home, to his dingy, pitiful home which he shared with another pitiful family. He ignored the family of 5, rushing to his own room, his only room where he could be alone. He shut the door and locked it, a relieved sigh escaping him.

He tossed his stolen goods onto the old bed, letting his fingers brush through his messy brown hair, his tired green eyes looking around the filthy room. He made a face, noticing the rat in the corner eating some bread that he forgot to hide away. Great…

The only pleasure he had was in his books. Reading books and his journal, filled with inventions he dreamed to make. He picked up one of his favorite books, opening the red silken cover and smiling as his fingers move across the soft paper, his eyes soaking in the black ink. He would memorize these books, how the rich men speak. He would mimic their words, their manners, and their looks. Appearance was purely everything…

And so he studied and practice for months, never once going to his old shoemaking job. He often made deals with the family, giving them what little money he had for them to go out and fetch him food so he could stay hidden. Apparently, the boy never ratted him out, and since the shoe shop had a reputation to keep they didn't report the theft to the police, just replacing the missing shoes with ease.

When he emerged from that pitiful filthy room, he was a new man.

Vincent Manora, the inventor.

"My dad went out into the world, using his newfound skills to charm rich men into hiring him to create things, from simple carriages to complex chandeliers, all pastimes as he saved every coin for the beautiful dream he envisioned. His first invention was a pure hit, and his name became known all over the mortal world!" Thatch said excitedly. The class was watching in awe, entrance with Thatch's story. "Before long he was rich, even paying for a whole castle to be built deep in a forest for his private work. Then… Once he had almost everything, he went back to my mom's dad, asking to court her once again. How could he say no? With my granddad's permission, he went to court her… But my mom was really not interested in the slightest."

"If you try to give me flowers one more time I'll throw a hive of bees at you, they need those flowers more than I!" Clementine yelled from her balcony, glaring down at Vincent as he kneeled in the garden, a dozen roses in his hands. "Now off with you, before I call my guards!" The beautiful maiden rested her hands on the railing, leaning against it as she glared down at Vincent in disdain. Her lovely blue eyes were narrowed in a cold cruel glare. Her tanned skin soaked in the light of day, making a beautiful compliment to the glowing white gown she wore. Her blond hair was curled beautifully, flowing down her shoulders.

"My lady please if you would only meet with me-"

"I will not be handed off to some stranger!" She yelled down at him, leaning over the railing. "You and all my other suitors can go jump in the lake, maybe some moss monster would eat you and save me some grief!" She then turned around, marching back into her room and slamming the fancy french doors behind herm making the glass panes shutter with the force.

Vincent flinched back, then let a heavy sigh escape him. One day he would win her heart, she will be his! He stood up, his eyes narrowing as he watched her door for a minute more before he willingly left, returning back to the private workspace he got in the town nearby just so he had an excuse to go see his dear Clementine.

As he entered he smiled as the oh so familiar orphan boy from the tailor shop greeted him with a big smile. He now wore clean clothes, and Vincent made sure he had three meals a day. He did say he would repay the child, and he kept his word. "Anything to report," he questioned as he headed over to his desk. The boy quickly followed, having to almost run after the adult male.

"No one came by sir, besides the shipment you ordered. You're back awful early, did the meeting not go well?" He asked knowingly.

"Ah, she rejected me once more." He grumbled as he tossed the flowers onto the desk. The orphan boy made a face at the flowers, then looked to Vincent.

"Well, what have you tried?"

"I've tried everything in the books. Gifts and flattery mean nothing to her."

"Have you gone on a date?"

"How can I when she refuses to leave that room of hers!"

"Well… Did you talk to her?"

"Talk to her? How can I? She refuses all my advances."

"I mean talk to her, not flirt. Surely you two have just... chatted? Like about I dunno... food and stuff. This girl I like loves books, and we spend the most nights just talking about them for hours on end." The orphan boy said dreamily.

Vincent frowned, picking up a quill and lazily toying with the feathered end. "I… No, I suppose not."

"So you don't talk to her… If you two don't talk, that makes you strangers. The Mistress at the orphanage says never to talk to strangers. She's just being safe, sir. Maybe you need to be her friend first."

"I'm just following what the books say, what they all say women like!"

"Well, maybe she's a different type." The boy offered, picking up the roses. "I think you need to be friends first… How do you know you even like her?"

"She's beautiful and-"

"Who cares about that? What about her do you like?"

"She's kind and… Listen, lad, everything isn't a fairytale. Sometimes the emotional bonds have to wait for a little bit, that's how most marriages between the wealthy go."

"Who cares about wealth, and why can't this be a fairytale?" He questioned. "Sir if I may, just be yourself and work for her heart, not her hand." He advised with a sweet smile.

"Who knew a human fleshie, let alone a child could give my dad such good advice!" Thatch hummed, now sitting on the floor. The students had all moved, sitting in a semi-circle around Thatch, besides Dummy Girl. She had moved back to the tables, her arms crossed over her chest as she listened. Casper had taken his rightful spot beside the vampire as he told his story. There wasn't a better spot in the room than in Thatch's arms.

"Did your dad finally get to your mom?" Mickey questioned.

"It took a lot more work…"

Vincent sighed softly, straightening his tailored coat as he walked up to the large mansion. He couldn't help but smirk as the guards let him by. Course they didn't recognize him as that pitiful poor man, but he recognized them oh so easily. It was so satisfying to see them bow their heads as he passed by. He made it so far. He knew he was a successful man. He started off on uneven ground, but he paid back the two shops her stole from three times the amount the items he stole were worth. All was forgiven when they saw how far up the social ladder he made.

As he walked towards the large wooden doors two butlers opened them for him, allowing him inside without ever once slowing his step.

"Sir!" He greeted kindly as he saw Clementine's father. He walked over, taking his hand fondly. "Thank you for inviting me to dinner. I believe you have a request for me?" Vincent questioned innocently. The older man chuckled and nodded.

"Oh yes, my good sir." He started as he guided Vincent to their dining hall. "I heard you're good with your hands, and I need some work done around my home. I know this seems below such as man as you, and you're probably questioning why I don't just hire a simple handyman… But my trust in the common folk is low and I much rather have you use your expertise and help me."

"I perfectly understand," Vincent softly laughed as the pair took their seats near the head of the table. To his surprise he saw none other than Clementine walk in, the woman he was courting no more than a month ago… But to his own surprise, he turned his gaze away from her beauty and back to her father. "What do you need done?" He asked calmly.

As the father droned on about basic repair tasks around the house Clementine took her seat to her father's left, opposite of Vincent as several butlers carried in trays of food for their dinner. While Vincent was tempted to stare at Clementine's beauty, he turned his gaze away and tried to focus on the work that was being discussed. He needed to show he wasn't like any suitors, and what if the boy was right? What if he and Clementine wasn't the perfect match he dreamed about?

The air seemed peaceful, the most peaceful he had ever felt around Clementine besides their first brief meeting in the city, where he first found himself entranced with her beauty. Course that was when he was poor, nothing more than a pile of filthy rags compared to her. But he remembered how her eyes lingered on him, how she offered a smile before her personal escort lead her back into the carriage.

"And that's generally all. Think you can do it?" The old man asked tiredly as he lazily poked at his fancy food. Vincent managed a weak smile. He honestly wasn't that hungry.

"Yes, sir. I can get all that done right away. I can start tomorrow-"

"Perhaps!" He said excitedly. "You'll start up in Clementine's room tomorrow. Her french doors have an awful big crack in them, the hinges are even loose. No clue how that happened." He said simply, his gaze drifting over to his daughter for a few moments. Vincent knew the man was trying to play matchmaking. The wealthy married the wealthy, that's how the world turned but… He didn't want to be a pawn for his father. If it was meant to be it would be on his and Clementine's own terms.

"I believe it's the wind, father." She mumbled softly as she watched Vincent, her eyes narrowing. Vincent just chuckled softly, tilting his head to the side. He had a feeling him and many other suitors lead to the broken doors. Seems the beauty had a short temper.

"The wind has been strong this season. I'll fix them right away, it'll be a shame if there was a draft in your room. You might get sick-"

"I'm stronger than I look. I'm only worried about the conditions of my books."

"Well, I'll be sure to get to that." He cleared his throat and stood up. "As amazing as this food all looks, I need to head home so I can be well rested tomorrow."

"Oh yes my lad, hurry along." The father softly laughed, waving as Vincent turned and simply left, leaving Clementine in confusion as she watched her former suitor just leave without giving her a glance.

The next day Vincent was early to rise, grabbing his box of tools and headed to the large mansion excitedly. Any chance to improve relations with his family was a step further into his future, plus he needed a break from his workshop. He was completely stuck on his latest idea. So a simple mind-numbing task of repairing things might be nice.

He was let in just like the day before and escorted by an old butler to Clementine's room. She was resting in a rocking chair in a comfortable corner of her room which had at least 5 floor to ceiling bookcases, completely stuffed and overflowing with books. She glanced up when her door was opened, but upon seeing Vincent she turned her nose up and went back to reading, his presence not interesting her in the slightest.

Vincent didn't take it to heart, he knew he had made a horrible first impression on the young woman, it was in her every right to be defensive. And so, he silently went to the french doors and kneeled beside them as he set his bag of tools down.

"They wouldn't have gotten into this state if you would have left me be." She spoke with pure venom on her tongue.

"I must agree to that," he noted calmly. "And you are stronger than you look to have done this much damage to the hinges, they're pretty bent out of shape."

"I didn't lie."

"And I believe you…" He continued. He glanced back at her, his eyes drifting to the book she held in her delicate hands. "That's a good book."

"Oh please, as if you've read this masterpiece." She scoffed softly.

"Oh, you doubt me?"

"Men don't read romance."

"Most men. I suppose I'm just different." He joked. "I rather enjoy romance. I spent many afternoons reading those books." He recalled.

"I found romance terribly boring. They're all the same… But this one is well written, despite the awful plot." She groaned, rocking back in her chair. "Man finds woman pretty, decides he wants to own her. She magically falls in love with his brute-like behavior. It's boring, repetitive and sickening. At least it isn't as bland as the rest."

"You're very outspoken for a lady."

"And you're well dressed for a nobody, Vincent." She frowned deeply. "I hate this costume you wear," she replied snarkily.

"Costume?" He frowned and turned to her, his shoulders set back to straighten his appearance as if she had just offended his pride and he felt the need to defend it. "This is a finely tailored suit!"

"You had more personality as a pitiful dirt covered man in the streets. At least then your smile was real and you didn't use such fake flattering words." She slammed the book shut and placed it on the nearest shelf as she rose from her seat. "Now you're like all the rich suitors. Selfish." she almost hissed.

Vincent seemed lost for words at first, none of his books could help him in his situation... so he spoke from his heart. "My words and looks might have changed, but I'm still the same man." He muttered as he rose. "I'm surprised you even recognize me."

"I only recognize you at dinner last night, when I saw your eyes… I could never forget your eyes." She approached him, carefully watching the stranger with a distrusting gaze. "It sickens me how you've changed."

"Clementine… Let us be civil, perhaps even friends? I won't pursue your hand any longer." Vincent spoke softly. "I rather get to know you for you, not just because you're beautiful. I can see you're an astonishing brilliant. I wish to know you better," he saw her gaze turn away and he hastily spoke, "I haven't changed, I swear."

"... We'll see if you're true to your word."

"My mom was a very unyielding woman, closed off and stern." Thatch said fondly. "She made things laborious for my poor dad," he chuckled and nudged Casper, who blushed and looked off. "But in the end, they became close friends, and actually my dad was perfectly satisfied with that. It was my mom that asked if he wished to marry her." He recollected.

"Telling stories, little prince?" Clementine hummed as she stepped out of the shadows. Kibosh came through the wall, calmly following the lady as if this was a common occurrence. "You've seem very fond of that one," she continued easily.