My head hurts like I cannot put into words. Everything aches so bad, and I don't know if this is right at all. I don't like the smells. There is a pungent musky taste invading my senses as the rain pours against me. I wasn't prepared for this. I don't know what I am doing. I stand before the steps of a tall and formidable building shiny and blinking at me through the rain. It watches me like a shadow at the foot of my bed: The Magnus Institute. I didn't pick this, did I? Is this the answer? I don't know what I really want, but I just can't take her anymore. I am here now. Is this right?

As I wrestle with my own deepest self, a struggle one faces often within the lonely, a familiar voice cuts through the monotony of my inner dialogue alongside the rain. "It's pouring out. Do you want to come inside?" The rain no longer assaults me, and there is a warm undertone in his voice. His eyes are so out of place. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Me?" There is a sharpness about him that makes the gentle tone he offers seem wrong or uncanny, a performed gesture. He feels half-real. He is at the bottom of the stairs, approaching me, a crisp collar peeking out of a dark suit, everything he wears is so well-tailored, except for his eyes.

"There isn't anyone else here," he says, his eyes wandering around as if to make his point clear that there is in fact no one else around. She does hate this place. She's mentioned it before.

"Who sent you?"

"Sent me? What a silly question," he replies, his lips curling into a faint smirk. He gestures towards the institute. "This is where I work. Where are you headed?" He is much closer now, standing at the top of the steps, he looks down on me as he lifts an umbrella over the both of us. He is so close.

"Let's have a talk," he suggests, motioning towards the imposing double doors of the institute. I had unintentionally followed him up to the door as I stayed beneath the umbrella.

"I haven't decided yet I don't think," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

I am not sure where I want to be. Maybe I should turn back. Maybe I am better off doing as she wishes. I don't know anything here or anything about this or what to do. I have always been alone, but never have I had to manage on my own. I always had someone to tell me what to do, even if I hated her. She was all I knew. I don't know.

He pauses, his lips a tight line. "There's no harm in getting you out of the rain at least. I can put on some tea or coffee," he offers, his tone reassuring despite the lingering sense of unease.

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

"It's morning and I have a bit of paperwork to get through today. There was going to be coffee no matter what."

"Maybe I should come by another time." I tear my eyes away from him. There is something that pulls me here, yet I am not scared of the control that I do not seem to have for once.

"But you're here now. You could have just left if you really wanted to." He is already hefting open the door, seemingly having made my decision for me, or maybe I chose this. I am here.

I glance back out into the rain and down the steps, the streets seem to swallow up the rain. "I suppose it couldn't hurt." I nod. He smiles, the shadows of the institute threatening to swallow us.

He shakes out the umbrella, drops of water making splashes of stars on the floor, collapsing it with a whumpf sound. I follow in his footsteps in silence as he walks, my shoes squeaking against the dark tiles. Is there anyone even here? There is a chill at my back.

"Elias Bouchard. Head of the Magnus Institute. Sorry if it's a bit uninviting. I think we're the first ones here," his voice echoes throughout the semi-lit halls.

Water squelches out from beneath my feet, creating small pools in my steps. This is a nightmare. "I'm Asteria. You probably already…know."

"Are you sure?"

"What?" I don't quite have a read on him yet. I know so little, but there is a sinking feeling inside me that I will stay here, and I think that terrifies me. I don't know how to live any other way, but I would like to. I guess I might be able to here of all places. It's a bit like a library I suppose.

He hums. "You can be anything. Use any name. It doesn't have to be that one." His words send a shiver down my spine, and I am glad he is not facing me directly.

"You're being awfully friendly." He doesn't seem much like the friendly type. It all feels like very surface level interactions sitting delicately over a chasm that threatens to swallow me up. He is right. It would be good if I changed my name, harder for her to find me.

He urges me on, glancing back as if to check if I am still here. "Give it some thought."

Curiosity swells within me. "Did I surprise you? Did you know I was coming?" I recognize my own flightiness and habit to stay out of sight, so I wonder how well he was able to see me coming.

"I…I was aware of something if I am being honest. I was actually going to find you first." Find me first? I guess that makes sense. I don't know, weighing my options, there aren't many other areas I would prefer to be in. The Ceaseless Watcher seemed the most welcoming compared to all of the other possibilities.

"What for?"

"Before anyone else could snatch you up, of course," Elias replies, his words leaving me with more questions than answers. It's as if he knew I was meant to be here, drawn to this place like a cat chasing a toy. Maybe this could be fun.

As we make our way to his office, Elias's demeanor remains enigmatic, yet strangely welcoming. He offers to make coffee once more, and I nod, names swirling through my head. I don't think I am quite creative. There should be so many more options than I seem to find now, and I am trying to come up with anything that I could easily become, that would suit me. It's difficult trying to become something different than what you have always known.

I watch him pouring a cup of dark liquid, and indecision gnaws at me. I don't want straight coffee. It's just a bit bitter and well boring. Ah, but he doesn't seem like the type to have his with anything in it. "Could I have tea instead?" I ask, testing the waters to see how accommodating he truly is. He nods without hesitation, a small gesture. He doesn't complain or berate me as he prepares a new pot altogether. I hadn't expected such a response. I suppose he is being rather polite because I am a prospect, but still. It seems almost nice. Almost. There is certainly more to you than meets the eye.

"You can take a seat, you know." He doesn't even look in my direction, focused on preparing my tea. I am overly aware of my clothes being soaked through to my skin and his rather nice cushioned chair. I stand there in silence. He looks up at me with a sigh. "Take a seat, will you?" I stiffly sit at the edge of the seat, but I am not any more relaxed than I was standing. He shakes his head a moment.

"Whatever you're looking for, are you certain you wouldn't be able to find it here?"

So we come to the meat. He sets a teacup down at his desk before me, settling into the large chair on the other side, and leaning forward. His eyes tear through me like sharp teeth through the carcass of an animal.

As we sit down to discuss a potential position at the Magnus Institute, Elias paints a picture of opportunity and purpose, offering me a chance to fill a vital role in some vague picture he dances around. And as the conversation unfolds, I find myself drawn to him. There is a bit of a stiff and condescending attitude about him that prickles me, but at the same time, I can't help but feel like I ought to combat it. A part of me feels a need to argue with him. A ridiculous sentiment altogether, as never have I felt a desire to create such an awkward social scenario for myself to traverse.

There is something stirring within me. How dare he think that I would just choose this? I have other options. I wish I could rip that smile off his face. It's so fake. He's sort of infuriating actually. The fire that stirs within me shocks me to my core. I feel so strongly against him, so I have to say yes. I have never felt such stirrings before. My mom would despise this. So, I suppose I have chosen then.

At that moment, I make a decision. "My name is Helen," I declare, a sense of determination filling me as I embrace this new identity, this new beginning. And as Elias welcomes me into the fold, I can't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within me as well, a glimmer of possibility in the darkness.
He is quick to have me sign my life away to him and to his, some position in storage or so. He'll teach me everything I need to do. Something about me learning as I go.

His eagerness bothers me. Despite running away from my mother, looking for any answer at all, I cannot help an oily feeling that rises within me about him. I think his feigned politeness and false act are quite distracting. I would like to get through it all, see what's really there, and I suppose I have to get really into things to do so. There is a desire I have to identify the genre we occupy if that makes any sense, and to carve a place for myself that is entirely my own.