Morrigan was in class again. Still freaked out by her dream two nights before. It all felt too real.
The woods. The cold. His voice saying her name. The feeling of his hand- ice pressing to her palm where her pulse still thundered like it was trying to warn her of something.
She stared blankly at the front of the classroom, where the professor's voice droned on about the implications of modern warfare on early 20th-century diplomacy. The words barely registered.
She wasn't there for history today. She was there to see if he was.
And he was.
Same place, same posture, same aura of something that shouldn't be.
Samael.
She hadn't said the name out loud, nor had she written it down, but it sat on her tongue like something carved into her- unshakable.
He didn't look at her. He never did. His gaze was fixed forward, sharp and hollow, like he was watching something no one could see. The strange stillness wrapped around him again, making the lecture hall feel warped, like the air bent around him slightly.
Morrigan couldn't stop staring.
Not because he was beautiful. Though he was, in a bleak, spectral way. Not because he was strange. Not because he had spoken to her once, cold and dismissive.
But because every time she looked at him, she felt something pull.
Not emotional, not logical.
Physical.
Like her bones knew something her brain couldn't catch on to. She hadn't taken any notes since the semester started. She doubted she ever would, as long as he was around. Her curiosity was eating at her. She was spiralling and she knew it. Rationally, she should just ignore him. Focus. Study. Get her degree.
But rationality hadn't held much weight since that dream.
She rubbed her palm absently, remembering the sensation of his cold hand against hers. She could still feel the echo of it. No warmth, but weight. Gravity. Like touching something ancient.
The bell rang.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose. People gathered their bags and talked half-heartedly about their lunch plans or their next class.
Morrigan didn't move- not at first. She watched Samael rise, smooth and silent, sliding that same empty notebook into his pocket. Again, no laptop, no books. Not even a pencil case. She wondered if he was actually a student at this point, maybe he was supervising someone.
This time, he glanced towards her. Just once.
Their eyes met.
That moment -brief and brutal- was like plunging into a frozen lake. Her lungs seized. Her skin tightened. Underneath the shock was something else: awareness. That same recognition. Where had she seen him before?
She also felt something darker.
A promise she couldn't name yet.
Then, he turned and left the room, and the warmth rushed back in to her body, like she'd been let go of.
"Morrigan? Correct?" Her professor called to her from the other side of the room.
Snapping out of her daze, her eyes travelled to the front of the room, feeling a little lost as they left the sight that was Samael.
"Oh, yes?" She was quick to reply, a little shocked since the professor hadn't spoken to her since the beginning of the semester.
"That boy -Sam, I think- he left without the work," the professor slowly shuffled his way to Morrigan, his back slightly arched forward as he walked. She hadn't even noticed how old the poor man was, that was how horribly distracted she was by this stranger. The professor was balding, but not completely bald just yet. His eyebrows matched his grey hair, but were wispy and longer than most. His outfit was like that of every stereotypical history teacher- smart, beige trousers, slightly creased at the ankles. To accompany this, his button up was a soft shade of blue, and over the top was a cream coloured, knitted vest.
"Oh.. I don't know him personally," Morrigan stated the truth, though realised this could be quite the opportunity for her, "though, I could pass it on, I see him around a lot."
"Ah, could you? That would be wonderful, thank you Morrigan." He looked at her and smiled politely, then raised a hand to her shoulder.
"For someone who doesn't know him personally, you sure seem taken by him. A word of advice from an old man, never miss any opportunity to get what you want from life. If you don't, you might end up a history teacher." He chuckled to himself, before handing her the paper and turning back around to his desk.
Taken? Was that how she looked? Taken? Her professor knew about her staring problem. How embarrassing.
Morrigan could feel her face flush pink. Was that seriously how she came across?
Stuffing the paper into her bag, she decided to ignore the comment. What did he know? He hadn't spoken to either of them about anything- she assumed on Samael's behalf, anyway.
She decided not to take it to heart, she had work in an hour anyway. She thought it would be best just to focus on her shift.
Later on, the rain came down in fine, silver sheets, soft but relentless, beading down on Morrigan's umbrella and catching the glow of the streetlamps like a curtain of tiny stars.
She walked with her chin tucked into her forest green coat, the cold biting at her cheeks, her boots knocking against the slick pavement. It was just past 9pm, the streets quiet aside from the occasional passing car or drunken laughter spilling from the bar a few blocks down. Her shift at the diner ran late, and all she wanted was a hot bath and maybe something sweet- anything to thaw the ache in her legs and back from her busy shift.
Then she saw him, again.
Samael.
It was bizarre- he just seemed to pop up everywhere. Morrigan started to wonder if he was actually stalking her, but that was far-fetched as he never seemed to pay attention to her, always something else far away.
Standing on the edge of the square by the bus stop. Head slightly bowed, his dark hair sticking to his face in the rain. No umbrella. No hood. Just the rain soaking through his black coat, clinging to him like ink spreading over parchment.
He looked untouched by it all.
Still. Composed. Like the storm hadn't yet been invited into his world.
Morrigan slowed to a stop, her fingers tightened around the umbrella handle. She stood in indecision for half a breath, then crossed the street towards him without thinking.
"Samael!" She called out- soft, yet firm.
He looked up slowly, his eyes caught the faint golden glow of a nearby streetlight. He didn't look surprised to see her, Morrigan didn't think he was capable of such emotion.
"You really don't feel the cold, do you?" she said as she reached him, stepping close and angling her umbrella so it covered them both.
He glanced up at the umbrella, then back at her, "No."
"You could at least pretend to be human, might help your whole 'incognito' thing"
A ghost of something flickered behind his eyes- amusement? Annoyance? She couldn't tell.
"Sorry, I was only kidding. Maybe that was a little mean." Morrigan sat beside him.
"I didn't ask for company."
"No," she replied, "but you got it anyway."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the hiss of rain and the far-off hum of traffic. He didn't move away, though. Didn't step out from underneath the umbrella. She took that as a minor victory.
"I told professor Elston that I'd give you the homework you missed," she added, voice firmer now, "Which means you owe me a conversation."
"I didn't ask for that, either."
"Too bad," she looked up at him beside her, "Why are you in that class if you're not going to do anything? No laptop, no notes, no homework.."
"I observe."
"People?" she asked.
"Patterns," he corrected, "Time. Shifts. When something's about to change."
"That's cryptic as hell."
"That's accurate."
Morrigan huffed a quiet laugh and shifted her weight. The umbrella was beginning to tilt a little too far in one direction, and she had to reposition it to keep him from getting more drenched.
"I had a dream about you." She said, before she could stop herself.
His gaze sharpened immediately, but he said nothing.
"I was in a forest. You were there, you said my name."
Still, no answer.
Morrigan tilted her head, "Don't tell me you don't dream."
"I don't."
"That's weird.. I dream all the time, though, never of people I don't know."
For a long moment, he didn't respond. She was about to speak again, then his voice cut through the rain. Low and steady.
"Sometimes," he said, "The boundary between two people weakens. Just for a moment. Just enough for something to slip through."
Her breath caught slightly, "But why you?"
"I don't know," a pause, "I don't dream. Well, I didn't, until you came along."
She blinked up at him, and something in her chest pulled tight.
He met her eyes fully for the first time that night. In the low light and rain, His expression looked softer, less distant. Still pale and severe, but more.. human.
Then, just barely, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Not wide or mocking, just a flicker of warmth breaking through the frost.
"You talk more than I expected." He said.
"You're colder than I expected." She replied, but she was smiling too now.
They sat like that for a while, two strangers under the umbrella, cloaked in rain and something not quite named yet. Something strong, yet quiet.
And when they finally parted, when Samael turned to go, Morrigan swore she could see the rain bend around his figure- like the storm itself didn't quite know what to make of him either.
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