Samael drifted afterwards... drifted back to his place in the park. He curled himself against the tree and worked... and for that time... those few scintillating hours, was lost in the pleasant monotony of school work. It was all easy, simple philosophy and religion. Nothing he couldn't have done a thousand times over in his sleep, but it gave him a chance to reset himself, to establish a sense of control over his surroundings. It was edifying, in its own pathetic way.
Eventually night came like an undesired guest and Samael eyes could no longer make out the arcane scripts he was tasked with reading. So, with a annoyance, Samael slipped off into the night.
Samael floated in untime... he stood among the choking strands of hair and void and ached for warmth, for air. And the Similacrum smiled and looked at him. Samael stared at the Simulacrum, whose grin seemed to be in tempestuous unmotion it seemed to grin all things at once. It enveloped his feeble mind and with outstretched hands he could a fruit of its meaning, snatching it from the branch. Loss.
Samael didn't understand. A revelation that didn't surprise him. Nothing about this Simulacrum seemed shocking to him. It was all normal.
But, why did this Simulacrum feel lost... this... diseased manifestation of a remnant. A discard jealous fetal thought that had ceased to exist long before it had been born. Or had it? Samael's memory was foggy. Fire? What did that have to do with anything. A fire... a piece of rubble... a broken glass shard...reaching...reaching...to nothing...then closing his hand... and grasping... Death? Hair? Life? Mu? Hands... what were those hands like... young and small? Old and wizened? Female? Male? something was missing? Two parties reaching towards each other. One dominant? Sharing? Mother and Father? Sister and Brother? Mother and Son? Father and Daughter? I was all of these... they all fit... it made sense.
But... that wasn't anything. That wasn't a thought. It was a dream of a dream. A recollection from a life never lived.
But what was the loss. Something was missing. Samael could remember what the point was...but something about the line segment seemed off. It was a timelime where he understood both the beginning the end and the middle... but something was missing.
The loss felt both for the past and for the future... was there a loss still to come? Was there a loss that had happened? What had begun in fire would end in nothing. Would end in birth. End in death. 3 paths converged meaning there was a fork to each path. Two possible ends.
A whisper could be heard... echoing from a great distance... it was in the voice of a boy and a man... a foreign voice that Samael called claim to with instant need. "Child of Sophia"
He awoke the next day, curled up amidst his books in his storage unit. His body was stiff and he did not look like he had rested at all. Whats more his clothes were not readily available in the storage unit so he had to go to class, still clothed, in the previous days cloths. In all respects, he looked like he had been through hell. But no one noticed, or at least, they didn't mention it to his face. Perhaps...no...probably, a few whispers spread their fingers behind his back but he didn't mind that. It was just part of life. Besides... they were all but mere people... just entities defined solely by their effects upon his consciousness. Weak...weak things.
Samael's head hurt...
Samael left school and, after doing more work, eventually found his way to the club he was supposed to meet the girl... and that other guy (names having long since been lost). Instantly, he felt an overwhelming urge to kill. His mind cycled idly through a list of potential murder weapons and just who he was most pissed off at. Madison for having gotten him involved in the first place. Austin for making him come to some place he did not want to go. Or the people for bloody existing.
Oh hell, C-4 will get them all.
Samael entered but kept his head down and shuffled along the walls. When he had heard the word "Audition", he had thought...something else. Some tame affair with a few seats, a stage, a little song a little dance, everyone goes home and Samael gets to keep his sanity. No such luck.
This wasn't an "Audition" place... this was a club... this was a hellhole that was... "masquerading" would be to strong a word... moonlighting! as a concert hall. And Samael didn't see any sort of judge or other hallmarks of the "audition" which Samael had been assured, this would be.
He had been boondoggled. Bloody boondoggled.
Eventually despite all his attempts to make people vanish with his "denial" powers that the girl had earlier claimed him to have, the structure and all its denizens seemed firmly attached to reality. As if the mere anguish they caused him with there presence was the factor that held them in... actually. That might make sense. If he denied only things that didn't annoy him, it made sense that he would exist in the hellish grinding torture that some attempted to call "life".
He looked up and noticed, the titualar girl of "the-Girl-and-the-Guy-who-got-me-into-this-mess" arrived, looking rather...gaudy, would have been his description, but he admitted his mood wouldn't have allowed for anything more glowing. He yelled not out of anger, though his annoyance was not hidden, but rather just out of desire to be heard over the ambient din of the crowd, "You know the net total brain cell count of this place? 13! - no... no... 12, that guy by the bar just drank a bloody jello shot and destroyed his last one!"