I hate dressing up for a meal. Every single night I have to wear something far too extravagant. I mean I am eating food. Why the heck do I have to look so polished? I miss how my parents and I would just sit on the couch and eat her home cooked meals. It was our chance to relax and their chance to let their hair down. They are always so extremely busy and uptight, but when it came to our daily meals together they were stress-free and content. I miss those meals, I miss them the most. Here I have to make sure I am sitting up straight, straight enough where I can feel my back acing, there are so many different assortment of silverware that I get yelled at if I use the improper fork or spoon. The food isn't even that delicious. I mean really some of the dishes they bring out are absolutely disgusting. There is a reason why I am all 'skin and bone' because they feed me crap. Each time I go in the kitchen trying to prepare for my meal, which I would prefer to eat alone, I always get scolded or chased out by his wife â€" who couldn't even cook to save her own life. Now that I have to sit here at the formal table, with an unknown guest, I know I could buy myself a few days of alone time if I ruined this dinner. When I take my seat I purposely knock my knee underneath the table hoping something insignificant and small happens, perhaps it will be considered 'big' and a great insult by the Hartfords â€" hopefully.

As the wine glass begins to roll across the table a delightful smirk appears on my face as my ears ring with shouts from Mrs. Hartford. To my dismay our guest is quick on his feet and in a blur he manages to save the innocent glassware. A pity. I must admit that I was surprised. I mean I never saw anyone do something like that before, going oh so very very fast, but he is only the second person that has showed me some sort of impossibility. I mean I didn't believe that a horse could turn into a man, or a man have the capability of making me feel cold and hot at the same time. While the equally blonde male sits beside me and responds to my joke, I simply roll my eyes and grumble scornfully.

"You don't get humor do you?"

I lift the first spoon I see, not caring if it was the proper one or not, and I dip it into the soup and mindlessly turn it around. I never was a fan of this green crap. Chicken noodle soup was my favorite! It was a shame there wasn't a can of them anywhere. I lift my head slowly listening to the Hartfords praise Azrael about his ability to move fast and catch a wineglass, as if that was his purpose. With a small smile I turn my head to face him as I mutter softly, but aloud enough for him to hear alone while the Hartfords carry on.

"Funny â€" I have to be too."

Honestly I have to be. I mean if I had a choice I wouldn't not be here â€" at all. As my uneaten bowl of soup is taken away by one of the servants I notice a familiar looking plate coming. Roasted pheasant. It was meat. It wasn't normal meat, but it was meat. As pieces of the bird came to my plate, I happily dig in silently. It is his blunt question that makes me stop and stare at him. I quietly nod my head at his first question. I notice how the Hartfords seem to grow silent for a moment as they place their silverware on the table. I go back to eating my meal in peace hoping time would hurry up. It is no surprise that my last name is known I mean come on â€" my parents were well known. Though I am surprised that he would ask for my parents name...I thought he already knew? His second question even makes me stop eating and I look at him again with a scowl on my face. While the Hartfords speak aloud, saying it was an inappropriate question, I ignore them. Quietly I speak, it feels weird saying their name, I never called them that it was always 'Mother and Father.'

"It isn't a difficult question, but it isn't a polite one. Isola was my Mother and Kane was my Father."

Calliel Alosi

Now I'm Unbreakable, It's Unmistakable