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Dogge

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freedom-bluemoon-merged-rp

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Jinta was getting so Tired of dodging, but he still wasn't a fan of being electrocuted. His back still throbbed from his wound this morning. The electricity had reopened the recently closed wound. The pain wasn't actually the problem on his mind. He was far more concerned with getting the blood out of his clothes. He hated trying to get blood out of clothes, and there was no way he would give it to one of his inventions. The last laundry robot he tried making went berserk and tried to stuff him in the washer. He was forced to break it apart, while Canta stood there laughing her ass off. Ok, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to make a robot that went around water, but hell it would of really helped her with not having to clean his soot covered clothes. After all he was technically not allowed anywhere near the washer and dryer. Due to the fear that he would get annoyed with one of them and start to tinker with it. Yet all of a sudden she just stopped, he had made good distance to avoid a initial swing at least. He watched the vain in her head pop grinning, as she stuttered. "You forgot ugly you old hag!" He called out laughing, as he watched her run forward. Tripping over her own feet, just made him laugh harder. Before her eyes rolled back from the electric whip surrounding her body, along with the large spiked ball connecting with her bare stomach, she got his final words. "Stu-pid!" He stood over her bending down he unraveled her, after turning the electricity off. Taking from his pocket he tossed it on her. As soon as it made contact it formed a tight glue like substance around her encasing all but her head in it. "All be taking this whip. It might make a good weapon for Canta, after a few modification's that is. Guess I should make my way down." Jinta spoke, moving over to the ladder looking down rather unsatisfied. "Now wheres the dramatic entrance with a ladder...? TO THE VENTILATION SHAFTS!" Jinta laughed to himself, this was one of his bad habit's rearing it's ugly head as he jumped into the Ventilation shafts. He could be rather obsessed with dramatic entrances and exits, though it usually didn't cause much problems. Well aren't you the dutiful little ranger? Keeping such a close eye on our activity's. It is quite the problem, since you keep interrupting our plans. But I do believe that I could forgive you because your cute. Isn't there any way I could convince you to come over to our side? ?" A mans voice came from a short distance away. Yet there was no one around, then in a black swirling flame upon the stage took the form of a man. A extremely attractive and well dressed man, holding a single black rose. He had a kind smile yet it held a dark temptation. It was clear he wasn't exactly what he seemed, and he was on the other side, that was causing this all.

Canta sighed, brushing herself off of anything that may have fallen on her, as she glanced around the room. Every other student was out cold, a few in humorous positions, making the girl wish she had time to take pictures and taunt them with it later. Though, she went on edge and into position as she heard a male voice speaking from...somewhere, seeing as there was no one else in the building currently, or so she thought. Moving from her spot of toppled chairs and limp human bodies, she moved a little closer to the stage, as she saw the swirling black portal, as a man stepped from it. And...she wasn't impressed. As he started to speak more, she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, using her right hand to stick her middle finger up at him, clearly not amused. "No thanks, Bowie, I prefer my men looking less...well, gay. Besides, I'm good where I am, thanks." She walked a little closer, still on her guard, her ears seeming to pick up the sound of rumbling in the air vents above them, as she reached the stage, staring at the man's eyes, grinning. "Though, you DO have nice looking eyes. Too bad their attached to the rest of you. So...did you come for a fight, or did you have something else up that sleeve of your, pretty boy?" The girl asked, her stance ready, for whatever might have come up her from any side; this was nothing new to her. While normally seeming like a nice girl with a short temper, she was actually quite skilled in fighting, thanks for the twins having trained for things like this.

The man glared at her, clearly displeased. "As foul mouthed as ever I see dear, Canta... Oh, how better that foul mouth could be used, and thus it shall be one day. Perhaps that day is today?" The man spoke a foul grin on his face as he flicked his wrist sending the rose flying. The rose connected with the large oven in the Cafeteria kitchen. The entire oven burst into black flames, a precursor to the problems that were coming. The man simply chuckled at Canta, "You know full well I have no intention of wasting my energy on you lowly twins. Why should I get my hands dirty when there are others to do that for me? As you can guess I have other business to attend to, so all just leave you with your new friend." As he laughed, and burst into flames, the oven began to come alive. Before she could stop him he was gone in smoke, leaving a smoldering spot where he once stood. The oven stood up in a monstrous form surrounding the once over. "Hahaha it's good to be alive! Why don't we turn up the heat!" The monster spoke, it's over door acting like a mouth for the beast. The nobs acting like eyes, it had at least tripled in size, and grew thick metal legs pumped with muscles.

"Foul mouthed? I just speak the truth, pretty boy. We really have to stop meeting like this, my brother might catch on. Now then, where were we?" Growling softly, the girl took a stance, holding a moment as she watched the rose flick from his hand, hitting the over and erupting into flame. 'Well, that doesn't bode well,' she thought, rolling her eyes as she focused on the strange man once more. "I figured as much, but a girl can hope, no? Now stand still while I knock the pretty off you!" She growled out, dashing forward with a leap, going into a flying kick just as he vanished, hitting the stage where he had stood. "Damn. Always slips away before I manage to hit him. I bet he takes hits like a bitch," she mused, staring at the oven as it started to move and talk like a stock villain. 'Puns...it had to speak in puns...I hate monsters based on things.' "An oven monster? How original. Well, metal mouth, lets dance, shall we?" Acting quickly, she did a back roll, landing on her feet as she scooped up the flag pole from the stage, wrapping it up so the flag was coiled around it. "Not an ideal weapon, but this will do for now." Taking her stance, she smiled to the monster, staring right at it as she got ready for him.

The oven didn't seemed pleased by her comments, though it was rather hard to tell. It couldn't really make much expressions after all. The only thing that could even give a idea of what his expressions were was the nobs. "You think that little flag pole is going to do it!? Lets bake it up!" The beast spoke opening it's mouth all the way. A hurricane came out of it's mouth sucking into the oven interior. It was clearly a bad idea to get in there but it didn't seem like there was much choice. It was at least a .5 hurricane. Lucky where it was aiming no one but Canta was in the way to get sucked in. From above Jinta watched from a exit pipe. He was perfectly aliened above the beast. But he knew if he made a entrance now the beast would just turn up and he would be caught. No he had to wait for the perfect flashy entrance. After all the hero always comes late to the party to save the day, and how could he not want to play the hero for his sister? ? That was the funniest part of the job... Well the second funniest part, the first was pounding the monsters face in... When it had a face, and wasn't a women... Well a human women or one that looked like one. Other then that, he enjoyed the fight as much as he could.

Another pun? Really? Couldn't they at least provide these things with witter banter? Oh well, didn't matter either way, considering a hurricane was currently trying to suck her into it. Which didn't make any sense either, considering it was an oven, but she decided it was best not to argue and do something about it. "Over monster, huh? Sure you weren't a vacuum cleaner at some point? I mean, I'm pretty sure those suck even more~" She sang out, as she growled and gasped as her feet left the floor, currently flying towards the open oven door. That would be unpleasant she was sure. Thankfully, the pole wasn't 'small' exactly, as she held with horizontally, using it to brace herself as she hit the beast, the pole being too long in fit in that way. As she was struggling with the air forces, she reached up slowly with one hand, the other clenching tight to the flagpole. She grabbed one of the eye knobs and grinned, turning it all the way to the left, to 'off', as she, quite ironically, pulled it right off of the oven monster's 'face', before she quickly kicked one heel into another, activating a sort of 'heat shield' Jinta installed in her boots at some point, figuring it would come in handy right about now. "Hey hot shot, cool off~" She quipped, before snapping the pole with her hand and the wind pushing on it as she flew in, stabbing hard into the back of its 'throat' with the pointy end, figuring her brother was waiting somewhere to make the perfect entrance. 'What a show-boater that boy can be. Oh well, guess he wants to be my 'hero' again~'

The monster was quite annoyed with her, more so with the pole blocking it from consuming her. The pole was bending quickly as she worked to get out. The beast screamed as it removed it's eye. This made if far more enraged, it's eye heated to at least 400 degrees in her hand before shooting back onto it's face. Rage was the only thing that was in it's eyes as the nobs glowed bright red. The moment she connected with it's throat, it's oven mouth came from behind, giving her only enough time to think, that thought before it hit her head. The heated metal had to sting a great deal. The beast set it's timer and laughed with it's mouth closed as it literally baked her. But it's form of, "Baking someone" was going to be quite a surprise to both of them. More so to jinta's amusement then anything. Moments later the Metal vent's door came crashing down on it's head. Before it could look up, Jinta was there holding himself straight up, with only one hand. "Hey, tin head, MY SISTER ISN'T A TURKEY!" Jinta yelled out, swinging his body down to it's back connecting his knee to it's back, forcing it's mouth open and flinging everything it had inside out. Yet to his surprise it was a giant pie... With a flag sticking out of the center? But before any real thoughts could be made, he came to the realization that kneeing a heavy metal monster, especially hard enough to make a good size dent in it wasn't the best idea. Jinta yelled out cursing himself as he forced it to turn and kicked off it, making distance between him and it. Cursing himself he knelled on one knee and tended to his own knee. Glad he didn't shatter it from the force of impact, that was the last handy cap he needed. "Dammit, you damn over sized microwave, where the hell is my sister!?" He yelled at him, she didn't come out as far as he could see, so his question was right.

"Ack!" She let out as she had let go of the heated bit of metal in her hand, before feeling herself sinking in, as the feeling of a heavy iron door suddenly conking her in the head. She blanked out for a moment or two there, feeling the dreadfully hot surroundings of the inside of the oven as it 'baked' her, though the girl herself wasn't feeling any burns or anything. Uncomfortable amounts of heat and the like, but nothing scarring to her body, at least. As she started to come to, feeling oddly packed into something, she let out muffled yells and sounds, struggling to move around. Starting to gasp for air, she felt herself be tossed from something, hitting the ground quite hard, coughing as something seemed to be filling her mouth and throat...something surprisingly tasty. Getting her body to listen, she punched her fist upwards, as she felt it burst through something like pie crust, as it felt around, gingerly fingering the flag popping out of the top. Grabbing hold of it, she pulled her body up, till she yanked the flag up and burst out of the pie, fillings going everywhere. Spitting red coloring from her mouth, she gasped for air, breathing a bit better as air replaced the cherry flavored filling in her mouth, sighing as she glared daggers towards the oven. "That...was the single most uncomfortable thing I have EVER been through!" She shouted out, mostly towards Jinta, having spotted him facing the metal monstrosity, as she shook the pointed flag at the monster, while she broke her feet free of the bottom pan, starting to walk, as she stopped, blinking lightly. "Ok...I know it was hot and everything, but why does it feel this cold and drafty?" She thought out loud, before glancing down, blushing as bright as the pie filling when she realized that not only were her clothes gone and she stood there naked, save for a few accessories on her body, but she was covered in the sticky filling, which only made her look even worse in this particular predicament. "...Oh you have got to be kidding me! My skin didn't burn but my clothing did?! Jinta, do something; fix it!" She called out to her twin, not bothering to try covering up right now, having more things to worry about; besides, at least no one else awake was around.

In the moments he yelled where is my sister he heard the hit of the pole on the ground and Canta's fist against the pie crust. Jinta quickly turned to the pie wondering what the hell was going on. Suddenly his sister came crashing through the top of the pie, covered in a glistening red juice. Her bare body shown in all it's glory, covered in that colorful juice. In his head he racked up one on the fantasy list. He blankly stared at her as she got out of the pie tin and walked out still covered in goo of the pie. when she started yelling at him he shook his head, at her. "Theres nothing I can do! Do I look like I carry around a spare set of your clothes!?" Jinta yelled back still staring at her. There was only one way for her to get herself covered up. Jinta pulled out his morpher and grinned at his sister. "What do you say, shall we show this pile of scrap metal what I means to bake my sister into a pie, then have her pop out nude?" Jinta took the time to tease her, no doubt she would get him back for it later. Even so he would at least have his fun.

Canta blushed a bit, though she hoped the cherry colored goo helped cover that up a little. Sighing, the girl just looked at her twin, seeing how he was staring at her, shaking her head as she grumbled a little to him. "If we weren't about to fight a monster, I'd beat you up. But you're right, let's show this thing who's boss," she said, as she presented her morpher in the same pose as Jinta, though where she was keeping that thing is anybodies guess. Though, even if his remark was meant to tease her, she did smile a little, chuckling to herself. 'Well, look at that, Jinta is trying to care. How cute,' she mused in thought, holding her morpher out as she called out those familiar words. "Right then, its Morphing Time! White Wolf!" Though, as she said her words, a not so familiar thing happened next, though it did happen at least once before. At one point, Jinta thought it would be funny to give her a 'sexier' changing sequence, and tweaked how her suit was put on her. Unlike with his, which was quick and neat looking, hers was having her spin in the air, as each bit appeared on her while making her seem naked, which she currently was anyway. As her suit formed and she hit the ground, she grumbled even more, while pulling out her lupine saber and staring at the monster. "...Jinta, I thought I asked you to fix that," the female twin said simply, knowing she had to focus on other matters now and she'd deal with her brother's sense of humor later.

His look went blank when she spoke about kicking his butt. He turned to the monster getting up. He had turned quite serious all of a sudden. A rather quick personallity switch, but this was before a transformation so he had to look cool. "Your going to kick my ass later anyways so what does it matter?" Jinta spoke giving her a smiled from the side of his face. He was indeed trying to care, but it was hard to care when he was distracted at looking at the lovely body. Though he had seen it all the time growing up. You had to admire the development of a sibling, no matter if it was mental or physical. She went first morphing, and now it was his turn. "Lets do this! Bring forth the Shadows! Black Dragon Twilight Ranger!" Jinta yelled his morph was started differently, due to his own tinkering to make his morph sound better. He had only recently done this and intended to do the same for Canta when ever he had the time. Unlike Canta his morph was quite, epic to say the least. Jinta's morpher turned to a black floating ball that he grasped with both hands pushing it into his self. His body shaking violently as he took it in, roaring out. The black metal like substance rose from his feet, covering his body. He seemed not worried, not even when a spiraling darkness rose from the ground gripping his neck. As the goo, covered his body the darkness took a physical form as a neck cape. Reaching to the sides, he pulled two large onix claws, that fitted over his hands. They were reminiscent of Edward scissor hands. Which was where he had gotten part of the idea, but something was wrong with the claws. At the palm of the claw there was a circular object that seemed to pulsate deep with energy. Jinta was done, when he heard his sister complaint. "I did didn't I? It isn't upside down anymore is it?" Jinta spoke, it was true he, 'Fixed' the problem of it morphing her suit on upside down which was far more embarrassing. He just neglected to change it back to something cooler looking. He figured the sexier transformation would distract the enemy more then anything.

Watching Jinta transform, she grumbled to herself, sighing, since of course he gave himself the awesome looking one. Though, as he answered her complaint, she winced under her helmet, trying to forget that time "Point taken. If it has to be like this, then just make it...a cooler, sexy one," she said, not even sure why she bothered to even say that to her brother. 'Encouraging him to do things like that to me for his own jollies? God, that oven must have been hotter than I thought,' she mused to herself, shaking her head as she took her stance, getting ready as Jinta finished, his weapons bared, his gauntlets. Holding her sword in her left hand, she glared at the monster, her streamlined suit suddenly dashing forward, speeding past it as she slid to a stop behind him. Canta smiled underneath the helmet, taking a swing at the back of the beast, slashing a few times, figuring their usual pincer attack would be good enough for the moment, waiting for her twin to connect with the monster's front, having had enough of that herself already. Talking into the built in com system for the suits, she spoke in a sure tone, kicking off the oven monster as she did a black flip into another slice at its back wiring and such. "Let's get this junker in the scrap heap as fast as we can. I need a shower badly, and I don't know how long till the other students start waking up from the gas attack. No way in hell I'm demorphing till we get home either way, but still." The female kept herself ready for any attack the oven would throw at them, growling like a wolf as she stood low, ready to use her augmented speed if need be, of the things her suit granted her, being designed for quick, powerful strikes. Canta then thought of something, keeping it to herself, of course:'...Crap, the inside of my suit is gonna be sticky now too, isn't it? How the hell do you wash these things, anyway?'

As Jinta turned to her as she spoke his mask actually moved to show expression of sorts. Due to the liquid type metal his suit used the mask seemed to move like a face would. He expressed mild surprise at her words. He thought at the exact same moment that, the oven must of been a lot hotter then expected. "Well... If you put it that way, all make it my next project, and no you still won't be in the lab when I am tinkering with it.... Especially not the morphers...." Jinta spoke he was really strict when it came to the morphers. These were the one things that he was damn sure to be careful with. The last blow up mistake he had with one of the morphers sent him twenty feet through solid earth and rock. That was one of the few times he ever actually went to the hospital. Luckily at the time his sister had gone to bed and he was just tinkering with it to figure out how it worked. Unfortunately for him when he returned he found a manual in the cluttered mess. That was quite a displeasure but he moved on with life. Jinta made no move as his sister struck first, he let her take the lead for once. The beast stumbled forward missing the first two or three strikes to get hit by the rest. Sparks flew stumbling a bit more forward. "Why you little brat!" It yelled and before it could turn around the kick and extra slash came. Angrier then hell now it turned quickly around. "That's it now im mad!" Yelling as it charged at Canta, he was dead set set on getting her back into his mouth, and this time, there was no chance he would be taken surprise by a sneak attack from Jinta like last time. This time it was likely to bake her to the point she couldn't escape. The monsters attacks were cut short by Jinta coming from behind wrapping his arms around it. His claws right over it's mouth, one even slipped in between the handle keeping it from opening it's mouth. "Im sorry, but my sister, is a bit of the playful sort, and tends to play with her food. She seems to enjoy toying with her enemy's before she kills them. Unlucky for you, your facing both of us, and im not the playful type, when not helping to amuse my sister." Jinta spoke his free claws slowly sank into the from of the beasts door breaking the metal. A slow agonizing scream echoing from it, the sheer pain it would feel as the large metal claws dug through what it would consider skin. Slowly reaching it's core, Jinta lightly grabbed it, a smile from under his mask. "Time to say goodnight, you poor soul, perhaps all see you in hell one day." Jinta spoke a hint of cruelty in his voice as he literally ripped it's core out. The core still beating for a few moments before Jinta smashed it to pieces. Dusting his hands/claws off her moved next to his sister, placing the palm of his claw on her shoulder where as not to touch her with the sharp metal, he spoke. "Sorry I didn't play along to day and give him a chance to fight, but I figured you would want to shower as quickly as you could, so shall we go? Or would you rather Dismember it further? " A darkness in his voice, his acts were always borderline cruel when he used the morpher, but that was entirely due to the nature of there powers. Ying and Yang, Light and Dark, Jinta being the dark, had some minor effects on his personallity and fighting styles.

As Canta saw Jinta grabbing the monster in the way he was, she actually sat back, leaning on the hilt of her sword as she whistled to herself, watching her other half tearing the 'heart' out of the oven, toying with it a little. She yawned, watching her brother as she smiled in her helmet, shaking her head a little. 'Poor sod of a monster never stood a chance. Not only did he manage to get Jinta mad, it tried to attack me again. Oh well, I'll let my brother have the fun this time. Although....' She chuckled as Jinta finished, coming back over to her. She lightly brushed into his side, nodding. "Thanks for that, brother; I'd kiss you if we weren't wearing helmets. And I agree, but I have one thing left to do before we leave~" she said softly, joking around with him for a change, patting his shoulder in return, she moved close to the heap of an oven on the floor, holding her blade out in front of her. The blade of the sword began to glow a bright, white color as she looked on, mumbling a few things under her breath, before tilting her head up and shifting the sword above her head, ready for a downward strike. "Please return that soul to God!" She rang out, before the Wolf Saber was cleaved down through the beast, slicing it clean in two, as the pieces began to fizzle and burn away, 'eaten' by her holy light, tossing her sword up and catching it in the loop at her side for it. While she was the twin with the temper, while transformed, she was the levelheaded one, the Light of her brother's Dark, thus had an odd ability to 'purify' the remains of a monster they finish off, as violent as it seemed sometimes. "Well, that mess is settled. Let's get home so I can take care of the other mess...but first," she began, walking over towards the crowd of students still down for the count, as she removed a device from her side, a small vial that she popped open, letting one drop hit a student, as it seemed to spread to the rest of them, removing any memory they might have of the whole assembly gone wrong ordeal. "NOW, let's get home, Jinta." Canta said, smiling to the boy under the helmet, looking to her wrist, sighing lightly. "I hope this still works right...." She mumbled, flipping up a portion of her right bracer, as she clicked something on it and nodded to her brother, before she vanished in a bright light, leaving specks of light particales where she was once standing. As Canta rematerialized back in their home, she sighed, pressing something on her belt and depowering, forgetting a moment she was naked underneath as her suit vanished in pieces, starting with the helmet down. Blushing, she figured she'd wait for Jinta to come back as well, heading towards the bathroom to wait,; not like she could show him anything he hadn't seen of her already.

Contra to Canta's beliefs, while surrounded in darkness he was hardly ever mad. He was calm, collected, he was just one who efficiently killed his foes. While in this form he didn't entirely care that she was attacked. He was in his way, so he got rid of the problem. As she spoke he grinned, "All keep that in mind for when we get home." He spoke as she walked away, he simply groaned knowing what she was doing. Her little purification ritual, that was entirely pointless. The two of them were a force of judgment. The one who slew the beast was the one who determined it's fate. Before her little ritual had begun the beast was already well on it's way to hell. Yet even in his darkened form he had not the heart to tell he the truth. That was the way it should be, the white wolf, pure as light should remain pure to the blood stained shadows of the Black Dragon. If she knew that no doubt she would lose heart in what they did, and desire Jinta to give up being a ranger. But that was something he couldn't do. He was the black to her white, without one the other could not exist. The body was purified yet, the soul of the beast had returned to the dark forges that it was made. He allowed her to teleport off first, without a word. A deep sigh echoing from him, as he rose his hand the goo leaving from his hand forging a liquid like gateway. Jinta slowly stepping through the goo come in on it's self and disappeared with him. Moments late the same gateway opened up behind her, with him stepping out. Holding his hand the goo receded from his body to float right above his hand, before taking the form of his morpher again. Shaking his head, feeling the weight of his darker self vanishing. "This shower you go on ahead, im going to the lab, after this little.... Event, my current project is more needed then I first thought. So all leave you to bathe yourself this time!" Jinta spoke, it was a oddity that he wasn't quite willing to help her bathe herself. This meant the project was actually something that was really that good. But how could it be needed? Never the less Jinta had already decended down the portal stairway into the lab.

A small side effect of her Light based powers is that she saw the good in everything, whether or not she believed it otherwise. This included seeing her brother's Dark based powers in the highest regard, even though she knew what they could do. She wasn't as naive or oblivious to their roles as she let on, but, yet, it was another side effect of her powers, thus, she never spoke of it. Still, as they returned home, and Jinta actually told her to go alone, she pouted lightly at her twin. Sighing, she smiled lightly, walking towards him before he left for the lab, kissing his cheek softly, smiling brightly to him as she padded off for the bathroom. Waving behind her, she unconsciously swayed her hips as she walked, heading for the shower, saying something before he left., "That was for earlier; now, just try and be careful down there, ok?" She left him with that thought as the door closed, hearing him making his way down to his lab, turning the water on while waiting for it to heat up. Stepping in, she sighed, clicking the tab on as the water began to spray over her sticky form, grabbing the nearest wash cloth to start scrubbing the juices off. "Huh...must be something really important down there for him to blow me off like that. Oh well...I'll cut him some slack for today, getting me out of that oven and all," she said to herself, chuckling as she sudded up her body, scrubbing hard enough as she began to feel the cherry juices washing off her arms and chest. Whistling and humming to herself, Canta amused a thought, wondering why, with everything else he was prone to doing, Jinta had yet to install spy cameras in their bathroom. Though, she figured that was due to him being in there when she is 90% of the time, so it might seem pointless. Blushing lightly, she continued to wash, shaking her head a little as she grumbled. "Why am I thinking of this. That oven must have REALLY been hot...." Sighing lightly, she ran the cloth over her back, reaching for the spots her brother usually got for her, working it over the rest of her back and rear, then her legs, feet, and then everywhere else inbetween. Several minutes later, feeling she got every nook it might have been, she washed her hair, lathering it roughly, washing it quickly. Doing one last once-over, she turned the water off, reaching for a towel. Wrapping one about herself, and using another to dry her hair, she moved from the bathroom, into her room. Getting some fresh clothing, making a note to fish out her spare school uniform later tonight, Canta left the room, glancing to the door leading to the lab. She stopped herself, shaking her head as she moved for the kitchen, figuring she'd start up dinner for her brother and herself, while he was down there doing god knows what again. "Whatever it is this time, I just hope it doesn't include explosive bits."

Jinta gave her credit where it was due, he figured she would figure it out on her own, but admitting it was another thing. Knowing and admitting it was the truth were harsh differences. On that he was quite unwilling to do at least at this point in time. He smiled softly as he descended down the stairs, as he went down he seemed rather down. He always put a happy front up when she was around after transforming but after, when he was alone... Even she didn't know he got like this, it was his own problem to deal with. Every step he took, he felt like he was split in half. On one half of his body, the darkness, the cold and cruel ranger, on the other the kind hearted brother. It would break most people apart, this feeling. Yet Jinta ignored it as he reached the base of the stairs. Moving straight to the work table. His work began, but soon from a large window looking into a work bay, a large black mass moved close. A giant red eye glaring at Ginta from within that black mass. 'Having problems little Jinta?' A voice called out into Jinta's head, earning him the black mass a glare from Jinta as he looked away from his work table. "How many times have I told you to stay the hell out of my head you stupid wyrm. You know full well how to talk with your mouth and that, I haven't sound proofed that glass, for that exact reason...." Jinta spoke as he returned to his work fixing the wiring in his newest toy. There was much that needed to be done with it. He needed to calibrate the transportation mechanism or else what was desired to transport wouldn't transport and get lost. It wasn't helping that the Black Dragon Zord felt chatty. This made Jinta regretful he fixed there vocal channels, then again it was better then hearing a damn voice in his head. That was the one part he disliked. The dragon wouldn't talk to anyone but Jinta for Easy reasons. After all the two shared a fate. Jinta had taken up ignoring it as he worked, spending three hour's working and testing the mechanical object. Using one of his robot he tested it making it transport things two and from. Once he felt that it was ready for a live field test, and it was safe enough to be tested on a human he made his way up the stairs. "Oi, Canta where you at! I got something for you, that we need to test for it to be protected! Your going to like it, especially after this recent event!" Jinta called out as he exited the door to his lab. He held a rather fashionable collar, which wasn't intended for the imagination. But it was made before that thought had ever entered his mind. He did indeed intend to add the electro shock tabs to it later, once he developed them. But it's current function he knew she would like, provided it worked.

In the time he had been working down in the basement, Canta had gotten dressed, made them plenty of dinner, ate her share and put away Jinta's, cleaned both the kitchen and the living room, and then found her way to the couch. She had sighed as she laid on it, closing her eyes a moment to relax a bit, rubbing her sides, still feeling somewhat sore from earlier, for good reason. As she laid there, her thoughts drifted around different things, though most of them seemed to be of Jinta. Canta grumbled to herself, shifting in her spot as she thought of her twin brother and everything he did, be it for his own amusement, to embarrass her, or even for their own good. She also couldn't deny to herself there was something else there, something she couldn't tell anyone out loud, just because she was unsure, and a little afraid. Though, for now, the girl shook her head, letting those thoughts keep on drifting for now. The female was starting to drift into a light nap when she heard her brother shouting out for her, propping an eye open as she stat up, waving her arm at him, her hand being seen at least. "Over here, Jinta. Sheesh, you've been done there for three hours already. I made dinner for you; its in the fridge right now, though I can heat it back up for you if you'd like to eat now." She said, smiling lightly to the boy, seeming to be in a good mood as she got up to look at him. Though, as she looked to what he was holding for her to 'try', she tilted her head, looking to his eyes. "You've been down there making a collar for me?" She asked this simply, while keeping an obscene thoughts out of her head, figuring even Jinta wouldn't go and do something like that to her. She gingerly wrapped her fingers around the fashionable object, looking it over a moment or two, before letting out a big sigh and tying her hair back to keep it out of the way. "I don't know why I'm humoring you with this, but...I'll bite," she starts, as she began to clasp the collar around her neck, making sure it was on well enough, but not too snug for her. She fingered the side, wondering just what it was meant to do that would make her like it, more so what it had to do with what had happened to her today. Taking a deep breath, Canta looked to her twin, locking her eyes with his as she waited for him to show her what this thing was supposed to do for- or to- her. "I'm sure I'm going to regret this, but...what does it do, exactly, Jinta?"

He groaned at the fact she kept track of time, he never did. That was perhaps a flaw but never the less he did as he pleased. He watched he fit it upon her neck, with a grin on his face. He was worried she was going to hit him. He was sure she had seen the dream he had, how ever off it might be. He himself was unsure why he had them, he simply figured it was due to his age and hormones. After all his sister wasn't unpleasing to look at, in the least, even with the scars. He had been prone to sexually harsh her in minor ways, like rear grabbing in the shower. But he never took as much mind to it as she did. It was common for teens his age to be thinking of such, and he always saw her in the nude so there wasn't much surprise to it. "Don't worry you will love it! Even more so after what just happened. You complained before that the monsters keep ripping or destroying your clothes during the fight. So I figured, instead of having to hide clothes at school or run back here, why not create a device that can teleport your clothes to you! Just think of a outfit you have in the closet then tap the small button on the front." Jinta spoke with a grin, she was a Guinea pig, but it was sure that it was safe. Just had to make sure nothing embarrassing happened, in public. He had no idea how embarrassing the next few moments were going to be for her. She was about to reveal a outfit not even he knew she had.

While she had indeed seen the dream, her version had even drifted on a little further, so, she couldn't fault him as much as herself, so to speak. Though, as he started to explain what it is the collar was for, she looked surprised, and all of her dirty thoughts went away for now. "Wow...really? Huh...and here I thought you were trying to make something dirty~" She said with a little grin, touching the sides of the device as she watched Jinta a moment, smiling to him with a look of intrigue in her eye. "Finally, another useful invention from that lab of yours. Hope you've been taking care of my white wolf down there, brother." She said with a grin, as an outfit hit her mind, with a smirk going on her lips. 'Oh, he'll love that one~' She thought to herself, placing her hand near the front, putting her finger on top of the button. "So, just think of any outfit I have and press it, huh? Well, let's see if it does what its supposed to." She mused to her brother as she pressed the button lightly after picturing the outfit in her mind, feeling tingly all over suddenly. The clothing she was wearing now started to glow faintly, as it seemed to change shape, though it was more like it was just switching places with what she had pictured in her mind. Her socks turned into fuzzy leg bands connected to foot-paws, light gray in color, joined along with arm bands and paw gloves. Her pants were replaced by fuzzy shorts, showing off the shape of her rear nicely, while her shirt turned into a tube top, covering little more then her breasts, giving him plenty of view of her slender stomach and shape. As the clothing was appearing, the collar seemed to flash a few times, making an odd noise as a pair of furry wolf ears appeared on top of her head, poking up through her hair, as a wolf-like tail was poking out through the shorts, moving a little as everything settled, and she stood there in her new outfit. Canta chuckled, grinning to Jinta as she did a spin for him, looking pleased. "Wow! It actually worked! So, what do you think of this outfit, Jinta? I got it a while ago to surprise you on Halloween with." She said softly, as, somehow, one of her ears twitched lightly, as her tail slowly wagged behind her, very much something that shouldn't be happening with normal outfit. "Huh...too bad I didn't have the ears or tail yet, that would make my wolf outfit more complete...."

Jinta seemed a tad confused at what she said, though he knew most likely what she spoke of he could play it off without a hint giving him away. "Something dirty? Are you sure that oven didn't heat you up a bit more then you first thought, or did we fall asleep watching the movie channel and another porno come on again?" Jinta asked, no doubt bringing up some interesting memories. He had found her any number of times, laying on the couch asleep, with a large wet spot and a smile on her face, as she had a wet dream. He had actually found her once or twice with her hand in her pants before he woke her up. They were all amusing memories for him, but no doubt embarrassing for her. Once she began speaking of his inventions, she earned herself a glare from him. That was the nerve to strike with him. "Finally useful eh... So what if my inventions have a tendency of blowing up, it's a working progress, and they become useful eventually... As for your wolf, of course I treat it well. I keep them both in top shape, though I do admit I am more gentle with your wolf then the dragon. After all your wolf stays the hell out of my head, and talks with it's mouth." Jinta hissed he was apparently still annoyed by the fact that the dragon was using the mind talk again. That was the major thing Jinta hated, he disliked anyone other then Canta, in his head. Well on occasions, when it wasn't something that would be a problematic, like say making Canta into a dog girl in heat? He watched the flash of light unblinking seeing the change his eyes went wide. As she began to speak he just blinked. He couldn't believe it, it did work, just not exactly the way he expected it. Apparently it had messed with her anatomy and she grew, 'Real' appendages. He could tell they were real to do that. He finally spoke and what he said would no doubt stir emotions. "Canta I knew you were a bitch, but this gives the term a WHOLE new meaning!" Jinta spoke running off to the bathroom nearby grabbing a hand mirror that was in there and running back. He held the mirror up showing her reflection and her ear's on top of her head. "If you look back you will see that you seem rather happy." Jinta spoke referencing how dogs tail's wagged when they were happy.

While she was unaware of his knowledge of the times she was passed out on the couch, she grumbled a little at the thought, knowing he had seen her the other times, when her hands were in places she didn't want him to see them at. Canta did smiled lightly, though, when he mentioned he was taking care of her wolf, glad he did what he could to keep it in top shape and performance. However, Jinta was shot one hell of a look when he called her a bitch, growling, not unlike a canine would, as she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close. "What did you just sa--" Though, she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes going wide as she let her brother go, snatching the mirror and looking at the new ears, as they twitched, then lowered to lay against her head as she whimpered lightly. "Oh bother...how the...and the tail and..what...." Using the mirror to glance behind her at the wagging appendage, as it then stopped and stood right up as she flared with anger. She placed the mirror down, before turning to glare daggers at her twin, growling deeply, looking like an attack dog right now. "Jinnnttaaaaaa!" Leaping at him, she pounced him to the ground, sitting on him as she held his shirt tight, pulling him up, her face very close to his. "What the fuck did you do to me!?! You knew something like this would happen, didn't you?" She growled deeply to the male as she locked her eyes on his, as something odd began to change inside of her as well, most likely yet another side effect of her new 'form'. Her body shivered, and her angry stare began to soften, her form seeming to grow hot as she started to pant, her grip weakening just a little through the paw-like gloves. "Wha...what...what's going on...I..I feel..hot...." She started to say, gasping as she seemed to press her thighs together, squirming on top of the male. Her eyes softened, looking almost sultry in her stare, as she held his shirt, leaning down as she started to whimper, licking around his mouth, her tongue flicking against his lips, her ears twitching as her tail swayed around, kissing his chin as she rubbed into him, gasping as her cheeks blushed deeply. "What...oh god...I...feel...so...." She started to say, as she seemed to be grinding and rubbing into Jinta more, losing control of her actions, becoming very much un-Canta, and much like a horny bitch in heat.

He knew she would be mad, and he was expecting a fist in the face before she realized it. Yet he narrowly avoided it, he watched he carefully making a short distance between them. He made just he was just out of her arm length for good reason. "Well look on the bright side, guys will think you look like a little puppy?" He was trying to be cute to at least to try and calm her down. Though he was sure that wouldn't help him in the least bit. He had to try at least, before the glare came. Slowly he began to back up not liking the grown. "Now, Canta, calm down girl, no need to get angry. We can fix this, I am sure it isn't a permit change, and there didn't seem to be a malfunction." Jinta spoke, perhaps not the best way to put it. He found himself talking to her like she was a dog. Which was indeed not the most smart thing to do in this particular situation. Unable to escape she got him on the floor, despite the difference in weight she did knock him over due to force. As she pulled him up and literally screamed into his face, disliking the closeness at the moment he responded in full. "If I knew it would happen do you really think I would give it to you!? I told you this was a test just like the morpher getting on upside down! All fix it as long as you give me some time!" As he could suddenly feel her body heat sky rocket. This confused him even more, why would it effect her body heat? Dogs didn't differ from humans in terms of body heat. He felt her thighs come together on his waist. Where she squirmed was not a good place for either of them. If she aroused that part she would indeed rub against something and no doubt if she did, she would smell the thick musk. She began to act more like a dog trying to relay the message she was ready to mate to a male dog. It finally kicked it what was wrong, with her, for some reason, it messed with her hormones to severely it put her into heat. Then again, all sorts of dogs were in heat around so maybe some connection. "Did you have any dirty thoughts about, anything, especially about being a dog, or pet or something like that? Those dormant thoughts in the back of your head might of been read by the machine and when it altered your genetics it made a high level of hormones release putting you into a littoral doggy heat. " Jinta explained trying quite hard to make sure, his little friend downstairs, stayed down. He knew it wouldn't be long before it rose if he couldn't get her off of his lap soon. But he was sure if he tried moving her she would bite him.

Canta's face was flushed crimson as her body shook in discomfort upon her brother, her hips rocking, as she ground herself against his crotch, whimpering out to him, her eyes half open. The female panted, her ears lying on her head, tail twitching about as she pawed his chest, crying out more, looking down into Jinta's eyes. "I...I might have been...thinking about a dream we shared this morning...but mine continued...where you had me on a collar and leash, treating me like your little pet...." She said to him softly, growling in need as she ground even rougher, trying to get him going, as her hormone levels raised even more, making pheromones raise from her nether regions, her tail fanning it to him, much like a female dog in heat would do to attract a mate. Her movements were full of needy purpose, as she leaned in, licking her brother's chin as she whined in need to him, grinding her crotch hard into his own, rocking and moving against him, showing him what she wanted from her twin. "Please...Jinta...ahhh...I..I NEED it...please...mate me, brother...fuck me like your bitch...." She couldn't believe the things she heard herself saying, to Jinta of all people, her own twin. But she couldn't stop herself, couldn't control her own actions as the hormones over took her mind, telling her what she needed now was a male inside of her, and he would do just fine. Doggirl Canta leaned up more, flicking her tongue quickly over the male's face, before licking his lips, then pressing in to kiss him quickly, kissing him sloppily and deeply, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She kept one paw on him, rubbing and pawing his chest, as the other moved down, slipping under her shorts, rubbing and pressing the paw pads into her currently soaking crotch, having formed a big wet spot on the shorts and possibly his own if it leaked that far. Her hips began to thrust, 'dry' humping his his own hips, her sounds and moans getting louder, as she looked at him in a way she never had, with a sultry, needy stare of a sex craving bitch, kissing him once more as she bit her lip, saying one more thing, as her tail wagged about wildly. "Please...."

He should of known that was the answer. Her perverted dream that connected to his odd one. These connections would of no doubt of be the cause. How could he of over looked the possibility that it would effect her genetics? The Teleporter system that he used was designed only for when they were wearing the suits! The Suits themselves had a genetic mechanical anatomy, that was directly connected to there zords. So of course it would effect her genetic makeup, the only reason they weren't affected normally was due to there suits. Then again, Jinta's teleport was unlike hers, his was a direct connection to his natural ability's when he used his morpher. Due to the fact both were designed with different make ups, his was made quite literally excess scales of his zords melted down, that took a life of it's own to protect the zords user. He was cursing himself for his oversight during it's creation. Though he was glad he tested it on her not him, mainly due to the facts of personallity of the animal characteristic. If he took on his zords form then there would be a mass of death, destruction, and chaos. He would indeed become the most dangerous and problematic she could ever face. With her, the most problem was rather a ethical one. Siblings doing such, but a thought did occur to him. If she had really genetically became part canine then perhaps she wouldn't be recipient to his seed. That or even if she did conceive then the child wouldn't have any genetic flaws because from what he remembered. Dogs could mate in family for multiple generations before any genetic flaws began to appear. Wait, what the fuck was he thinking!? He was actually considering this? If he really did it there was no turning back... Then the words came flowing out, 'Please... Jinta... ahhh... I.. I NEED it... please...mate me, brother... fuck me like your bitch....' As a man when he heard that there was no stopping his friend down stairs. How could he, after all it was male instinct to mate as much as possible. As soon as it did he knew that she could feel it, something harder poking out that she rubbed against, though restrained as it was. Jinta took a deep breath, he knew if she didn't she would no doubt go berserk. She was retaining at least some consciousness, but how long that would last was debatable... He didn't know how long the hormones would continue to be release into her. Humans were not supposed to go into heat like that, it could very well destroy her mind. Groaning he knew what he would have to do, to hell with the ethnics of it. He didn't want a dog for a sister! "I get it, I get it... Don't blame me for this later." Jinta spoke moving up quickly, flipping the two of them getting him on top. Jinta reached to her shirt, and in trying to pull it off of her he literally snapped it revealing her bare chest. Apparently she had forgotten to envision her undergarments. Then again all he said was picture clothes, not underwear. His face shot right into her chest, his tongue leaving his mouth, licking over the length of both breasts. He was thinking to himself, that her breasts had grown larger or perhaps it was just him, due to being actually up close to them, and paying more attention.

Indeed, the increase in hormones were messing with her mind, as they weren't the same hormones a human female would produce, though it was close. It had a similar effect, but to a much stronger degree, as while a female could get sexually needy to the point where nothing else mattered, it was nothing like Canta was now going through. Much like for a female dog, it was something on instinct, something genetically coded that made her want to mate, made her need it. Hopefully, once it was said and done and Jinta gave her what she needed, her mind would be getting back to normal, once her craving was sated. At least, that's what she hoped, with what little of her mind still had conscious thought. Doggirl Canta let out a sharp whine as she felt her brother turning them around, as her back hit the floor and she was pinned under him, panting and shivering to every little touch he gave, feeling like wonderful fire to her skin. As he went about getting through her shirt, letting it fall to the side, she moaned quietly as he pressed himself against her, feeling his head going between her breasts. She moved up one of her 'paws', placing it on his head as she hugged him close, gasping out as she felt his tongue flicking over her. As he licked and teased his muscle along her bare breasts, her body shook more with pleasure, whimpering and growling out softly, as her nipples became hard nubs from his actions, as her body rocked into him a little. She moved one paw to his back, holding him against her as her body rubbed and ground into him as much as it could, wanting more from him as he worked over her chest. "Ahhh...more...Jinta...." She cried out to him, whimpering like a needy puppy as she hooked a leg over his waist, helping to elevate both herself and give him an even better angle at her chest, as her paw traced through his hair, rubbing his head as she whined for more from the male. Shaking her hips a little bit, she started to squirm her way out of the little hip-hugging shorts, working it down enough that her bare crotch was hit by the air, holding onto Jinta even tighter. Canta had a feeling she might regret what was to come later, but for now, it was the only thing to get her body to calm down, the heat over taking her as she waited for Jinta to continue. Though, somewhere deep down in her mind, she had wanted this, for a long time, though she could never bring herself to say it to anyone, let alone her twin. Her dream of him, interacting with his own and making it go on was sign of that. So, it could even be that the device, among other things, found that little fantasy n her find and reacted to it, giving her what she wanted, though not exactly how she wanted it.

The forest was stirring, but tonight, more then it usually had. The trees and their entirety sang; the copses of oaks, bushes and rivers, even the wild life was singing, kneeling before the immense aura that permeated the ruins. Since Zathrian's demise at the hands of the Grey Wardens, his curse of "lycanthropy" had supposedly been dispelled, returning those branded by his vengeful talons to their original statures. The blight which threatened to destroy all of Ferelden had since been thwarted by the Grey Wardens and the indigenous were slowly - but surely - beginning to put together the shattered pieces of their lives. However, the disease that Zathrian inflicted upon those who did wrong to him was not completely alleviated. While some curse victims were completely cured, others were "half" cured. Those who were half cured were able to assume human and lycan form at will while still maintaining their wolven physical attributes. Some had deemed this as a burden, while others, a fabulous blessing. To those who accepted it, they believed they could form their own race, a superior race. An ardent, eerie glow burned through the ruins that balmy evening, casting mysterious shadows here and there. A throng of werewolves were huddled around a snapped pillar, seemingly conversing while another group proceeded into the broken temple. One within the group was seemingly human, but the flaxen glow of their chilling gold eyes suggested otherwise. Whispers emitted from their maws like a song, following a string of loud, shaking footfalls. Tonight the werewolf clan - remnants from Zathrian's affliction - had gathered to the heart of the forest to meet a new face. This tyrant, as they had deemed him, claimed he could lead their race to victory and ensure that their existence would never again be undermined and always be feared. Some were skeptic while others traveled to the ruins only to sate their intrigue. There was one werewolf - a woman, in fact - that wasn't so moved by this stranger's agnostic claims. Her eyes bore through the spectral light cast down from the plump moon, nearby spectators thrown aback by her sudden intrusion. The woman was tall; amazonian, with flesh touched by the deserts and a long, starless mane which framed her exotic face in a roguish manner. One of the werewolves - a man - ogled her for an instant then grunted to the others, quickly disdaining her sudden appearance. They had known her as Ammon, but since becoming a werewolf, they had often referred to her as "Banshee" simply because her howls were composed of beautiful tones; she would sit in the forest and sing until the sun rose, but as a human, she nary uttered even a sound. The woman, clad in a tight, ashen bandeau and a coal-colored cardigan, trekked into the ruins and down the stair-well where the Lady of the Forest was once housed. It was here that this new "leader" was to speak, and undoubtedly, the woman would have something to say concerning his leadership.

In the thicket of the forest, deep within it's nestling trees, stood a ruin of seemingly no potential as it laid in broken heaps, but deep within it's descending caverns gathered a fairly large group of creatures. Creatures that had thought to been extinct now that the 'curse' that plagued them had ended. But the curse had not cured all of them and instead of returning to their human states, the werewolves had become something new, something different, yet something entirely the same. That was why he was here. In the midst of the crowd of werewolves stood a cloaked figure; he stood higher than the rest with feet planted firmly on a half broken pillar. His face was hidden in shadows except for his lips that were held firmly in a expressionless line and they were surrounded with light stubble of a dark brown that was almost black. He raised his head only slightly as more werewolves gathered and he could not only feel, but hear every heart beat within the room, as well as beyond the stone walls. He was new here, with a small group of werewolves he had found scattered around Ferelden. They were like him; half turned, confused, afraid, and lost. A lot had happened to him before meeting these creatures much like himself and he himself had become something new. What he had become had never been seen by the likes of any races in their world and the power he held was to be used to create a new world. One in which all of his people could live and not have to fear leaving their forests. Tension hung thickly in the air and Jericho looked over the crowd; though he could see them clearly in several senses, they could not see him in the same manner. His face still hidden by darkness, the scent and figure of him were masked as well, a secret he had learned over the years and planned to teach to those who wished to follow him. "My dear brethren," his rich, metallic voice rang clear through the silence, everyone's attention now solely on the cloaked man, "my name is Jericho and I am here to save you." His words strung together with captivating intonation and sincerity, but he spoke quickly, almost as though he were in a hurry and his words became urgent, though not quite begging. "The world outside these ruins are not kind to our like, especially now that we have become something... similar to human, but more. They resent us and will continue to do so. I tell you this because it is the truth. I have been there, outside and in their world, and seen what they are capable of." Throwing back his hood, a face was revealed with gasps from the people around him. His dark hair had been slicked back to expose a scar that had liberated him of half his face. It was mangled flesh, churned and charred with colors of pink, red, and even black. The right had barely been saved, the scar missing it only barely. His life side, however, could be called handsome and had even warrant a few flirts from human girls when he had been in disguise, though he himself had never bothered with such endeavors. Skin bronzed by the sun was covered in other, smaller scars and his eyes held the same yellow as the rest of theirs, but the iris was lined in a deep orange as well, almost glowing as he looked over his kind. "This is what humans do. Elves, dwarves, Grey Wardens, nobles, commoners. Everyone." Now he stepped down from the pillar and as he searched through the crowd, he was sure to make eye contact with everyone there. Coming across one of the rare females in the crowd, he felt a dark tension rising from her, but hoped his words to come would help her understand. His eyes hardened as he took her in and when his lips moved, fangs caught moonlight that crept through the cracks in the foundation. "They will kill you. They will hunt you down. For years, I was taken prisoner by humans, kept like a slave, but treated like an animal. They did not kill me but that was a mistake." Jericho raised his hand and spread his fingers, an orange flame playing at the tips of his fingers, the same color in his eyes glowing brighter. "I possess a power that has never touched this earth. An Old God came to me, in my dreams, and gave me the power to liberate myself. And all of you. If you follow me, I promise you will have a future for yourselves." He stopped then, the glow and flames dying out instantly; he folded his arms within deep sleeves, bowing his head. "Follow me and you can howl at the moon any night you like and not fear being heard and hunted. Follow me and you will be able to stretch your legs to any part of this world without a bother." He let his words sink in, waiting for any answer or response before continuing.

Like water, the sea of werewolves parted for Ammon's passing. She was a prominent figure to their race, a twenty-three year old woman that was wise beyond her age and had emerged victorious from many battles, most with men twice her size. Outside of battles she was philosophical and regal; soundless, she seldom spoke, but when she did it was something relative. She was displeased by his childish preaching. These ambitions in which he sermoned spelled nothing but genocide in her stoic mind. From where he stood, a top a tumbled-over pillar near the colossus statue hoisted against the wall, she peered up at him. She did not have the eyes of her kin, but rather, the eyes of a "demon". Their glimmering, tempest shade of hazel allowed her to blend in with humans as they were now wise to werewolf aesthetics and could pick them out by their flaxen eyes. Amongst the questionable bickering she emerged from the shadow, her long, thick hair mimicking her movements as she inaudibly strode out in front of the crowd. "Genocide, is it?" The crowd's bickering came to an abrupt, almost disturbingly swift stop. Had Ammon spoken? They were enthused by the regalness in her voice, how commanding yet soft it was. Undoubtedly she had something of importance to say. "Your ambitions are your own, not ours. The humans, the dalish, the dwarves and even qunari ... clearly you are not politically enlightened. The blight forced them all into an alliance. If you lead us into their starving maws, they will launch a counterattack and slaughter every last one of us. We are still suffering losses from the Archdemon's attack and you want to lead a broken race to their deaths? I don't know what the fuck goes on in your twisted mind, and I cannot speak for all of us, but I want no part of this." The instant the woman's low, buttery voice came to a halt, the werewolves began bickering again. Some were already convinced that this tyrant could do a great deal for their people. As they conversed amongst themselves, an elderly man hobbled out from the copse of flesh and fur, consulting Ammon before she departed. "He does not wish us ill-will, Ammon." His eyes were sullen; had told stories of many wards, "I think he is aware of the consequences and knows that we are willing to embrace them. The qunari were like us, once, attacked because other races were ignorant to their customs. We must make ourselves known." Ammon silently sneered. "I won't bother entertaining this ... or this ignorant bastard sitting high on his throne. Do what you'd like. I am not your deity." Silence again - the others were listening in on the conversation between the elder and the clan's most dignified warrior. "We could use your help ... he could. At least hear him out."

Jericho watched silently as Ammon made her protest and listened carefully to her words. When she stopped near the entrance to speak to an elderly man, he approached with careful, silent steps. "I understand your concern, my lady, but I assure you my plans are not nearly as destructive as you may think." He inclined his head while removing his hands from his sleeves and he smiled, very slightly. This woman was obviously of importance to these people and he would need her consent before he could have respect from the rest of the weres. Though his life had made him jaded, he knew on a realistic level what needed to be done and he would not let his own emotions overrun that. "No one can defeat so many races in one, fierce attack. No, this is something that must be accomplished slowly and with an intelligent grace only our kind possesses," he spoke lowly but knew everyone could hear him but his eyes never left Ammon's. "You will be of a great help to our cause, my lady, and I would be honored if you would join me and my followers. We follow the path of the Old Gods and it is their wishes that we do this. This power has been granted to me so our kind may have a future. What would have us do, my lady? Continue to hide in fear in this ruin?" He cast a disdainful glance around the crumbling walls with raised hands. "This is no place for wolves." He paced through the crowd of wolves with senses on high alert as he felt them out, their very souls singing out to him. His hand hovered before him as his eyes closed, moving with tentative steps. His nostrils flared as their smell permeated the air around them and he could smell the mixture of fear, anxiousness, and nervousness. "Brethren, I am not asking you to make me your leader, your alpha, or your king. I am asking you to follow me as an equal; does family not help each other in times of crisis? For that is what this is and it will only grow worse as the years come. We cannot stand idly by as these people continue to take our kind, torture them, and slaughter them. The Old Gods gave me power because they believe in our cause. Would you deny them?" He turned to face everyone once more and once again his eyes caught Ammon's. Would she follow him or continue to think him insane? Perhaps he was and even if he admitted to it, would it change anything? No, the Old Gods had given him this power for a reason and he intended to carry that out.

Gods. Deities. Ammon was not a believer but rather, a skeptic. She enjoyed entertaining the idea of some agnostic being guarding them, keeping balance and sanctity, but it was a difficult notion to stomach. Therefore, she was unconvinced with this strangers sermoning and was still left in a state of disbelief. She was not easily swayed by his preaching, but, for the sake of these callow people she had to at least acknowledge both his presence and his claims. "Perhaps he believes we can spread our disease," intervened the elder, his eyes bright with confidence, "A mere graze of our claws or clip of our teeth and anyone - be they qunari or human - will become infected and turn. That process alone will weed out those who are strong, as only they will survive the turning." Ammon said nothing. She merely observed, her arms laid slack at her curvaceous sides. She knew she was powerless to stop those who were confident that this man could steer them to the road of greatness. "I apologize, stranger." The elder bowed his head, cognizant of Ammon's brooding. Her silence was evidence of this. "Ammon is accustomed to peace. Though our living conditions are not entirely ... desirable, it is this pacifism that we have practice for most of our lycan lives. Perhaps we should further discuss this in the morning, when our minds and ires are rested and our bellies full. Come. There is an uninhabited chamber on the lower levels of the ruins. You may rest there." A child appeared. Her clothing was torn; ripped, frayed from destructive hands. Her pretty young face was sullied with the earth's soil, her sable man mangled and matted. She was sobbing. "B-Butterfly!" she cried, scampering over to bury her visage on Ammon's pant leg. "T-There ... there are men in the forest. Humans ... hunters. They tried to, to ..." Ammon's stoic face went hard; eyes stony, first furled in tight fists. The werewolf elder Kale was taken aback by this sudden change in Ammon's visage and instantly worried by it. For those who knew Ammon, they were aware that she had unofficially adopted an orphan werewolf child whose mother had gone missing nearly four months prior. While the child's elder sister was still able to care for her, she took a liking to Ammon and called the immaculate woman her "butterfly". "Humans?" Kale breathed, "Here? At night? Are they insane? They've been growing increaslingly daring over the past week months. Stranger ... if you want Ammon's approval, this may be your chance." By that time Ammon had taken off. Like an elegant creature she scaled the nearby pillars towards an opening at the top of the underground temple where she proceeded outside, to teach these brazen humans a lesson about having the audacity to touch a child.

The child's distress caused an overwhelming pain to swell inside of Jericho and before the words had left the elder's mouth, he was on the move. The cloak had been abandoned, as well as his human form, and he leaped over the crowd of weres as he hurried through the stone corridors. Humans! This was exactly what he had been speaking about; he could not let injustices like this continue. With the Old Gods' power, he'd rip out all those humans throats and burn their remains to ashes. Soon he was in the forest and as he pads dug deep into the earth, he gave a ground shaking howl that sounded throughout the forest causing all birds to soar to the sky and animals to fidget restlessly. He pounded through the trees and shrubs, following the distinct smell of blood and human. Ammon's scent was thick in the air, too, and he absently worried for the other were's safety. He knew a warrior of her status could handle herself well, but attacks done with an emotional imbalance ended badly. His pace quickened and he could hear the cries and wales of humans and the distinct, deep growl of a were. Jericho jumped through the shrubs and his paws made contact with a human's chest and he went down screaming as the were's jaws ripped into the human's flesh. In his wolf form, he was much different than the other weres. He was distinctly a wolf, but the largest one ever to be seen; on all fours, he stood as tall as a human with a dark coat that shown a deep brown in the light. His mangled face covered less in this form, but still scarred him thoroughly, no hair growing there. He looked for Ammon as another human swung an axe from behind; with invisible speed, Jericho caught the man's arm in his mouth and there was a loud crunched along with a blood curdling scream. How dare these humans invade their forest and treat his kind this way! That poor little girl... Jericho bit down harder and rode the man to the ground, fangs digging into his chest and neck through the completely eaten off arm.

Unlike Jericho, Ammon had a different method of hunting. She was labeled one of the clan's most superior warriors for her uniqueness and different approach to driving away humans. She was the type to torture someone psychologically, to toy with their minds and amplify their fears, make them cognizant of the true meaning of terror. It was because of these methods that she was often deemed a monster by her kin. She unearthed a dispersed group of humans, undoubtedly ones that ran when they heard the howls of other werewolves nearby in a distant copse of oak trees. Within the darkness of the forest's canopy, she assumed her lycan form, embracing the dark magic that was cast unwillingly upon her. Unlike most females she was much larger, her coat a starless hue of sable, thick and wiry, shimmering with tiny flecks of gold upon her back. She let forth a low, curdling growl, startling one of the humans which was toting around an oversized crossbow. He was evidentially frightened by the manner in which he trembled, mentioning to his comrades that maybe it wasn't a wise idea to brave the forest at night. Werewolves were not the only antagonists that governed the wood - slyvans and shades had as well, give or take a few darkspawn here and there. When they had trekked into the forest deeply enough, she bore her teeth which were illuminated by the moonlight. Her maw was filled with them, all white and jagged, a horrifying depiction. The men yelped and fled while some attempted to fight, but to no avail. Her massive paws were easily able to subdue her victims, snapping their bones with one mighty swat. One of the humans - who had managed to find a decent leeway - shot an arrow into her arm. She was infuriated by their brazenness and bolted towards them, the very earth shaking under her weight, trampling them in the process. There was but one human left alive, trembling in terror. She collected him as if he were her spoils, dragging him unwillingly through the trees. "P-please! Let me go!" he pleaded, immediately interrupted by the gluttonous howls of awaiting - and quite hungry - werewolves. She took a note of Jericho's appearance, still unpleased and unmoved by both his appearance and act of selflessness concerning the child. She snorted at the mere thought of it, startling the human in the process.

At Ammon's arrival, the rest of the humans were already slain. The last of the werewolves gathered around the corpses stren in pieces around the small grove. Jericho growled at the human Ammon brought toward them, a deep menacing sound that struck fear deep into the human's heart. From his guess, there were about ten humans here that he had killed, but he had smelt another group heading off into the distant forest. He could only assume Ammon led them there and sprang an attack; he was impressed by her workmanship, as well as her skill. The human she carried was alive, but he doubted she was going to keep him that way for long. The large wolf examined the human with dark eyes. Why had they come here? Who were these creatures to think they could enter the forest in the dead of night? They must have been wishing death for that is all it led them to. "Human," he all but growled, "what are you doing in this forest?" Sweat trickled down the man's skull as the weres closed in around him, all of them now in wolf form and bearing teeth. Jericho kept his face placid, but felt an anger stir deep within himself, like cold flames trailing through his heart. It was not his place to kill this man, however; he was Ammon's catch, not his, and not the rest of the pack's. What she did with him was her business. The human had remained silent so Jericho directed his gaze to Ammon. "What will you do with him?"

"That, stranger, is none of your concern. Please do as elder Kale has asked of you and retire to your quarters for the evening." Her voice was garbled; a marred mess in this cursed form. It did not depict her human voice, which was smooth and stoic, but rather, depicted the monster in which she assumed the guise of. She struggled to show some manner of kindness to their visitor but it was immensely difficult. She had no respect for him, and as a result, she would most likely not affiliate herself with him. When they returned to the ruins, the werewolf child's elder sister was their, her burning red hair a brilliant rendering which matched her emotion - furious. She watched the captured human with her flaxen gaze, immediately taking on her werewolf form to further startle him. "Thank you, sister," she growled, tracing her pink tongue over each one of her knife-like teeth. Ammon, being continually selfless, had brought this human as a prize for the child's sister. It was not Ammon's place to punish him ... but rather, the child's sibling's. While she left the human to the whims of the irate woman, Ammon ventured off to the far corner of the room to lick her wounds. She reassumed her human form, gently prodding at the arrow which bore through her coffee-colored flesh. A ginger wince fled from her lips; eyes went drab with a sense of agony while she began testing how she was to remove the projectile from her bicep. "Fuck," she cursed silently. She knew just what she would have to do to remove the weapon ... and it would not be, in any way shape or form, pleasurable. Without much further adieu she slammed the blunt end of the arrowhead into a local statue; her eyes went wide, littered with liquid torture while she felt the arrowhead rip through muscle, sinew and twisted flesh. It broke the skin on the others side of her arm, the arrowhead itself emerging in a sea of blood and metal. Next, she snapped the head off with relative ease, disdaining it upon the ground then gently pulling the neck of the arrow from the wound. It was not a pleasurable experience, but if anything, necessary.

The night fell silent as Ammon stalked away with her prey, leaving Jericho and the weres alone with decaying human remains. After moments of staring up at the moon hanging brilliantly in the sky, Jericho instructed the weres to clean the mess and bring back some parts of the human for food. They did as he said, even cleaning the pieces in a near by river before taking them back to the ruins. Jericho made sure each did this thoroughly and carried the heaviest back. He tried to understand Ammon's view and could see how she might see him as a stranger, but he wished to no longer be a stranger. He could bring something to her life no one else could; if she could see that, would she trust him and follow him? He wanted nothing more than what was good for their people. He had seen enough death and destruction on their part to not care how much the other side received. He wanted them to suffer. There, he discovered what Ammon had done with the prisoner and silently thanked her for the deed. He saw the gleam of triumph in the young were's eyes when he passed her by and gave her a reassuring smile of hope as he shaped back into the form of a man. Walking with bare, human feet he made his way to the barely whimpering Ammon. He crouched by her, brushing his fingers against her wound. "I can take care of this for you," he said with a soft tone he had not used with anyone else. But he waited for an answer, not wanting to push her further away. The powers given to him were many, healing one of them. It was a difficult skill to master but after years of practice, he had learned well. It helped specially in times of children's first turns, healing their aching bones and allowing the process to proceed without incident. He wanted Ammon to see the good he could do. That the power he had been gifted with was here to help liberate all of them. Vindicate their race and let them run free. Every were wanted that and he knew, deep down, Ammon did, too.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice came out in a pretty sneer, eyes burning with vulpine fury. While she a woman who liked to comfort others with an embrace, she was not fond of strangers having the audacity to mindlessly reach out and address her physically. Admittedly, Ammon was confident that he wielded some power ... but she was not yet ready to accept him. At the resonating howl that fell from the grace of her lips, she realized just how unreasonable she was acting and bowed her head in shame. She reached out and gently took the man by his forearm, leading him into a long corridor which was eerily silent. The shadows cast by dimly lit torches illuminated the stone hallway just enough for her to see, and to insure that no one would notice their hiding place. "I am haunted by the images of these innocent people being taken advantage of ... men, enslaved, murdered; women and young girls being violently raped, beaten. I've seen it before ... I've seen what the humans do, especially to women. They take these ... these children's bodies after they've destroyed their tiny wombs and toss their mangled corpses into the gorge; to think, they do this even to their own kind. That is genocide at its worst." Her voice was soft and low; she did her best to offer him her ear so that she did not come off immensely commandeering. "Revenge is like a disease ... a festering, foul disease. We want it so badly that in the process of exacting it, we cannot see who is guilty and who is not. Those who have not sinned are judged by one who lawfully cannot judge themselves. I don't want these people being corrupted by this. If you can reassure me that you will not let them fall victim to this blindness ... then I will stand aside and let you do as you see fit."

Ammon's change in demeanor struck Jericho hard as he watched the emotions flicker in the woman's eyes. He listened to her carefully, understanding her views better now. "I see what you are saying. Perhaps... there is other ways we can go about this. My initial way of starting our uprising would be infiltrating the humans' cities," he explained, "in disguise. It will open our peoples eyes to the humans' injustices as well help us understand why they are the way they are. If we are to face them, it is best we know them better than we know each other." He paused, fingers extended to her wounded arm. "There is much time and our people will always have a choice. They do not have to follow me. If you believe their anger is beginning to destroy them, we can stop. My only wish is to put these humans to justice... to let our people be free." Pressing his fingers to the wound on her arm, his fingertips pulsed with a steady orange hue, spreading over her skin and replenishing it. There would be pain in the healing process, stings of everything being stitched back together, but in moments the deed was done and her arm healed. Jericho wiped the last of the blood away with his thumb tentatively. "Humans... have done such horrible things to our people. You've seen what they've done... I've seen so much and am haunted nightly as well. Every time I close my eyes, I see our people dying. I see what they've done, over and over." Something they had in common, Jericho noted; he had long wondered if others saw the dead with closed eyes. The pain erupted every time his eyes shut and the darkness closed in. It was more than he could stand sometimes. Soon... soon he'd see those monsters put to rest.

The woman was amazed with her wound; it had virtually disappeared, gone with the stranger's gentle touch. While she wasn't so easily deterred by the abrupt stinging sensation, she was however, slightly enraptured with this man's mysterious gift. She was not ready to ask him nor was she overtly interested. Perhaps the answer would come on its own. "And we've done so much to the humans. We're all to blame; it's a viscous circle that each one of us contribute to, someway, somehow." It was true that the humans' efforts were becoming increasingly daring as of late while the werewolves were growing more and more mellow with each passing day. The humans were entering the forests, boring through trees like fire through ice, ripping their ancient roots from the undisturbed earth and even having the audacity to braze the wood during nightfall. This was known werewolf territory, where the beats ruled, and even wild sylvans ran a muck. Soon they would attack the ruin in great numbers. This day was approaching quickly and Ammon feared they would not survive the attack, not with the humans' exponentially growing population. Suddenly, the regal woman placed her hand upon Jericho's shoulder. Her fingers dug into the material of his cloak, trembling, while her eyes depicted a rather fearful claim. "I'm putting my trust in you," she began, instilling her passion, making it as apparent as she possibly could, "These people cannot bare another heavy loss in battle. You are confident, and I want to trust this confidence ... but if you are to fail, just once -" she raised her finger, long and elegant, hanging it just in front of his marred, twisted face, "I will personally enjoy your slow torture, brother."

Responding with a suave smile, Jericho took the raised finger and wrapped a large hand over her's. "I would not have it any other way, my sister. Perhaps, while we prepare our people, you would care to tell me what you think we should do?" He was generally curious as to what Ammon's personal thoughts were on the matter; she seemed to think much on it and he was sure she would be able to bring to light something he may not have seen. It was his duty to understand his people as well as the enemy and it would be unjust for him to force all his plans on others while not listening to their's. This was their war, not only his. "We will do this together, Ammon, and I wish to hear all our people's opinions before we take any immediate action. Please, I would much love to hear your view." He released her fingers and inclined his head for her to follow. Personally, he enjoyed to walk and talk, instead of linger in one place. Enthralling conversations were best kept at a walking pace, he found, and there was much for him to see yet of the ruins. Knowing the place he would be staying and hopefully executing most of their plans was crucial for him and walking with Ammon provided the chance of her taking him to places he would have not found on his own.

While they walked, Ammon figured that she could kill two birds with one stone - discuss important issues with him and simultaneously lead him to his sleeping quarters where he would be staying for the remainder of his stay. Undoubtedly the other werewolves may have been wondering just where they wondered off to, but it was not unheard of for two newly acquainted werewolves to partake in more "sexual" relations. "I really want no part of this but ... if it means minimal casualty then I will help. I believe that making use of our curse may be the focal point in truly bringing human civilization to its knees. We have our kin stalk a group of hunters dispersed from Denerim. When they are on their way home, they attack, infecting the group of humans but leaving them alive. Once the humans return to Denerim they will start to witness the change ... and when they do change for the first time, they will attack their comrades and ultimately, start a chain of events that will grow exponentially until our race dwarfs that of the humans. From there we may be able to dominate other races such was the elves and qunari but it will be a tedious process." She noticed that the man's quarters were coming into view and stopped almost instantly. "We will talk more tomorrow if need be, though I prefer that you consult Kale before myself. My role in this isn't important."

Eyes alert, Jericho memorized every part of the place he would now be staying and took note of all the exits closest to the room that would be his. The longer they walked, the more in depth Ammon became with her views and he enjoyed hearing her opinion on the matter. She was not only intelligent, but looked at things in more than one way; he could admire that and respected her more for it. Her people respected her as well which told him he should listen to her words carefully. He smiled at Ammon's plan and said, "I had an idea similar to that. I can, more or less, disguise myself as a human and can teach you all as well. We will be able to move among them without their slightest notice." Stopping when Ammon did and he inclined his head politely. "You are as important as the rest of them. Everyone is important in this; this is all our war and we all play a part. I will likely see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Ammon." He bowed every so slightly with hands in his sleeves and stalked toward his room in a lingering grace, already planning his tasks for the day to come.

Over a course of a month, the werewolves living within the Brecillian Ruins had grown quite fond of their self-appointed leader Jericho. He was a recognizable face amongst their people; they felt comfortable around him, protected, now confident that he could fulfill the prophecy in which he preached. A week after his appearance Ammon was summoned to attend an important meeting in Orlais concerning the werewolves' dwindling population of females. Being one of the few which survived the turn, others wishes to hear of her experience from her own tongue and hoped they could use this forbearance to further increase the survival rate. To make matters particularly worse the elder werewolf, Kale, had fallen mysterious ill following her departure. It was a completely unfathomable that a seventy-seven year old human, as weak and brittle as he was, would survive the change. Due to this inspiring feat, the werewolf clan - as small as it was - had appointed Kale their superior. But even now ... he was dying, and quickly. When his corpse had withered away they would have no one to lead them. All of them were cognizant of Ammon's position in the grand scheme of things. She would undoubtedly refuse an inauguration, however, this new-comer may not. "We have ... terrible news." Amongst the crowd was Ammon; her body was sore from the trip, fatigued even, and she found her eyes left sullen from the werewolf perched a top a nearby broken column. "Early this morning Kale passed away. He was a wise man ... and his spirit was undoubtedly a fierce one. However, we promised him that we would not falter as we all perceived his death many months ago. That being said, our short-lived tradition says that the wise thing to do would be to elect a new leader. But ... alas, we have no candidates." Suddenly, Jericho's name began floating around. Ammon was visually taken aback by his nomination. Had three weeks made this much of a difference? "Jericho? I see. Aside from that, brothers and sisters ... the human's attacks have been growing increasingly brave as we have previously discussed. Jericho's plan is beginning to come to fruition, however, if he does not act soon we may be forced to abandon the ruins and find elsewhere to live." Jeers and boos spilled from the crowd. Some even howled in protest, but the crier was visually undisturbed. "We will discuss this further tomorrow afternoon, then. Ammon has returned and she may have something to add. Rest well." The hulking beast hobbled away which had dispersed the tight group of beasts and humans. Ammon was left alone now, silence by the soundless echo of the grand chamber. Not soon thereafter the woman found herself on one of the lower levels of the ruins, in an alcove that was vastly unused. Inside was an enormous pool of water, all but three and a half feet in height - barely enough to drown in. The ruin was built over a hotspring. Over a course of a decade or two - after the ruins were abandoned - the elements began to erode the stone and otherwise allow the piping hot lake to seep through separated cinder. She could barely make out the intricate pattern of the stone on the wall due to the thick layer of steam permeating throughout the room. She was, however, pleased with the solidarity and lack of people; emptiness. When she was sure not a soul was entering she removed her leather jerkin as well as the bodice underneath; her leggings fell around her thighs, draping her ankles while she disdained every article of clothing save for a questionable looking pendant framing her neck. The sensation of the water consuming her body was if anything pleasing, something she had craved quite a bit during her trek.

The death of Kale had struck Jericho hard and after the man had been put to rest, Jericho wandered the depths of the forest for some time. Kale had been more than kind to Jericho since he had arrived here. Seeing the old man brought a sense of joy to being and their talks were often long and intriguing. Much older than Jericho, the old man had many things to say concerning his past and his dealings with humans, even when he was such a being. During his walk, he thought mostly of what would happen to this clan of people now that their elder was gone. The humans were becoming bolder each day and venturing deeper and deeper into their woods. They have been able to hold them off as best they can, but it was no illusion to Jericho that the humans would eventually over run them if they did not do something soon. It was a brewing problem and he needed solutions. Eventually in his wandering, he descended the depths of the ruins to a room in which steam rolled out. No one ventured this low in the caverns and he distinctly could hear the sound of water; a hot spring, he imagined. As he came closer, he heard the vague splashing of someone swimming and a steady heart beat. One at peace. Stepping into the room, he found a pile of discarded clothing at this feet. Ammon's. His lips curled into a soft smile as he took another step forward, calling out into the mist, "Mind if I join you?" Before she could answer, he removed his cloak and shirt, slipping out of his pants within seconds. Jericho slid into the water gently, the warm water soothing him instantly.

Underneath the unflattering clothing, the pauldrons, drab leather jerkin and robes, Ammon had an attractive feminine frame. She was a healthy woman, tall and soft, though beneath her bronzed skin was layer upon layer of mistreated yet firm, well-sculpted muscle. Though her upper body and midsection hadn't showcased this crafted muscle definition, her long, lean legs had. She wanted so badly to treat herself properly, to iron out the brutalized sinew, wash her hair, do things a woman did. But this was virtually impossible now that she was doomed for the rest of her Maker-given life to be a remnant of Zathrian's improperly dispelled curse. Human men hadn't found her alluring because of her tattoos; because of her height, her powerful aura. In fact they found her rather daunting and often strayed away from her when she visited Denerim while others were enthralled by her otherwise exotic, unique appearance and would blatantly try to court her in front of an audience. Needless to say, Ammon was never interested. She refused to take on a werewolf mate let alone that of a measly human. The moment she had settled, wading about in the waist-deep pool, she heard a voice. A deep, commanding voice, that of someone she now called more then just an acquaintance: Jericho. A soft sound of approval fell from the grave of her vulpine lips, left garbled by the water's being. She remembered Kale chiding her for that ... those grunts. "They're impolite, and worst of all, unladylike," she recalled him preaching, "A warrior you may be, but a woman just as much." She would try to explain to him that she never tried to adopt the guise of a man, to take on his role or his mannerisms, they were simply rude aspects she had picked up during her transition from human to werewolf. She pressed her lips in a hard line, audibly wincing at the unwelcoming sensation of her tumid muscles pulsing under her probing fingertips. She trembled, almost, waiting for the agony to wane and the heat do its job to unwind the sinew. She merely wanted relieve, for the pain to be siphoned by the water ... and now that Jericho was here, maybe a talk as well.

Despite the thick steam, Jericho was able to find Ammon in minutes; he waded over, the water ending around his chest, and she could clearly see more scars there, most of them burn marks and long gashes. Crude and still somewhat pink, the scars were the productive of heavy mistreatment and it was obvious by the look of them that they had not healed properly either. They did add to his sculpted frame and made him appear much more ominous and foreboding. He had a broad chest with arms made for killing; water glittered across his skin and dampened his hair into loose ringlets. "Ammon," he greeted with a tilt of his head. "How are you, my lady? I have not seen much of you today." He had spent the morning going over war tactics with some of the weres, but, since Kale's death, he'd noticed much difference in the dealings of the pack. They moved along slower and their eyes kept moving skyward. Having only known the elder for a short time compared to everyone else, he could only imagine the pain that struck their hearts.

Still, she was baffled at his attempts to fraternize with her. She showed little to no interest in the man and yet, he went out of his way just to say "hello". It was not as if she disliked him or had purposely intended to mistreat him, these were just the mannerisms she practices both before and after becoming a werewolf. "I was in Orlais attending a meeting." A paused for a moment. Meeting. It sounded so formal, when in fact, it was just a throng of intelligible werewolves all holed up in an old inn discussing the lack of females and therefore, lack of sex. "They were discussing how to make the changing easier for females since they're typically not as resilient as males but, as I seen it, it was a waste of time; it's probably impossible." The werewolves were still in their green stages - they didn't thrive past the province of Orlais as it had only been six months since Zathrian's curse manifested into a hereditary chain. Ammon was pleased to be around and hopefully a key product in the blooming of werewolf society. She wished for them to be a morally and physically attached race as did they; werewolves did not want equality with humans and elves, rather, they wanted to be known and respected. "I'm just a little tired, Jericho. Yourself?"

"Tired is one way of putting it." Jericho waded through the water closer to her. It had been some time since he'd been able to truly relax and he enjoyed the warmth of the water wrapping around him like a mother's soft caress. "You say the females are having a hard time with the change? I myself have not had much privilege in speaking to many of the other gender; in fact, you're the second female were I've come across. I would very much like to speak with these others; perhaps I could be of some help?" It was his duty, after all, to care for all of the weres, whether they be in Denerim or Orlais. They were all one people as far as he was concerned and he would look after all of them as best he could. As he floated amidst the water, he wondered absently why it seemed business always found its way into his discussions with Ammon. It would be nice to have a conversation for the sake of having one, rather than constantly making plans or discussing current problems they faced. The past weeks had been long and tiring-- yes, tired was a very good way of putting it. But he would not stop until their people were safe. Until his work was complete, he would not rest. That said, he still felt a yearning to relate to someone on a different level, a personal one that could maybe be a friendship. The idea that he could have a close friend brought a smile to his face; he'd had such a thing, once upon a time. Kale had probably been the second closest to that. Jericho's smile dissipated at the thought of Kale and he absently made ringlets in the water with his hand, trying to distract himself.

Like Jericho, Ammon strove for casualty as well. She was tired of the business-chat, of the discussion concerning Denerim and their race. "I appreciate your concern but what needed to be said has already been said. It's unfortunate that most of the men were more concerned about sex then about actual reproduction." From time to time, Ammon could understand their standpoint. She hadn't been intimate with a man in quite some time. Every so often - especially during the full moon - she'd be just as hormonal as any other werewolf but wouldn't dare indulge. She took note of the lament on the man's face, and at the instant, she bowed her head in reprieve, showing him her eyes as they had softened. She outstretched a hand and placed it on the man's hard shoulder, giving it a reassuring stroke. "Listen ... Jericho. I realize that you may have not known Kale a long time but still, you developed a relationship with him ... and having it so suddenly severed is painful." She believed maybe this was a good instance to practice casualty rather then constant bickering. "I'm aware that it's late but, maybe you'd be willing to have a drink?"

"Most men do seem more concerned with... such trivial things. Growth of our species should, you would think, take priority over the state of their loins," Jericho said with tart amusement. But it was Ammon's gentle words brought a touch of a smile to his lips; she was right about Kale. He had grown fond of the elderly man and his death was unsettling. It weighed heavily on his mind and he knew when he closed his eyes to sleep, Kale's face would be added amongst the rest. "Now that, my dear lady, sounds like a promising idea." A drink with a friend. It had been a long time since he had been privileged to such an event and was happy to oblige. Once upon a time, he had spent his time in run down taverns with a good friend, business and pleasure mixed together. Quite a duo they had been then. Jericho often wondered how things would have been had things not gone sour their last mission together. That, however, only proved to be fruitless thinking as it only dampened his mood. Pushing any such thoughts from his mind, he dropped into the water with closed eyes, letting it surround him and engulf his body and was up within seconds.

The last time Ammon had the time to sit down and have a drink ... she couldn't quite recall. It would have been ages ago; before she fell victim to the werewolf curse. She had since forgotten the sensation of a perfectly brewed hops or finely aged wine. The thought had actually enthused her, made her believe that maybe even a woman of her stature was able to relax. "It's understandable ... but it's not appropriate." She drew in the hot air permeating the room and exhaled, allowing her hands to find the soaps she had smuggled into the alcove. They were quite extravagant, erected from buttermilk and expensive Orlesian oils. She was pleased with the scent; it was nostalgic and had reminded her of the time she spent an eve in a Rivaini home with two other women. They had taken her in after witnessing her single-handedly subdue a fully armored soldier. That was the night she first fell in love with such products. Within mere moments her skin and hair was clean; she washed the stubborn suds off with a gentle spritz of water, purging her tanned flesh of any dirt-related anomalies. She was quite pleased with the outcome and enjoying entertaining the idea of sleeping peacefully that night, especially with the aid of alcohol.

"Inappropriate, yes," Jericho agreed. Swimming back, he caught glances of Ammon washing and fleetingly wondered why the men of the clan treated her simply as a warrior. She was a beautiful woman and had survived the change nicely; being a warrior helped add to shapely muscles and tight skin-- Jericho turned away before he thoughts got carried away. Unlike the rest of the men, Jericho knew self restraint and knew how to treat a woman like both a warrior and a lady. Dunking his head in the water, he did the best he could to clean and rinse his hair. Unlike most weres, Jericho still believed in cleanliness and was pleased to see Ammon did as well. There were others, he was sure, who bathed regularly but he doubted any of them continued the habits they had formed during their human lives. Though Jericho could not remember much from those days, he had kept the routine going for years and not altered it much. With his own soaps, no where near as nice as Ammon's, he cleaned himself thoroughly while humming lightly. Once he was done, he pulled himself from the water and dressed quickly, giving his head a good shake to get most of the water out. Looking forward to the night out with Ammon, he waited for her at the edge of the cavern, giving her privacy to dress.

Never before had she felt so refreshed. Her body was purged of any sullied anomalies; her skin was treated and moisturized and her face was no longer sullied her stained with dirt. Rather then change into her traditional armor - which was a customized leather set - she adorned much more casual clothing which consisted of a coal-colored fitted tunic and a pair of sand colored leggings she drummed up from one of the other females living on the upper floors. The bottom corridors weren't as well kept as the others but they were certainly livable. Warriors and those who did not want to be disturbed were housed her. Silently, the lycan woman directed Jericho to the end of the corridor and town a tiny flight of stone stairs where her chamber was positioned. Before she hollowed it out there used to be a set of bookshelves and a questionable looking alter in it. She removed all of them - including the alter - and relocated it in an uninhabited chamber to the south end of the ruin. She gently popped open the door, letting it swing for an instant before she stepped in. The chamber was sizable; it contained a comfortable looking cot lined with fresh linens, a hearth for cooking and other such things. A tiny beam of dark light leered in through the ceiling - there was a crack, a very apparent throng of stones which had been missing and undoubtedly served as Ammon's window. She made it apparent on several occasions that she was claustrophobic and often refused to sleep in any windowless vistas. Also, reflecting on a visit to the Deep Roads when she was human was exceptionally painful. "Here." She strode over to the hearth where a long-necked bottle sat, unscathed from the elements and well cared for. It was a potent ale though a smidgen balmy; she believed he'd still drink it regardless.

Ammon's care for her room told Jericho of her individuality, a trait far few possessed. It was much easier to be herded than to think on one's own. Invited in, he wandered aimlessly through the small room, hands neatly clasped behind his back. Damp ringlets hung over the marred part of his face, hiding it almost entirely. He gave her an apologetic smile with a lift of his shoulders. "I've a confession to make. Alcohol and I have never quite seen eye to eye." He did not to insult Ammon; the truth of the matter was, he had vowed many years ago to never touch the liquid again. A human's creation and a human's failing. "In truth, spending an evening with you sober sounds much more appealing than intoxicated." It was obvious in his open demeanor that he meant what he said. Himself not a liar, he did find certain facts unnecessary for other's ears and kept those silent; time had told him this was the safest path to lead. Taking it in stride, he kept things simple. His reasons for disliking alcohol were his own. Sharing the story would only bring back unwanted feelings.

Appealing? Maybe Jericho had sneaked a swig of bourbon when she wasn't looking. Ammon thought of herself as monotonous and uninteresting while the other members of the pack believed the complete opposite. They viewed her as complex and extremely intriguing, often wondering what she would do to avoid solve a problem. "I won't pry, then," she uttered lowly while leering down at the bottle held loosely in her palm. She had dazed off for an instant, her eyes probing the smooth, lacquer sensation of the glass. Without much further waiting she removed the cork by driving a claw into the cork and prying it out with little to no effort. Much like a hungering drunk would, she pressed the rim to her mouth and let her lips molest it. The flavor hit her like a wave of potent spices. She'd undoubtedly be starry eyed after this little encounter with alcohol but at that very instant, she didn't care. War was slowly yet surely finding its way to her peoples' homestead and threatening not only their numbers, but their very way of life itself. That night she'd rest well after some "casual discussion" with her newly found companion Jericho. She began to realize he wasn't as foul was previously believed, much to her glowering chagrin of course. Ammon paused for an instant, ready to reply to his unexpected utterance only to be interrupted by an overwhelming presence. A man stood within the doorframe, peeling back the tattered ecru drape which served as a privacy barrier. His flossy green eyes scanned the room and pitted themselves directly upon Jericho. A grunt came from his mouth; the tattoo consuming a hefty portion of his chiseled visage gave him that much more of an intimidating glow. "Who are you?" His voice was unwaveringly deep, like the goddess of earth herself had crafted it. It was booming, enough to even move Ammon who seemed overtly attached to her half-consumed bottle of Orlesian wine. "I don't appreciate other men being inside of Ammon's quarters." The behemoth man approached Jericho, leaning down to stare the man in his eyes. The man was Asher Fern, a notorious red-headed goliath with an equally as ardent temper. He promised himself to Ammon after she saved his life and had been adamant about becoming her mate ever since. He took a silent vow to serve her every whim and answer her if ever she had need to sate her "primal needs". Many other women begged to bed him - both because of his apparent mirth and his genes which would produce a healthy lycan child - but he refused, mentioning that Ammon was the only woman he would lay with. "Asher, Jericho. Jericho, Asher," she hummed while continuing to chip away at the wine left in the bottle. "So you're the tyrant? Why are you in Ammon's room? And you've given her alcohol? There are plenty of other women here for you to play with. I care not who you are or where you're from ... I will cut off your head and throw it to the humans as a testament to your demise."

The other man's rancid scent filled Jericho's nostrils and he all but sneezed on the man. Covering his mouth with an apologetic sheen in his eyes, Jericho muttered, "Pardon me." For some reason, one Jericho had a hard time fathoming, this man was under the impression Ammonbelongedto him. A shame really; women were not possessions one could own. They were free to make their own choices and by the weeks spent with Ammon, he could confidently speculate she was not interested in the arrangement Asher was offering her. Asher obviously had no respect for women and that was something Jericho was not fond of. Men taking advantage of women. Men were not dominate over them. All were equal and all were to be treated with respect. It was apparent by his stature, and his comment, that this Asher did not play well with the other weres. Jericho was not frightened, in fact, he was slightly amused. A soft smile coiled the edges of his lips and he wondered absently what this man thought he could do. A fight would be unorthodox, but Jericho would not back down if that is what it came to. He would, however, avoid it as best he can. He felt no need to answer to any of the man's questions and accusations, only his final words. "I wouldloveto see you try," Jericho said with the faintest smile. Having said it, Jericho knew this would provoke the man. Perhaps it was a fight he wanted after all.

Simply being provoked drove Asher to kill. He lunged forward and had prepared to attack Jericho when Ammon intervened. She placed a somber hand on the giant's shoulder; he withdrew and stood erect, glancing down at the woman who seemed evidently charmed by the virtually empty bottle of Orlesian wine. "I'm ... I ... I apologize." He seemed rather embarrassed by his choice to dabble in his primal urges. Ammon dismissed him with a mere wave of her hand, smiling as she did so. Asher groaned. "Do you need anything? Food? Blankets? It's rather hawkish out tonight; Autumn has indeed found its way." His tone was much tamer this time around. Ammon shook her head as if to kindly decline his offer. He nodded and excused himself from the chamber but not before giving Jericho a challenging leer. Before addressing the issue, Ammon placed the empty bottle gingerly on a bookless bookstand and plucked another from its perch. She couldn't kick the ardent, tangy sensation from her mind; her tongue groped for more, begging her to replenish the sensations it felt. Inadvertently she was glad Jericho hadn't wanted any. More for her after all. "Please ... don't provoke him," she uttered breathlessly. "He may seem easily provoked and a slave to his temper but he's a powerful man. It's best to leave him be; the last time someone upset him he tore through the ruins and made quite a mess. We were sweeping up snapped pillars for days." She then remained silent for a moment, letting the fresh liquid spritz into her mouth. "But, Jericho. This invasion ... I was told earlier by one of the werewolf criers that the humans' attacks have been growing increasingly taxing. I have reason to believe they're merely testing the waters but it's virtually impossible to tell if they'll genuinely attack or not." She turned her head to catch beams of natural light spiral down through the open portion of the ceiling which displayed the trees' canopies and the few fruits they bore. She retook her position on her cot and curled her toes while watching Jericho guilelessly. With her free hand she let it roam through her mane while her hazel eyes probed the muscular man adjacent to her. "I just want to see this all end so ... I can see the smiles of all of the people; have them know that it's safe for them to expose themselves and to live simple lives."

Jericho watched the man leave with nothing short of a smile though the man still glowered. Ammon had not even said a word to the man, yet he had yielded. Interesting indeed. He wondered what it was that caused him to follow the woman so when it was clear she did not want to held down by any man. An intriguing situation, but it was none of his business. Instead of asking, he returned his gaze to Ammon, who then made her way to the cot. She changed the topic, naturally, but he went with the flow it. She was concerned for her people, something he could very well understand. Clasping his hands together in front of himself, he intertwined his fingers, saying, "It does appear the humans have been testing our fear of them; they have been venturing deeper and deeper into the woods. Why, I'm not sure, but I intend to find out. I am planning to sneak into town sometime soon. Perhaps you would care to accompany me? I can teach you to mask your scent, as well as what you are, so you will appear to be human to their eyes. There, we will be able to hear of their plans and do what we can from there." It was a simple enough trick. He was positive Ammon would be able to master the skill. Jericho need only place a small bit of power into her from himself and warp it into her, from there she would be able to control it and mask her nature. Personally Jericho detested using the spell and never enjoyed his days masquerading as a human, but it was a necessary step to obtain an upper hand on the humans. If they wanted to stop the humans, they would need to know them as well as each other.

Denerim. Celebration of sorts. Four years passing where a boy became a man, a mercenary becomes a Knight-Commander. His name? Riddick. For those who don't know him, he was once referred to as 'Rage', the boy who ran around with an apostate Mage, Deacon; a sleazy Rogue, Zander; all looking for his sister, Elizabeth, formerly known as 'Cloud'. Celebration of his new rank, the party .. after party only to be greeted by the sulking after everything had died down. Four years to the date, the male had lost a dear friend -- whom at the time, the two weren't very close at all -- in this very city, Denerim. Celebration with a hint of remorse for the tragedy four years ago. His form changed tremendously, grew a few more inches to stand at six foot, six inches. Muscles being redefined, toned. Personality much of a polar opposite of what he was as a boy. Demeanor, changed significantly. Cared for himself, cared for his troops, made sure his sister stayed safe in the walls of Denerim. A boy to a man was an understatement. Some called him a hero, Some called him a fraud, He called himself a failure. "All hail, Knight-Commander Riddick!" The booming voice called, raising his class at the side of the male, sitting in the throne-like chair at the end of the long banquet table. A wide grin on his face, he had grown much, much wiser in these past four years. Scars came a plenty during his boy-years, untrained, uncoordinated, fool-hardy. Most of all; stupid, arrogant, immature. Clapping his hands together, Riddick pushed himself up from the chair, grabbing his goblet. "Brothers, sisters," His voice boomed, the bone fire burning behind him enough to light the whole section, "Enjoy your feast, may we all eat hearty, live hearty and most of all," Pausing for a moment, "Drink hearty!" Voice echoing through all of Denerim, ah, yes, his one weakness still. Booze, alcohol, the liquid poison. Taking a seat in his chair, taking a sip of his goblet. To most, none could hear them ... the little footsteps pattering against the ground. Riddick, 'Rage', but most of all, 'Big brother', could always hear his little sister's footsteps. She was twelve, taking courses in being a Templar, but she spent too much time around Zander. Rogue tendencies were very broad in her. The smaller, girlish figure approached his chair, tugging on his arm. Riddick had already been paying attention to her, "Yes, Elizabeth?" The male spoke, his voice traveling under the chattering knights, templars, bridesmaids, whatever attended his Celebration this eve. "You can't drink that much, brother. You still need to tuck me in tonight." The girl spoke lightly, "Ah, you know, Aunt Annie would kill me if she knew I snuck you out of her house." Elizabeth giggled like a school-girl, "Aunt Ann couldn't do anything, she'd then lose me, too, Big brother." Shaking his head lightly, "What would you do, Liz, run away?" Watching the girl shake her head in reply, "Yes! I would run! I would become big and strong, like you, and come back and crush mean old Aunt Ann." Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me. Riddick excused himself for the moment, he needed to put his little sister down for bed. It was getting late. Hand moving to stop Elizabeth, that familiar horn ringing in the distance. "We're under attack!" Riddick shouted, turning to Elizabeth, "Stay he-" His attention moving around him, watching her skitter along down the steps, two knives in hand. "Elizabeth!" Riddick shouted, grabbing his Axe, running down the steps after her. One dead. Two dead. Three. Four. The numbers quickly rising, ah, just like the days before. Rage chasing down a ghost, looking for his sister, slaying everything in his past. But, these weren't darkspawn, they were ... human. What the hell was going on? "Cloud!" Little to be known to Riddick, his little sister had found their old friend, long presumed dead; Deacon. She was running straight for her, her little voice squeaking out 'Deacon'. Too far for the male to even hear.

Virtually three days they had been lying in wait, a copse of outlandishly well trained revolutionariness collected from the far corners of Thedas. They were given a command by their superior to straddle Denerim into submission and cripple their militia. The very instant the waxing moon crept behind the mousy haze blanketing the sky, the battalion began to advance. They were but hooded figures in the darkness, taking advantage of the obscurity given to them the clouds. The guards stationed outside of the estate were effortlessly subdued by a red-headed behemoth sporting a body tainted with runes and brands. Those who escaped let the invasion known across Denerim. When the throng arrived at the grand archway a woman stepped forth. She was tall and unwavering, her aura not dark but rather, forgiving and stoic. The man who had directed the invasion stepped idly aside, his mass shaking the very earth below his soles. The Rivain remnant merely waved her fingers and in less then an instant a enormous fire had been conjured. It was destructive, not a general hue of amber but an electric blue which ate away at the wooden arch like a termite boring through an oak. The man with auburn hair jerked his head forward and tore down the vista's door with his bare hands. The revolutionaries flooded in with little to no hesitance, crying and screaming like the banshee that commanded them. A roar. A low, bear-like roar fled from the maw of the tattooed man. He growled as he lunged forward, hindering men with his irregular mass and shoving them clear to the ground. There was one man they were after, all others hadn't mattered. When the way was cleared each soldier lined the terrace single-file to make way for their superior ... a woman. A beautiful woman at that, one sporting her own markings and extravagant armor. She glided effortlessly forth while simultaneously avoiding the corpses of injured and dead men. "Hey! Someone grab that kid!" cried one of the rebels. Before any of the men could grab her she had somehow made it to their superior, Deacon, or as they referred to her as, Banshee. Deacon leered downward with soft hazel eyes while combating an unwanted nostalgia welling up within her. Her hands fled forth and cradled her head, gently intertwining with her elegant ringlets. It was a mode of comfort, one which baffled the men which Deacon had traveled with. One rebel, a shorter men, cried out, "We can dispose of her!" Deacon fell to silence while the behemoth crouched from behind a pillar and lobbed an iridescent scowl towards the solider. Deacon would have no such thing, she could carved out her own skull before injuring a child.

Heart racing, mind wandering, anger steadily rising. Where was his sister? Was she harmed? Dead? 'Where are you, Liz?' The rugged male thought to himself, merely kicking over those human rebels stepped forth and tried attacking him. To the back, Riddick went. The leader would never charge front, would they? Obviously they would be easily spotted, adorned in some fancy Robe or Plate Armor. The male continued to move to the back with haste, rarely did the young girl run off like this. Hopefully, it wouldn't be her last. Would definitely be her last before he needs to leave, any other time he is in Denerim and is able to protect her, she can knock herself out. The male would simply never let her run around without a stern warning of her backside being painted red if he heard from their Aunt that she was misbehaving. She need not to worry about their Aunt then, she'd have hell to pay when Riddick would get back. He was stern, yet forgiving on some stuff. They grew up without parents, it was no use acting like her's at this stage. More of a guardian figure who let her get away with some stuff, then other's not. "Un .... - hand that ... young," Riddick voice boomed, his sentence fragmented. Was the leader holding Elizabeth or threatening to harm her? "Lady." The male finished, stance shifting more to neutral then 'I'm going to kill you all if one hair on her head is even slightly crooked.' Eyes examining the figure before him, seemingly very ... very familiar. "Elizabeth, get over here." Riddick beckoned, watching her shake her head 'No' in reply. "Elizabeth, if you make me come over ther-" Watching several of the figure's guards shift showing they'll attack if he steps any closer to Cloud and the girl. "No, Riddick! Look who it is!" The girl shouted as she removed her buried face from the girl's stomach. Look who it was? "Cloud, get your ass over here or I'm going to," Riddick spoke, taking a step close to the two figures, an arrow whizzing past his head. A threat, a warning. They gave him a leniency step, the next would be kill shot. Brows narrowing, Riddick look to his left .. at the archer who shot the arrow. Grip tightening on his two handed axe ... boom! Within a second, the burly axe that weighed a good hundred and eighty pounds was hurled at the Arched with ease. Learned that from the time he spent with Dwarves, why the Axe became his favorite weapon. "Now," The male spoke, voice echoing loud enough. "I am only going to take my sister, Elizabeth, if you wish to kill me then ... allow me to take her home."

Never would she harm a child. She was somewhat confused as to why this young girl would flee to her in such a time, however, she was in no position to patronized her for her actions. There was, however, something nostalgic about her - her hair, her voice, most specifically her eyes. The man aside her - Goliath - eyed Deacon up and down as if to ask her if she wanted the child disposed of. For some unnameable reason Deacon also found this man - undoubtedly the knight-commander - familiar. She may have seen him during her travels but it hadn't mattered. Her hands were gentle; motherly as she coaxed the child off of her pant-leg and motioned for her to stay where she was. Goliath was displeased with Deacon's choice but adhered to her word without so much as a grunt of disapproval. Her eyes went dark as she watched one of her men so easily subdued by this grand human's strength. Driven by unadulterated fury she stepped forth to address the brazen man who stood alone. She ignored his plight and only shook her head to mock him. A handful of skilled archers flooded in from the upper level of the hall, knocking their arrows with acute precision whilst waiting for the mage to make her move. They were more concerned about the over-sized man toting the destructive broadsword, and as they prepped their fire their bodies fell silently still. A wave composed of pure arcane essence attacked them, consuming their bodies in a firery blaze as they fell from the ledge to their deaths to the ground below. "We've come in search of the knight-commander, if you'd be so kind please direct us to him."

In search of the Knight-Commander? They were looking for him? What was all this about? Riddick cocked his brow lightly, "What is it you wish to .... negotiate with the Knight-Commander, rebel?" The male spoke, tone a bit concerned, if they were here to kill him .. they better take their shot now with his guard down and disarmed. The male would surely take one or two of them down with him. "He's right here!" Oh, fucking hell. God damnit, Elizabeth. The finger pointing at the male before Deacon, "Isn't that right, big brother?" The girl continued to chime, "What do you want with Rage--- Riddick, Deacon?" Elizabeth continued, chin digging into the stomach of the taller's female. Her eyes peering up at the formerly deceased woman. "Elizabeth, Deacon is dead, stop your heresy, someone will think you are crazy." Riddick quickly scolded, his eyes turning to the girl. "If you are looking for the Knight-Commander, or rather .. soon-to-be Knight-Commander, you are looking at this said person." Arms crossing his bold chest, stare moving to the figures shadowed face. "So, again, like I had mentioned previous," Riddick pausing for a moment, his eyes looking down to Elizabeth before roaming back up to the figure. "Allow me to take my sister back to our Aunt, then proceed to kill me .. because I do not see your reason for coming here to invade an open party without intent to kill the Knight-Commander." Elizabeth simply shook her head, burying her face into the girl's stomach, little arms wrapping around the girl's torso. "Deacon! Tell him I don't need to go to bed!" The girl completely obviously to the fact that they were here to harm him.

So this man standing before them had adopted the knight-commander role? She was expecting a man with more years under his belt, not some callow warrior. But, time had told her not to underestimate her opponents and therefore she disdained any thoughts concerning his age. The amazonian woman reached for her stave which was strapped idle to her back before the child so blatantly cried her name. The very day she "returned from the dead" not even she had uttered her own name. How did this child know? With a wave of his hand Goliath waved his palm. The archers - and soldiers that remained in the hall - knew it meant dismissal. They did as their lieutenant asked and left as silently as they came. "I trust you will handle this," Goliath grunted. His deep, earthen voice was strong enough to shake the very foundation of the hall. "I will be waiting at our discussed weystation." Without further adieu the red-headed giant disappeared beyond the building's walls leaving Deacon to face her past alone. Cloud. "Rage?" Her voice was well cast but very bewildered. She washed her jeweled hand over her starless man and rested the stray locks over her broad shoulders. There was no point trying to hide her identity if Cloud had already known who she was.

Riddick nodded, "At a time, I was once called such," Simply because this said woman knew his name did not make him believe that she is his formerly deceased friend who helped him through thick and thin four years past. It wasn't unlikely for people all across Fereldan to know about Riddick, or by his alias, 'Rage'. Long that had been dropped from simple tactics in battle, knowledge that helped him face uncanny amount of odds with victory inevitable. There was no boastful nature about him, he single handedly saved Denerim from Darkspawn. The male had something to fight for; his Sister, may seem silly now but he was doing it for Deacon. She had been slain because he, alone, wasn't strong enough to save her. There was no doubt about it, the male was full of sheer stupidity once he was known as 'Rage', rage and arrogance were a deadly brew for those who accompanied him. "It is not surprising for you to hear such a name, but, I strongly prefer to be called by my name, now." The male spoke, "Riddick, as you've heard Elizabeth over there speak," Pointing to the girl, only to see her push off of the girl's form. Turning around, stomping her feet into the ground, hands balled up as she pressed them into her hip. "Stupid-head!" She shouted, shaking his head lightly, "Elizabeath, I'm sorry but I've seen Deacon's dead body .. I - alone - dug her grave." His eyes moving back to the figure, "I apologize, stranger .. for my little sister's actions. She is not normally like this, are you, Cloud?" The male spoke, grinning lightly as his glance moved back down to the girl. "My name is Elizabeth!" Shaking his head lightly, "And stop being dumb, stupid-head! It is Deacon! I am not lying!" Turning her head toward Deacon, "Deacon, please! Tell him that it is you!" Her hand tugging on the clothing of her armor. Taking a step toward the girl, hands moving to the sides of the little girl. Pulling her from the figure, "I do apologize for this, to make up for it, I invite you and your .. lieutenant - if you wish to get them - to join our feast. We'll discuss the terms of your .... assassination post-feast, if you wouldn't mind." Riddick would do whatever obligated to him from this shadowed figured, as long as he was able to spend another night with his sister and explain what was to happen with his Aunt. Of course she had to be told; Riddick, their only supporter was going to die. Pulling Elizabeth toward him, her feeble attempt to fight him off. Only to be propped up on his shoulder as he moved toward his Axe, shaking his head lightly. Pulling it from the dead body before moving back to the woman. "Shall we?"

"A man once broken by rage is not so broken anymore." It was difficult for Deacon to fathom the raw, unadulterated agony Riddick experienced after she feigned her death. Having to dig a grave for a close friend and bury their lifeless corpse was undoubtedly terrifying, but it was a choice Deacon had to make to reassure that there would be a future. Despite the now healthy child's pleas, Deacon could not convince this man that she was alive, not by actions alone or simple claims. She let her arms lay slack to each hip while she climbed a tiny set of gilded steps and ambled past the long, garnished table. Her elegant fingers feathered over a silver goblet and plucked it tot in her grasp. She took note of her reflection, one she had not seen in a long time. Her face was clean, no dirt or soil and her eyes were brighter then ever. At that same instant she dropped it, spilling a fresh Orlesian wine over the unsullied floor. She then stood in front of the knight-commander, but an inch separating their bodies. He was ... older; his aesthetics had matured and he had developed. His armor reflected his muscle mass and evidentially he'd adopted many more scars. His eyes were no longer sullen or vehement, but rather, stoic like her own. She stared in his for a long, warm moment and proceeded to circle to his side where she peered warily up at the child. "Do you remember those foul herbs I made you take?" The kindness in Deacon's voice was inviting to a child; Elizabeth nodded choppily, her head following Deacon's movements as she circled Riddick. "They were horrid, weren't they. He had to take a much larger dosage then yourself after being severely injured by the orge." Deacon smiled an alluring smile, one that summoned a very eager Elizabeth down from her brother's arms and into those of Deacon who was more then willing to accept her. "We hid in that cave for many days, in darkness with little food or water. It was a time for me to reflect on how severely Ra - Riddick. How severely Riddick wanted you back in his arms."

The male's attention moved to the female who started speaking to whomever, his little sister replying with a shake of her head. No, this couldn't be Deacon. It was impossible, there was no spell in the world that could preserve her body. Though, her story was identical to what had happened in that cave. Riddick waved his hand dismissively after she spoke her little tale, Elizabeth cuddling up in the arms of the woman. Seemingly falling asleep after laying her head down against her shoulder, even though she was twelve .. she was still a big ol' baby. Just the way Riddick wanted her to stay, sure, she needed to grow up eventually but not any time soon .. not when she can still be a child. His dismissively gesture was just that, dismissing the party. Resting in the chair, was this Deacon? Guess there was only one way to find out. Waiting till all his guest had piled out from the table, leaving the three alone. His digitals pressing against each other's tips, the male's chin and mouth resting in the spot where it could. "I recall waking from this said ... over-dose of this said drug." The male spoke, replying to the end of her sentence but that could've been easily passed down from someone who ran into Zander. He could've easily squealed out some details for a coin purse ... or even to move a blade from his neck. Head turning up to from his mouth, looking at the girl. "What exactly was to happen after this drug?" Referring to the little demand Rage had spoke to her. Help him release his problem because she was the one who caused it. Of course, if she didn't know this answer ... she got it from one of the four. The male never told a soul, wasn't such a 'noble' thing of his that he did in the past. Forcing a woman to help him with his said problem, the man grew up from that childish antics.

"You became "irritated", for lack of a better term." It was a disgrace, the mess they made of the dining hall. Food spilled over the stone floor, wine staining tapestries and materials. Worst of all Deacon took note of the malignant odor emitting from both human blood and wine coming in contact with each other. She rolled her shoulders though let her fingers comb through Elizabeth's flaxen ringlets, insuring her head was resting perfectly on the crook of her neck. "You! Unhand the child and turn around!" The booming voice spilled through the entirety of the chamber, clambering to command Deacon who had so brazenly invaded their peaceful inauguration banquet. Elizabeth sensed Deacon's intentions and began clutching onto her robes desperately almost, but Deacon was successful in her actions and placed the preadolescent child on the floor near her brother. "Banshee, correct?" The woman turned only to make a face of raw distaste. This man - the one which had commanded her to step away from Elizabeth - had uttered her alias so brazenly. As she turned her eyes were lit with the reflection of many men, each heavily armed with brandished weapons and sour battle faces. The man which stepped forth in front of them was tucking away a piece of parchment within his vestment. "Hands where we can see them, mage. You're not to bed trusted." Immediately Deacon's expression went flat. She faced the commander and raised her hands over her head at his behest, standing perfectly still. The commander took note of her clothing - they were tailored extremely well but he was not accustomed to a mage wearing leggings as they were generally seen wearing simple robes. "Knight-commander Riddick. This is a document from Tevinter Imperium stating that if this woman is to be captured, she is to be questioned and put to death shortly after. I take it I don't need to reinform you of this, but, we should arrest her now before the rebels return."

Slowly, Randy wandered through the countryside, enjoying the sunny day. He was on the way to a certain town, which had a quite unusual reputation and, above all, population. But he didn't make haste. He had all the time of the world, after all. Randy was a trainer. Or rather he wanted to be one. He had no pokemon of his own yet and no experience at all, but he was determined to become a trainer. He had a love for pokemon, as long as he could think, something that didn't wane as he got older. Leaving his hometown, he went on a journey to become a trainer. He was a young boy of 16 years, with long brown hair, tied into a thin ponytail and blue eyes. He wore dark blue shorts, a white t-shirt and a green jacket. Pretty soon, he could spot a town in a small distance. This had to be the one! There weren't any other settlements near it, so it was quite isolated. Randy grinned. His search was finally over. He was sure that he could find there, what he looked for. He walked a bit faster towards the town.

Ahead in the distance, the town was starting to come into view. Its many inhabitants could be seen rushing about. carrying on with their usual routines. However, there was something in particular about this town that made it stand out: it was home to a wide variety of Pokemon variants. Pokemon variants were so hard to come across these days, and that was why this town was so sought after. It wasn't necessarily easy to find this place, especially since it was in a remote location. It was a good thing Randy hadn't gotten completely lost on his way there. He wouldn't be able to see the little confrontation that was happening though... "What the hell are you looking at? Don't make me punch your face in." There was a young Pokemon variant leaning up against a tree, crossing her arms over her chest. This one in particular was an Umbreon variant. She seemed to be around 18 at least, with short black hair and crimson red eyes. She wore a black tanktop that showed off her belly, and a pair of baggy blue jeans. Upon her head were a pair of ears that resembled those of an Umbreon, and she had a tail as well. A small group had approached her, surrounding her. "Huh? So looks like the brat's still spouting nonsense." one of them said. The group consisted of a few fighting and psychic type variants. Luna, as she was called, was known for getting in a ton of fights with others variants. Her infamy had gotten many of the others to try and get her out of the town. She sighed softly as she moved from the tree, ready to fight them if needed. She was actually one of the better fighters in the entire town. She just had a really nasty attitude towards the other people and to trainers especially. "If you want me to mess up your face, feel free to step forward."

Curious, what would expect him, he neared the town. He could already see some of it's strange inhabitants: Pokemon variants. Pokemon who looked like human girls, but with certain features of pokemon. He smiled. He finally found what he was looking for. He wouldn't be satisfied with ordinary pokemon. These variants however, as the precious rarities they were, were exactly right. Randy thought back on the meeting with the strange woman. She was the one, who told him where he could find this town. He didn't believe her initially but couldn't take his mind off it. So he followed her directions and as he came nearer his hope grew. And now he could see that it wasn't a lie. Still, the woman never demanded something in return for the information and he had no idea why she told him about it. But he could think about it another time. Now there were more important things to do... As he arrived in the town, the variants looked at him. Some frightened, some wary, but all curious. Randy wondered if they even knew about humans. Due to the isolation, it could be possible, that had no idea what he was. He wasn't sure whether he should say something. Maybe they wouldn't even understand him. In the end, he didn't say anything and just went further into the town. After a while, he could see a small group of variants, standing around a tree. Beside the tree itself was a pretty girl, who had features, reminiscent of an Umbreon. She seemed to be rather aggressive, but something about her fascinated Randy. He went closer, watching her carefully.

The other variants started to close in on her. It was quite a sight to see, both make and female variants were ready to take her all at once. She didn't stand down at all though. It only served as a testament to her fighting capabilities. Luna grumbled softly to herself, cracking her neck and knuckles as she prepared herself. the look on her face seemed to be daring them to come at her. Soon, a couple of them came at her, both swinging at her. She easily dodged under it, grabbing their heads and smashing them together. While they went down, another trio tried their luck. She blocked off one of their punches, tossing them away, while the other two teamed up against her. One of them had managed to grab her arms, holding her back, but as the other threw a punch she dodged, making him hit the other. Using the opening, she quickly sent her fist into his jaw. This scuffle continued for a while, though she seemed to be easily subduing them. It wasn't long before they were all gasping for breath all around her. She still looked ready to fight though.

Randy watched in awe, the fight that was going on before his eyes. The Umbreon girl was obviously a very skilled fighter, taking on multiple enemies at once and win easily. At least it looked easy to him. When everyone around her was gasping, she looked like she wanted to fight more. He was scared, but his admiration was even greater. She was pretty, nimble and strong. To make it short: She was ideal as his first pokemon. Of course, that would be problematic. After all, he had no pokemon he could her with and his own combat skills were nearly nonexistent. Also, he had heard before, that there is a special way, with which variants had to be caught, but he didn't know what it was. So, it was unlikely that he would succeed and he was frightened of her. But he couldn't just back away now. It was an ideal chance and he couldn't just let it go to waste. So he went nearer to her, but still in a distance. "Hey, Umbreon girl!" Randy shouted, challenging. "I will catch you here and now, you hear?"

Luna crossed her arms over her chest again. I t didn't seem like this bunch would keep her entertained long enough. "Hmph, I expected more out of this. I didn't have any trouble at all with you." she muttered, only serving to bug them even more. There wasn't much they could do about her though. They couldn't quite match up to her fighting capability. This was no good. She was so bored lately, and this wasn't enough to keep her satisfied. for the moment she thought of just going home for the day, but then she'd still have noting to do. "Hey, Umbreon girl! I will catch you here and now, you hear?" "Guh!" She clenched her fist tightly as she turned to see where the voice was coming from. To her surprise, it came from that of a young human. It wasn't just that though. She was a bit annoyed that he'd refer to her like that. For them, it was a somewhat of an insult to refer to them by the pokemon they resembled. "What the hell? What do you think you're doing in a place like this? You're just another wannabe trainer trying to get lucky."

The sun was setting down when the Order of the Phoenix set out on a new mission. As always, the seemingly inexistent 12th Place on Grimauld Street was pumping with life, last second preparations being made, last words exchanged in case some never returned. The situation was getting completely out of hand. Dementors attacked muggles, not that anyone actually cared much for Harrys cousin, the Ministry of Magic refused to acknowledge the return of Voldemord despite all the signs and the Order of the Phoenix had to be restored. In a sense, it was both an honour and a curse to be part of it. In the entrance, Kreacher mumbled something about his hopes that none of them would come back alive, only to receive a kick from the annoyed Ron. In all honesty, despite the encouraging smiles on everyones faces, people were terrified of what would happen if they were to fail. Little by little, their missions helped out both the magic and the muggles worlds without them even knowing, yet the price was incredibly high. Thankfully there had been no casualties thus far, only Hermiones unfortunate accident with her broom that resulted in her breaking her ankle. Broken bones were never too much of a problem though, and it would take a couple of days for the potion to work and the bone to be as good as new if not better. An elbow pressed against the cabinet at the entrance for support, Hermione offered her best friends a smile. Harry, Ron, please be careful, she implored as the two boys pulled her into a group hug. She pressed her forehead against Rons one with a smile for a second before kissing Harrys cheek. The thought that she wouldnt be helping them was unbearable, but at least she wouldnt be slowing them down with her injuries. Swallowing back her tears, the young woman nodded and the last goodbyes were exchanged. One by one the Order teleported, causing a choked sob to escape Hermiones lips when Ron waved goodbye with a goofy smile and disappeared in a puff of smoke. She exhaled and shook her head, looking around. There was no way she would let Professor Snape know what she was going through, nor show a sign of weakness. Despite the fact that the Order invited him in, he was Hogwarts most hated professor, especially when it came to Gryffindor. She didnt hold things against him, but they werent exactly having tea parties and going shopping together either. During the stay at Grimauld Street she realized that he wasnt as awful a person as he let on back in the potions class and came to talk to him without having to fight a snarl. Sighing softly, she folded one of her legs at the knee, hopping around. Kreacher let out a happy snicker and ran past her, off to polish some of his previous owners things. Despite all her love for his kind, she hated the old elf. There was absolutely nothing in him that reminded her of the adorable Dobby. Shaking her head, the eighteen year old beauty struggle to advance through the old house, every step accompanied with a creaking sound that made her fear for her life. Hopping along, she paused in front of an old mirror to examine the absence or presence of tear stains on her face. Thankfully the ivory skin was nowhere close to being puffy after a night of whining and the beautiful hazel eyes were as large and innocent looking as always. It felt odd to be in muggle clothes at that point she was used to the gown they were forced to wear at Hogwarts. Her curvy hips and slim legs were tightly hugged by a pair of washed out jeans ripped on her knees and next to the pockets and a tight white V neck sweater showed just how slim she was while at the same time offering a glimpse of her firm C cup that grew considerably over the summer. Her hair also grew out, falling down to her mid back in shaggy waves with lighter streaks in them, and she was even wearing a hint of makeup some mascara and a touch of blush. Despite the circumstances, she looked better than ever. It was perhaps for that reason that Ron suddenly started acting more affectionate toward her, and she thought their relationship could end up leading somewhere despite the fact that she was a little tired of his games. Perhaps they werent even games, at times Ron just acted like a child while she, intelligent and mature, acted like a woman. Shaking her head, Hermione continued down the hall, trying to figure out what Snape was doing. The only reason he was left behind was to look after her and make sure her bone healed right. Instead he was doing God knew what. Professor? She called out, instead receiving a happy meowing on behalf of Crookshanks who came running to rub up against her. Crookshanks, she groaned in exasperation, nudging the cat with her foot. Not the right time, she shook her head only to receive an offended sound before the cat proudly walked off, dismissing the owner. Professor Snape, could you help me out? She called out again, leaning up against the wall.

As the various members of the Order departed on their individual assignments, 12th Place, Grimauld Street fell into an old silence it had not felt since these new invaders had found a new home within its dark walls. This new quiet, broken only by the shufflings of Kreacher as he passed through the hidden passages in the walls and the creakings of the ancient structure settling, suited Snape just fine. It provided an atmosphere he could easily work in, and more than once the Head of Slytherin caught himself humming as he bustled to and fro, managing bubbling beakers and frothing test tubes, checking colour and smell as any Potions Master would. Not to mention that Harry and Ron had departed as well, now free to use magic whenever they wanted instead of being confined to Hogwarts. With this new freedom, they were allowed to perform missions of their own, which meant most of the time they were GONE. Oh the joy! Snape's heart, however small and despite constant rumours that he had none, leapt at the mere thought. In all honesty, he should be off committed to a few as well, but ever since that little fool Hermoine broke her leg in a so called 'accident' he had been left to make sure she didn't get into any trouble, as she seemed apt to do hanging around fellows like Harry and Ron. They didn't even have the decency to pay attention in class much less offer any respect an instructor and Head of house would deserve! Hermoine, however, seemed to worship the subject, ALWAYS having the right answer, at the right time, never getting anything wrong. It could be infuriating at some times, ONE of these days, Snape had vowed, he would put her in her place, show her that she was NOT indeed correct all the time! So focused was Severus on this new line of thoughts that he dropped one of his steaming beakers, burning a stinking hole through the tip of his shoe and straight through the dusty carpet sending up orange sparks and a whisp of blue smoke. "By the skin of Merlin's right-!" Yet his curse was never finished, as Hermoine's voice rang out asking for help. More than likely the silly girl had fallen down again. Cursing his luck he stomped out of his, now slightly smoking room, and started down the hall, calling out coldly as he rounded the corner in all of his dark and imminent authority:"Yes, Hermoine, what is it?"He found her leaning against a wall in all of her young and teenage beauty which never ceased to amaze Snape at how a frizzle-haired, buck-toothed hazel eyed girl turned into this picture of absolute attraction before him."Can't you see that I'm working? What is so important that you have to run screaming through the house?"He asked in his usual cold and ignorance of the obvious tone.

The time it took for Snape to get over to Hermione, the girl had all the time in the world to fall down again when she attempted to climb the stairs without crutches. Unable to get up, she simply sat there, infuriated by her own uselessness. A part of her wished she stayed in the muggle world, blissfully unaware of the wondrous place she grew to call home, where she could hug her books, get a boyfriend who could not Confound her or put a love spell and simply live a normal life. Instead, she was sitting in a house where a house elf was on the loose, eager to do anything in his abilities to ruin her stay why of course, a muggle in a house of noble lineage, how preposterous, and her cat that seemed to be more than it let on. Either way, when Snapes dark voice filled the air, giving the poor girl shivers, she was rather happy to see him. It was a strange thing to think, and didnt even sound right, but desperate times. I apologize Professor. I wasnt aware of the fact that you were working, since unlike certain people Im not able to climb stairs, she pointed out politely, offering him one of her sweetest smiles that was laced with a hint of mockery. Hanging out with Ron and Harry turned the sweet little girl a little rougher around the edges, and with everything that was going on she wasnt in the mood to take Snapes attitude without talking back. After all, she was a full-fledged wizard despite the one year of Hogwarts she still had to complete. If only Hogwarts allowed its students to skip years, she would have graduated years ago. They said you were supposed to help me around, she explained, reaching out and unceremoniously grabbing the teachers hand to stand up. He would likely threaten to kill her or actually go ahead and do it, but it was worth it. Could you help me upstairs? I could help you, she pleaded, tired of feeling like a tool. Ever Kreacher was of more use than her. Sniffing the air, she arched her eyebrows and glanced down, scoffing but quickly bringing a hand over her lips. Im sorry Professor, she mumbled, trying not to laugh at the fact that the Half-Blood Prince actually made a mistake while making a potion.

Severus crossed his arms, glaring down at Hermoine where she lay crumpled at the foot of the stairs,"Watch your tounge, young lady,"He snarled, drumming his fingers on his biceps,"Just because you don't have yourfriendsto back you up doesn't mean I'm going to take any of your talk."Stepping off of the bottom step he stood on level with her, fighting the urge to pace back and forth and deliver a lecture, he had every intention to let her lie where she was in order to punish her willingness to spout lip and he told her so,"I have it in my power, Ms. Granger, to leave you as you are if you continue to disrespect my person and Head of Station. I will NOT abide such-!"The lecture he was dying to give, however, was cut short, as Hermoine lunged up and took hold of his hand, pulling herself into a standing position. Noticing immediatly that her hands were quite soft, he growled and shoved the thought away at the same time pulling his hand from her grasp. As unceremoniously as she had reached for it, he had just as unceremoniously pulled it away."In case you've forgotten, Ms. Granger,Iam the Potions Master of Hogwarts, and have no need for a student's help!"The word student was laced with utter contempt, although he couldn't quite seem to forget the thrill that coursed through his body when he heard the word 'help' exit her lips. With great majesty, accompanied by a great sweep of his black robe he started up the stairs, convinced he had erased from her mind any intention to pursue him and press upon him any of her...'help'...he had almost reached the top when he was stopped by a soft giggle that had undoubtedly followed a sly insult. Whipping around in the same majestic fashion that he had hoped to depart in, he marched down the stairs, a deep crimson creeping up his pale neck,"What did you say Ms. Granger?"He nearly roared, stopping at the last step allowing him to tower over her crippled form. Etched across his face was an expression that needed no translation, one that clearly shouted:EXPLAIN YOURSELF! Another emotion in close proximity with his anger swiftly arose as he beheld Hermoine, eyebrow cocked coyly, a tender hand placed over her soft lips, hazel eyes sparkling with-bugger that. Behind his mask of fury a wave of confusion passed. Where did those words come from? He hadn't used anything like that since Li-...he glanced down at his still smoking foot and suddenly realized. With something like a mix of panick, slight fear, and still strong anger he glared at Hermoine, silently demanding an answer.

Hermione exhaled softly. Either Snape was going senile or nuts, she had no other explanation for why he loved lecturing people even when they had really done nothing wrong. He was like an old man, yelling at the children across the street for stepping on his lawn, even if the lawn wasnt mowed. She nodded politely when he spoke. I am aware of that, Professor, but you are acting like a child, she pointed out, deciding to go all out. It wasnt as though he could actually do anything his title didnt mean much at the Order and she doubted he would actually physically hurt her. Therefore, it was her time to talk back if there had ever been one. I am tired of not doing anything, and I would like to help you even if its something small. I mean, every scientist had a lab assistant, she stated, exhaling in exasperation as he went on up the stairs without helping her. What was even the point of him returning downstairs? He was, after all, absolutely unbearable. Suddenly, he returned down the stairs, giving her a brilliant opportunity of finally getting up that bloody stairway. Oh, how she missed Ron. I said that I was sorry for laughing, she replied, watching him turn crimson. She wondered if there was a potion for that or he was naturally capable of turning such a deep shade of red. Surely Fred and George had something to do with it. I just found it amusing that the Potions Master of Hogwarts who doesnt need a students help would go on and spill potions all over his shoes, she explained calmly, trying not to get him any angrier than he already was. Despite her best attempts to hide it, she was somewhat afraid of the teacher. Nonetheless, the fear wasnt as strong as the desire to get upstairs. Professor, just help me upstairs, please, she requested, sliding a gentle hand underneath his elbow to hold on to him. Despite the fact that her hand was gentle, however, her grip was tight and there was no way she would let go of him. Jumping up one step, she glanced at the man who was at her eyelevel by that point. I really appreciate your help, she taunted, taking another hop up the stairway, relying heavily on Snapes help.

Snape bit his tounge, growling quietly to himself, to keep from barking- "5 Demerits from Gryffindor!" It was agonizing enough to be trapped for weeks in the same house that she was in, much less attempting to bide with her sharp and unharnessed mouth. They could only push him so far before he would crack, and about to crack he was, although for an entirely different reason. When he had spilled the potion onto his foot, the mixture inside had blended in with the leather of the shoe, seeping into his skin and causing a mild reaction in his body similar to a stronger and more potent 'Attraction potion'. Needless to say, Severus, Hogwart's Potion Master was beginning to feel a pull he had not felt in years, and one that was very unbecoming of an instructor in one of the most presitgious Wizarding schools in the world. He had to hurry back to his room to fix up an antidote, but none of that could happen with Hermoine tagging along and nagging him. "I'm no scientist, Ms. Granger,"Snarled a lightly sweating Snape through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the firm hand on his elbow,"And I have as much need an assistant like Voldemort needs more followers!"He turned, fully intending to rip his arm from her grasp, but it was more steely than he had anticipated, nearly pulling him off of his feet. Growling a bit louder than he had been before he resigned himself to quietly assisting the crippled student up the stairs,"In case you haven't noticed, mistakes are often made by all sorts of people, no matter their station. I'm not one to talk, Ms. Granger,"He leaned in, cold, dark eyes boring into her's,"I would have to say that you and your...friends,"He enunciated the word with as much disgust as he could,"Have had more than your share of mistakes."Presently, and all the while with Snape radiating his absolute distaste for the situation, they reached the top of the stairs, his face now blanketed in a sheen of perspiration that looked as if he had run around all of London at least a dozen times. Within him boiled so many familiar feelings that it almost hurt to have them back again and he began to look at Hermoine in such a way that wouldn't behoove him to do so in the presence of anyone else. Silently he cursed the effects of his mistake which would more than likely prove to be more dastardly than any that Harry, Ron and Hermoine had ever cooked up. Behind his frigid mask of intolerance and authority he screamed at Hermoine to leave so that he could flee to the dark recesses of his room and quickly mix up the antidote.

If there was one word to describe Hermione, it was stubborn. The girl had a tight grip on the man and she was glad to see that it didnt take him long before he finally gave up on his attempts to push her away. In all honesty, she was surprised he would try despite his lack of heart, how could any man in his right mind push away a girl in need like that? It wasnt as though he was going in another direction, either. A part of her wondered if he was up to something bad and that was the reason he struggled to keep her away. Perhaps he was back to his Death Eater habits, she wondered, concerned. Studying the males perspiration covered face, she felt the concern increase. There was definitely something Snape was hiding, and she wouldnt rest until she discovered what exactly. I dont recall claiming I dont make mistakes, Im just a student, she replied, smiling. Besides, all of their mistakes ended up fixed and always made things better. Except that time when she turned into a cat, not the brightest of her moments. Professor, I promise I wont be a bother, she stated, sighing. Why in the world did that man have to act that way? Certainly, there was the complicated past, but what did she, Harry or Ron have to do with it? And why dont you relax outside of Hogwarts? She wondered, shaking her head. Finally, they reached the top floor and she released his arm after having considered doing something else to taunt him. She hopped along by his side, her leg growing less and less painful to step on by the moment. In an hour or two she would be as good as new. Professor Snape, are you alright? She suddenly wondered, noticing that he was glistening under the light. Of course, the potion, she reprimanded herself, feeling a wave of guilt cover her for suspecting the worst. What exactly was that potion? She wondered, pushing the door of the potions room open to hop into it.

Snape's worry and anxiety increased as Hermoine quickly hopped her way into his room, grinding his teeth he strode in after her, no longer able to fight the want to watch her rear end as she bounced along."NOTHING is the matter with me, in the least, nothing for a student to worry about!"Snapped Severus, crossing his room in 2 quick strides, sight growing hazy as he fought the effects of the potion with all of his might, deliberately ignoring the sweat slowly rolling down his now very pale face as he 'clinked' beakers to and fro searching."Nothing...in the...potion, Ms. Granger."He continued, oblivious to the fact that his voice had become quite strained and the cords of his neck stood out beneath his skin as he frantically shoved aside more of his equipment. Where did he put it?"Nothing...nothing at all."With shaky hands he clasped the jar he had been searching for, a clear container that held a deeply blue liquid that if ingested would surely draw away any unwanted effects given by any sort of concoction. With a gasp he brought it to his lips but severly misjudged, bouncing the lip off of his beak-like nose and causing his hold on the container to loosen, sending it into a slow spiral away from his fingers to the floor with a crash that surely sounded louder to Snape's ears than it really should have been. Glancing down at his foot in horror, Snape turned his now wide eyes to Hermoine and croaked in an attempt to still mantain the authority that everyone saw him as (if even that):"Ms. Granger, out of your own well being and personal safety I ask that you exit this room quickly and put as far a distance as you can between yourself and I."Already the consequence of the potion began to take effect and a new Severus Snape began to take hold, a calm smooth Snape, more sure of himself than any previous Severus Snape could have ever hoped to be, a reborn Snape that held up a finger, now fully composed and stated,"On second thought, Ms. Granger, I'm sure I could use your skills..."Executing a swift turn her began to examine beakers, formulating in his mind something that could be created quickly, difficult enough to provide a small challenge, yet simple enough to...work. The new Snape grinned to himself, rubbing his hawkish nose,"I'm going to need you to find the Mer-people scales, they should be in the cabinet over there."He indicated which cabinet with a slight guesture in the direction leaving Hermoine to do the rest.

What in the world was wrong with that man? Certainly, he had his quirks more so than most other people she knew except perhaps Luna, but this was plain weird. The teenager prayed it was the potion that was getting to him, not the pressure. Professor, swallow your pride for once, she mumbled, rolling her eyes. She decided to ignore him since any attempt to have a conversation would result in him nagging and turned around to study the multiple liquids, gels and whatever else was contained in the jars and beakers. All of a sudden, however, her attention was disrupted by the sound of glass crashing and liquid spreading on the ground. She had no way of knowing what it was, but since the teacher was relatively casual about it, well, as casual as Snape could get, she shrugged it off. What truly worried her, however, was the fact that he was frozen with eyes wide in horror something one rarely if ever witnessed. Surely something awful was happening. Professor, I dont-, she started but was cut off by the calm, smooth voice informing her that he would like to use her help. For the first time the girl was granted what she wanted yet she wasnt satisfied. Something told her that the male was up to no good, that she would get something other than what she bargained for by helping him. Since when did he even acknowledge the fact that she had any skills? Of course, she nodded and moved over to the cabinet. It turned out to be a bitch to reach, but the girl struggled to open it, her shirt sliding up her back to reveal bits of the smooth skin. She quickly picked up the scales and hopped back up to Snape, sliding the jar onto the table next to him. What are you doing, Professor? She wondered, curious what potion he would make something existent or an experiment.

Severus, being no fool and knowing quite well what a cabinet placed in high position would do to a girl clothed in a top that would undoubtedly ride up as she reached, caught his full share of smooth creamy skin that absolutely begged to be touched. No need to rush things, though, plenty of time to align, set, then fire."Thank you, Hermoine."He said, cheerily, a tone definitely unbecoming of him but no less than a pleasant change,"We,"He raised a beaker eye level and tapped its side, swirling the crimson contents within,"Are going to see what we come up with after a few mixtures. More or less an experiment."He set the beaker down and began to add a few of the scales she had brought over to its depths. The liquid began to froth and bubble softly as if it had been placed over a small flame, which was obviously not the case. Snape appeared pleased and beckoned Hermoine closer."Look, it's a positive reaction, see how some of the bubbles aren't rising to the surface, but instead, moving in a circular pattern near the center of the beaker? That's a good sign."Snape delivered this explanation quite close to Hermoine's ear almost as if he were telling her a secret, but then he straightened, beaming, something stretched across his face that no one had really seen for some time. A smile. "Now,"He continued, bustling back to the glass and selecting a test tube of purple colour,"I'd like for you to take the stirring rod and after you putthis,"He indicated the test tube in his hand,"Into the beaker, stir the mixture once clockwise, then 3 times counterclockwise, repeat this 10 times. NO MORE than 10!"He emphasized, holding the beaker out for Hermoine to take."I'm going to go over to my desk to see if I can't find the crushed dragon talons I left in one of my drawers."He began to step away but stopped himself, concern creasing his face,"You don't need anything to support yourself do you? I wouldn't want to have you fall, you might hurt that leg more!"This phrase itself was very startling for two obvious reasons, one for the sudden care, and two for the utter hypocrisy as not 5 minutes earlier Severus had shown a clear uncaring attitude for whatever happened to Hermione's leg and probably would have jumped for joy had she taken the opportunity to hurt it again. Such was his character. 'Was' being the key word in this sudden and suprising situation. Without a doubt this new Snape would have to think fast to explain his sudden change of attitude to the young Ms. Granger before she caught on as to how the potion had affected him. If she caught on at all, and if such was the case, Severus would be a very happy man indeed. A new man, if you will.

Hermione glanced up at Severus to make sure it was him speaking and not Kreacher playing some cruel trick on her while Snape was tied up in the basement. We? She tried not to dwell on the pronoun, which was proving to be quite easy considering the tone. She moved closer obediently when he mentioned that there was a positive reaction and tried to remember the properties of every ingredient used to figure out what Snape wanted to achieve with the experiment. Perhaps he was on to something huge which was the reason for a sudden case of split personality. Whether it was the case or not, she most certainly preferred the sudden warm side of him. Or so she thought for about ten seconds before Snapes voice filled her ears, almost causing her knees to grow weak. He was starting to freak her out, despite the fact that his deep voice next to her ear caused shivers to spread throughout the frail body. There was something incredibly arousing about the proximity and intimacy of his actions although she refused to acknowledge it. I-I see, she nodded, completely taken aback by the sudden smile. No, something was wrong with Severus. He didnt give her the time to ask what it was, not that she expected much of an answer even if he had. No more than ten, she nodded, stirring the mixture patiently and completely ignoring his existence while she concentrated on the potion in front of her. She counted under her breath, suddenly distracted by the hypocrisy of Snapes voice. Of course, he was mocking her, trying to remind her just how useless she was with her injury. She nodded to herself, trying to believe that nothing strange was going. However Granger was Granger, and she couldnt help but ask, especially as she saw the beaming face. Professor, you are acting strange. Not that I mind, of course, but is everything okay? She wondered, glancing at him again in an attempt to figure him out. In the past, she had been certain that smiling would have killed him, shattered a mask or caused his heart to stop. Now, however, she had to admit that he looked rather good when smiling even though it was hard to adjust to the creepiness of the thought.

"Keep an eye on what you're doing, Hermoine!"Admonished Snape loudly over her question,"NO MORE than 10, or you just might shrivel the flesh from our bones!"Abandoning his search Snape strode over to Hermoine, peering over her shoulder and carefully monitoring her progress before nodding and giving her a big grin,"Very good!"He complimented, something he almost never gave to anybody, even the students from his own House. Placing his hand on her shoulder he gave it a squeeze, as if in pride, although his fingers lingered a bit longer than normal. Smiling Snape resumed his search, accidentally on purpose brushing Hermoine as he did so, skirting around her to open drawers and sift through their dusty contents for the bottle of crushed dragon talons. Giving a triumphant "Ha!" He stood up clutching the bottle in mention, shaking it like a maracca as he did a little hop/skip jig over to Hermoine. Sliding the bottle over to clink against the beaker he nudged Hermoine with his hip, grinning from ear to ear. It was quite apparent that Snape had largely changed into someone he was very clearly not. The nudge he had given would have been commonly seen between a boyfriend to his girlfriend (or vice versa, or even same sex as the case may be) and he seemed to have taken on a smooth and carefree attitude not like the old Snape at all who was strict, cold and stringent. Leaning on his elbows beside her he laughed, becoming more at ease,"There we go, now..."He pointed at the talons,"When you're done stirring, I want you to add that to it, but I'm gonna let that pretty little head of yours,"He poked her temple playfully,"Figure out how much. It's an experiment! Have fun with it, eh?"He straightened, a grin still plastered across his face and to be quite honest, it hurt just a little bit seeing as his skin hadn't been stretched in that manner for quite some time.

Hermione was like a frightened child when Snape loudly answered over her question, silencing her with a few words. Im sorry, Im sorry, she mumbled in exasperation, slowly returning to stirring the potion. She fell silent, staring and counting until she finally twisted the wand one last time. Suddenly, a hand came to rest on her shoulder, a compliment flying her way. At that point, the poor student almost stirred another circle but managed to pull her hand away just in time. Very goodThe words sounded almost as though they came from a different language when coming from the frightening Professor. If earlier on her suspicions were vague and paranoid, at that point they came very much real, based on undeniable proof. Something was very, very wrong with professor Snape. She studied the lingering hand, her heart skipping a beat from the sudden attention. Strangely enough, it feltGood. Suddenly, he nudged her with his hip, causing her to stare at him like he was incredibly dumb or simply out of his mind. Nonetheless, she chose to obey him for the while, until her leg was healed enough for her to move properly. Thankfully the potion worked like a charm, the girl able to step onto her hurt limb without wailing in pain. She looked up at him, her jaw almost dropping. Have fun with it, pretty little head? She couldnt help but blush slightly at the compliment, having never expected such treatment on behalf of the professor. Either he was on to something truly huge, or he wasnt the professor. She chose not to take chances, and after dropping an amount of dragons talons she deemed appropriate, she swiftly turned around, pointing her wand at him. Who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape? She questioned in a cold, firm voice although a part of her wished the man in front of her could remain the way he was.

Severus took a quick step back, hands raised in a complacent position,"Whoa, whoa, easy there Hermoine, there's no need to light up, ok? We're on the same side..."He used a tone and manner generally reserved for hostage situations, which wasn't far from their current situation in all honesty."I'm still Snape, always have been Snape, and I don't plan on letting that change any time soon. Is something the matter? Something wrong?"He spoke smoothly, relaxed with a voice filled with concern, as if he were unaware that he stood on the wrong side of a wand. To think of, it wasn't that big of deal anyway, Granger was so steeped in 'good' that she would never use any of the Unforgivable curses, she'd settle for Harry's trademark spell, Expelliarmus or something similar. If all else failed, he could always act like...Snape? A confusing thought, but one that would probably set her at ease if need be, the thing was, he didn't really feel like it at the moment, a bit fearful that if he did, he might lose this perfect image of Hermoine in charge: Striking, beautiful red hair haloing a hard set, freckled and lovely face. Despite the injured leg, she still struck an alluring pose, one that outlined her attractive curves beneath her jeans and shirt. Her upraised arm had ridden up her shirt yet again revealing more of her pearly white flesh just begging to be touched, kissed and-enough. He visibily shook his head to free his thoughts, wrong time, right place, get this straightened out first, then take a chance... "I'd much rather you put that wand away, Ms. Granger, then we could discuss what's going through your head right now."He tried, using his authoritative tone that had most students quaking as soon as he opened his mouth. He wouldn't mind that reaction right about now, it might make her think twice about threatening her own Professor. He shifted slightly, remembering that he had slipped his own wand in his robes within easy reach, it hadn't been too long since he had last drawn, he'd still be fast enough if need be.

Hermione blinked as Severus raised his hands and told her not to light up. As though Snape would ever consider saying such a thing. The man she knew would have mumbled something under his breath and after a few minutes of trying to decipher it she would realize that it was an insult along with some kind of a menace about either getting her expelled, ruining her life or making Gryffindor come in last with so many demerits that they would land into the negatives. Instead, he remained composed, speaking to her as though she was the bad guy in a hostage situation. She bit down on her lower lip, considering the possibilities. While it was true that she wouldnt step into the forbidden spells, she has practiced several others that could possibly injure and get him still until the rest of the order returned. Considering her options, she studied him cautiously, noticing the shake of his head. Before waiting for him to speak, she called out Reducto, a relatively minor spell to cast him aside. It was the second time she tried it and since the first time had been with a larger object, she was surprised to discover that the strength of the spell was more important than she imagined, sending him flying against the wall. It was all the spell did thankfully, since it was cast right as he spoke in that numbing tone of his. Oh crap, crap, crap, she mumbled, running up to the Professor, kneeling next to him with an air of concern. She leaned over, mere inches away from him, her cleavage fully exposed from the deep cut of her shirt. Professor, I am so sorry, she murmured, hopeful that she would not end up getting hurt. Are you okay? I was honestly convinced that someone infiltrated the house, she kept on mumbling apologetically, trying to get him to forgive her before he considered taking her head. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder as she spoke, just to check for broken bones. Thankfully the blast hadnt been too forceful the spell only propelled the person back. The dungeon wall would have been extremely painful, yet that one was a lot softer on the body.

It's a mighty strange sensation to be standing and talking one minute, then to be thrown through the air the next. For Severus it was this exactly, however, there happened to be an added plus that seemed to accompany every poor bloke who was tossed willy nilly. Time had slowed to where he was able to study the problem he had gotten himself into. 10 ft. from impact: It had started off well, thought Snape. If only she hadn't pulled that spell on him he was pretty sure that she would've been in his grasp as easily as a mouse is caught by a hypnotizing snake. 6ft from impact: All in all he really shouldn't be disappointed, in the end he could act so injured that she would take pity and they could move on from there? After all, this might just damage his back, shoulders and/or arms, rear-end, Merlin knows what else, his voice would still work... 3ft. from impact: Damn. This is going to hurt, old boy. Severus groaned from his spread-eagled position and tried to roll over. A sudden ache in his back, shoulders AND arms, rear end, and head kept him from moving any further."Ouch..."His eyes fluttered slowly open to come face to chest with Hermoine's rather amazing knockers. Snape shut his eyes again trying to figure out where his terms were coming from, it was almost as if this potion had taken him back a few years. A grin surfaced through his grimace of pain: Not that he minded, he always wanted a couple years returned to him, he believed to be rather deserving."Ouch."He groaned again, holding a hand to his head,"There was no call for THAT, Ms. Granger, I was perfectly happy to negotiate and talk this situation through."He tried to sit up, found his face nearly buried itself into Hermoine's cleavage so he lay back down again gingerly."Who in Morgan le Fay's green fingertips would have infiltrated, Ms. Granger?"He asked in an attempt to be scolding, yet failing almost very misereably due to his proximity to Hermoine, his sudden arousal, and his main goal to seduce the young student.

Bloody hell. Hermione watched Severus attempt to roll over, almost as pathetic as a turtle flipped over by a little bully. She winced, biting down on her lower lip as though she was the one to get tossed against a wall. For a moment, the teenager contemplated telling him that things could have been worse, but she didnt want her head on a stick. Oh, he would hurt her so much once he recovered. She was certain that this time the man would snap and resort to actual violence. Perhaps if she treated him and took care of him, the ice around his heart would melt and all would be forgiven? No, they werent in a movie starring Jennifer Aniston and he was not precisely a bad boy with a broken past. Snape scared her almost as much as Voldemort scaredwell, everyone in the magic world. Blimey, she mumbled softly, trying to think of something when she felt his warmth right next to the soft mounds of flesh that were her chest. She glanced down at him and backed away slightly, offering him an apologetic, awkward smile that suggested her readiness to run away despite the pain in her leg. Well Professor, if you wanted to negotiate, you shouldnt have reached for your wand, she pointed out, sighing. His inability to be scolding made it easier for her to respond without shaking. I dont know, but better safe than sorry, she exhaled, shaking her head. Im sorry Professor, let me help you up? She offered, leaning in to grab his arm and pull it over her shoulder. The position was incredibly intimate and odd, her face almost pressing against his neck, her arm sliding around his waist. Nonetheless, the girl thought that she was strong so she gave it a shot, carefully pulling him up along with her although it ended up not working very well.

Severus' eyes shot open, shining with indignity,"Ireached for my wand?"Incredulousness dripped from his lips like honey out of a bear's mouth,"Ireached for mywand?!"He repeated, the pain in his sad, abused body beginning to fade,"It was YOU Ms. Granger who got it into your head that I was some sort of imposter, and it was YOU who figured it would be a good idea to whip out YOUR wand and attack me with it!"He exhaled all of this in one breath, falling silent save for his grumbles as he tried to right himself, supported by her semi-capable form, and a form Snape finally got to press his own to, a voluptous body, curved in the right places so that, despite the awkard position, the Potion's Master was still able to fight right in almost perfectly. The soft globes that were her breasts strained slightly against the fabric of her shirt, giving Severus a tantalizing peak as they bulged slightly over the top of her shirt while she strained to lift him. Snape almost went a little limp just to watch her strain a little more. Correction: To watch her chest strain a little more. He was quite aware of her hot breath against his neck, washing over his tingling skin, as anyone would, and for a moment he considered leaning a bit so that her mouth would brush against it but he elected not to do so, for the main reason of: he really couldn't keep his eyes off of her chest. Thankfully her face was turned away from his and she couldn't see his obvious scrutiny. When he was sure he could handle himself, he gently pushed her away, his forearm not so accidentally brushing her chest as he grabbed her shoulders and gently moved her."I'm fine, thank you, Hermoine..."He said, coughing and brushing the old dust from his robes, doing really nothing to solve his coughing which increased in volume and intensity slightly before he caught on that he should quit dusting himself."Thank you."He said again, realising that he was making a bad habit of repeating himself, for a moment he stood, in an awkward situation, as how can one really truly react when you were thrown to the floor by another's spell? For now, silence reigned as Snape attempted to gather his thoughts and plan his next...action.

The girl shrugged staring at the grumbling man. There went the new Snape and back came the old, she thought to herself. Well its your fault Professor for suddenly acting like a human being, and a happy one at that, she pointed out, unaware of the fact that the soft orbs were swelling above the cut of her shirt as she struggled to help him up. The man was incredibly heavy, or at least he was for someone like her. He was also surprisingly comfortable and warm when she had expected him to feel like a lizard cold and disgusting. When his forearm suddenly slid along her chest something she obviously mistook for an accident, and removed her, she nodded, almost disappointed that he didnt let her make up for her actions. He then started coughing all of a sudden, sounding like a chain smoker. Professor? She mumbled, terrified. It wasnt possible for a shove like that to actually severely damage any of his internal organs, right? Are you alright? She questioned, hardly taking notice of the fact that he repeated his gratitude twice, something she would have usually dwelled on for hours. She was genuinely worried for the teacher since she was almost hippie like in her love for everything human, only her love was a little less drug-influenced. She stood up, wiping the dust off her knees before studying him in an awkward silence for a few moments. Resolute to make things a little morenormal, if that was possible in their situation, she skipped back to the table where the potion was being made, unaware of the fact that she was once again offering her teacher quite a nice view of the two bouncing mounds of flesh. She paused by the potion that still seemed rather normal or at least looked like it wouldnt explode, and studied it silently. The color was turning rather strange, almost bright purple. What in the world could such a strange mix possibly do? Some kind of a magical weapon of mass destruction, perhaps, she thought excitedly, momentarily oblivious to the fact that he was still hurt. So Professor, you are not going to attempt to kill me, right? She glanced up at him, not even pausing to hear his response. If not, could you tell me what exactly this experience was about? She questioned, leaning up against the counter.

Grateful from the silent reprieve Snape stalked over to Hermoine's side, peering down at the potion for a moment, before shrugging and throwing her a lopsided grin,"I dunno."He shrugged as he picked up the beaker, swirled the contents inside and watched bubbles pop on the surface or just plain disappear."I couldn't tell you, just thought'd it'd be fun, you know?"He put the container carefully down, still staring at it's contents, before glancing up at Hermoine, his nearly black eyes meeting her's. A dull throb reminded Snape of his most recently aquired injuries and he clenched his teeth, reaching for the back of his head, finding almost immeidatly a good sized lump quickly forming. Cursing he turned only to have another pain assault him near his lower back, reaching behind himself to comfort the spot, his shoulder grated and protested, causing him to reach for that as well beginning a tiny train reaction of Severus groaning and yiping as he attempted to treat all of his sore areas. It was almost like some sort of tribal dance. Either way, it had left Snape leaning against the table, panting in sudden exhaustion and a slight, dull pain. "Hermoine..."He said, slowly,"Be a dear and-oo! An' see if you can search that cup-ow! Tha' cupboard for the healing salves, I should have...aahh...have several."He pushed himself to his feet, ableit painfully and among much 'ooches!' limped his way over to his desk. It would seem that he had taken the fall harder than he would have originally believed. With luck some of the salves would take away the brunt of the problem and set him back on track, for now, he leaned against his desk watching Hermoine as the cupboard he had directed her to was also a bit out of reach. Snape choked back a snicker. Clever little man.

Hermione shook her head, sighing. What a waste of time. Disappointed was not a sufficient word to describe her current state. At least her leg had mostly healed overtime, and she could walk in a relatively carefree manner. The same could not have been said for her Professor, who seemed to be in pain all over. She frowned, realizing that it was his back that was mostly hurt, since he was pushed backwards. Poor man, the spine and the head were so easy to injureHermione felt a pang of guilt, yet telling herself that Snape deserved it for everything he had done in the past helped. Oh, she could hardly wait for Harry and Ron to come back so she could share the incredible experience. It was wrong, yet she felt very excited. Skipping over to the cupboard, she stood on her tiptoes, the shirt once again riding up her taut stomach. She pulled out the small star shaped box with green gel in it before glancing back at the professor. The problem with the salves? They had to be applied onto the place that was hurting, and she doubted that the Professor could reach all the way down his back. She walked up to him, looking around. There was a bed in his room, yet even thinking about what she was going to say made her blush. UhmProfessor, go lay down. Andum, take off the robe, she spoke quietly, biting on her lower lip. I did this to you, Ill help you out. If you let me, of course, she quickly added, a part of her hoping that he wouldnt.

It took everything in Snape's willpower to keep from jumping with glee, and of course, the threat of more pain. This was playing out better than he had expected. Ever so gingerly he pushed himself off of the desk and gave Hermione a small grin,"Of course I shall let you, Ms. Granger, I'm not a man to stand in the way of a seemingly determined female."Daring to wink he limped his way across the creaky floorboards and towards his bed. Cot, as it felt sometimes. A bed of solid rock. There was hardly anything in this cursed house that was enjoyable. Aside from, perhaps, what would happen in a few minutes, if Severus played his cards right, which he fully intended to do, chances like this didn't come around...ever. Carefully setting himself upon the edge of the bed he paused for a moment, as if resetting himself to a new position, which was partly true. The other half was to give him an opportunity to lock eyes with young Ms. Granger as he began to slowly remove his robe in a way that was certainly not becoming of a man of his station, nor stature. However, he did so anyway, sliding it, shall one say, almostsensually from his shoulders, during which he let it slip to the ground with a quiet 'fwup'. Still mantaining eye contact he reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, not as slowly as his robe, definitely fast enough so that she didn't feel uncomfortable right away. He wouldn't want to scare her away too soon, no, not at all. In what seemed like no time at all, Severus removed the shirt from his body, the clothing coming off of his lean, lithe arms easily to a reveal expected pale skin underneath, however, suprisingly corded with a muscle that one would usually find on, perhaps, bikers, or even pole vaulters. A relatively thin, yet still attractive physique. The subconcious Snape took the golden opportunity to flex slightly as he tossed the shirt away, and in that motion suddenly remembered that, yes, he was in pain. With an almost indescernible (spelling?) groan he lay down gently, massaging the bridge of his nose with the fingers of both hands."Hermoine," He said in a smooth voice that didn't really betray the pain he was surely feeling,"Come here."The seductiveness laced within his tone was not immediatly decipherable, but clearly present. The stage was ever so slowly, being set.

Hermiones eyes widened slightly at her teachers comment, a blush coming to her cheeks. Was heflirting with her? It was the strangest thought on Earth; it was less likely for Snape to flirt with her than for Voldemort to suddenly acknowledge the fact that he was evil and make amends. Shaking her head, she tried not to over analyse things, which was proving to be quite hard considering the fact that not only did she have a steep learning curve but was also a girl. She watched Snape lump over to the bed, undoing his robe. It caused her to blush once again and attempt to avert her eyes, yet another attempt that was proving to be futile. There was something incredibly sexy about the movements of his shoulders and back, the muscles tensing when he removed the robe. Although he was as white as she had expected him to be, there was far more muscle than she thought there would be. The robe made the man seem a little chubby, yet it turned out that it was all muscle, a sight that almost caused the girls jaw to drop. Like every girl, Hermione entertained thoughts about some of the teachers it was quite normal at her age. Severus Snape, however, never even brushed her subconscious up until that day. Their sudden proximity and his ability to speak to her with at least some respect made her heart throb for some reason. His voice tore her out of the sudden flow of fantasies, and the girl slowly swallowed before making her way toward him. It was similar to waiting in line, only she wasnt certain whether she was in line for a rollercoaster or a visit to the dentist. O-okay, she whispered nervously, the smooth voice causing her to bite on her lower lip with a rather excited expression. Oh, young girls like her were truly far too easy to excite. She sat down next to the hard body, hesitating for a moment. She glanced at the cream in the small pot and nodded to herself, quickly rubbing her hands together to warm them up before sliding her fingers into the pot. Coating her hands in it, she slowly pressed her hands against the middle of the mans back, leaving the warm mass there. Her palms slid along each side of his ribs in motions shaped like V, slowly spreading the greenish substance along his skin. Her touch was very light at first, until she found herself forced to rub the salve into his skin. Her fingertips dug into him, extremely skilled bored in the muggle world, she decided to take massage classes one summer. It proved to be quite boring, yet she went through with it, hoping to impress Ron one day at the time. Her fingers ran all over his back, caressing the smooth skin and digging into the tense muscles undoing a few knots in the process. Does it hurt? She wondered softly, her voice hardly audible.

"Not so much when you're doing it..."Snape murmured, shifting slightly under Hermoine's skilled fingers as she deftly worked her way over his body, easily chasing away his aches and pains. Severus was not blind, he had seen what her reaction, however slight had been, and it would've taken a fool to not notice the quaver in her voice, the sure sign of a young woman excited. It was hard to hide what sounded like a purr of content from Snape, although she was sure to feel it rumble slightly beneath his skin, like the growling of a quivering earth as you stood upon it at the eve of an upcoming earthquake. Interpret as you will. Severus rolled his shoulders, sighing as everything slowly faded into a dull bliss, kept alive by Hermoine's travelling fingers as they dug and massaged over Severus' well muscled back."You're actually..."Snape's comment was interrupted by a small groan of satisfaction, his shoulders rolling again,"Actually quite good at that..."Suprisingly. The Potions Master didn't really expect a simple student to know so much about easing the body into a quiet stupor, a physical hypnotizing session. It occured to him it was something he should do more often, after a stressful week at Hogwarts. Come to think of it, almost every week was stressful, he could hardly think anymore, something like this would definitely set him straight and relaxed. "You don't, perchance, take appointments, do you?"Snape jested, looking over his shoulder at Hermoine with a devilish grin that suggested more than a massage at said appointments. Indeed, if the young Granger kept up with her fingers, she might have an 'appointment' right now, and from the look in her eyes, he was pretty sure she wouldn't pass it up.

Demeter was angry. She hated Zeus! Once again he thought to run her life, her thoughts, simply because long ago they had slept together. Well, that changed when he killed Iasius at the ritual. That damnable man. She stomped her feet, her robes violently swirling around her shapely legs. Well, she would put a stop to this! Demeter rounded on her desk, sitting to start her plot against the King of the Pantheon. So into her musings was she that she didn't hear the door to her study open and close with only a whisper of sound. Mumbling to herself she sat with her quill and paper, writing coded messages to people who owed her favors. The strong hand that came from behind and covered her mouth made her call out, though muffled and unheard by her Priestesses. Demeter was dragged away, kicking, screaming, and trying fruitlessly to bite the hand of her captor. With inner horror she felt the shift- the one that let her know she was being drug through the planes- to Earth and humans. With a final wail, she was hurtled through the rift, with a last blow to her temple from her captor. With a thud her unconscious body thudded to the dried out earth, in a ditch to the side of a rutted road, her toga torn and her temple steadily leaking blood.

Ionas spent the better part of the morning packing up his cart. He shook his head as he glanced over the meager pickings he had managed to harvest from his fields. The fields had been in his family for six generations. Ionas had spent the better part of his twenty seven years working in the fields which had made him strong and tanned from the sun beating down on him. His lips part in a soft whisper of a prayer to Demeter asking her to watch over his fields. He loads the last two baskets into the cart both holding a few extra items of clothing and the best of his harvest. He could get good money for them but one basket belonged to Demeter's Temple. The other he always donated to the orphange no matter how bad his own harvest was. He travels along the word guiding the mule singing a song softly praising Demeter for her bounty this year. His eyes keep a close eye on both sides of the roads for bandits. Ionas barely spots the figure laying in a ditch as he brings the cart to a stop. He glances around before moving towards the figure kneeling slowly to turn the her over. He gasp softly seeing her torn clothing and the bleeding temple. He releases his own cloak wrapping her in it as he lifts her carrying her to his cart setting her inside softly. He uses an extra toga to wrap her forehead. "Hang on young maiden. Ill get you to Apollo's temple for healing."

Demeter slowly woke. Sound came first. There was a light squeaking, as if a wheel was turning. The crunch of gravel underfoot confirmed the fact. She heard the steps from the mule in front of her and a soft humming from what sounded like a man- singing one of her ballads. Not good. The only ones who sung ballads of her were her human disciples. Well crap. She was in the human realm. Next came feeling. This started with a methodical rocking from the moving cart that made her feel like she was in Poseidon's realm. Then, with a groan, she felt her temple and the many scrapes on her body. Her lips felt bruised and dry, like she as dieing of thirst. Her legs felt leaded as though she would never walk again. Demeter let out a sound that was cross between a groan and a whimper and tried to grab hold of the carts sides so she could sit up without opening her eyes. Halfway up she got incredibly dizzy and laid back down with a groan, holding her head in one hand and her ribs in the other.

He continues to hum his song to Demeter as he guides the mule along trying to keep the cart steady avoiding most of the larger pot holes. He turns hearing a soft groan from the back of the cart. "Whoah mule." He pats the mules neck as it comes to a stop. His footsteps move to the back of the cart pulling out a water bottle as he helps the maiden sit up slowly. "Take it easy young maiden. You seem to have been left by the road." He gently offers her the water skin to her smiling warmly. "I was headed towards Demeter's temple to offer a gift, but after seeing you I figured we should take you to Apollo's temple for healing." He brushes a strand of her hair back as he places his hand on her back lightly to try and help her sit up without hurting herself.

The void between star systems is not so peaceful a place as one might be lead to believe. Particularly not in the Delta Segmentium, where the contortions of The Warp throughout the sector was subtle, enigmatic and malign. It was not prone to violent warp storms, but rather sudden shifts and changes that would astonish and confuse even experienced Navigators, as the light of the Astronomicon is bent, shadowed and twisted to throw ships from their course, or bring them to impossible destinations in no conceivable manner of time. Thus the emergence of a vast space hulk into real space from its cloying reaches is not a rare occurrence, as the bending of time and space contort and wreak havoc upon those pour souls lost in the Immaterium. This hulk showed no signs of habitation to those Adeptus Mechanicus logicians examining it's emerging signatures, it certainly did not seem to be under any kind of propulsion and had no signs of infestation by orks, or worse nightmares. Thus, when it was identified that a large section belonging to the hulk had once been what was clearly an Imperial vessel of great size and power, twisted into the massive wreckage a priority alert to standing forces was issued by the Adeptus Administratum that the hulk be seized in the name of the Emperor, that it might yield perhaps some lost secrets for the glory of the Imperium of Man. The random emergence and entering of the Warp by space hulks is well documented throughout the Imperium, and little concern was given to the circumstance of this particular hulk. No thought was given that this hulk might have some purpose, some sinister motive, some intended ill to those servants of mankind who would so brazenly brave it's depths . . .

"Scan the landing areas one last time. I will suffer no surprises in our docking of the ship." Cannoness Dahlya Krieg's voice carried across the entire bridge with ease. She stands calmly, her powered armor covered with purity seals and various emblems telling the tale of her many heroic deeds. Her left hand rested comfortably on the gilded storm bolter strapped to her side, her right hand fingering a chain of prayer beads crafted from pure obsidian. "Ma'am, scanning complete. No lifesigns detected at any of the proposed docking sites. No energy signatures or suspicious tech either. Any of these four zones will be suitable for an insertion." Battle sister Vorria answered from the navigations station where she overlooked the technicians work. Vorria was Dahlya's Celestian Superior. Over the last few years she had shown remarkable potential, so Dahlya had taken to personally train the warrior for the duties required of a Cannoness. "Good. Prepare your Celestians and the Repentia. We will enter the third docking zone, it's closer to the bridge. Destroy zones two and four, destroy three after we are clear. After taking control of the ship we shall exit zone one." She turned around sharply, her vividly red cape billowing behind her as she moved. "Mistress? May I ask why we don't simply perform an extraction from our docking site?" Vorria asked, careful not to sound disobedient or doubtful of her superiors decision. "Because Vorria. Zone one is very near the secure cargo hold. And the Administratum will be anxious to know if any Imperial treasures or artifacts are aboard. A waste of our time, but less paperwork when this is over if we check for them." With that Dahlya exited the bridge and made her way to her personal chambers. Once there she sealed the door behind her. She went to a knee and pulled a small wrapped package from under her own rack. The Cannoness immediately felt a surge of emotion as she held the package. Anger, joy, lust, pride, sorrow all flooded her mind as she pulled the wrappings from a small metallic disc. On the disc was an image no mortal could create, a face in the grips of every emotion the human mind could comprehend. Around the face was several glyphs that she had yet to translate, if anyone knew she had this, and Inquisitor would be dragging her away very quickly. Dahlya sighed, she regretted the moment she ever touched the thing, but she relished the sensations it allowed her to experience. Her faith, her path she willingly chose had no room for such things. Only devotion should live within her heart, she had been waiting for a chance to be rid of it, convincing herself that it was too risky to throw it out. "Immortal Emperor. Give me strength and purge these impure thoughts from my mind. And forgive my weakness." She re wrapped the damnable artifact, and made her way to the docking bay. Once out of her room, her face became once again an image of strength. No matter her feelings, her sisters would see only the might of Adeptas Sororitas.

As the warrior maidens of the Ecclesiarchy readied for the search and reclamation of what had once been the Imperial BattleshipPraetorianthey could be secure in that their sensors had indeed picked up no life readings or telltale signs of ambush as they prepared their final docking sequence. There were not many forces in the galaxy who could foresee what was in store for them in fact, as their ship docked a strange artifact began to glow to life in one of the upper gun decks of what had once been a proud warship of the Imperial Navy. Now however it had been melded and bonded to a great deal of debris till it was only part of the greater space hulk, and its mass had merged with more than just Imperial Craft. Like an expanding splinter, the remnants of what had once been a great warp gate, now equally twisted by the haphazard whims of Chaos it had once again found it's connection to it's brother gates, the great network that had once been the circulatory system that had preserved the greatest empire the galaxy had ever seen. The Webway. One of the greatest triumphs and curses ever to be born by the Eldar. Created in their golden age it allowed effortless, secure travel across the galaxy through the Warp. With their fall however, it was like a malignant tumor, and many a lesser race and malign entity had sought to use it for their own nefarious purposes. The Eldar themselves no longer truly controlled it, nor knew the complete extent of it, but they more than any other race could use it to their greatest advantage. And now, it was their dark kin who had found this long forgotten entrance, hidden amongst this innocuous space hulk, the perfect trap for any prey they should choose to capture and enslave. The gate rippled and pulsed, tearing out into real space as the Dark Eldar raiding party began to pour out, into the upper decks deep in the reaches of the hulk, still just barely a whisper in the Warp, but already a more immediate threat to the Sisters who even now were beginning the exploration of the supposedly deserted ship.

"Fan out sisters. Five meter spread. No sound." Dahlya commanded, and her sisters obeyed. With ruthless precision Vorria and her Celestian moved to cover every entrance to the hanger that was now their docking bay. Their massive power armor moved with the same agility and grace as their own bodies, they were angels of war. Behind her fourteen sisters Repentia stood ready. Their bare skin already glistened with sweat, it was hot on the hulk, and humid. An oddity, but the hulk itself was a monument to impossibility. Dozens if not hundreds of ships, satellites, and stations all twisted together into a floating amalgam of horror. Dahlya had seen before the things that lurked within the walls of a hulk. Things beyond imagination, things that could shake the faith of even the hardiest priest. Dahlya held her custom Storm Bolter with one hand, up next to her shoulder so she could fire immediately. Her standard issue power sword hung from her right hand. And Grimfate, her own personal weapon. An Eviscerator type chain sword like the Repentia carry, only hers was crafted on Mars itself. It was a chain weapon and a power weapon at the same time, the fury of it's motor drowned even the most demonic roars, and it's teeth could rend even Ceramite. It hung from a harness on her back. "Cannoness. Only one path is usable. It leads away from the bridge, however Sister Idanni carries the Multi-melta. If the schematic holds to this corridor.." The battle sister pointed to a hologram of the ships original layout. "Then we can cut our way up to the bridge level and go straight into the command deck from this bulkhead." "Excellent work. Make it happen sister. Take point Repentia!" The sisters Repentia started moving quickly. They were hindered only with their Eviscerators. So they covered ground quickly, and if any threats met them during their course, then there was nothing better for them to meet than the Repentia. Fanatical, fearless, and without any mercy or restraint. "This is Dahlya Krieg to the Revenant Dawn. We are en route to the command deck. Commence destruction of docking zones in five seconds." "Copy that sister. May the Emperor guide you." With that Dahlya followed after the Repentia, Vorria right behind her. "May he guide us all." She said as the Revenant Dawn poured destruction into the Hulk. Leaving only molten slag to tell of her passing.

As the Sisters began their ascent up towards the command deck of the ship, the raiding party was making preparations of it's own. Kaltus emerged from the Webway's entrance only a few seconds after the first of his raiders, but already they were busying themselves fanning out to scout out the corridors they had prearranged their ambushes for. This had all been set up by the Archon and his Haemonculi as a trap to lure any mon-keigh foolish enough to spring it, and now it was Kaltus as Dracon of Kabal Scerree, to be sure it was a fruitful endeavor. They had explored most of the decks and had a good layout of the hulk before coaxing it into position to emerge from the Warp, and he had made personally sure that each of his raiders knew which ambush routes they were responsible for. Behind Kaltus now emerged his retinue of incubi, loyal and voracious killers who served as his personal guard and strikers, and behind them Haemonculus Tseeran, and a cadre of his choice Grotesques. Kaltus sighed from inside his helmet, as their was no love lost between Tseeran and himself, even by the standards of Dark Eldar within the same Kabal. He was an effective tormentor and useful yes, but had no mind for military matters and found the favor of the Archon in the entertainment he provided. A sudden tremor however distracted Kaltus form his musings of the failures of their Lord Archon and he immediately turned to his incubi. "Report!" He demanded as the display from his helmet lit up indicating the direction of the explosion, and route to the hulk's entrance. "Dracon, the mon-keigh have begun boarding the ship and have destroyed the entrance at the lower gun decks." His incubi responded, and Kaltus grinned. "The vermin have cut off their only escape route and even now advance into our web . . . ", Tseeran said, rubbing his hands maniacally as he turned towards Kaltus who nodded politely in response. "We shall allow them to advance, up to the third tier before the trap is sprung." He said, making it clear that he would be giving the orders here, "The mandrakes will surround them, while you take the wyches and their beasts to cut off their escape." Then turning to his incubi and raiders he nodded. "Then, we shall have them." There were cackles and howls of approval from his forces as they immediately spread out, moving silently and swiftly down the corridors of the hulk into two separate forces, adjusting as the Sister's penetrated deeper into their own demise.

Dahlya stood motionless as Sister Idanni sliced through the durasteel bulkhead with ease. Her the beam of heat from her multi-melta carved the ceiling into molten slag. Dahlya, Vorria, and every other sister with a line of fire aimed their bolters at the soon to be opening. And after thirty seconds of blinding light and intense heat, a portion of the bulkhead fell onto the floor. They all waited, motionless and silent. Then after ten seconds of silence Vorria moved ahead, careful not to step on the still molten metal she surveyed the entrance. With a tap on her holo-scanner she got a 3-d rendering of the corridor above. "Cannoness. The route so far holds true to the original schematics. The next floor we should be able to reach through this shaft right here, but the shaft is damaged. The Repentia will have little difficulty scaling it, but anyone in power armor will take some time to rig up an ascension harness. Or we can cut our way through the ceiling again and take the risk of damaging vital bridge systems." Dahlya sighed. Those were only half the difficulties between the decisions. "Not only that. But if we cut through, we will alert any threat that may be inside the bridge, giving them a full ninety seconds to prepare an ambush. If we scale the shaft we will have surprise, but no viable exit strategy." She considered the options. Their mission was to take the bridge and secure the Hulk. Exit wasn't an option anyways. Plus, the risk of damaging the vital systems and walking into an ambush was far too great to take that path. "We scale the shaft. Repentia! Take point!" Again the barely clothed soldiers moved ahead with speed and agility. Slinging their massive blades over their backs as they used each other as human ladders to climb through the opening. Her unit was through and reached the shaft in barely four minutes. They were making excellent time. "Alright sisters. Prepare ascension harnesses, I want half the squad up with each trip. Repentia! Scale the shaft and secure us a landing. If you meet resistance then hold your ground and kill as many as you can. Death is your fate, death is your gift. We will be with you soon. Until then, may the emperor guide you." She watched the Repentia until they were out of her sight. Then she turned to Vorria and the Celestian. The moment she turned she felt a pang of some unknown sensation. She felt a sudden heat in her abdomen and without a doubt knew it came from the accursed artifact. Heat flooded down from her stomach to her thighs, and everywhere in between. Without betraying her cold demeanor she whispered a prayer, focusing her mind and blocking the sensation out. As soon as she had a chance, she would be rid of the thing.

Melting their way through the shaft was a move unexpected by Kaltus, and thus the arrival of the Repentia on the upper level, already securing fighting space along the corridor while still Tseeran rounded the Battle Sisters to cut off any escape. They're rapid advance down the tunnels would have easily made for a much more difficult situation in running down and surrounding pockets of resistance, a laborious and potentially costly effort on his part, were it not for the Mandrakes. Maneuvering through the cramped, ill-lit corridors and even crawlspaces of the hulk was a task perfectly suited for the deranged creatures. No longer truly Eldar, they were more like the warp beasts of the wyches, useful so long as they could be controlled. And with the promise of slaughter and captives, it was not difficult to bait them into surrounding and delaying any unforeseen advances by the mon-keigh. As the Repentia squad advanced, it was to utter silence within the corridors of the hulk, the shadowy passages and bulk heads taking on a malevolent atmosphere more like a dark wilderness than the sterile halls of a ship. They could take heart and faith that the Emperor watched over them, that the feeling of being watched, of being baited by foes unseen, predators just out of sight was a trick of the mind, a flaw in their focus to be redeemed when truly they faced their foes. But their fears were not so unfounded as might be believed. As they crossed through an intersection of passageways, the two Repentia furthest in back seemed to be suddenly enveloped in shadow as an ear splitting howl erupted from deep within the darkness of the passage in front of them. The Mandrakes sprang from every corner of darkness, their flesh blending with the shadows with a fluid naturalism no technology could replicate. Their needle teeth and elongated claws were the stuff of nightmares, and demons of the Warp to which they had long been exposed and the attacked with a growing frenzy as the scent of flesh and spilled blood drove them wild. The were surrounding and amongst the Repentia in a swirling melee, even as their Eviscerators roared to life, mangling and cleaving through their bodies with ease, but it mattered not to the loathsome, twisted creatures. They were numerous and agile where the Repentia were ungainly with their massive weapons and though many fell beneath the whirring teeth, it was inevitable that others were subdued, dragged off into the darkness by the hissing, screeching warp-spawn.

The mistress does not command. Her duty is to ensure the Repentia follow commands. So long as they do their duties, the Mistress remains silent. Ohkorra Veshyr had remained silent until the shadows began to move. Without the Cannoness she was all that kept the Repentia from losing their minds and bodies to madness. She had fought this foe before. She was a veteran of nearly sixty battles, to look at her you would see a striking woman, who's face held both youth and experience as well as scars. You would not know that thirty five years of her life had been dedicated to the penance of the fallen. She knew well this foe's tactics, to move with the darkness, to be the darkness, to make fear a weapon and cut deep with it's edge. "SISTERS! TEAR THEM DOWN! KEEP YOUR BACKS TO EACH OTHER!" She lashed out into the moving shadows with her bladed whips, feeling the bite of flesh as she carved flesh from bone. "FALTER NOT SISTERS! DEATH IS YOURS TO GIVE IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR!" Her fanatical devotion had earned her many a honour throughout her career. It also carried the Repentia far beyond their capacity. But slowly they were overrun. The dark fiends that assaulted them were too numerous, and the Repentia could not use their Eviscerators too their full potential in these tight spaces. Eventually even Ohkorra was overrun, her whips torn from her hands, they wanted her alive, for she was not killed. Instead as she fought them off with her armored hands they tore into her suit, slowly damaging the circuits until the motors slowed and the power died. She could do nothing but swear and bide her time as she was drug off into the darkness with her repentia. She would wait, she would find time, and she would strike.

The Mandrakes were many things, but they were not perfect. They were talented, patient, methodical hunters yes, but they were not terribly efficient. It took great lengths to be sure they did not devour their prey on the spot, and Kaltus knew no threat, no promise, nothing that would motivate them to go about their work as efficiently, cleanly or nearly as quietly as he should like; ashe would kill. They had overwhelmed the Repentia, yes, but they had made a terribly bloody mess doing it, and their raucous howls and the sounds of gore and slaughter echoed through the halls of the hulk alerting anyone who cared to listen that blood had been spilled within the decks of the hulk for the first time in perhaps a millennium. And blood spilled would call for yet more blood still. Kaltus knew as his scouts relayed that the Mandrakes had met resistance, that their prey would be similarly alerted, and he was pleased. He was pleased because the purpose of the Mandrakes was yet twofold: they were advanced scouts for her and his Raiders, but they were also bait in and of themselves. Already their battle had bought time for Tseeran and the wyches to maneuver behind the mon-keigh, and they would be much more delicate in their pursuit and the eventual ambush, waiting until the time was right and their doom assured. The mon-keigh would be drawn to the sounds and scene of battle like daemons to the pyre, and then it would be too late. But for a number of the Repentia, including Mistress Ohkorra Veshyr, it was too late already. The Mandrakes had them in their clutches and were it not for Kaltus's explicit orders, they might have met a grisly fate at the fangs and claws of the cannibalistic fiends. No, their fate was reserved for much darker, more twisted fiends yet, and as the raiders pried the remaining Repentia from their clutches, the beasts howled with a desperation that might yet soon be matched by those who were so recently their prisoners. The armored Eldar relieved them of their weapons, and finding the Repentia still violent and fanatical even under threat of violence were liberal with their use of agonizers and their own neuro-decimators, rendering even the most fervent of Repentia into mewling heaps as their senses overloaded, rending their perceptions between intense pleasure and pain as they were dragged off. Slave-nets kept them subdued as they were brought back towards the Dark Eldar field base, and Mistress Veshyr could see the foul xenos as they readied for their ambush, her armor keeping her immobilized without need for their torturous tools. At least, for the moment.

Ohkorra cursed quietly to herself as she watched her Repentia reduced to husks by the xeno's torturous weapons. One by one they fell and were dragged off, until she was dragged along. Her armor kept her prisoner enough, they must have decided not to waste their devices on her immobile form. She had an idea of what was coming, and she would keep her calm. The only reason dark eldar take prisoners is for slaves or for pleasure before disposal. Twice before she'd been subjected to the dark vices of the xenos, each one she'd bided her time until she could call the wrath of the emperor upon them. This time would be no different. Her only failure was her inability to inform the Cannoness of their fate. They were taken." Dahlya surveyed the landing at the top of the shaft. The base area was untouched, empty, but only meters ahead the halls were scarred by fresh battle. Massive gouges showed where eviscerators had dragged across walls, scorches showed where Ohkorra's power whips had burned, and numerous smaller gouges gave light to smaller, much more sinister weapons. "Genestealers?" Vorria asked. "No. Genestealers claws leave distinct marks, gouges, tears, they would not have stopped with the Repentia. They would have swarmed us in the shaft as well. No....this is Eldar. Dark or otherwise, I cannot say. But look at how fine the cuts are, only Eldar weaponry can cut through metal while being that thin." This did not bode well. She would assume the Repentia dead, she would assume the Mistress Ohkorra was alive until she saw the body. That woman was invincible. For now, it was her and the Celestians. "Do we pursue?" Vorria asked, a hint of worry in her voice. "We do not. The Repentia are likely dead or incapacitated, so they have met their desired end or will do so soon. Ohkorra will not die so easily, and would not want us to follow her. She will reach us again. We continue the mission." She started to take a step when another pang of heat from the talisman hit her, it took all her will to keep from doubling over. Normally it emitted a myriad fog of emotion, now it was concentrating on pleasure. Maybe it was trying to tell her something....all the more reason to be rid of it. She forced herself into motion, silent prayers and focus eventually drowned out the talismans effect. Within moments they reached the blast door to the command room. "Open it." "Yes Cannoness." Sister Myreya moved to the control console and began restoring it's power. Within a minute, the doors began to slide open. All celestians trained their weapons on the growing entrance. Idanni and her Multi-melta, Myreya, Sassia, and Keira with their Twin-linked bolters, Freya with her hand flamers, and Vorria with her heavy bolter.

Well, it was a good run while it lasted. Like always, he was torn away from his companions for one reason or another- and as always, it was his fault. Sure, Donna was safe and sound at home, but at the price of her memories and the self-confidence she had gained during her journeys. The TARDIS felt rather empty, now that it was occupied by only one person, but maybe traveling alone would be good for him. He had managed it during the lowest point of his life. Maybe another Rose would come along eventually to pick him back up on his feet if he didn??t do so soon enough. A quick trip to the planet Xarbulas would clear his mind a bit. He was all set to do so, but then he heard his screwdriver make an odd noise- one he hadn??t heard in a while. It was a faint beeping noise- a homing device. He had set it long ago to detect individuals or small groups of aliens that were on a planet that wasn??t their own- it was his own way of trying to find if any of his own kin had survived the Time War, as low as those chances were. Unfortunately, he knew that this was not tracking down a Time Lord, since it would have beeped at a different tone and rate. Still, it worried him faintly. Usually these were the most dangerous on Earth, since small groups were easier to slip through security nets and cause trouble that wouldn??t be noticed until it was too late. Well, looks like Xarbulas was going to have to wait. Beaming at the thought of adventure, he packed a large suitcase full of clothes, gadgets, and whatever he could fit inside and made his way out to mingle with the humans again. Oh, wait? he needed money. Stupid currency. He backtracked to a room deep within the TARDIS and began to rummage through all sorts of drawers until he found one marked, ??England- 1990-2057??. Inside was the proper currency he needed and he stuffed his pockets and bag full of it. He wanted to make sure he had enough and he didn??t want to make more trips to the TARDIS than necessary, just in case this alien wasn??t very friendly and followed him to his last link to Gallifrey. He withdrew his screwdriver and toyed with it to lock on to this one life form and, after wandering through the streets like a lost fool, came across a lodging house. Oh, this was going to be fun. It had been a while since he posed as a human- well, without rearranging his entire genetic make-up, that is. The Doctor headed to the door and knocked. A friendly-looking couple answered. After a half hour??s worth of chatting and charm, the Doctor was given a key and a room to the house. According to his sonic, the other being was right down the hall from his room. He switched off the homing device and entered his new quarters and left the door open as he unpacked, just in case the person happened to pass by.

Earth. Oh how lovely it was. He truly loved it. 70% water. Great place for an Undatian like himself. He just loved everything about Earth. As long as he kept his shirt on, no one ever noticed him. Well, that was a lie. He was noticed. He made himself noticed. He just was never too noticed that it made people think he was something he was not. He so loved that he was able to have that. He got to swim, and since Earth made those neat shirts that covered up the torso, but could still absorb water, he was even better off. Sure, he got strange looks when he did not come up from the water for ... hours, but hey! He still had far too much fun. He just loved being able to swim here. It was a good vacation. What was better was the house he was staying at was so close to the ocean! It made everything thousands of times better than it had been. He truly was thinking about moving here. Well, not by choice. His ship broke. Very, very broken. He had intended to come to Earth, but not so soon, and not as fast as his ship was hurling toward the earth. That was bad. Now, his ship was broken. He was pretty sure someone was after him, and oh! He needed to get parts. That were only on his planet. That was such a dandy little thing. He did not like that he was forced to be here, but he really was beginning to accept that fact. Gladly accept it too. Sure, Earthians were not as accepting as his home planet, but they truly were gorgeous to watch. Especially on the beach. Oooo. Such gorgeous beings! Walking through the halls of his housing, Turtle was going to go ... somewhere that he forgot. And how? By walking by the room right next to his. Some gorgeous suit-clad male bent over? Oh yes. He was stopping to check that out. Blatantly too. Subtle was never really in the boy's dictionary. His head lightly tilted to the side, eyes traveling along the gorgeous rump in the air. Definitely a delicious specimen. That really was nice. Very, Very nice. That just added to the list of why he loved this place. Moving over to the doorway, he rested against the doorframe, his arms loosely crossed over his torso. He looked over at the man a little bit more before lightly clearing his throat. "Hello, there. New here, I take it?" He asked, a warm smile pulling o his lips as he looked over the man once more. His eyes stayed with the other and his fingers lightly tapped on his sides, just utterly happy to have walked down the hall now. Yep. He definitely could get used to this place even more if he got to see him every day. Though, there was definitely something different about him. Honestly? He could not care less about that. If he was this gorgeous just behind him, then how could he not enjoy being here?

It didn??t take too long for the Doctor to unpack. There really wasn??t much that needed care for. Most of his clothes were folded and tucked into the drawers within minutes. Any gadgets he didn??t need prying eyes to see were thrown haphazardly in the bottom drawer of his dresser. Everything else that wasn??t clothes or secret stuff was littered on top of his dresser- which included his tooth brush, an empty notebook, a comb, and the farewell card Wilfred had made him. It was a nice thing for him to do, and keeping cards that meant something close by seemed like a human thing to do, so it helped him with his cover. While he had been unpacking, he managed to find his favorite pair of glasses- oh, he had been looking for those for a while. Good thing he managed to toss them in to his suitcase in his packing frenzy. Rather pleased at the surprise, he put them on. He had just been hanging up the last of his jackets in the closet when he heard Turtle step in and the Doctor could easily sense that this guy wasn??t entirely human. He spun around, cautious at first but by the looks of it, the other didn??t look too keen on attacking just yet. In fact, he was even kind enough to start a conversation. For now, he had to act as human as possible. ??Oh, hello there!? Without sparing a second, he approached the other and then took one of Turtle's hands into his own and shook it enthusiastically. ??I??m John? and you are??

John? How boring. The shorter male pouted just a bit at his name. He did not seem like a 'John' to him. Maybe a Paul or a David ... but John? It was just so ordinary and boring. The name definitely did not fit the other. He truly was tempted to give him a new name, but figured that it was a little too soon in their friendship to do such a thing. Oh yes. He was going to make him his friend. Why? because friends spent time together. Spending time together meant getting closer and getting closer potentially meant sex! Oh how sex with him would be just lovely. Toned body. Tall, lean... Lovely hair. His mossy-green eyes traveled along the other's spiky hair for a few moments before realizing his hand was being shaken and a question asked. "Ah. Name. Turtle." He stated, giving him a shining little smile. His five foot four form barely stood up to the other, not that it mattered. His height never mattered. Only made things better. "Sorry for the zoning out. I haven't really made any acquaintances yet." He admitted and shrugged his shoulders a little bit more. "You are new to town, right?" he asked, perking up even more and his eyes sparkled with his utter enjoyment. "How about I treat you to dinner, hm? Show you some sights. The ocean is beautiful!" He would love an excuse to go near the water again, and going there with this cutie? That would make his life so much better.

Okay, so John was a bit of a boring name, but it helped out the Doctor in situation like these. If someone ever wanted to do a background check on him, well... good luck trying to figure out which 'John Smith' in the database he was. Besides, with a name like 'Turtle', most other names were painfully bland. He probably wouldn't care if Turtle ended up giving him a nickname. It wouldn't be the first time someone did that to him and besides, it's not like he was incredibly attached to a name that wasn't his, anyway. Hell, even 'Doctor' wasn't his real name but at least liked it a lot. "Turtle, huh? Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," he responded. So far, the guy didn't really look like a threat. Maybe he was one of the rare few (okay, not so rare since there would be millions of aliens that would come here that meant no harm, but that was further in the future) that came to Earth or was stuck here and meant to live a normal life on this planet. The welcoming attitude and kindness was a bit surprising, since a lot of the aliens he had come across lately were more than willing to lop his head off. However, he wasn't going to complain. Right now, it seemed that Turtle was being genuine with his help and the guy seemed pretty eager to go out and about, too. "That actually sounds like a good idea. Thank you," he responded. He finally released the other hand so he could slip both of his into his pockets. "You've been living here a while, I assume?"

Turtle smiled. Lovely. He agreed. That made everything so much better. He perked up a little bit more, his body straightening as he looked over the man in front of him once more. Oh yes. He wondered if the newcomer would be offended or put off if he clung to him and hung all over the other like no tomorrow. It would be far too easy to do. He wanted to play with him! In more than one way. Patience was definitely not a virtue, but he would try to contain himself from pouncing the gorgeous being in front of him. "Great! Do you not like to eat anything?" he asked, not sure about the other's preference. He wanted to know before he decided where to drag him off to. He twirled the keys in his hand for a few moments. He turned on his heel and skipped over to the door. Closing his, he locked it and then jogged back over to the man. His arm wrapped around the other's elbow and he tugged him against his side lightly. He straightened his form and just beamed all the more excitedly as he looked up at him. He really was going to have fun with his new neighbor. As for the question of time, he gave a nonchalant little shrug of his shoulders while walking. "A few months. Three I think?" he turned to look at him, making his way down the hall and through the house to head on out into the crisp, clean, open air. So much fun! He smiled a little bit more, really happy right now.

"Pears. I can't stand pears," the Doctor answered immediately. Oh, it was such a foul fruit. He remembered how Martha hadn't been able to stop him from eating one back when he was configured into a human and he couldn't get the taste out of his mouth for weeks, no matter how hard he brushed and gargled. It stuck with him and just rubbed him the wrong way. Kind of like trying to get a dog to eat a pickle. One whiff and they turned tail. He was a bit confused by the other's touchyness, though he just attributed it to a species-sort of thing. He couldn't tell what planet Turtle was from just yet, so all the possibilities were still there. At least it was a friendly culture trait. He hated it when he had to go against traditions because he wanted to keep all his organs. Besides, the guy looked thrilled to be hanging out, and the Doctor loved it when people were happy, human or not. Three. Okay, so that was enough time to either become accustomed to human life or find a way to destroy it. Either way, the Doctor would have to stick around for a while to find out. He was going to grab his keys and make sure he had everything in order, but Turtle was already heading out and the Doctor wasn't going to cause a fuss. "That's cool. Where'd you live beforehand? I travel a lot, myself."

He did not like pears? Well then, that was interesting, wasn't it? Personally, Turtle did not mind them. Maybe not his most favorite fruit, but he still liked it if he had nothing else to eat. He would not mind them. BUT! He kept that in mind. And considering there was nowhere that would force him to eat a pear, he would just take him to a simple little cafe with good sandwiches and some nice drinks. He was sure he could make the other love the little cafe he had grown to enjoy. Besides, lovely views there. And not just of the water. Turtle turned his attention once more to the man while he made his way through the streets. Where? "Um... Pretty far away. I doubt you've heard of it. Just one of those strange little places no one ever thinks about." He batted off the question with a little bat of his hand in the air. Now! To change the topic. "So, why aren't you married?" he asked, holding up the man's hand that his arm was latch on to and showing the lack of ring on his finger. And yes, deep down he was praying for the answer to be 'because i like men'. If not, then he was fair game. Even if he had a girlfriend, that was so very not important to him. If he could persuade him, he would not stop himself from having his way with him. Dating someone was so boring and he did not care if the other was taken. That would not make a difference at all. Hell, it would make things more challenging! If he was free, oooh, then that would make the rest of this man's stay here just so much more interesting.

Over the years, he had come across many planets and many foods and he had learned how to cope with eating food he didn't like- food that probably would turn most people's stomachs. However, for some reason, pears just stuck with him. All the other foods he could wash away with a drink that he liked and the taste would be gone within a few minutes. Pears, on the other hand, were persistent little bastards. And if any of his companions needed their pear fix, he'd ask them to eat them in one of the rooms he usually never went in because the smell of pear lingered, too. The Doctor tried not to chuckle at the response- of course, if he was human, he wouldn't know where Turtle came from, but that was far from the case. Instead, he gave a small grin and answered, "you'd be surprised. I've traveled a lot. But that's nice- growing up away from a big city. Keeps you humble." The bluntness of the next question caught him off guard and he stuttered for a few moments before finally being able to form complete sentences like a big boy. "I come and go a lot, Turtle, it wouldn't be fair to my spouse to drag 'em along so I can do as I please," he answered. Of course, the TARDIS was rather roomy and could support twenty families and more if he so wished it, but he didn't want to settle down again. As much as he would have loved to have a family, he knew it couldn't happen when he was the last of his kind.

Goodie! No one then. That made everything better. His eyes kept to the other, eyes staying with his features while he debated. He seemed like he needed something. When was the last time that the other had any action whatsoever? By the way he seemed to be acting, it had to have been years. Probably quite a bit, huh? He just wanted to attack him right here and now. Sure, he could not do that, but he wanted to. Okay, no. He would. He did not care who saw, but was pretty sure that the other may not want to play again if he just took what he wanted, made sure he was pleased, and then just refused to let him go. That seemed a tad stalkerish. "Whoever said I didn't live in a city?" He did. It was just under water. And not on this planet. Not that the cutie needed to know that. At all. Not now. Smiling warmly as he made his way to the little cafe, he let his hand slide to the other's hand. Oh yea. his own little version of claiming the man. Like Hell he would let some trampish waitress try and get with HIS man. Well, not his yet, but definitely was going to get there. He would woo him some how or another. He refused to let him go. Leading the way to the table, he sat down and straightened up just a bit more, smiling cheerfully as he looked up at the other man, just so very happy at the moment. "It's really delicious here! Simple, but still yummy."

Oh, now Turtle was practically screaming that he was from an alien city. Of course, had the Doctor been human, he wouldn't have thought twice about it at all. Okay, so Turtle was from a city from another planet. Gee, that narrowed it down. He couldn't even tell for sure if this was Turtle's real form until he sonicked him, but he wasn't going to whip out his screwdriver and scan the guy. Now,thatwas stalkerish. The Doctor opened his mouth and closed it a few times when Turtle held his hand, not quite sure how to respond to this. He hadn't had any human or alien break his personal bubble like that so quickly- okay, it definitely had to be a cultural thing for Turtle and because he didn't want to offend the guy, he said nothing. Besides, certain cultures in Earth had people hold hands as a sign of friendship. And the guy looked so happy, how could he ruin that? The Doctor managed a smile. "I'm sure it is- and I'm starving." And that was the truth. It had been a bit since he last ate. "What was your home city called?"

Turtle happily sat down, turning to the waiter and ordering his food happily. He then turned to look at the man in front of him. He was not letting that go, huh? Sure, he was so, so very interesting. He knew he was, but that did not mean he wanted to play twenty questions. He did with some girl one time a few weeks ago and wound up screaming at the end and leaving. The woman was nuts. They were not things that he ever wanted to guess just what they were. Creepy. And for him to say that, that meant that it was definitely bad. Looking up at the man, he grinned a little bit more. "If I tell you, will you stop playing with me ... Doctor?" he asked, smirking as he soon held up the lovely little sonic screwdriver this man was known for. He looked over the thing in his hand and pouted a little bit more. "You know. I knew there was something different about you, John, but I had no idea it was to this extent." He smiled a little more, twirling the screwdriver a bit more before he clenched it into his palm. Okay. So he had a horrible habit of taking things. When he was clinging to him, he felt it in his pocket, and wanted to see what was poking him. It did not feel like a pen, and it wasn't! It took all of ten seconds to put the pieces together. This was definitely a lovely surprise. Keeping the object close to his form so that the other could not get it back all that easily. his eyes went back to the man. "I'm from Undate. Ever been there? Well, I doubt under water.. unless you've been there recently. We've actually invented things for humans and the like to breathe under there for a while. I think th most was a day." He shrugged a bit more and then lifted his eyes to the gorgeous being in front of him, smirking more. "Last I knew, you seemed to look more like Dracula. Definitely not ... like this." Ah. He was so, so, SO very pleasantly surprised. honestly, he was trying to not just pounce the man across from him.

If the Doctor had been being too persistent, he didn't notice. After all, once he was set on trying to figure something out, he found it a bit difficult to let go. When the waitress came over, he ordered himself a grilled cheese sandwich and a soda. He loved sandwiches. He crossed one leg over another and twiddled his thumbs together idly, just for the sake of having something to do with his hands. He was actually enjoying himself more than he thought he would- after all, he was pretty bad with the whole 'sit down and take things at a human pace' sort of deal. And then things took a turn to the unexpected. Up until now, the Doctor had a blissfully peaceful expression on his face, but it instantly hardened into a wary look when Turtle addressed him as 'Doctor', and when he saw his beloved screwdriver in the other's hands, he quickly patted himself down to make sure that- yes, he really had been pickpocketed. Dammit. His eyes followed his screwdriver like a puppy awaiting its treat, but he knew better than to reach out over the table and cause a scene. He was sure he was able to get his tool back peacefully. Besides, the Undate weren't particularly famous for causing havoc on the Earth- there was no point when they could inhabit the oceans with little disturbance. "I've heard of it- might have passed by it a time or two but never actually stepped foot," he answered, shifting a little in his seat now that he was down one screwdriver. "Which regeneration was that? First? No, that was too long ago. fifth, maybe? I quite like my current one," he rambled, but finally got down to the point. "Can I just have my screwdriver back, please? I'd appreciate it a lot."

Awe. The cute little doctor was all fidgetty! Turtle was not mean. He had no plans on keeping it for more than a few more minutes. He jsut wanted to play with it a little. Yes, he wanted to set it on one of the numbers and just send it flying to see what it would do, but he did not really want to get hurt or make a ruckus. he wanted to be incognito. No attention drawn to them. Doctor was cute. he was not going to let him get away with being seen by others. Bad enough the waitress was checking him out. Honestly, that woman was lucky Turtle did not piss on him to claim him as his own. that would just be so wrong. Looking over at him once more, he smiled. He was too cute! Far too cute. "Really? You definitely should. It's a lot of fun." He shrugged his shoulders a little bit. Sure, he did not really want to go back there any time soon. There were numerous reasons he was out on his own and traveling the stars, but the doctor did not need to know that. That would just spoil the whole fun of getting to know him! He wanted to truly know him a little bit more. On quite a more personal level. Pushing those thoughts aside, the younger, shorter male, lifted his mossy-green eyes to the man's. He then looked at the screwdriver then once more to the other. He grinned with a devious glint in his eyes. "You may." he began, almost handing him the object, but quickly pulled it back and to his chest. "For a price." he smirked and leaned toward the other, gripping the sonic against his abdomen now. "I want a kiss in exchange. Not a pansy little peck, either. Not quite make-out, I don't need tongue ... And if it's good enough, I'll return your toy." Oh yes. He was evil in his own little way.

At first, the Doctor had been worried that Turtle was going to use the screwdriver to pull nasty pranks on humans and cause a fuss, but now he was slowly starting to realize that the guy was just doing it to fool around- just a bit of harmless fun. And the Doctor really wouldn't have minded harmless fun had it not been one of the most important things to him that was taken. The only thing worse he could have done was taken the TARDIS. He drummed the tabletop with his fingers and held his chin in the palm of his other hand, obviously a bit distressed by this. "I'll consider it, next time I want to go deep sea diving. Have to reprogram my ship to make sure she's able to go down that deep," he responded. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he ever took the TARDIS underwater. However, she had braved black holes and suns, so going underwater couldn't be too bad of a jump. He extended his hand when Turtle began to hand the screwdriver over, but frowned when it was pulled back again. He shifted a little bit and a bit of color rose to his cheeks. Boy, this guy was pushing his luck. But a kiss wasn't too bad- it wasn't like this would be the first time he kissed a stranger. Besides, it was better than waiting around for him to get bored and hand it back. He huffed and pointed a finger at Turtle. "This means nothing," he warned, then carefully reached his hand to cup Turtle's chin and tilt his face up a bit so he could press their lips together. He kissed him gently- sort of like a good-night kiss after a first date- and then pulled back after a few moments. "Screwdriver."

Turtle was enjoying this far too much. He honestly was. He would probably have some higher being punish him for it, but that could be thought about at a later date. Right now, the utter enjoyment he was having by playing with the Doctor just made him giddy. Yes. Stopping at earth was so very much the best thing he could have done. Okay, the best thing that could have happened to him. Not only did he get to meet the doctor, but he got to get a kiss from him too! That just made everything so very right in his world. For now. He would accept a mere kiss for now. Though, slightly wondered if he could have managed something more than just a kiss for the man's screwdriver back. Probably. Looking at the pointed finger, a raven brow lifted in question. "Aww." he pouted, but easily leaned up and into the other's lips. Nice, soft lips. One point for him! Sadly, the other points came rapidly. The kiss was nice. He would not have stopped traffic for it, but it was still very nice. He did not want it to end. It had to. he knew it did. That still did not mean that he wanted it to. Hell, he could have kept going for quite a while more. To the younger one's perks, he had actually kissed very well. Okay, better than that. He was phenomenal at kissing. He knew he was too, and that only made him want to kiss more. He had skills, and while most of them were not used, he did make sure that the man could potentially be itching for more. Grinning as he pulled back, he giggled while placing the thing into the other's hand. He did not mind giving him the other's prize. "It may not mean anything between us ... But the others around us probably think differently." he glanced to an old couple that was currently staring at them, but just shrugged it off. He had better things to do: Like play with his doctor! Yes. His. HIS! Pushing that aside for now, his eyes turned back to him and he beamed while leaning toward him once more. "It makes me wonder what else I can get you to do, though." he admitted, eyes traveling along the other's form. "I'm pretty positive you can kiss better than that. You're no fun when stressing over tools." He stuck his tongue out before shrugging. "Still good considering."

Now, Turtle seemed like a nice, entertaining fellow but the Doctor could already tell that the guy was going to be a bit of a handful. Not like it was necessarily a bad thing, but he just knew he'd have to keep a closer eye on some things. Namely, his screwdriver. At least now it was back with its proper owner. The Doctor put it back in his coat pocket, except rather than having it at the top like usual, he shoveled it deep down, somewhere between the fold-up tent and the flashlight. Turtle may have been pleased that he kissed the Doctor, but he was far from the first and far from the last. The Doctor had a bit of a habit of kissing people- mostly his companions but every now and again, he'd meet a nice girl or bloke that were looking for a kiss and got one. The Doctor frowned a bit when he glanced over at the couple that was now staring at them. Great. Well, not like it mattered too much. It wasn't like he was planning on having a life here or continuing to pose as Turtle's boyfriend. Hell, once they left this cafe, he'd probably never see the two again anyway, so what did it matter? "You're not getting any more out of me," he said stubbornly, pointing a finger at Turtle. "It's just that one kiss and that's it. I'm too old for you, anyway- and I don't age." He continued to go through his usual laundry list of why any sort of relationship wouldn't work out until their food arrived not much longer after.

Turtle arched a brow at the man's babbling. Why was he starting to tell him about the reasons there could be no relationship between them? Age? honestly, that was part of his problem? Sigh. The man did not know Undatians very well, now did he? While they were not as special as the Time Lords with their whole changing faces and the complete and utter never changing, they were not humans. They did not grow old. They tended to stay the same for hundreds of years, then when their time on this universe was over, they would just slowly float away into the water. "You know, Doctor, your age is not an issue. Sure, I'm a lot younger than you. I realize this. But! In retrospect of how old an average Undate lives ... Well, I think it would not be an issue in the long run of things. It's just be like an Earth person being with someone ten years older." he shrugged and then took up his chicken, pesto, peppers, and cheese grilled sandwich. Ah. It's delicious stuff! He took a bite of it and then looked back to the man in front of him. "And what's to say it'll last? You don't know until you try. You could manage to loooooove me." Yep, it amused him so very much at the thought of being with the man. How could it not? It would just be so very lovely. Definitely something interesting. With a shrug of his shoulders, and after eating a bit more of his sandwich, he turned his attention to the male once more. "AND! Who says I would want a relationship? Friends, sure. But friends can have benefits." He smirked at the last bit, taking a bite of some more of the food. He was now just testing the other. He doubted the man had a friends with benefit with anyone before, so it would be interesting to know how he felt about it. Of course, if he did not like the idea, then he would just have to woo him into wanting a relationship. That was that.

Okay, so he did know that Turtle wasn't a human and his usual 'this won't work out' speech wouldn't have the same effect, but he had been hoping it was enough to deter him from pursuing him any further. He was sure that Turtle was a nice guy and would make someone happy, but as much as the Doctor was a romantic at heart, he knew he couldn't have any sort of relationship. Even being friends with someone endangered them, as he found out time and time again. "It's not just age," he responded. He took a moment to have a bite of his sandwich and calm his nerves a bit. Usually any advances made on him were subtle- maybe a sudden kiss, but no more and they would learn to move on rather quickly. Turtle was persistent. "I'm dangerous. Every day I risk my life and death isn't the worst thing that happened to my friends." He usually was a bit stubborn to letting people back in to his life after losing a companion. He washed down his bite with a sip of soda and shook his head at the other. "I don't think any less of people who have friends 'with benefits', but it's not my style." Call him old-fashioned, but he believed most levels of intimacy should be shared with only one person, and only if he intended to be with that one person for a very, very long time.

Did the Doctor honestly think that would deter him? He got into enough trouble on his own. Having to get into trouble with someone he could potentially fall for was definitely something he would not mind. Adventure was fun! He was not as fragile as a normal human was. This man only really ever had humans as his companions. Undatians were strong. Sure, their weak point was the gills. They were sensitive to the touch - and hurt like no tomorrow if injured at just the right angle - and he would need to have water and swim every so often, but any danger that could happen would not be as easy to harm as it would him. He sighed softly and shook his head a little bit. "Glad that it's not your style." Since, admittedly, it was not his. Yes. He had a fling here and there, but that did not mean he did not care for the other person. There were circumstances that surrounded those sort of occasions. Typically, the little alien at least tried to make anything more than just friendly benefits. He loved to have sex, but he tried to not just do it with a pretty face. He tried to have morals. Thing being, it just did not work out all the time. If he had enough attraction to someone for him to want to sleep with them, then there was something about that person that got him intrigued enough to do that. Whether a connection with the other, or wanting to have a relationship. Whatever it was, there was always something. Looking up at the other, he leaned toward the other and smiled just a little bit more. "Doctor, you will not get rid of me that easily." He stated, a pleasant smile tracing along his soft pink lips. "Danger? That's the best you have to scare me off with? I have no family or friends for them to be endangered. So, it would just be me, and I do a well enough job on my own of getting into trouble. It's just so much more fun with a friend. Don't you agree? You cannot tell me that you are not lonely right now. Without your little companions to stick with you. Without them to help you problem solve and get out of trouble. Yes, yes, they have gotten into trouble because of you, but that was their choice, and I am positive you can ask every single person you have ever had, and they would not regret it." he stuck his tongue out at him before going back to his sandwich with a shrug. "I'm staying by your side."

The Doctor was pretty good at hiding his emotions when he wanted to. Sure, he'd let out his fits of anger when an offender crossed the line or let a tear shed when no one was looking, but Turtle was pouring salt into an open wound with the 'lonely' comment. After all, it had been less than a day since he had parted ways with Donna. What a wonderful, wonderful woman she was and even though there was nothing romantic between them, it tore him to pieces knowing all the great, courageous, and spectacular things she did.... and she wasn't allowed to remember, or else it'd kill her. And she did it all to save him. At least Martha had been allowed to live safe and sound- a normal life without any sort of disturbance. However, he had endangered her entire family when he picked her up and the suffering they endured during the year that never was... well, it was unspeakable. And the worst part was, they were one of the few who remembered it, so they couldn't even share their pain with their friends and neighbors. All they had were the memories and their small family to speak of it with. Rose had it the worst, though. Left alone in an alternate universe. Sure, she had her mom, dad, ex, and baby brother... but it still wasn't her home. Oh, how he cried whenever he was alone. He managed to rectify it- at least she had him... his other 'him', but the Doctor missed her dearly. "Lonely or not, I'm not willing to put another person at risk because of me," he said. "At most, I'll take you back to your home planet if you'd like- any time you want, I'll take you there. But I can't keep you with me, whether you have family or not." It killed him to say this because he really did want someone at his side, but- he couldn't stand watching more of his friends come and go by his hand. "Because in the end, I break all my friends' hearts. And they break mine."

Turtle listened to the man, arching a brow in question of what he was babbling about. He got it. The man did not want a broken heart. To endanger people. blahdy blah blah blaaah. He did not care. What this man did not realize was that Turtle was stubborn. He was not going to just say 'oh okay. you're right' and let himself be dropped off at his planet. To be honest, he was lonely. He was very, very lonely. The one friend he had left abandoned him. Left him. Told him to never contact him ever again. And then what happens? he dies. That stupid man had to go off and die. The one and only friend he honestly truly ever had ... just dies. He could not stand it. That was what started his whole trip, and he was not going to go back. "I'm--" The boy suddenly stopped, eyes going wide as he spotted quite the muscle-man coming around the corner. His breath caught in his throat and he remained frozen for a few moments. "oh look! Lunch is over!" He hopped up from the table, shoving a few bills under his plate before he took a hold of the Doctor's hand once more. "I know you don't want to be stuck with me, but ... you're going to since Kujo over there saw you" he gave a little wave of his fingers to the angry man that was soon stomping to them. "Yea. We're leaving now." With that, he yanked the doctor to his feet and was soon leaping over the fence the separated the little tables from the street. He made sure he had a strong grip on the other, not really wanting to let the other alien get a hold of him.

Once Turtle opened his mouth again, the Doctor was prepared to go to the next step and use his angry voice. He didn't like using his angry voice, but he needed time alone to think things over if Turtle was really set on coming. The Doctor didn't want to make a rash decision and end up regretting it later. He didn't want to hurt Turtle's feelings by making him stay here or at his home planet, but what if the guy really didn't understand just exactly what he was getting himself in to. However, they didn't exactly have much time on their hands now that big bad was coming after them. At first, he was a bit confused when Turtle quickly stood up and tugged at him to go, but then he saw the oncoming danger and, to be honest, was damn glad that there was something to do now. Without needing to be told twice, he quickly caught up with the other. Okay, so he didn't know the area too well, but he knew where the TARDIS was and that was more or less a safe house. The other alien could knock and attack it all he wanted, but it was an impenetrable fortress and would buy them enough time to come up with a way to get rid of it. Abruptly, he tugged Turtle and began to run off in the direction that the TARDIS was parked. "What'd you do to piss it off?"

Turtle was quickly running beside the other. His shorter legs doing a pretty good job of keeping up with the man. He followed him through every side street and made sure to not lose him. Hey! At least there was something to do now, right? He knew that this could end horribly, but it got them off the topic from before. That was always fun! He was going to stop the argument, just not give up though. He could not do that. He would just stop talking about it. Let the other sizzle a bit about all the things that went on beforehand. Turtle was different, though. Obviously. Turning to the man at the question, he shrugged his shoulders a bit. "Nothing. Just witnessed him murdering my best friend, why?" He looked up at the taller man while rushing down the other street once more. "He's the reason I'm here."

For once, an alien wasn't chasing him down... only chasing the guy next to him. Well, granted, he'd be guilty by association and get attacked anyway but at least it wasn't his fault this time. That was a plus. As he ran, he fumbled in his pocket to find the key to the TARDIS and, once he fished it out, held it tightly in his hand until they came to the familiar, blue box. Oh, how he loved that ship. He unlocked the doors, opened them, and then tugged Turtle inside with him before shutting and bolting the doors. For a few moments, the Doctor put his hands on his head and breathed deeply to make his hearts return to their normal pace, and then he looked back at the other alien. He put his hands on Turtle's shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Why did he kill your best friend?" There were more questions to come- he'd by sympathetic for the kid later. "What did you do to him to retaliate, how did you end up landing here, and has he found you between that day and today?"

Why was this man questioning him so much? He knew that they were better than pestering about sex and whatnot, but it did not make him any happier to answer the questions about his friend. He knew that his friend was a little extensive in the punishment, but he was a hurting father. His daughter was the only one he had. The only reminiscent of his one and only true love. It was sad, but Drake was not one to just let things slide without a care. He justified his actions, and while he did not support the action of death, he knew his friend and that the other deserved far worse than that. Looking up at the doctor once more, he blushed faintly and his hands rested on the bottom of his shirt, fidgeting with the fabric for a little bit more. He remained silent for a while, not sure if he honestly wanted to tell the man. His eyes lifted to him with a bit of interest, staring at him before he sighed heavily. "The man's son ... raped his daughter. It was very bad. And too many horrible things happened to her after that, but ... Drake does not take well to his loved ones being abused in any manner, especially his daughter. She's his only one and from his only love and so he could not let the man who hurt her daughter get away with it." He shook his head a little bit and looked up at him once more." I know it is not the best solution, but he was in pain. Could you let your daughter's rapist live?"

Sometimes, the Doctor would be a little more wary of who he let in to his TARDIS but for now, it didn't matter. What mattered right now was that he and Turtle were safe until they were able to come up with a plan of attack. However, what he wanted to know was whether or not Turtle was innocent of any wrongdoing... which, from what he was gathered, probably was the truth. After all, Turtle was a lot less menacing than what was currently chasing him, even though looks can be deceiving. "Why did he hurt your friend's daugh- oh, it's a moot point, nevermind that... actually, yes, why did his son hurt your friend's daughter?" Right now, the Doctor was going to have to punish their pursuer accordingly- he was guilty of murdering the friend, yes, but if he could justify it for his son being wrongly accused or having a reason to attack, then maybe the Doctor would be more merciful. Even though an eye for an eye wasn't right, that didn't mean that the Doctor had to be ruthless in punishment. Everyone deserved a second chance.

Why was this man questioning him so much? He knew that they were better than pestering about sex and whatnot, but it did not make him any happier to answer the questions about his friend. He knew that his friend was a little extensive in the punishment, but he was a hurting father. His daughter was the only one he had. The only reminiscent of his one and only true love. It was sad, but Drake was not one to just let things slide without a care. He justified his actions, and while he did not support the action of death, he knew his friend and that the other deserved far worse than that. Looking up at the doctor once more, he blushed faintly and his hands rested on the bottom of his shirt, fidgeting with the fabric for a little bit more. He remained silent for a while, not sure if he honestly wanted to tell the man. His eyes lifted to him with a bit of interest, staring at him before he sighed heavily. "The man's son ... raped his daughter. It was very bad. And too many horrible things happened to her after that, but ... Drake does not take well to his loved ones being abused in any manner, especially his daughter. She's his only one and from his only love and so he could not let the man who hurt her daughter get away with it." He shook his head a little bit and looked up at him once more." I know it is not the best solution, but he was in pain. Could you let your daughter's rapist live?"

HARLEEN QUINZEL He was a mad man. He was insane. He was a creature void of any humane emotion and numb to the line of right and wrong. Her supervisor told her not to do it. Her colleagues warned her that it wouldn't be a good idea. She needed to do this though. To think of all recognition she would receive from this assignment. How much better and more intelligent she was than all of them. her professors would applaud her and her colleagues would be amazed. Taking on the criminal known as The Joker was major step in her career. She had spent year ins grad school for an assignment like this and it would be foolish to pass it by now. Harleen had did her research on him. He was responsible for several homicides, countless robberies and with a myriad of attempts on the mayor of Gotham Citiy's Mayor. He did all that and much more with a smile on his face. She remembered the pictures she'd seen of him. That tortured grin against a pale face, eyes black and empty. She wondered what could drive a man like that. If a man is what you called him. He was something else all together. She needed this opportunity to find out just what mad that man tick and her opportunity was now. Pulling up to the Arkham asylum in her coupe classic. Harleen glanced at herself in the rear view mirror. Her blue eyes bright with determinative aptitude as she brushed her lose strands of blonde hair back behind her ears. Pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose she got out the car. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she made her way up to the security desk to check in. Showing the man her i.d. he let her enter through the steely gate and it was there that she would be escorted in the building. She was join by another man and all three would enter the long hall. This is where the held the most dangerous of criminals. Clayface, Two Face, The Puppet Master this place was for the maniacs and crazies all together. They shouted out her through the thick glass, impenetrable as it was she still could help but feel a little vulnerable. Like they could break right when they felt ready to. Composing herself she kept her eyes straight to look ahead. Finally they stopped at the door. Beyond it would be her prize. The chance to get inside the Joker's head. Something no one had done before, well except maybe the Bat , but no one normal like her. One guard open the door and she walked in. The door closing behind her she looked around the room. There was no hint of individualism in here. The wall were just walls as much as the ceiling and floor were just ceiling and floor. However there on the cot next to the right wall she saw him. "Hello, I am Dr. Harleen Quinzel" She said taking her place in chair next to him. She looked up at the camera's in the room and she could hear the guards cackling about something out side. "If you would Mr. J, I would like to begin your first session" She said in her Boston accent.

THE JOKER His eyes peered up at her as she walked by, but quickly turned away once she realized where in the small room he was. As the guards ran down the rules and regulations one last time for her he started to whistle as he laid down body outstretched. It wasnt until she took a seat next to him did he start to acknowledge her. Harellen Quinzel. He whispered softly taking the time to elongate each letter as if just saying her name gave him some sort of pleasure. In all of Gotham the Joker was one of the only villains that all of the citizens both feared and where attracted to. Books had been written about him in a attempt to dissect his psyche and come up with some excuse as to why he was this way, and some of them where actually good reads, but even better kindling. Its not that he mind the publicity knowing his name was on the tongue of every citizen brought a smile to his face at night. Rarely did he ever deny an interview finding a small amount of pleasure with toying with the interviewer twisting his words and making the entire process fruitless for them. It also warmed the old crusty crevices of his heart to be able to tell an uppity guard that he would kill them the next night even though he was locked up and be able to upheld his promise, because he was a man of his words, or at lest the ones he liked. At first he had an entire plan set out to ruin the poor girls life, but after finding out her name he decided on doing something a little bit different this time. Ya, know! as if coming to a great realization he sprung up on his cot quickly catching the attention of the on looking guards. If you where to rework it a bit and you get Harley Quinn, like the classic clown character, Harlequin, the very spirit of fun and Frivolity! chuckling softly at his realization he took the time to drink in her looks. He watched her carefully like a little boy eager to open up his Christmas gift. Now thats a name you can trust! Standing up he started to wonder around the room circling her as she continued to speak. Well then just tell me where to begin Harley purposely he used the nice name he gave her making it obvious that he did so. Jumping onto the coat from the side he returned to his resting position. I got all the time in the world to kill!

HARLEEN QUINZEL She was already amused with him and began to study everything by just watching him waltz about the room. His motions were quick. It was like she waiting for him to pull out something crazy to out her with, but that wasn't the case.He called her Harley Quinn and amazingly she found herself chuckling. Never before thinking of her name like that. He was like a child in a way and she felt somewhat sorry for him the poor thing. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a file. Every crime he committed was written on this paper and yet no one knew anything of his past. "I want to talk to you about your childhood. Your mother, your father and brothers and sisters." It was how these sessions usually started by getting to know the patient on a personal level. The idea was to treat them like the most fragile things in the world. She couldn't help but to smile a bit as pushed her glasses back up along the bridge of her nose. Taking a pen out the pocket of he skirt she crossed her legs and began to jot down a few things. " Just tell me a little about yourself."

THE JOKER My father hit me a lot. He started off his voice much more serious then it ever was before. You see when he went off to war my mother was pregnant with me and decided that it was best not to tell him. So when he came back he was surprised by a two year old son and one thing my father hates more then anything else is surprises. As he spoke he continually moved his hands adding some visuals to his story. It seemed whenever I did something wrong he would hit me and even when I didnt BAM he would still hit me. Sitting up on the cot he remained hunched over as he spoke. I would try to impress him by doing some of the jokes I heard him listening to on his records, but he would just yell at me for touching them and hit me again. The hardest times where when him and my mother would argue with each other, cause he would hurt her and no matter how hard I would try he would just use his anger on me. I still remember the blood in my mouth. I thought that by making him laugh I would get him to be happier, but it seemed that only after drinking and beating me would he be really happy. Yet, that was my first lesson, not everyone gets the joke. My dad didnt get nor does batman! just saying his name seemed to make the joker cringe slightly. They are both the same just muscular self righteous men who just cant get the pun. Looking over at her his eyes slightly closed almost as if looking for sympathy. But your not like that right?

HARLEEN QUINZEL Child abuse? The Joker was a victim of child abuse? She jotted these things down on her notepad as he spoke to her about his father. He sounded like-no he was an asshole. How could someone treat their own child like that? She pursed her red lips together in concentration Slicking back a lose strand of blonde hair. Ok so the abuse was one thing and apparently he always had a sense humor since then. It just developed into something more serious. They way he presented his jokes now were more than social stigma that developed in the mind of an abuse child. Poor thing. She looked at him when he asked her if she was like that. Her blue eyes bright and curious. "No, it's terrible that your father would do those things to you. It would make anyone angry. " That was truth no doubt. Harley needed to know more about him. " The way you relate your father to your involvement with Batman, do you think of them the same?" She looked at him. It was like watching a child watch his favorite puppy get run over by a truck, and then came the rain, yet the child was still out there watching the dead puppy get washed away, completely away. She was feeling sympathetic, but had to remember to be professional.

THE JOKER "I don't know.." he whispered softly sitting back and rubbing his chin in contemplation. Actually.. Yeah! Now that I think of it. As if he was putting the pieces together in his mind he walked back and forth pacing at he spoke. I mean all I want to do is make people smile, but the both of them just punish me for it. So I try harder and harder, but no matter what I do at every turn I am faced with the cold harsh stern glare of disapproval. Sitting back down as if surprised by this revelation he looked up to her in confusion. But what do I do? No matter how hard I try for a better life the big man keeps putting me down. A red light started to go off showing the end of their session. What we are over already? Joker wondered as he saw the guards approached putting his hands into shackles. It had already been discussed that the session would be short, due to the types of criminals in the prison. As it stood it was already risky having him outside of his jail. Well we will just have to continue some other time. With that they took him off leaving her in an empty room the door open for her to leave at any time. In her car rested a vase holding a single rose with a note saying, Come Back Soon there was no signature or anything else, but it was clear who it could be from.

HARLEEN QUINZEL Was time up already? She didn't notice but their session was up. She felt a wave of overwhelming emotion take her over. Could they have been wrong about The Joker all along? He was just a poor abused child inside trying to make people laugh, but no one would give him a shot. Just a punch in the face, cuffed and thrown into a cell. "I'll be back next week" She said as the guards took him away. She didn't want him to go. She wasn't read. Just when they were getting somewhere. Walking back to her car her mind was racing. If only she had been allowed more time with him. Really getting to know your patient was her goal. Firth thing in the morning she would ask her supervisor for more access and longer sessions. How else would she reach her goal of getting inside The Joker's head? Unlocking her car she hopped in and to her surprise she found red rose sitting in a vase. There was note on it saying three simple words that placed a smile on her face. It only took her moments to realize who the gift was from and then her eyes widened in shock. How did he? She got out of the car and looked around the empty parking lot. There was no one out here . Getting back into her car she took off and drove home.

The Joker At the next meeting she was left in the large interview room by herself for quiet some time as the guards seemed to have issues getting the Joker. Alone she was able to think over the week and the strange things that seemed to happen to her. She seemed to always find herself around a small gang of thugs who whenever someone accosted her would come to her rescue. Yes, they werent the smartest, but they did do one thing write and that was beating up people. Quickly she started to see a change in her office as more of her peers paid respect to her offering her tickets to concerts or invitations to parties that she never got before. Hell all in all this had been one fantastic week for Harley. I am sorry miss, but he is demanding that you two do the interview in his own ceil. It seems that ever since you came along he hasnt really been acting up lately and the chief want to keep it that way, but there will be safe risk. We are doing a search of his room and if everything comes up clean we will put you in and you two can have your session. As he spoke he was actually pleading her to go along with it. The Joker had been well know for injuring a guard every other day, but now not one. It was a good thing and he didnt want to lose it.

Harleen Quinzel Well wasn't this a surprise. She had never gotten so many good reviews from her colleagues. Thinking back to last week she still had the rose and vase and even kept the note. Wondering if he wrote it himself. It would of been awfully nice if he did. For some reason it was like her life had improved since her first meeting with Mr. J. That's what she called him (in her head anyway). Nodding to the guard as he ranted on about something she was in complete accord with it. "That's perfectly fine with me." She couldn't wait to see him. It was almost going to the fair for the first time. You knew what was going to be there ,but you didn't really know what to expect. As the guard escorted her down the hall she couldn't help but notice how the other criminals were quiet. No one shouting disturbing or rude remarks to her, whistling or hooting. She arched an eyebrow in curiosity. They stopped right in front of his cell. The door being opened for her as she walked in with a very bright smile on her face. She really began to think just how much influence The Joker really had if could makes requests like this. Her chair was already placed next to his bed as if it had been waiting on her. "I've heard you made a few requests, I'm surprised really." She took her seat and placed her bad down on the ground next to her. "Ready to begin?" Harleen Quinzel Well wasn't this a surprise. She had never gotten so many good reviews from her colleagues. Thinking back to last week she still had the rose and vase and even kept the note. Wondering if he wrote it himself. It would of been awfully nice if he did. For some reason it was like her life had improved since her first meeting with Mr. J. That's what she called him (in her head anyway). Nodding to the guard as he ranted on about something she was in complete accord with it. "That's perfectly fine with me." She couldn't wait to see him. It was almost going to the fair for the first time. You knew what was going to be there ,but you didn't really know what to expect. As the guard escorted her down the hall she couldn't help but notice how the other criminals were quiet. No one shouting disturbing or rude remarks to her, whistling or hooting. She arched an eyebrow in curiosity. They stopped right in front of his cell. The door being opened for her as she walked in with a very bright smile on her face. She really began to think just how much influence The Joker really had if could makes requests like this. Her chair was already placed next to his bed as if it had been waiting on her. "I've heard you made a few requests, I'm surprised really." She took her seat and placed her bad down on the ground next to her. "Ready to begin?"

I am sorry to inform you all be I may not be posting for a while.. (I had to move to the big apple and I thought I would have my lab-top but thing arrived broke so I have no way to get a computer really.) I will return I just dont know when. If you want you may use any of the progress we have done in our rps with others. Well, until I get my computer back or buy a new one, peace out. "Well they can be nice to me when they want to" he whispered softly. Laying on his small coat he staired at the wall of his jail cell. Spinning around he sat up before huching over to face her. "Plus i dont want us to get desturbed." It took him a few minutes before he spoke again just watching her as she walked. "I thought we should do something a little different. I mean you know so much about me but i have no idea about who you are. So what about today you let me ask you the question. Please?" he askedk her his eyes pleading her.

Sonata patted her cheeks and took a deep breath in front of the mirror. Okay this is it. After all the training and preparation she was finally going to head out into the world. She adjusted her white tank top, and tightened the belt on her white cargo pants. She did not want them falling down, due to some unusual extremities, it would be embarrassing on a completely insane level. Out of insecurity she patted herself, feeling the long thick bulge beneath her pants. Yup, it was still there. She wouldn't mind...if she thought people were more understanding. But she would probably be labeled a freak for having a penis, and a sizable one at that. "Oh come on! No one knows so stop worrying!" She sighed, it was a pain to. She was by any standards gorgeous, long shiny white hair, firm, shapely breasts, perfect ass and legs. And an eleven inch long dick. Perfect. Oh well. Eventually she might build up the courage to tell someone, maybe her trainer friend perhaps. It had been years since she'd seen her, since she'd gone off to become a Pokegirl trainer. Ever since then Sonata had been training to become a breeder, so maybe she could at least help her friend in some way. "Okay, Okay. Almost time to meet her at the gates!" She grabbed her backpack and her headphones, slipping them around her neck and the backpack over her shoulders then headed off. As she walked to the agreed meeting place she mused over what her friend would look like. She herself had changed quite a bit since they split off, she tried to imagine the girl all busty and hot like her. Somehow it wouldn't take, she imagined her a little more gothic, or alternative style. Though she had to stop visualizing as her member was beginning to respond. It was okay, her baggy cargo pants hid it unless she got a full on erection. She breathed deep and cleaned up her thoughts. Enough of that. She was almost there.

Kaia adjusted the glasses that had sunk to the bridge of her nose. Her short black hair framed her face in a cute way, just showing enough to entice, but hiding some of her features from view. Her dark eyes looked out across the grass that led right up to the gate that led into Saffron City. She could see the skyscrapers and buildings so close, but blocked off by the hills and stone that ran around the city. She'd not been home for so long. She was excited to see her friend, Sonata, who had wanted to become a Pokegirl breeder when Kaia had left so long ago. She blushed as she found herself straightening her outfit, a short skirt and a long-sleeved sweater to keep out the chill of winter. Her legs were kept warm with the thermal hosiery that she wore, and her neck and chin was warmed with the orange striped scarf. She felt a cool breeze brush past and she shivered, but only for a moment. Her thoughts quickly went back to the friend she hadn't seen in so long. Her hand went to one of the balls at her belt, which she took and tossed, pressing the button before letting it fly. A flash of light and Eevee, her pokegirl stood there. The girl had long ears that came from the mussed and matching brown hair that hung thick in the way of her own glasses. She wore a tan scarf and a brown and white shirt, a skirt and stockings finishing the ensemble, her thick bushy tail sticking out from the hem of the skirt. She looked like her owner, if nothing else, then in clothes, though they weren't exactly alike. "I want you to meet Sonata, Eve," she said as they went through the doorway of the gate, "She's gorgeous and I think I want her to work with you to breed. I think I want to get you mating with another Eevee sometime soon." The pokegirl nodded, the blood rising in her cheeks as her hands unconsciously dropped to the bulge that was hidden beneath the loose folds of her long skirt.

Sonata stopped dead when she rounded the corner and slid back behind it. Kaia, her friend, was coming through the gate to the city. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to see the girl first, before they met. Kaia had grown as much as she had, accept where she became tall and busty, Kaia had become quite cute in an alternative sort of way. The scarf, her short black hair, and those glasses. She still wore those same glasses... Alright Sonata, you can do this. She put on her best smile and came around the corner. "Kaia! Do you recognize me? It's been too long!" She came up to the smaller girl quickly and gave her a big hug. She couldn't help but note Kaia's smaller, but firm breasts. Then she pulled away and turned to the Pokegirl standing next to her friend. "And is this one of yours? An Evee! Hello Evee, I am Sonata!" She held out her hand to the Pokegirl. Unlike some trainers, she couldn't look at Pokegirls as just tools, they were intelligent and had emotions. So couldn't help but treat them as a fellow human, in most respects anyways. Though this Evee was gorgeous, her big bushy tail was so adorable! She was trying hard to suppress a stiffening erection at the mere sight of the Pokegirl.

Kaia was surprised at the sudden appearance of the friend she hadn't seen in so long. She went with the embrace, pulling the pokemon breeder in close, noticing how much she had filled out. "My god, Sonata, look at your boobs!" she said quietly so as not to attract too much attention, "You look like a Miltank!" She giggled and stepped back so that Eve could step up. "This is Eve, my Eevee. She's a bit shy, so don't expect her to talk alot, but she's a very good girl. She's actually one of the reasons I'm back here." Eve curtsied slightly for Sonata then shook her hand. She smiled up at her, the tail flicking back and forth like a dog's tail. She found the breeder attractive as well, and immediately turned a crimson shade as her hands dropped to the front of her skirt and she took a step back to hide behind Kaia. The dark haired girl giggled again and looked up at Sonata. "I've found a Pokegirl to breed, Sonata, and I was hoping that you could help me train her for it. I know you've always wanted to be a breeder and I thought that I could help you by bringing your first trainee."

Neji sighed inwardly as he walked besides his 'partner' for this mission. He had been sent with one Uchiha Sasuke on a long term mission in a country far from their home. It had taken over 3 weeks just to travel to this place, and once they had gotten close things had started to get a little....strange. The mission had called for a pair...well....a couple, a male and female couple, unfortunately there had been no suitable Kunoichi available, and so....well here they were. The two of them were to infiltrate a large gang involved in anything and everything. Drug trafficking, prostitution, slavery, anything and everything, and they were growing all the time, even starting to encroach into the fire country and Konoha itself. They were to find out whatever they could about this gang, and apparently this town was one of their operation hubs. Neji smoothed down the sides of his dress slowly, not looking at Sasuke walking beside him as they neared their destination. Outwardly, Neji was displaying an attitude of anger and hatred at having to do this, deep down however he loved it....truth be told Neji had many articles of womens clothing at home that he loved to wear, he'd even borrowed Hinata's clothing from time to time, the thrill of it appealed so much to him, though it had always been in private, he'd never dressed like this before around other people. Still, it was for the mission, and of the two of them Neji was most definately the one who looked most like a girl. So here he was, wearing a long dress, even the bra and panties to accompany it, the bra padded to give him the appearance of a developing chest. "So..." It was the first time Neji had spoken since he had put on the clothing. His voice was somewhat feminine to further enhance the disguise....honestly he'd practised that voice for a long time now when examining himself infront of the mirror. "We should go over our story and our objectives one more time....don't you think?"

Sasuke had kept his mouth shut about this whole ordeal, Neji had to wear a dress and he was sure that was humiliating enough, he didn't need to add to it with any snarky comments. Now, if it were Naruto that had to do it then it would be free game, but as it were, he respected Neji enough not to torment him. It was a little confusing for him though, their plan didn't seem to be all that well thought out to be honest, the two of them trying to infiltrate a gang by posing as a couple looking for a good time really didn't seem like a well thought out plan, more like a last minute back up. Without a word, Sasuke had walked beside Neji as they got closer to the town, and couldn't help but give him side long glances. Thy Hyuuga actually lookedreallygood in that outfit, not that he would say that out loud. Neji just had the body figure to fit in the dress, and the long, brown hair added to the effect, not to mention pretty lips... those thoughts were shaken from the Uchiha's head, he didn't need to start thinking that way, not now. The Uchiha glanced up from the other's side and hip to look him in the eyes. Haunting they were, white with an almost purple undertone and a distinct lack of pupils. "That's probably for the best," he agreed with a slight nod and turned his eyes forward again in hopes to not make the other any more uncomfortable then he believed he was. "Our objective is to find a member of the gang, and persuade him or her to spend some time alone with us, at this point we must find a way to get him or her to give us information, most likely with bribes of joining the gang ourselves," 'or with the prospect of sex,' he added a little bitterly.

Neji became aware of Sasuke examining him, but tried to ignore it. It was only natural the other boy would be a tad curious after all, especially about the reason Neji made such a convincing girl. Neji wasn't about to admit it was because he'd had a lot of practice though. "Yeah....we need to find a member of their gang with some kind of authority and lure him away....try to get some information from him, try to convince him we can be useful...once we infiltrate them we can find out where their base of operations is and infiltrate it to get the information we need....then burn the place to the ground to set them back....I just hope we don't have to resort to offering....those kind of services...." It sounded simple enough in theory, but unfortunately plans had a nasty habit of going very wrong very fast, that was why the two of them had been chosen for this mission. In their age group they were pretty much the two most reliable, not to mention the most subtle. After all, Naruto would've charged in all guns blazing, Chouji would've stuck out like a sore thumb, Lee wouldn't have been able to contain himself and Shikamaru almost certainly would've refused on the grounds that going so far would be too much hassle. The two of them were approaching the entrance to the town, Neji smoothing his dress one more time, before slowly holding out his hand. "We need to make it convincing that we're a couple so..." He hesitated for a moment, before quickly taking Sasuke's hand in his own. Despite his secret hobby of crossdressing Neji had never really though about relationships with other men before...so holding Sasuke's hand whilst they walked wasn't easy to do, at least not convincingly, but he buried whatever feelings of discomfort he had and just managed a soft smile as they began to come into view of other people. They only had one chance to make their first impression look convincing after all.

Sasuke nodded in agreement, but looked down curiously as his hand was taken. He gave a soft sigh and laced his fingers with the Hyuuga. The people that held his hands now and days were the girls that obsessed over him, and their hands were always sweaty, and he really detested them for getting so close. But with Neji, be it because of the mission or some other reason, he felt no urge to rip his hand away and glare. "The first thing we should do is book a hotel room, we don't know how long this will last and it wouldn't look good for us to be sleeping on the outskirts of the town." Seeing as he was the 'man' at this point, he gently guided Neji into the town, keeping the other close to him to look protective of his girlfriend. "And you should probably come up with a different name." They came across a fairly nice looking hotel, not five star and fancy, but not a roach infested mess of gross. Sasuke lead Neji inside and paid for their stay for the night and took the keys and stuffed them in his pocket.

Neji was slightly surprised at how easily Sasuke adjusted to their holding of hands, as if it almost felt natural. Still, there wasn't time to be confused, Neji just nodding slightly as he moved closer to Sasuke, allowing him to give the illusion of protecting his girlfriend....even though this 'girlfriend' was more than capable of protecting 'herself' if the need arose. "Yeah....we should get just one room....with one bed...otherwise it might make people suspicious..." Of course Neji realised that would mean them only having one bed, and more than likely having to share it. They couldn't risk one of them sleeping on the floor incase of any kind of spying that might be going on. "Ah...yeah...a name....I never thought much about that..." Neji slowly glanced away, thinking for a few moments. "I guess....I can just use Hinata....it's the only name that comes to mind..." At least it would be easy to remember aswell, making it much less likely that either of them might forget it. "Alright...we should go up to the room....probably get changed out of our 'travelling clothes' then head into town...try and find someone and arrange a meeting..."

Sasuke had taken his partner's advice and gotten a room with one bed. If worse came to worst, he could sleep on the couch and if anybody asked they had fight. He was stupid and called his girlfriend 'fat' or something of the sort. Or they could share a bed, which ever Neji was comfortable with. "Alright Hinata, let's go," he agreed with a nod, feeling strange saying Hinata's name when it was directed at Neji. He made his way up the stairs and found there room. He opened the door with the key and stepped it. The room wasn't amazing, but it was better then it could be. It was better then a rat infested roach motel. "Would you like to take a shower first, Hinata-chan," he cooed. No he wasn't teasing, but he would have to get used to calling him that, plus if someonewasspying, it wouldn't do good to have them hear Sasuke call his girlfriend a guys name, or acting different towards 'her.'

Atya sighed deeply, boredom was getting all to common for her these days. She casually swept the silk curtains of her sedan chair aside and looked out into the deep forest in which her caravan traveled. Again she sighed with no-one but her fathers clockwork golems who carried the chair to hear her. She wished something would happen. Constantly moving, from town to town, following her fathers work, never having time to make friends or....find a man. She trailed her hand down her exposed abdomen, due to the heat she only wore a fine silk halter top, embroidered in gold. And from her hips hung a calf length split skirt of matching silk. She couldn't help but daydream, she was nineteen and she still had yet to feel a mans touch. She had long since dropped dreams of a gentleman lover to take her virginity. Lately she dreamed of a rough warrior. Bulging in muscle and brimming with masculinity. To take her over and over until she couldn't think straight. She trailed her hand up to her soft, pert breasts. But she ended up cursing in anger. She hated this life! She hated her father and his stupid golems! She needed to live and feel and experience the world! And experience the men in it... Another sigh escaped her soft, puffy lips. Alas....no such possibility was in sight. At this rate, she would be stuck as her fathers little girl until she was an old woman.

Off in a clearing near the woods a war party was put together. With a large central bone fire the smoke bellowed high into the air and the heat was enough to keep even a warrior in Northrend warm. A Tauren warrior who had just come of age and whose father had allowed him to go moved over to a set of drums and started to play on them a tribal war song of Valor and passion. Soon two Orcs join in on the song and a troll shaman even added his own twist two the beautiful drumming music that filled the war camp with happy times as they prepared and partied. The Tauren warrior started to wonder if he would be able to meet a woman that he would not scare and they all seemed to slow the song some and yet it still held enough might to keep the dancing and party going without dragging down the mood though his had begun to shift. He didnt care and when one of his friends came he slipped out and switched places with him. Well at least I will be able to go into battle with my friends finally. He had grown tired of listening to their tails of glory and honor for the Horde. He had always been told to continue his journey grow stronger but now was his chance that great moment he had been waiting for and yet he was sad. Grabbing the nearest mug he could and walked to the edge of the clearing and sat by a tree and softly drank to the glory. He tried to remember the wise words of Cairen but was unable to remember his great wisdom at this moment.

Atya slowly leaned forward. She could swear she was hearing music. She parted her curtains and peeked out, her deep blue-violet skin flawless in the broken sunlight. Indeed, she was hearing music, a powerful tribal beat. Her tail began to twitch as the heavy drums and fast paced flute captured her mind, refusing to let it go. She turned her glowing eyes to her fathers Golems. She had to get away, wherever that music took her, she didn't care, it was better than this. She thought hard for several minutes, then began preparing a minor spell. "Alla saf negone!" She thrust her hand out the opposite side of her sedan chair and created an illusion. A large beast, stomping around and challenging the caravan. Without a pause the Golems set down her chair and charged off to battle it. She then created a second illusion of herself in the chair and bolted off towards the music. Her Draenei legs carried her swiftly through the underbrush, she took care not to hurt herself, but she moved as quickly as she could. She smiled and couldn't help but giggle as she felt so alive. She was away from her fathers clutches and making her own way. She had no idea what she would do, only that she would make the decision herself. She continued to move, following the music until she started hearing voices and seeing the flames of campfire. A camp? She was curious as to who. She slowed down and approached carefully, then gasped when the camp came into full view. She hid behind a tree and peeked out. It was a Horde camp. Filled with all her deepest fantasies. There were orcs, shirtless, wearing only loincloths, their thick muscles bulging and dancing around, drinking some drink and being rowdy. Sinewy Trolls moved about, some dancing, some making the music, their lithe, corded muscles made them look like vipers, ready to uncoil and strike. Lastly the Tauren. Massive beasts like she'd never seen, walking walls of muscle and power, occasionally one would move in such a way his skimpy loincloth would move to reveal a cock like she never even dreamed about. She was getting hot, and blushing, it was like her inner fantasies came to life with this Horde. But...she held no alliance to their enemy, still...how would they receive her? She didn't want to die...she didn't see any other women, perhaps they would enjoy her company? What man would refuse an eager young woman such as herself? Perhaps she was being naive, perhaps just stupid, but she had to try. She took a deep breath and gingerly approached a Tauren sitting alone... "Um...excuse me? This looks like quite...quite the party...could I...could I join you and your friends?"

Sitting there for some time he heard the sounds of the music and it started to lift his spirits. Many things had crossed his mind maybe he would rape some of the alliance as he went through that way at least he would have a womans touch. Caerin had taught him too well though on to many occasions that you should not force anything on anyone. And he sighed and knew he should just go in there do as he was told and head home. Mind wondering onto other things and onto possibly sleeping with one of those young Dranei, and wondering if she would be able to even fit his cock in her mouth or even take his load. His cock was starting to grow hard at the fantasy. Hearing the sounds behind the tree he stood and thought about alerting the others. Then thought about that again if he caught and ended a scouting party on his own he could prove to them that he should have been here with them long and that he truly was a strong warrior for the horde. Taking and turning he looked around the corner just as the young beautiful Drainei had come around the corner of the tree and smiled at her, hearing the query of the young woman he offered his rather large mug of ale. Sure join us it would be great fun to have a woman here. He said to her and his hand came around as large as it was and grabbed her ass running his hand along her tail and smiled. He was showing how hard he was as his loincloth was lifted some and twitching his tail was flicking back and forth in his excitement maybe he would be able to find out just how a Dranei felt and be able to live out his fantasies.

The city is diseased. Everything about the culture and the people is coated in enough rot to make doctors quail at the idea of doing anything about it. That is why everything is glossed up and made to look so pretty, because rot is perfectly okay if no one sees it. Yet sometimes the corruption drives people out to reclaim the small, pristine wonders of the world. That is why Damien was running after the single mother through back alleys and drug addled hookers desperately seeking some kind of release. Damien was not visibly troubled thanks to his mask, a generic model of the Repoman that had been handed out after that notorious backfire of one of the surgical soldiers years back. His suit was impressive and it didn't let any of the filth he walked on into it, boots crunching over empty zydrate bottles like they were nothing and pushing past rusted metal and broken glass to allow him a quicker path than the woman who had to focus on not dying thanks to the environment on her hunted run. It was both the suit and the environment that ended the hunt early with Damien's prey stepping on the glass seal of a syringe and the glass embedding itself in her foot. Damien caught up to her and placed his large bag of warrior-surgery tools down as he began to prepare himself for the work. "Please no! I just don't have the money! Johnny had to get a replacement knee! I will have the payment, I promise! Please! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS!" Damien used to feel sorry for people, and in a way he still did. Yet he still pulled out the scalpel and slammed the woman's head against the wall as he pressed the knife to her face. Well, it technically wasn't HER face anymore, but one of the grand "Pavi Brand Fetish-Skintastic Masques" that were so in vogue. Of course, hers was the previous popular model that were filling the vats of synthskin that reworked the masks into the newer model. It showed she really wasn't an addict and perhaps she just had fallen on bad luck. Still, he had a job. The masks had been made to be removed with simple surgical skill as those who followed the eponymous maker of the masks switched their faces out almost as much as he did. This is what happened when medicine was almost as much fashion as a life saving operation. The face ripped off with a sicking sound along the lines of wet cloth being ripped in half and was drowned out by the pained scream from the woman. Damien placed the face in a bag and looked down at the woman weeping tears and blood. There was a chance she could survive, one of the rare ones who could survive a visit from a repoman. She most likely wouldn't. The place was filthy. She was covered in grime and now her body was exposed. Damien turned and walked off, leaving the woman to writhe in the alley and howl with impotent pain. He had long since learned how to drown out the cries. His feet took him to a tall and imposing building, his special repoman key giving him access to the special employee entrance of his kind. He stood in silence as the elevator music, a bastardization techno remix of the final Blind Mag performance, played. He stepped off and went to the returns office, placing the face down on the table in front of a slightly overweight woman who was busy playing with her fiberoptic hair, changing the color from brown to purple. "Ah, Damien, good job. Such skill. And such a shame too, she only had two payments left on it. Ah well." She tapped into the computer, her fingernails clacking against keys as a little chit of paper printed out, "Here is your commission slip, don't spend it all in one place." Damien took the paper and walked away, his mask hiding his hatred for the woman. She was the niece, grandniece?, of the people who had supplied his medical school payments and ended up forcing him to work in this job. He walked into the employee locker rooms and dropped his bag with a crash. Work was done for the day. With the helmet off Damien looked a lot less imposing. His skin was nearly albino white thanks to a case of vitiligo that he had inherited from some great-grand relative way back in his past. He could easily have any type of melanin injected into his skin and thus emulate any race but he knew better than to try that path. His eyes were a dull brown which further hindered attempts at figuring out his natural race, as was the brown hair that hung limply in his eyes. As the suit cum armor came off he didn't seem like the typical repoman recruit. His muscle had been built up solely on the past two years hunting down organs and parts in the streets. He had been a simple man hoping to become a doctor. He placed those thoughts away as he hung his suit up in the washing department and began to clean off his helmet. He sat down on a bolted down bench and looked at his reflection in the helmet and wondered for the nth time how it had all come to this. Still, there was always the upside. He WAS a doctor. This was a side job that paid off his debts interest free, unlike the rest of his work. He opened his locker up and placed the bag inside it before noticing the single vial of zydrate he had left in the top where he placed his helmet. He briefly thought about taking it now but remembered the "party" he had to go to and thought better of it. He just needed a nice shower and maybe a good meal.

Another eventful night, huh. This new voice came from another row of lockers opposite Damien. Standing there was a man not much taller than himself with shaggy dark blonde hair still damp from the shower he'd just taken. Tired dark eyes appraised the other briefly before looking away again. It just gets better and better. Currently, he was dressed only from the waist down and the standard Repo uniform could be seen peeking out f a worn brown duffel bag that sat on the bench behind him. The man was obviously strong, however he was more well defined than muscular. As he turned away to reach into his locker it could be seen that his entire right arm was missing completely. Ezra had lost his arm in an accident almost four years ago. Then he'd been working as a freelance artist and a talented one at that. The loss of his dominant arm put an end to what initially looked like a bright career. It killed him. Art was Ezra's passion, his livelihood. Having grown up in the slums and received no formal education, the young man had hoped his artistic skills could pave the road for a better life. Without the means to put those skills to use it felt like a light had gone out. When Geneco developed Synthelimbs it seemed like a godsend. They not only looked real, but through advances in neurosurgery doctors could reattach the nerves that allowed the prosthetic to feel and function like a normal part of the body. Advertised the next step in medicine, each prosthetic was carefully designed to fit the individual. They were detachable and bar-coded like the organ transplants. It was in signing up for one of these limbs that Ezra made his first mistake. The procedure was ridiculously expensive, he was poor and unemployed. Not a good match. But he was bound and determined and so it came to be that he found himself working for Geneco alongside his friend Damien. Withdrawing from the locker, Ezra sat down with the damning limb in hand. The arm was perfect, unscathed in contrast to the rest of the man's body which was, in short, not. Reposession was not a job that came without its risks, targets fought back, often violently. That night in fact, Ezra had earned himself a few bruised ribs and a black eye while retrieving a liver from a man twice his size. Quietly and without any ceremony he began to reattach the limp prosthetic to his shoulder. At the juncture of both his shoulder and the arm, were light metallic structures similar in makeup to a ball and socket joint. Joining them was almost like plugging prongs into an outlet. Once connected there was a crackling static-like noise and Ezra was wiggling his fingers and bending his elbow to test. He'd long since learned to ignore the discomfort of his nerves being constantly attached and taken apart. You look exhausted, he commented, rolling his shoulder before pulling a thin grey shirt over his head. I'd suggest taking the day off but...You know. He forced a smile and gathered his things. After each beginning their employment at Geneco the two had grown more and more distant. Even now it felt slightly awkward to address the man who'd once been his closest friend. Like Damien, Ezra did not have the luxury of being able to head home just yet. He still had a meeting with one of the Largos about their new ad campaign and after that.... Well he preferred not to think about the parties until the time came. Part of his contract was that he helped the family with whatever design ideas the had for Geneco. More than once he'd been tasked with finding a new look for some advertisement or holoboard commercial, because it was less expensive than hiring a licensed designer. That was what his talent was reduced to until the debt was paid off. Sometimes he had to wonder if it was worth all the trouble.

Damien smiled at Ezra. He remembered when they were younger and had had more fun. They had been pretty odd together, especially that time Ezra had traded him a Blind Mag first edition cd to pose nude for a few sketches for a week. They had been teens and Damien had almost thought it was going to lead to some odd pornographic story but Ezra had just needed to work on his art. Nothing had come of it. He also remembered the accident and wishing so badly that he was a doctor so he could perform the operation. He had been as shocked as Ezra to find his "coworker" in the Warrior Surgeon ranks. He had thought they would get to see more of each other, yet they had just grown apart. Perhaps it had been because of what they knew each other did. Perhaps it was because both of them were "honored guests" at the parties. Ezra was used to make sure Damien's surgery was "aesthetically pleasing" and made sure that he took no liberties with the corpses and victims for the guests. Perhaps it was just hard to look someone in the eye that you knew knew your own dark secrets. It could also be the fact that neither of them had much free time at all thanks to their debts. "I have to prepare for the party tomorrow. I...I think you'll be there too. You know, if we ever get some time off we should hang out again. Did you hear they rebuilt that old golf and arcade place we used to hang out at? New owners but I bet it has some of the old nostalgia." Of course they hadn't gone to that since they were both in their teens. The place had been shut down when the owner killed his wife who had been supplying the young kids with illegal zydrate. He had gone to jail, the place foreclosed, and there was nothing left. Damien still felt awkward. He walked by Ezra, his own clothes now missing as he decided on a shower. He was lucky in that he had never gotten as roughed up as Ezra, so far. He had a few scars of course, everyone in their line of work did after two weeks, but his body looked more whole. He also had no surgical marks at all. He was one of the rare few people who had never gone under the knife. He had his own tonsils, he had his wisdom teeth, he had everything. He just had never decided to get anything. "I-I guess I'll see you later, okay pal?" This was another reason he hated the people he owed money. He and Ezra used to be the best of friends. Sure they were the odd couple, but they still had each other. Now, with those debauched parties and over worked hours, they almost never got to see one another outside repo work or preparing for the "parties." The both could obviously use someone to talk to now. The job didn't come with a counselor, which made turn over more profitable.

Ezra smiled tightly and nodded back as e slammed the door to his locker shut. He had to admire how the doctor tried to keep things cordial in light of their situations. "That sounds nice Damien. I'll call you sometime." An empty promise. He never called anyone. The truth was, doing this job had changed Ezra. He'd become withdrawn where as he'd once been friendly and outgoing. Meeting new people had been exciting, but now there was no telling when he'd run into a target in a shop or on the street. There was no point in getting close to someone you might have to kill later. This revelation made any kind of interaction outside of work very unappealing, Most of Ezra's spare time was spent painting and tinkering with his arm. It was impossible for him to look at a person as anything other than a victim or a monster; no gray area existed. Except for Damien. Damien teetered on the line separating black from white, because Ezra knew him. He knew the other wasn't like the Largos. He didn't enjoy killing or preforming fatal surgeries for audiences too jaded to appreciate simple pleasures. He was just another guy who'd fallen on bad times with only one way out. Geneco. After a few minutes passed Ezra followed his friend's path to the elevator, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Repo lockers were located six stories beneath Geneco headquarters. Far enough that the modern day bogeymen were out of sight and out of mind. People weren't supposed to think about what they could lose whenever they looked at the monolithic structure. They were supposed to see possibilities. Leaning against the cold metal wall, the blonde pressed the button for his floor. Entertainment and Advertising were thirty seven stories up. That would give Ezra plenty of time to work out what to do about Damien. The doors slid shut and he pulled a small notebook from his bag, flipping past opera set designs and costumes for Mag til he found a blank page. When would he be available? ...Tomorrow? No, tomorrow was the party, he didn't like to socialize after those. The day after he had three marks overdue for payment and Thursday they were launching a new line of face implants. ...Friday could work. Ezra tapped the pen on the notebook and chewed at his lower lip nervously. It had been so long. What would they even talk about? He could always ask Damien to pose for him again. He hadn't done any portraits in a while. The thought brought a faint smile to his lips. The other had been so fidgety the first time he'd been asked to pose, he'd found it immensely funny then. Perhaps this was a good idea after all. A polite ding announced to Ezra he'd reached his destination. He sighed and closed the book. Pavi was waiting, Amber too if she saw fit to show up this time. Personally he hoped she didn't. He could only design so many clothes for her, only paint her so many times before the so called "Face of Geneco" began to make him sick. Though she wasn't much worse than he creep of a brother. At least he didn't have to deal with Luigi in all of this. The man was a psychopath.

Damien gave Ezra a generic kind smile, one of the ones he saved for the people he actually knew. Then it was straight into the shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could as if he could boil away the memories he had. He scrubbed himself while trying to forget about the day's work. At least he was finished for the next two days. The bosses never gave him a job on the day of a party just in case he would lose his "artistic edge" that made him so popular. His shower ended after he cleared his mind and he walked out, waving to one of the other repomen. His white skin was now an unhealthy looking red from the steaming shower. He grimaced a little as he grabbed his surgical outfit and his pay chit and walked out. He could wear enough that no one would notice until his body cooled down. It was one of the benefits of being a doctor. With little fanfare he inserted the pay chit and watched as his massive debt was taken down by two hundred and fifty dollars. Lovely. The face that, when new, had cost 250,000 had netted him around one percent of that. He sighed and walked by the pay machine while slipping on his surgical mask and head covering. His outfit was a lovely white and he had blue gloves that gleamed with the latex shine they had. He took the elevator to his correct floor and signed in. A nurse ran up to him and handed him a patient chart. A Ms. Espanoza had been admitted after someone had ripped her face off it seemed. Damien gave a wide eyed look at the chart and walked in on the same woman he had just cut up less than an hour ago sitting in bed with blood running into her and a rep talking about how synthskin faces were so much more affordable and cheap now and that if she'd just sign on the dotted line that she could go home interest free for six months. Damien felt his heart dropping as the woman signed the contract for the newer face even when she could have gotten another model for a quarter of the price. And he knew he shouldn't say a thing or it would be added to his debt. He gave up and walked to the medical center and grabbed a zydrate gun and vial and placed it against his neck, the click releasing the calming drug into his system. He felt the numbness and apathy spread through his system as he released what could almost be judged an orgasmic sigh. He tossed the gun down and then left a nurse's glove on it to implicate her. He walked back into the room and pulled his mask down, knowing the woman wouldn't recognize him, "Hello my dear, let us get you your new face!" It was several blissfully uncaring hours later when the drug wore off. Damien was a good surgeon, good enough that zydrate just took the edge off his own feelings. He had put several people back together today, and had operated on some man with enough money that he bothered to spend it on flesh pockets in his abdomen to carry his wallet and watch around in because some man on a soap opera had gotten the surgery. Looking back on it it was just sick and wasteful. He stumbled home and tried to focus on the good he had done. It was what made him feel better about himself. He unlocked the apartment and jolted in to fall on the couch. He rubbed his head and looked at his answering machine. Surprisingly there was a message for him. He reached over and pressed it, wondering who still cared enough to call him.

As he pressed the button a holographic image of Ezra flickered to life, directly followed by a recording. The artist's voice was a little distorted by the machine and sounded as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Ah.... Hi, Damien? It's Ez...obviously.... Uh, I was just... I wanted to call and see if you were going to be busy on.... Friday? Yes, it was Friday. You said that we should hang out again, so...yeah. That's why I'm leaving this message, I guess." The slowly rotating image flickered as a cough interrupted Ezra's awkward spiel. "Right.... So, ah get back to me when you can. I'll see you." With that, the recording ended and the hologram disappeared. Back at his own apartment, the man in question was getting ready for bed after a night that had already gone on too long. The dwelling was small and crowded. It probably hadn't been clean since he moved in, if even then. Books and papers were littered everywhere. Painted canvases covered in dust leaned against the walls. Art supplies turned up in the oddest of places; tubes of paint under an end table, brushes in coffee mugs, even a few palate knives in with what little silverware he owned. The sink was full of dirty dishes and boxes from precooked dinners were spilling out of the trash receptacles. If Damien did agree to come over, Ezra was going to have a lot of cleaning to do. For now he didn't trouble himself and picked his way across the maze of trash and spots of paint to his bed which was really just an old double mattress on the floor. The sheets were the last thing he remembered actually going out and spending money on since the surgery. Paints and food didn't count since those were essentials. Vaguely he could recall going into a store and picking out a sturdy set of blue sheets. The clerk had gone on and on about how good for the skin the new synthetic thread count was, but he wasn't really listening. He'd just wanted something of his own, something he paid for that was just for him and no one else. In a way those sheets were the only things that really, truly belonged to him at this point. Ezra dropped heavily onto the mattress and let his eyes finally slide shut. It felt amazing to be able to just lie there and not have to think or speak. Too soon, it would be time to get up again and go to work. At least now he had something to look forward to. Within seconds he'd drifted off to sleep, prosthetic fingers curled tightly around the blankets.

Damien was pretty shocked, he had never expected Ezra to call. He had wanted to hang out but since the man had shown little initiative he always figured Ezra didn't want to do anything. Now he had to let him know that he was still interested. He called Ezra back but found the line going to the answering machine and he stumbled a bit, "Hey Ez, it's Damien. I'd love to get together on Friday. That would be perfect. If you want we could go to a bar or something...I have some extra cash saved up for a night out, I bet we could split some drinks or something. If you want. Give me a call back, okay?" The next day was the party. The majority of the day was normal, minor surgeries and checking up on patients, at least one he had put in the place. He had been called in somewhat early by those throwing the party, they had a new gimmick. He was met by a rather normal looking man who had a book and held it up, "Sis wants this done to the living meat. Get it done before the surgery. They are in the back next to the freezer. They are knocked out now but get to it. Chop chop." The man was an adopted relative of the family, one of those used by the near matron of the house. The surgery to be performed was a splicing of the vocal chords to produce music and brilliant song the more the victims were hurt. Damien gave a low whimper as he walked to the three patients, two girls and one boy around the ages of twenty, and began to work. The people were completely unresponsive as he snipped and chipped at their bodies, leaving the vocal chords mangled into a thing of horrendous beauty. It was a real monument to his skills that he could even do this, especially after just reading about it. Yet Damien was nothing if not a good surgeon, and it only took one hour per person to get the surgery done right. He would be brought his "special" surgical jacket and be forced to dress in it. This time, for the Valentine's Day Special, he had a bright red and black latex man thong that was visible from an open red and white rubber surgical jacket. His surgical mask was done in the shape of a heart with the arrow that kept it attached to his face. Even his scalpel was in the shape of an arrow to keep in theme with this wicked degradation of Valentine's Day. A new face came in with Ezra and motioned towards them, "People will be arriving in a few hours. Get the corpses ready first and then just add a few holes to the live ones. I think the people are going to want to add their own flair to it. Ezra, make sure everything says Valentine's Day, okay? Damien, baby, the Marquis just LOVED the corpse vaginas you crafted on the corpses last time, do that again for him, okay? And make sure the male corpses can hold an erection that won't break under...hmmm...Mr. And Mrs. Adlestein...take the...five hundred and sixty pounds, okay? It would have been somewhat embarrassing last time if they weren't drunk. Okay boys, now get to wooooooooo~ooooooooooork!" Damien looked up at Ezra and looked like he was grimacing. He hated these outfits he was made to wear, he hated defiling corpses, and he hated his bosses. He took out the first corpse, a rather beautiful man except for the place where his face was skinless from trailing on the road after his motorcycle accident. Damien looked up at Ezra one time and decided it was better to start now than get penalized, "W-what should I do to this one?" He looked forward to starting on the live patients with a morbid paradox of great proportions. He disliked that part of the job the most yet it was also when he allowed himself to become emotionally deadened by the zydrate he got special order from Ms. Sweet. They had been something of an item before, though never as much as the tabloids had suggested. She had taken a shine to him because he was the only person she had ever met that didn't have any surgery done to him. The infatuation had lasted almost three days but she liked him enough to send him free zydrate still, plus he offered her a free surgical hand for her addiction. It was a mutual "friendship" that didn't have that messy necessity of talking to one another except on the rare blemish on their relationship.

Ezra's face was blank as he moved to stand beside Damien and stare down at the corpse. He hated this part. It was bad enough to take lives indiscriminately on behalf of the company, but to further desecrate them like this... It took getting used to and even after all this time he still wasn't there. But that didn't mean he would do his job. "The body is well sculpted and almost immaculate. I think it would be best to focus on the face. Shave away the rest of it so that it's flat." Fitting. It's not as if these bodies had identities anymore after all. Their faces made no difference to the customers. In a sense, there was a kind of sick humor in it that maybe the others would fail to recognize, maybe they wouldn't even see the jab Ezra was making at them. His mouth quirked a bit and then settled back into a stony line. Just another canvas, that's all it was. "Don't leave any defining features. We'll remove the hair too." He circled around to the other side, lifting the body's arm and examining its hand with a detached interest. Perfect. Smooth, unblemished.Without warning he tightened his grip and broke each one of the fingers before repeating the process on the other hand. What did it matter what skills any of them had if in the end they'd only be taken advantage of? It didn't need talents, a sense of self. It was a corpse. A toy. Silently Ezra stepped back and tried to ignore the sickness rising in his stomach. "It's still not enough. We should paint him read or something. But don't cut him anymore." The others didn't matter. They'd slice gaudy designs into the flesh, remove a few hearts and strategically arrange the other organs. Holidays were the worst. Even he'd been given a tacky costume to wear and his only job during the party was to stand off to the side and observe. The main details were similar to Damien's, but without the medical gear. The main differences were the black fishnet sleeves and a red leather collar was wrapped round his neck just a notch too tight. He'd have fix it later, they were on a time crunch now.

Damien did as Ezra requested, though he added the love holes to the people, crafting false vaginas and penises as he worked. He removed facial features but on several of the corpses he had to expose the heart for special fetishes that would be required. They worked and made the "artistic improvements" for over two hours, leaving only a few minutes for the live victims. This really mattered very little as the people who were invited liked to do their own ministrations to the live ones. The male was injected with a powerful viagra-like stimulator that would keep him hard no matter how much blood he lost or what pain he went through. The women were injected with an aphrodisiac that would keep their vaginas moist and ready for the fucking. Right after he injected the drugs Damien ejected the small canister and popped in his final case of zydrate. It was time for the blissful drug-addled oblivion that allowed him to get through all this work. "Well, it's about to start, Ezra. I guess I'll wake up somewhere at home." He placed the injector to his neck and pressed, letting out a minor sigh of relief as the drug rushed into his system. Luckily the parties were far enough apart that he had yet to reach an addiction to the drug that so many people had found. The work he did was just too horrendous for him to work with normally. The three live people were woken up and their gurneys wheeled into the center of the huge room. It was decorated with lavish ornamentation and had two large spiral staircases leading up to what could be thought of as the VIP room that overlooked the grand ballroom. It was almost the size of half a football field, with the various corpses placed at different intervals and angles in the room. There were places for food and several servants were running about. People with make up came out and primped up the corpses and added different types of lubricants to both corpse genitalia and the live people. Different sexual devices were arranged at strategic locations; from the simple dildo to odd things that looked more akin to power tools than anything that would stimulate a sexual need. Damien vaguely heard the guests milling outside as he walked over to the first live woman and tapped her stomach. He made an incision on her stomach, a very bland love hole, and took up arrow-shaft shaped clamps to cut off arteries and veins that he snipped. The woman awoke and began what should have been a howl of pain. The surgery to the vocal chords came to light then: she sung a beautiful melody. He cut again and the song grew even more delightful as he worked, his mind fogged enough that he just heard the song and didn't think of it. The throats were set in such a way that the more agony inflicted on the person the greater their cries would turn to singing. From low pop music sounds to the greatest opera singers known to the world. Of course, the last breath would sound the sweetest, Damien had done excellent work. He just didn't want to think of that now. The woman was left with a few love holes in her, enough for people to poke and prod and even place drinks in should they want. Her whimpers of pain were transmuted into light blasts of musical prowess as Damien began work on the male. The viagra had worked and he was sporting a huge erection, it even lasted as the first cut was placed on his side. More clamps, more screaming. Damien left two marks on him and went to the final girl, slicing places on her breasts for people to violate thanks to their size. It would be quite popular. It was time for the people to enter. Men and women of all shapes and sizes, but generally just one income bracket, came through the doors. Many crowded around what appeared to be the favorite corpse or went to check out the live ones. No one touched yet, that would be a terrible idea. Instead, they milled about and shared food and swapped stories about submissives or the latest kink described on the blog of the woman who ran this. It was said she had been funding leper porn in some far off country with all sorts of disturbing action sequences. Then the woman of the hour entered. In her earlier life she was known as Lucretzia Giovanni, one of the Giovannis who had a connection with the Largos. Her great grandmother had slept with Rotti Largo when he was a young child, her mother when he was closer to her age, and Lucretzia had done it just because it was a habit. But, where the Largos worked with organs and doctors the Giovanni managed business and the repomen. Well, they had when dear Amber decided to expand the organization. Of course, good Lucretzia didn't work much with that business, her drive was sex. Sex was power and she was nothing if not ruthless. That is why she had shed her given name when she came to power. There was no Lucretzia Giovanni anymore, there was just Gigaslutsix9er. She had tan skin from her Italian heritage and wore her black hair up in a bun. Her dress was a black rubber mockery of Victorian style and showed off her back. Her back had various scars and staples in it to hold the skin together, a surreptitious "L" shape to one of the scars. No other "flaws" touched her body and her face was completely beautiful in the way a predatory animal was. Her eyes were a green that bordered on toxic while her lips pursed with a special black lipstick for the engagement. Her bracelets trailed off into slender silver chains that wrapped around the necks and arms of slaves who followed her, two of them holding what looked like a grand trophy filled with feces behind them. Her nails were lacquered with black and brass hook paintings on them. She looked every bit the impressive royal with all the sadism of Elizabeth Bathory coursing through her. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Whores and Sluts all! Welcome to the Valentine's Day Special of Gigaslutsix9er!" She yelled, her hands held up for emphasis. She allowed the crowd to clap and whistle before she silenced them, "I have invited only the most debauched and degenerate of those who follow me. Those of you who impress me with you dedication to true depravity! Remember, my flock, sex is everything, and I am sex!" There were more cheers as the rest of the Giovanni motley arrived. Her oldest brother was followed by a pack of genetically and surgically altered men and women who looked like the old trope of "furry." He had a lust for anthropomorphic animals and paid his sex partners vast amounts of money to be transformed into their shapes. Of course, he was also extremely jealous and if any of them dared like anyone better than himself, well, his sister had ways. He was Niccolo Giovanni, and he had ceded his title of the family to his eldest sister instead of ceding his balls. He got a good stipend and got to exercise his fetishes, so he was pleased. The third eldest of the current Giovanni generation, Catarina Giovanni, was dressed like a cyber-punk princess. Her hair oscillated between colors that were patently unnatural and her eyes were modular pieces designed specifically for her. Today they were spinning images of sapphire hue. Her clothing consisted of wires glued to the skin that barely covered her body, leaving more flesh exposed than anything. She had a small battery pack that sent electrical charges through the wires so she could get her fix. Her boots were made of panda fur and her gloves were each made from the skin of their dear departed father who she had fucked to death so the kids could ascend the throne. Thus she had gotten dibs on his remains. The youngest Giovanni was rather bland compared to them all. He had black hair and olive skin and his eyes were a bit tamer than his sisters. He wore a general business suit and black gloves so he wouldn't have to touch anyone here. He was Antonio Giovanni and he was rather disdainful of all this. Personally he liked to fuck his corpses in private and not share with anyone. Still, he needed to show up. Damien had settled to the back as soon as Gigaslutsix9er showed up. He said nothing as she spoke and a servant placed wires on the living party favors, "Now, let the night begin! WE SHALL SHOW THE WORLD THE TRUE MEANING OF KINK!" With that a switch was thrown and the three people were electrocuted mildly, their songs reaching the crowd who oohed and aahed with delight. The party began.

Ezra hung back from the crowd, watching with apathetic disapproval. It was this that he hated above all. These people were the monsters. Their appetites for the depraved and dissolute were insatiable. And society accepted them without question. It disgusted him to the very core of his being, because he knew these people saw nothing wrong with what they were doing. When the victims screams for mercy turned to song, they laughed in delight at the craftsmanship. No mercy, no hesitation. Keeping to his darkened corner so as to avoid the festivities, the man hoped that perhaps tonight no one would bother him. The holidays always brought out the worst in the guests. More than once someone had tried to purchase him, or mistaken him for a live toy. He wasted no time in setting them straight, but having to do so was an annoyance. So he did his best to stay out of the way and wait until the night was over. Did Damien ever have to deal with this? Hed have to ask him. It wasnt long after Gigaslut6niner arrived that The Largo brothers followed. Amber was no doubt too busy getting her zydrate fix or some new surgery to show up. Even if it wasnt for the right reasons, Ezra appreciated her for that. Pavi skipped off to investigate a neglected woman whose skin had been peeled back to reveal her ribcage and beneath that, a still beating heart. Meanwhile Luigi made his way to stand beside Gigaslut and pull her into a violent embrace. The pair of them were known to often take part in relations privately and publicly that most involved with Luigi Largo could not survive. They tolerated one another to an almost alarming point. More than tolerated. And somehow, neither of them was dead. His lip curled in revulsion and he dropped his gaze to the floor, but only for a short time. Hed learned from many times attending these parties that to keep ones eyes lowered indicated a sort of submission and would give the wrong impression. The last thing Ezra needed was some forty something soccer mom with a dom complex asking if he was available. Deceptively beautiful music swirled around the room, filling the air with the dying cries of those still living. They faded only to be replaced by new voices that begged for mercy and received none. One day he'd burn this place to the ground along with everyone in it. When he could afford to live on his own time, paint what the wanted to paint, be content that he wasn't going to return home each night with blood on his hands. Ezra allowed himself a small smile at the fantasy. How beautiful it would be to see these people suffer, to hear their agonized screams for help as the flesh melted away. All their painstaking effort in maintaining a perfect appearance for nothing. Because what good were all their expensive surgeries when they were dying? He folded his arms across his chest and scanned the crowd for the one person he had any interest in looking at. It was unhealthy to dwell on such ideas anyway. If he continued to harbor that kind of violent resentment he'd be no better than the people who employed him. Ezra's gaze finally found Damien amidst the crowd and he relaxed a little. His friend always did manage to have that calming effect on him even when they weren't speaking. Awkwardly the artist tried to adjust the uncomfortable codpiece he's been suckered into wearing. Overall the entire get-up was very uncomfortable not to mention revealing. There wasn't much to be ashamed of considering the state of dress some of the guests arrived in, but he felt nervous all the same. Why did he even need to be hear for this? His part was done.

Gigaslut6niner didn't much mind when Luigi came up to her. She also didn't mind getting slapped and having him reveal her breasts to the entire crowd. He knew not to ruin the outfit, which was what truly mattered in all things. She absolutely loved when he smashed her face into a table and held her down, his other hand ripping her panties low. It was ecstatic. She was not always dominant, of course, but she was very selective to whom she submitted to. Not to say she never dominated Luigi, it was just rather fun to swap up every time. She gave the most wonderful moan when he slashed across her back with the knife, her blood beading up with the shallow cut. He was a filthy tease to start things out with. The bastard. Her legs felt the draft of air and she was vaguely aware of her disgusting sycophants running to gather up vials of her blood. The piteous wretches would do anything to get a piece of her. She snapped her fingers and the two slaves with the giant cup of feces ran up, the young lady speaking up first. "We have the personal scat cup of the Mistress herself, just filled before the party!" That sent a clamor of miserable bastards after the poor slave, knocking the unaccustomed one over as the pro just moved out of the way. The one being trampled would likely die, or at least be maimed. Nothing big, she had just been a pretty face. Nothing great. The sex went harder and she felt her flesh part at the first REAL cut. There was that odd sensation of a cold burn that just grew sharper as the copper scent hit her nose. The blood was warm on her flesh, something she almost never noticed as she focused on the cuts themselves. "DO IT AGAIN! I AM YOUR WHORE! I AM YOUR SLUT! OWN ME! OWN ME!" She cried and bucked, feeling full even as she bled out. Luigi was good, she wouldn't die. But she would enjoy it. Damien had been left all alone as the stampede for the fecal matter of the hostess had drawn so many people away. He looked up in a haze wondering where that nice lady he had been talking to had made it to. He was a bit slow, his head turning this way and that as if he was in water before catching sight of Ezra. He knew that man! His coat billowed behind him and showed off his nipples thanks to how loose it was when he walked. He skipped when he was cut in front of by an excited person who decided to get his hooks into a free corpse before falling. Damien looked more surprised than hurt, his eyes dilated as he searched around for where his legs had gone. In a few moments he was up, dusting himself off from muscle memory as he tried to cut through the haze in his memory. He had been walking for some type of reason, he just couldn't fathom it for now. Then Ezra hit his field of view and he decided to go talk to him. Ezra was a nice guy after all. He managed to make it this time, the dusty haze of his trip making his movements a little shaky. "Ezra, hey. I am glad you are here. I don't know many people here. I was talking to a nice lady though, said she'd color all my skin purple for free. I didn't know they had body painters here." He was lucky, in a way, that he had remembered that woman wanting to beat him bruised was in his mind as a body painter. He draped an arm around a chair and sat down, looking rather cute. At least as cute as a zydrate addled vitilligo suffering doctor could.

Ezra blinked in surprise when Damien dropped into the chair beside him and smiled up through a zydrate induced haze. They never made contact with one another at these parties, always keeping to some designated spot for the rest of the evening until it was time to go. The artist thanked his lucky stars that he wasn't part of the clean up crew, that would have just been too much. As he looked down at his friend and listened to the almost childlike way he spoke, it struck him that he'd never seen Damien act this way at the benefits before. He seemed almost cheerful. It was kind of amusing. This would be the first time they'd ever really talked on the job before. Perhaps it was something they should try more often, since it made a welcome distraction from the chaos going on around them. "I'm always here", Ezra pointed out patiently, well aware of Damien's habit. How could he be not when he saw him taking vials from his locker after a job? To be fair, he couldn't blame the doctor for wanting some way to separate himself from his work. He personally had never experienced the drug's affects, not even in surgery, when they had replaced the bones in his shoulder with metal alloy needed to connect the new arm. The pain had been unlike any he'd ever known, but Ezra had point blank refused to be put under. He'd seen what happened to zydrate addicts on the streets where he lived and he was not going to end up like that. As a result, the joints still ached at times and occasionally woke him from a sound sleep, but it was worth it to know he wasn't selling his belongings to satisfy an addiction. Of course he'd never mention any of this to Damien who he worried might take it as an insult. "We just never talked before, that's all. So which lady off-" Luigi's voice rose suddenly, calling attention away from the seedlings of their conversation. By now, he was through fucking Gigaslut6niner and was currently engaged in what looked to be a shouting match between him and Pavi. The younger of the pair was grabbing his crotch and making some lewd comment that caused Luigi to bellow and slam his fist into the face of a GENtern who'd made the mistake of standing too close. Ezra snorted and turned away again. Those two were positively absurd. Once his attention was back on Damien, the blonde could feel a fresh heat rising in face. Earlier, when they'd been preparing the bodies, he hadn't really gotten a good look at the costume his friend was wearing. Like his own, very little was left to the imagination and he couldn't help but not that the other truly did have a very attractive body. He'd seen Damien naked before, but it had been so long ago. At this stage in his life Ezra determined he had no business reacting to partial nudity like this when it was something that surrounded him even at this very minute. Looking at the doctor this way made him very aware of his own state of dress and he cursed whoever had been chosen to design the costumes for tonight. The worst part was, that because he lacked any kind of shirt, the juncture between his clavicle and prosthetic was clearly visible. It was a little thing, but it made Ezra feel more self conscious that he was used too. "I can't believe you get to wear a jacket, man. I'm freezing my ass off in here."

Damien was oblivious to most of what was going on, which was lucky in its own way. He looked up at the two brothers having a scuffle and then winced, "Maybe she needs help. He is always so crude. I'm glad I never have to work on him." He didn't move to go up and help the woman; no amount of drugs could persuade him to do that and still keep him even barely lucid. He watched as the woman fell to the floor and rolled about. She would probably not die but she might re-decide her career. Gigaslut6niner was bleeding rather profusely and had a doctor come out and start stitching her up with brass thread. She gave the most disturbing moans as her flesh was forcibly knit back in proper placement. She gripped the edge of the table in sheer ecstasy as it happened, her knees going weak slightly. Many people crowded around and others dabbed up drops of blood with handkerchiefs and other unmentionables to try and sell later or even as a souvenir of the nights revels. They were ignored by the lady of the evening as she felt the multifaceted stings of the needle and pleasured herself to it, delighting the crowd on the floor that was not in the throes of necrophilia. The chaste looking brother of the Giovanni line looked at his sister once and shook his head, turning his attention to a dead boy of around nineteen years old. He gently rubbed his still face and gave a light sigh. They were so much more beautiful when they had died. None of those tricky emotions to play with, no fear they were going to find someone else and run away, and there was no need to take care of them. Maybe it was an egotistical selfishness or the ultimate fear of betrayal but Antonio just couldn't stay away from his precious corpses. He unzipped his pants and grabbed some of the nearby lube, readying himself. Damien turned to Ezra when he spoke and looked extremely concerned, "You should have told me earlier. Here." He stood up and pulled his fetish coat off and wrapped it around Ezra, hoping that it would warm him up, "There. That should be better. It's not good if you get sick. Then Friday might get canceled. I've missed being with you for so long." The drug was loosening his tongue, but Damien was still a good friend. He patted Ezra on the shoulder and then heard "Doctor!" coming from somewhere. Clad now in boots, a surgical mask, and a thong Damien grabbed his doctor's supplies and dashed off to where he was called to. He got more looks now, even if most of the people were more interested in the party favors. Still, Damien and Ezra weren't technically off limits, the mistress just didn't like them being toyed with. Damien almost deftly countered touches to his body as if he was some acrobatic germaphobe and all these people were just tainted beyond reasoning. Soon the party came towards a culmination, leading up to the grand feast. All sorts of random items were brought out, and the supposedly "delectable" items of cooked human flesh. It was still a minor taboo at least and these people did love shattering them all to hell. Damien and Ezra and others would be left while people shuffled off to dine.

Ezra blinked in mild surprise when he found his friend's coat draped around his shoulders. He hardly had time to mutter a thank you before someone called for Damien's attention. Wrapping the long coat a little tighter around his body, the man rose to his feet and returned to the spot where he'd been standing before. His eyes remained on the doctor as he jogged off to attend to whoever needed him. It had been a while since he really looked at Damien and he'd forgotten how attractive the other man was. Ezra had never really thought of himself as gay. Woman tended to be the main source of his interest most of the time. However that didn't stop him from admiring his friend from time to time, not that he'd ever let on. This time he didn't draw much attention and it wasn't long before the festivities wound down. As people trailed out of the room, he finally let himself relax a little. Now was the time when maintenance took care of the bodies and cleaned up what other messes had been left behind in the guests' enthusiasm. A small break room was provided for others like Damien and Ezra, and that's where he was headed now. He'd have a little something to drink to dull the memories of the evening's events and wait until it was time to go home. Lucky it wouldn't be long now, his arm was beginning to ache. The break room wasn't well furnished by the standard the visitors were held to. All the furniture was old, and there were stains on the couch cushion. The garish red paint on the walls was peeling and the floor looked as though it hadn't seen a good cleaning in months. None of this bothered Ezra. He'd seen and lived in far worse. With a wide yawn the artist dropped onto a vacant love seat and closed his eyes. Damien would no doubt be along shortly and they could discuss their plans for the next day. Since the doctor would still be a little high on the zydrate, he'd probably be more honest about what he wanted to do. So thoroughly exhausted, Ezra didn't hear the footsteps entering the room until their owner was practically standing over him. Opening one eye in irritation, he glanced up to see who'd interrupted his thoughts. Sneering down at him was one of the other designers he worked with at the parties. Harold? Henry? Something like that. The younger man had been one of the interns most likely to earn a permanent position before Ezra had been hired. the never talked, but Ezra wasn't foolish enough to believe he was in the other's good graces. "You really must be more full of yourself than I thought" Harold/Henry snorted while the other gazed up at him boredly. "Just lying around like you own the place. Anyone else would be scared to even blink on a night like this." Ezra rolled his eyes. Was that all? This was, what... The second time this guy had ever approached him of his own volition? It was like being back in high school. "Maybe you didn't notice, but everyone just left to eat. What do I have to worry about? Why don't you just take a load off over there and quit bothering me." He let his eye slide closed again and missed the look of fury that washed over his colleague's face. "Don't fucking brush me off Valens! Chirst... I'm so sick of your shit. We all are. You have more to worry about than you think." That last statement confused him a little and he opened his eyes just in time to see the other man pulling a switchblade out of his pocket. Shit. Ezra watched the kid closely, tense. The other made no move to attack him yet, perhaps he was just trying to intimidate? "Do you know how hard the rest of us had to work to even get into this joint as a fucking janitor?" Harold/Henry's fingers curled around the weapon. "It's not like your ideas are any better than ours. No way. I here they got you workin' up at Geneco advertising too. How many cocks did you have to suck to get that job, huh? some uneducated shit like you." Ezra's eyes flashed from the man to the door and back again. This guy was all talk.He'd just let him run at the mouth and wait for an opportunity. Still the words were getting to him. The second he got a chance he was going to beat the living crap out of this asshole.

Damien was actually helping clean up a little as the party dwindled. He also went over to the final surviving member of the choir he had set up and mercifully killed her as swiftly as he could with a stab to the heart. He liked to imagine he could see some amount of happiness in her eyes but deep down he knew he was deluding himself. She would have been happy if he had never touched her, if she had never been captured. While he might have given her a small mercy it was nothing compared to what he could have done if he had only freed her instead of allowing her to be a plaything of these people. He groaned and held his head as the thoughts of guilt raced in his mind. The zydrate was wearing off and his jovial attitude was fading. In another hour he'd be at home curled up into a ball as he shivered himself to sleep. He touched his shoulder and realized he didn't have his coat on. He thought back with some difficulty and remembered he gave it to Ezra because his friend had been so cold. He looked about the party floor and saw no Ezra so he figured checking out the 'waiting room' might be his best bet. He fetched his doctor's bag as he knew he had to return them to Gigaslut6niner or else he would end up in a world of crap. He wandered towards the waiting room as he avoided the puddles of blood, semen, and less palatable items that sometimes defied description and even reality. He poked his head into the room to see a confrontation between Ezra and some minor artist who was mostly used to scout locations for good people to pick up and abuse. Damien fought the fuzziness in his head as he strained to listen into the conversation. There was jealousy, yes, but he could not figure out over what. This artist was yelling at his friend for some reason, some jealous and as far as he could tell petty reason. Damien didn't much care for how the man was spouting off nonsense as if Ezra himself personally set up his position and kept other people from it. Then came the switchblade. Damien was already hidden enough that he couldn't be noticed but now he definitely didn't want to be seen so he ducked back outside fully. He opened his doctor's bag and searched carefully for what he needed. He pulled out a syringe and a scalpel and readied both of them like some kind of macabre warrior before he burst into the room. Of course bursting would be a very friendly descriptor. Damien fell in like some kind of drunken sailor and jammed the needle into the mans arm so hard that the needle splintered off before the full syringe was emptied into him. Of course that didn't matter as the numbing agent was exceptionally powerful and given to him in case any of the lovely patients of his matron decided to try and escape from their imprisonment. Damien fell onto the table and propped himself up with the arm holding the broken syringe and swiped the scalpel fiercely across Harold/Henry's face. The wicked arc sliced through skin and even bone as it finished its descent, leaving no sign for a second. Then a vivid red line appeared and the artist's eye oozed the viscous fluid inside as it started splitting apart. Damien watched as the artist started screaming. He gave a little sneer and slashed at the artist again, this time over extending himself in his stupor as his slash missed and he fell on the floor. The artist ran out of the waiting room, leaving Damien with the time to turn around and look up at Ezra, "So...hey...I need my coat back. And are you okay? I didn't want him to hurt you. You're my only friend here."

Ezra had been so engaged in figuring out how he was going to get out of his current predicament he almost didn't notice Damien's entry. A cool relief swept over him for he knew it would only take a word to get Harold/Henry to disperse with his threats and scamper off. He wouldn't want to risk getting reported and probably wasn't violent at heart. It was all very well to intimidate but it was rare for someone like him to actually follow through? A different matter altogether. However it seemed that just having a quick word with his would -be assailant was not Damien's preferred course of action. In a flurry of motion the doctor had launched himself drunkenly at the younger man, the tools of his trade glinting in the room's sick yellow lighting. Harold's cry of shock at the needle embedded in his arm soon became a pain filled shriek when the scalpel blade slashed across his face. The second the knife had been removed from his immediate vicinity, the blonde rolled off the couch and hurried into the midst of the fight. Damien's clumsy brutality, and Harold's panicked efforts to escape kept him from getting into the thick of it, which was probably for the best as he wasn't quite sure who to side with. Even like this his friend had a clear advantage. Not being nearly as incapacitated as Damien, the terrified man dashed out of the room, clutching his face and shouting promises of retribution that Ezra didn't hear. He made no effort to stop him and instead knelt on he bloodstained carpet beside the other man. "No, I'm fine. I don't think he would of actually tried anything. You shouldn't have fucked him up so bad." Of course given the opportunity, Ezra would have turned that asshole black and blue for the things he said, but that was before Damien took a hack at his face. "You ever thing maybe this zydrate thing's getting a bit out of control?" he asked gently as he peeled off the coat and returned it to its rightful owner.

Damien slowly got to his feet with help from Ezra and took his coat. He dusted himself off in a rather knee jerk reaction as the floor had no dust or dirt and anything that this party might leave as refuse would need a scalding bath and sanitizer to properly get off of one's body. He looked at Ezra and seemed to get very serious for a second, his eyes focusing completely on his artistic friend. Then the mood disappeared and he replaced the scalpel back into his bag. The syringe was expendable as he was help if anyone should get out of hand. "You are so cute when you worry, Ezra. I am glad he didn't hurt you. I just look forward to Friday now! Really, I do!" He laughed jovially and moved forward, kissing the artist on the forehead, "You did so well today, even if you were cold. I do hope my jacket helped. And the zydrate is fiiiiiiiiine. You don't have to worry about a thing!" Of course if he had been more lucid the needle wouldn't have broken and he would have just had to threaten the other artist. As it was this was mildly more than he had intended to do. He gave a final little wave and took his jacket and supplies as he left the room. He would turn in everything he had been given to the servant who was making this party go off without a hitch. She took the items and handed Damien his clothing back; it was a bit of a failsafe that kept the people in the party. If they ran off they'd have no clothing besides very unstable and unprotected party clothing that would get them noticed and killed by the dangerous people of the street. Damien wouldn't see Ezra again that night, his zydrate rush having worn off and his memory of kissing Ezra on the forehead flooding back to him. He had realized he liked his friend in a sexual way after posing naked for him, perhaps a few months after that. Really he was the only person he had formed any real strong bond with. His mom hadn't approved of his "slumming it" with his friend but she had also cut him off from their money as soon as he turned down being his father's successor in the business. He was still too embarrassed as he got home to call Ezra and apologize, and he was too embarrassed to see if they were still on for the next day. He went to bed worried, hoping he hadn't fucked over everything.

By the time Friday rolled around Ezra was more than ready for a break. The Largos had been running him ragged with this new ad campaign and on top of that the Repo excursions that followed were getting more and more brutal. Time really was money and he couldn't afford the time it took to be neat. It was ten o clock in the morning and he was now staring uncertainly at the phone, willing it to ring so he wouldn't have to make the call. What if Damien wasn't interested anymore? He'd been awfully high that other night.. Sighing he ran a hand through unkempt blond hair and abandoned the phone to return to the kitchen. The stove was gathering dust from months and months of neglect, and wrappers were scattered across the floor. Ezra stood up on his toes to reach into an already open cabinet and remove a dehydrated dinner box. He lived off these more often than taking the time to make actual food. Cooking took too long and he wasn't all that skilled at it. Boxed meals and bags of chips were much easier to deal with. Crossing back to the phone with a jerky strip dangling from the side of his mouth, the artist eyed the device with heavy disapproval before he picked it up and punched in Damien's number.Come on and suck it up.You won't know if you don't fucking ask.

Damien was getting ready for work, his actual and legitimate work, when the phone rang. He walked over and picked it up almost last minute because his pants weren't fully on, "Hello, Damien Kumar speaking." He was elated to hear the voice of his friend. Or who he hoped was his friend. He was also delighted that the first few words were not "I AM SUING YOU FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT!" It was great. "Of course we are still on! I was sort of worried you might not want to get out. I am sorry, I get very bizarre on zydrate sometimes. I didn't want you to think I was a hardcore psychopath...as much as you can say someone in our profession isn't. It's just a job, right? One that has no choice to it." There was humor to that but it was a bitter and sour type, one where they would both laugh awkwardly while desperately thinking of something nice to say to lighten their spirits if just so they didn't dive into the moral quandaries in their own heads. Damien thought and brought up what to do, "I have to work a bit late, but meet me at the Golden Light Pub. It is on the corner of Write and Cornerstone Street. I should be there around nine tonight if everything goes well. If not, well, perhaps around ten. I cannot wait to see you there." He hung up the phone after all the talk and wondered if he came off like some pedantic boy with a crush. He hoped he hadn't. He finished getting ready and walked out the door, his hat hiding his skin from the sun. Not that the smog and muck of the city let much sun in, but there was enough that the albino felt uncomfortable. He dashed to his car and slid in, driving off to the doctors office. He parked in his much too special spot and went into a special elevator that led to a special hallway. "Special" was how he saw it as no patients were allowed back here. Doctors needed to feel important, what with how much they were needed by people clamoring for surgery faster and faster and the special additions being grasped at like water by a woman who had been crawling through the desert. He checked his chart and smiled under a mask he had applied before he walked out of his "special" hallway. Surgeries that were life saving, not unnecessary developments for disgusting people. Perhaps today would be a good day.

Well that had certainly been easier than he anticipated. Damien had been so eager, he just let him do all the talking until they agreed on a time and disconnected. Placing the phone back in its cradle, Ezra finished his breakfast and returned to the kitchen area, where he made a halfhearted attempt to clean before giving up and going to get dressed. It wasnt as if hed invited his friend over. No one was going to see the mess but him. Once more he glanced at the clock and realized that nine was still quite a ways off. He felt unusually fidgety, uncertain of what to do with himself. A shower wouldnt be out of the question but it was so early, it seemed like it might be better to wait. He could always practice his painting. That was what he used to fill his spare time with, but after a number of less than desirable results Ezras motivation had dwindled. Pulling on some old work clothes, he flexed his mechanical fingers and stared at the empty easel at the other end of the apartment. Stacked behind it it were rows and rows of failed projects. Months worth of his effort to adjust to the artificial limb that replaced the original. He pursed his lips and approached it like one might a potentially dangerous animal. Even after all this time he could still feel a hint of that old spark that had driven him to pursue art, to spend endless late nights devoted to his craft and come away covered in paint and sweat with a sense of pride and satisfaction nothing else could provide. Another look at the clock. He had a little over ten hours before hed see Damien. Ezra took a deep breath and began uncapping his paints. Eight and a half hours later, the man had transformed a blank canvas into a burning abstract of a cityscape, not quite finsished and not quite dreadful. In fact, Ezra felt rather pleased with the results. His nails were caked with dried oils and his hair was a stringy, sweaty mess, but for the first time in many months he felt like hed accomplished something. He was reluctant to turn in his brush in favor of a quick shower, hiowever the prospect of seeing Damien was enough to fuel him into taking a break.

Virgin, Feminine Elf Prince needs older Elf/Man to learn from. Aithin is a beautiful, feminine Elven Prince of the Wood, much reminiscent of a younger Legolas (from Lord of the Rings). He has golden, flowing hair down to his mid-back, a fair complexion, full red lips, and a soft, delicate figure. He is a glowing, innocent youth, completely devoid of all sexual knowledge. The young elf seems almost untouchable, like a young god. He appears to be around 16/17 in human years, while he is about 700 years old in elven years A great pair for him would be either an adult Elf or Man, a newcomer to Rivendell. Must be a dominant character, yet gentle and willing to teach Aithin the meaning of sexuality in a kind way. Aithin will react strangely at first, but he will crave more eventually, as he has never ever felt as wonderful as his partner will make him feel. Aithin strode down the grassy hill and sat down at the edge of the large, rocky pond, teasing his toes across the rippling, clear water. He wore a simple, small pair of thin cloth shorts to remain decent, but nothing else touched his willowy, feminine body besides the long, flowing waves of honey blonde hair that cascaded down his delicate back. The beautiful youth sighed through his cherry lips and pulled all of his hair forward, enjoying midday as the sun kissed his virgin flesh. His father, Elendil had been throwing many magnificent parties lately, full of music, dancing and merrymaking on the account of Aithin's brother's return from the far off city of Gondor, where he had had dangerous business to attend. After a light lunch of elvish bread, apples, and singing, the young elf had retired to the pondside for a quiet contimplation of all the newcomers. There were elves here that had travelled from Mirkwood and from Lothlorien, and even some men, all to rejoice something that Aithin did not fully understand yet. His father told him that he would know in time, but that he should not burden himself with such things until he had enjoyed all of his naive youth. There came a sudden rustle from within the trees behind Aithin, but he was so entranced by his own thoughts and daydreaming, that he did not hear. The eyes of a traveler took in the beautiful, whimsical creature before him, and stepped forward curiously...

Aiden was not quite sure what he was seeing before his eyes, as he stepped forth from the greens and the brush, slowly out into the clearing, towards the strange creature that his senses had ensnared. His bow upon his back, but his gloved hand upon the hilt of his short blade, the deep-haired half-elf moved with the silence of a pure blood. Emerald eyes accessed the form of the blond being pondering near the water, and at first he was convinced that he had stumbled upon a glorifying female of great beauty. With hair of silken gold being taken away occasionally by the breeze, delicately pointed ears, and such beautiful and seemingly untouchable flesh, this creature made it to where Aiden was almost lost for not only words but for breath. Instead of crouching down while he proceeded forward, as though to hide from this male, this brother in blood perhaps, he became erect and confident in his actions. The slightly darker man rested his gaze in silence, and would await the youth to acknowledge his presence, as opposed to possibly frightening such a fragile creature.

Aithin, lost in thought, soon became aware of his daydreaming. His eyes refocused upon the glimmering sheets of water laid out before him, and he let out a relaxed sigh as he stretched his arms up towards the blue sky, then let them sink back down. He began to hum gently, brushing a small green bug from his shoulder, when his senses were caressed ever so slightly by a feeling that he was not alone. Yet, he had heard nothing. The young elf furrowed his brow and twisted his back to gaze behind himself, and was surprised to find a being of his own kind standing quite confidently in the clearing just before the woods grew close. The being had pointed ears much like his own, yet there was something different about him. He was not so very narrow like most elves were, thought not quite as thick as a man. 'Perhaps...no..he could not be a half breed like my mother..?' thought the blonde haired elf, his mind fumbling with different, seemingly urgent questions. This newcomer was rather striking as well, and Aithin found himself blushing uncontrollably. "H-Hello Sir." he spoke quietly, cocking his head slightly. "You are..probably here to see my father. He is..up with t-the party." Aithin pointed up towards the back entrance to Rivendell, smiling and trying to avoid scanning the stranger's every limb. Somehow, something was happening to the youth. He didn't know what, but it was strange, and he didn't welcome it.

He too had almost become just as lost within his own thoughts, though they were more curiosities than day dreams. Who was this male, and how come he had never seen him before? Aiden was a welcome sight among the woods and the creatures of the trees alike, and he had heard no whispered rumors of someone new or unusual wandering around through the brush. Therefore, that would have to mean that this being was not something foreign at all, but rather simply an oversight by him and his fellows. He remained in his place, allowing the sun that happened to slip past the tree tops to kiss his flesh as his ears filtered out the various sounds of the environment around him. The very spirits graced him with silent secrets even as his emerald gaze remained on the youth. The half-elven male indeed went from hostile to pleasant within a few moments, allowing his hands to rest at his sides as opposed to upon his weapon. Once the other male began to speak, he would shake his head with care, correcting him without saying a word at all. "I never have been one for immense gatherings," he began, especially considering that he was indeed what one would refer to as a half-breed. He was a servant of the forest, despite coming from a mixed heritage of both human and elven blood. Such an aspect seldom phased the elder. While the stranger seemed to blush beautifully, he felt a calming smile dance across his features, before he would give a short bow. "I am called Aiden."

Aithin nodded in response, not one for large gatherings himself. He noticed that the elf had slowly softened his approachful ways. Perhaps he felt that the youth were a subject of interest, and not of concern. Aithin's sparkling blue eyes remained upon the other's face, taking in every curve and shadow. He continued to blush when the stranger bowed and introduced himself as Aiden. 'Aiden...' the youth thought, rolling the name over in his head. "A pleasant name you have." Aithin smiled, getting to his feet and pushing a stray lock of silken gold behind his pointed ear. "I am Aithin, son of Elendil, and the youngest Prince of Rivendell. But please, do not take differently to me because of my name. I regard my status as nothing more than a written statement." His lithe body quivered ever so gently under the eyes of this newcomer. How strangely entrancing he was... "You look tired Aiden, you must have traveled a fair distance. Would you care to join me for an afternoon swim?' he offered kindly, automatically reaching a hand out to touch the other's, then pulling it back with a strange embaressment. The youth smiled nervously, backing up slowly until his feet starting to enter the water, beckoning the stranger to come nearer. He had never felt this nervous around another of his kind, why now? It was perfectly natural for elves to swim around in very little together; why did Aithin feel differently about this? It was almost like this so called "Aiden" seemed too majestic to exist..

As sapphire eyes continued to meet emerald, Aiden had a feeling that the two of them were succumbing to the same sort of inward curiosity about one another without actually ever admitting to a thing. Though he still looked quite youthful, he could actually be aged at around 210 years. He had surpassed the typical 'minimum life expectancy' of his half-elven breed, and still had a good, lengthy while before he would end up falling into the grip of old age. He had smooth, though chiseled and etched out features, and lengthy onyx-black hair that remained free behind his back. "Your acknowledgment is well met. The name typically means 'young fire'. I suppose, it must have been an inward observation, as opposed to outward, for I am as tranquil as the very breeze much of the time," Aiden admitted, before nodding to his statement. "I understand your learned approach to that sort of matter. Sometimes, it is nice for one to just strip themselves of society's trappings, including figurehead titles. Though, I admit, such beauty is very befitting of a youthful, exuberant prince." His gaze narrowed in curiosity when the other extended a graceful hand, as though beckoning him to come forward and accept his gently-presented invitation to take a swim. It was not his title that made him a bit apprehensive, but his own child-like actions that caught him slightly off guard. However, he decided to humor him, since he was indeed in need of a little restful recreation. Therefore, he moved himself slowly down into a crouching position, showing him he still meant no harm as he lowered the long bow and quiver from his back, trying not to let his eyes examine the un-gilded youth as he almost seemed to walk upon the blue-hued water.

"Thank you.." Aithin spoke gently, smiling at the friendly compliment. He slowly began to wade into the sparkling, clear water, sucking in a breath as it's coolness climbed the length of his doe-like legs, past his silken undergarment, and teased just beneath his navel. "Your words are like a song M'Lord. It pleases me to hear them.." the youth sighed, going limp and letting himself fall backward gracefully into the pool. His body was refreshed immediately, and he soon resurfaced, smoothing his long hair back and eyeing the newcomer with curiosity yet again. Droplets of dew trickled to rest on his soft lips, some continuing down his slender neck and shoulders. He did very much resemble a young deer, slender and delicately strong in the limbs, with all the grace of the gentlest soul. "I see that you come equipped with a bow. I have always desired to carry one myself.." Aithin reached upward towards the lowest branch of a tree that cast a shadow and cool shade over the water, plucking a single flowering bud and stroking it's lavander petals.

"Whether prince or commoner, a man should always carry some sort of weapon with him. Unless, of course, there's more to you than your delicate appearance seems to imply." And by 'delicate' he meant too beautiful, perhaps, to even be true, but that was a fact he needed to begin to overlook. "Not all siren songs are deadly. I simply speak the truth, reputation aside." As Aithin continued to move himself into the water, he proceeded to remove more of his now cumbersome clothing. His lithe fingers worked easily at unfastening the clasp of the cloak about his neck and shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground with a sort of silent grace, before he would begin to loosen up the deep, almost bark-hued leather armor that he wore above a dark, forest-colored shirt, which was taken off not long afterward. He revealed even more, slightly sun-kissed and smooth flesh, finally sitting down in order to rid himself of his boots. Once he had finished removing clothing, weapon, and armor alike, he had left himself in what appeared to only be a loose set of greenish slacks that covered him from his waist down to his strengthened legs. Slowly and calmly, he rose to his feet and strode forward, perhaps gracing the other with the sight of smoothed over, half-elven flesh. A slight smile would appear upon his features as he would walk into the cooling waters; his locks instantly fanning out around him as he went inward deeper and further still.

"Ah yes.." the youth sighed. "There has been bow training on my part, but I have yet to carry one...I have only ever faced danger twice, and ever since my father has become very strict on my whereabouts and knoweledge." As soon as Aiden's graceful fingers touched the clasp of his cloak, the young Prince turned aside and drew a lock of his hair forward, focusing hard on twisting it back and forth. He could see the elder elf undressing in the corner of his eye, and felt his heart flutter. Aithin exhaled long and deep, lifting a hand to press cool water over his warm face. "I feel so warm...m-my breath." Aithin spoke out loud, touching his throat and moving over slightly into more shaded waters. Arousal and even attraction was a thing most foreign to the elf, for his kind reached the age of that sort of knowledge much later than any other being, as they were such long lived creatures. It would be a few more years before his father would be forced to have a long and confusing conversation with him. Finally, he turned at the sound of Aiden entering the water. The elf's hair, so much darker than his own, and even more so when wet, was curious to the youth. It was indeed easy on the eyes. He could not help but gaze at the being's body; it was graceful like his own, yet not quite as delicate. He posessed the strength and whimsy of a young buck, masculine, yet beautiful like a young willow. "M-M'Lord..." the Prince stuttered, then realizing his loss for words and turning away again. 'I am a terrible host..' he scorned himself mentally. 'Why would I have nothing to say..?'

He began to ponder whether or not he would be able to supply the youthful elf with a bow suitable to his liking if ever they were to meet again. Of course, if his father saw such a prize, and he was as strict as Aithin suggested? Well, he was not so willing to have his head on his elder's chopping block. Especially, when it came to light that it was not only from someone who had joined his son in a bout of swimming, but a man who only expressed half of his elven heritage. Of course, now that Aiden knew about this prince, this delicate flower, he had a feeling that keeping him protected from harm wouldn't be much of an issue. He knew many fellows, of course, and could personally keep him out of danger's path if he ever had to himself. Aiden, the silent guardian. He liked that idea. As the youth turned himself away within the water, Aiden couldn't help but feel a bit more estranged. Delicate, yes. Beautiful, very much so. Cat's grace and eagle's splendor? Undoubtedly. But a virgin? The elder male hadn't considered the option until a few moments ago. His gentle cheeks flushed with the color of soft, silken rose petals. Of course, Aiden did not think of himself as a token at all. It wasn't that he was hard up on himself or anything. He simply never had a reason to think on it. He was revered for his beauty because of his deep, jewel-like eyes, and his silken locks, but he was also looked down upon because his blood was considered to be stained or tainted. He would outlive a human, though pale in comparison to his pointy-eared counterparts. It was an interesting life to live, but one that came with many questions, most of which would go unanswered even throughout the duration of his lengthy livelihood. "Please, speak your mind to me. If I have done something to frighten or alarm you, I will surely correct my actions."

Not sure how to use italics here) 'Speak, you fool! Speak to him, make him feel welcome here, as your father has always taught you!' the elf cursed within his head. His mind was a flurry of strange and new feelings. He could tell that the half elf was pondering his appearance and reaction as well. 'I hope I don't seem uninviting..' "Oh..n-no M'Lord Aiden." the youth began at once. "You have done nothing wrong!" He turned and, thinking nothing of it, reached out and grasped the newcomer's hands, holding them gently in his own. "I assure you, there is nothing..." Aithin trailed off, looking up and sinking deeper and deeper into the emerald eyes that seem to swirl like beautiful twin mists. "...nothing to..correct." He drew a brave breath into his chest. "You are a guest here, I want you to feel welcome. It is a day for merrymaking and song. I..." The Prince's hands slipped away, and he turned his head to the side, feeling warmth creep once more into his face. 'He is so very beautiful...he...he makes me feel things in so many different places..my face..my mind...my hands...my..' The youth shook away the invading thought, feeling even more strange. "I'm very sorry Sir, but I feel strange. I know not of the feelings in which I experiance...I must be...ill." Aithin's eyes glanced at the older elf's hands, wispy and strong, then to his smooth stomach, then lower... 'NO! Why would I dare think of such things!' Yet again, the youth gulped and rid his mind of the creeping thought.

text here . And don't worry. I gathered that.]] As Aiden observed the youth with calm eyes, he couldn't help but notice one thing in particular. He seemed to be Aithin's unintentional undoing. Kindly and curiously, the prince had invited him to join him for a swim. However, he was new to the sights and feelings that Aiden had presented to him by simply plunging the two of them into a slightly inevitable situation. While Aithin attempted to stumble around for the right words to say, Aiden thought on his toes. His hands were soft; fingertips and palms un-calloused by arduous labor, or even heavy training. Pristine, indeed, there was no doubt about that. It was almost nice to feel such a touch against his own flesh. It was oddly calming, and he began to grow curious about how such a caress would feel upon his own body. When Aithin's grasp fell out of his own, and he attempted to regain some sort of confidence, Aiden found himself reaching forward despite the youth's explanation, retrieving his hands without a second thought. He held one of them carefully within his own, simply allowing him to feel his touch and his warmth, while he placed the other up against his chest, just above where his heart would beat. "Whatever you may be feeling, I doubt it is any sort of sickness, but observe for yourself that the two of us are one in the same. Therefore, whatever you might be experiencing right now, is as natural as what is all around us."

Aiden's hands seemed to reach for his own in a motion slower than any he had seen. The world had seemingly begun to turn lazily, like he had all the time in the world to experiance those few seconds. The youth's heart skipped a beat as they came in contact. Despite the cool water, the fingers that took his own were warm, inviting like the cozy inside of his own home on a winter's evening. Aithin's breathing pace quickened ever so slightly, his crystaline eyes wide and unblinking. He could barely believe his own eyes and senses as the second warm hand took his and placed it comfortably over the elf's chest. The feel of his heart, beating, beating like that of any other living being was a comfort to the young Prince. Yes, he was beautiful and new, but he was just an elf, like Aithin. "I-I..." Aithin began, cherry lips trembling. Hushing himself, he drew forward ever so slightly, turning his head to rest his cheek just below the elder elf's collarbone. His own chest, dewy and cool, pressed lightly against Aiden's, allowing a new level of bonding to begin knitting itself a delicate bridge. "I..I hear you.." the youth whispered, listening to the gentle rythmic thumping. He closed his eyes and pressed even closer against the warmth, intertwining his fingers in the other's hand. He felt so wonderful, so plainly....good.

The sentiments were mutual when it came to the subtle sensuality of this entire moment. Once he had the prince's hands within his own, or even up against him, the worry of having his head taken away by an angry eleven king soon dimmed. Now, the inner flame that he seemed to possess seemed to come out more and more. He refused to have the youth frighten away from him, however, but at the same time he wished to help him with whatever he might just be feeling. It seemed like his gesture had spoken volumes, not only to him, but to the youthful prince. This was good, and he was glad he did it. He had taken his own first steps towards building a fragile tension between the two of them, and at this rate he wished to try and reinforce even his slightest efforts. He was not thinking of what this could lead to, if anything at all, but Aiden did know that this was a moment he would not soon forget. While Aithin grew closer to him, attracted like a moth to a flame, Aiden allowed him to lace their fingers together before he would wrap one of his strong arms around the other. Carefully and concisely, his remaining hand would travel down the start of Aithin's jawbone, and would not stop its slow decent until his fingertips reached his chin. He would press two of his digits to the underside of his chin, and raise his head up in order to let their gazes meet one another as he listened. "Now, what do you feel?" Aiden questioned, before making time slow once more, pressing a caring kiss to the male's tender lips.

The feeling that was growing deep in Aithin's belly was new and...slightly painful. Was this what human's meant when they spoke of "butterflies in one's stomach"? He let out a small, unavoidable gasp as the half elf drew him closer and touched his fair face gently. He could feel the gentle ripple of muscle in Aiden's graceful, welcoming arm, and it aroused feelings inside of him that dwelled even lower than his stomach, which frightened him a little. The Prince's eyes widened even more, if that was possible, as Aiden's lips neared his own. 'What is he doing..?' The youth had only ever seen a mouth to mouth kiss a few times, but this was very different. A quiet, throaty sound escaped him as their mouths met. Emotion racked Aithin's body, making him shudder in heated passion of which was so foreign to him. He could feel this man, hear him, taste him; it was overwhelming. He tasted of grass, smoke, and tea, and it was wonderful.. The youth jumped and broke the delicious kiss, suddenly quite aware of a stiff and uncomfortable feeling beneath the water. He gasped upon looking down, shoving both hands hastily between his slender thighs and turning his back to Aiden shamefully. A deep pink crept up along the ridges of his cheekbones. "I-I'm sorry." he apologized, his body quivering as he attempted to hide certain proof of his excitement. "I know not of what is happening to me.." Nothing had ever affected him in this certain way, no. He turned back halfway, his eyes still averted away from the firy emeralds in embaressment. His nerves of the fingers that covered the front of his cloth undergarment twitched with nervousness, appling more pressure and causing a sharp groan to escape his virgin lips. The elf's mouth hung open, eyes wide. "What has happened...what must I do?" Aithin whimpered, concerned and amazed at his body's sudden reaction. "I ache like an old wound...in such strange places. Do I need healing?" the youth questioned the half elf desperately. As every moment passed, the Prince felt a growing, gnawing urge to apply more pressure to that certain area, but he didn't dare do so. What a strange act that would be!

Aiden could somewhat imagine what was going through the young prince's head right now. They had already more than established the fact that he was untainted, and virgin in more ways than one, but now his senses must have been simply going through overload. There Aiden stood, perhaps flawlessly, bare-chested in the glistening water and warming sunlight. If Aithin was even the slightest bit attracted to the male, or even curious of what the other could have to offer him (in any way, really) then his body would react quite effortlessly to it. Though, Aiden had to quietly ponder. Had the youth had this problem with any other male before? Or was it him alone that seemed to effect this male of such godly perfection with his silken voice and defined looks alone? When their lips pressed together, and Aithin voiced his initial reaction to it, Aiden was almost certain that something about him had set the boy's senses simply alight with desire, or at least distinct arousal. The prince's lips alone were tantalizing to him as well, but he knew (better) how to hold his own when it came to situations such as these. If not, he'd have been lying with almost every single, ensnaring being that crossed his highly-traveled path. His suspicions were confirmed even further when Aithin turned away to hide his almost painfully obvious need. The pain in his stomach, the 'sickness' he thought he had. Aiden shook his head, walking up slowly behind the youth. If ever there was a stupid move he had made during the duration of his life? This would certainly be one of them. Titles aside, pretty much everything tossed out of his mind within moments, Aiden wrapped one of his arms back around the youth's waist before bringing them flush together again. Aithin's dewdrop-covered back felt cool and welcome against his heated, sun-bathed chest, but it was his next gesture that may cost him whatever they might have gained here. "Allow me, to aid you with your pain, and perhaps teach you of what you feel, young Aithin," Aiden assured the prince gentle within his ear, before his free hand reached around and pressed firmly onto where the boy was undoubtedly aching the most. He knew he would probably jump, or try to shy away, but he tried to convince him that all would be well, as gentle fingertips began to stroke Aithin's hidden length through the concealing cloth.