• He paced back and forth recklessly through the house, running his fingers through his dark hair worriedly, like a mother fretting over her child. It was useless and stupid for him to be feeling like he was the big man’s parent, but it was justified somewhat. What if he had gotten hurt? He knew that the guy had some fight in him, but the very fact of the matter was that the man was a big black brute of a baby. Flynn had seen his good friend cry a thousand times before, weep over the silliest of things. He didn't understand how someone so enormous and strong could be so weak at heart. The only reason he’d let the guy leave in the first place was because he wouldn’t be able to control himself around his adept. For once, Flynn Morrigan was afraid. He was ashamed of it.

    Aiming to calm himself, or otherwise let the complete and total chaos of his mind engulf him, he glided across the hardwood floor to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of wine. Swirling its dark, sweet contents in circles in the glass, Flynn leaned against the dark, eerie wall, inhaling deeply and taking a sip, letting the breath out slowly. He just needed to even over his nerves. That was all...

    With his the miracle in a glass, he left for the extravagant bathroom, flicking on the lights. The room was far too expensive looking for his tastes, as was the rest of the house. Although the place was small, fit to house only three people, it was in itself a work of art and the one that had owned it before Flynn must have had quite an obsession with it. The shower was marble looking, but very obviously was made of a pearly porcelain, extravagantly engraved in an ornate design across the seat. Small, white flowers adorned every which way he looked, yet it looked neither girly or chaotic. The rest of the room was near the same.

    Surrounded by the black walls of the room, he stared into his reflection at the mirror, sighing. He had deep, dark bags under his eyes. It made the blue of his irises stand out all the more. Flynn closed his eyes.

    Great, he thought. He's going to throw a hissy fit. Always playing mommy... When did he say he was coming again? Surely, he should have retrieved the girl and been home by now. I...

    No. He was too hasty. Calm. Relax.

    His eyes shot open and again he stared into the mirror to face his haunted expression. With a shaking hand, he let his fingers graze over the lines on his face, which had deepened with his recent lack of sleep. Nightmares had been haunting him for what seemed like forever, and he couldn’t remember the last time he lay his head down and felt relaxed in the slightest.

    "God," his husky voice said. "I look like s**t."

    His long, black hair was tussled. He could not remember the last time he'd tamed it at all. His dark clothing was also in disarray, wrinkles adorning every inch of fabric that covered him. From his point of view, he looked particularly insane. Normally, he looked dangerous, as it should be. Now he just looked weak. Weak and defenseless. Tired and overworked. It was all the adepts doing, yet she wasn’t even here…

    Flynn Morrigan had trained his entire life since the age of thirteen in sword play, use of fire arms, self defense, defensive and offensive driving, hand to hand combat, care for blades, psychology, strategy and defensive maneuvers in battle, karate. He had a load of fighting experience under his belt, and often to keep others away, he dressed as he was trained. Always, he carried a weapon with him. And he didn't even have anyone to protect yet. But she was coming soon, and he was ready for her. Now, at least he was. His only regret was not going to the house himself to retrieve the girl, but like a coward he had stayed cooped up in the house all day, running amuck in the dark as worried tortured him like demons.

    Often over the years, he had dreamed of what she would look like. Would her hair be long or short? Would she be beautiful, or ugly as all out? What color would her eyes be? What had ‘His Highness’ granted her as a power? The latter terrified him more than all the other questions that stormed through his mind. Flynn was prepared for battle, but when it came to training the woman he was assigned to by ‘The Almighty’ or whoever the hell it was that was the big boss up there, he was worried as hell. What if he didn't know how to help her control the power in the first place? And what if she was dangerous?

    He sighed and ripped his gaze from the mirror, weak and weary of seeing into his own head, and that damned expression on his face. Flynn wanted the thoughts to quiet, but now wasn't the time to drink himself into a stupor. Maybe later.

    Grabbing up the half empty glass of wine, he trudged to the living room and sat at the sofa to wait for destiny to come knocking. He just wondered in what form it would arrive.

    By the time destiny arrived, however, he had gone through another two hours, and not another sip of alcohol. His mind was shot, dull, but when he heard the three strong bangs at the door, it all cleared and he was up in a jolt. As if he had teleported, in a second he was standing at the front door, and a second later he was pulling it open.

    And there she was. There he was.

    "God," he whispered, again running his fingers through his hair. Flynn Morrigan, the strong, the feared, felt distress worse than he had felt in months. By God, he was terrified. She was beautiful. Dear Lord, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and she held onto the big black man's arm as if it was what kept her anchored to the earth below her.

    "Goliath?" her weak voice said. Her green eyes shifted up to his good friend's face, and he watched as the man smiled.

    "Charlotte," Goliath said. "This is Flynn. He is your guardian."