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[Jazeraint]

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxxH o w many years had it been since a small hand and a happy laugh woke him up in place of a radio alarm? Or a soft kiss placed against his forehead and the smell of bacon wafting in from two rooms away? When did he last feel plush carpet between his toes and sleep with the knowledge that their front door wasn't less than ten feet from his bed? When did he forget the scent of her hair or the touch of her skin against his; when did the memory of a boy's playful laughter seem so distant he couldn't recall the sound? Long gone were the days of fighting a child's tooth decay and battling writhing limbs in the name of bath time. Further still, the clicking of heels against linoleum and the taste of himself on her lips. The strength of her perfume, the warmth of her body; the way her fingernails sent chills through his body even in the triple digit heat.

The morning light always brought on these thoughts; a consistent reminder not that he left something behind, but something left him here, alone. He rolled over once, cloaked in the same drab hotel sheets that seemed to plague him everywhere he went. His eyes strained to shut out the light from the windows, desperately trying to cleanse the thoughts that followed him. He didn't want to think about it anymore-- he didn't want to remember anymore. He'd resigned himself to his own silent torture years ago, and yet it still persisted to remind him that at one point in this miserable existence he called a life he had been happy. He had been a hunter, but he had been happy. He had her; they had him. A perfect, if not little, family. And they were happy. They'd have loud, blissful moments over breakfast in a sunny, golden kitchen with pancakes and bacon and eggs of all sizes. Lazy afternoons spent running around the backyard playing tag, swinging from a tire swing and decorating the upstairs portion of the tree loft. Evenings around the dining room table, eating leftovers and laughing over the day's events instead of dessert. Nights... often spent out of bed, out of the house, on his own, working to keep this perfect, precious world safe only to crawl between the sheets a few minutes before morning with a smile on his lips and not a care in the world.

There are few things in life worse than watching it all go up in smoke-- literally.

It's seeing the bodies wheeled out of the burnt remains of your family home and knowing that, no, that's not her. That's not him. That's who did this.

It's tearing through the wreckage, searching for anything-- even the lightest glimmer of hope that they were somewhere safe, but only finding two pairs of handcuffs in the dust next to an antique fob watch given to him by your father and her wedding band.

It's knowing that, no matter how long you scream, how loud you cry, how broken and detested inside that you whisper your prayers to the heavens to start it all over again, heaven isn't listening.

That even if you'd give your all-- every last piece of you left, every last breath, every cell... that none of it will ever amount to anything worthy of what was lost. That you can't save them. You can't bring them back. You can't, even if you would remove yourself entirely from them to make it all right again, change the past.

The morning light that had once greeted him as a friend was now the fiercest of enemies. If he had his way, he'd never wake to it ever again. It continued to stream forth, unabashed by his inward pleas to turn it off-- turn off the light!

The sound of the desk lamp hitting the floor is what finally got him moving out of bed. Rather-- the lamp hit the wall then slid in shambles to the floor. It had been a while since he allowed himself to feel like that-- not that he seemed to have any choice in the matter. A single sigh escaped his lips. He'd have to pay for that if he didn't want his credit card charged out the a**. Just perfect.

Feet met the flattest, coldest of carpets and it didn't take long for him to cross the threshold into the single bathroom, toss on the spigot, strip, and step into the shower without a care for the temperature. He only needed to get clean-- his comfort meant little to him. If the water seared his skin, then at least he'd have an idea of how it must have left to have the flames lick at theirs.

Water off. Teeth, brushed, whiskers shaved-- not a single nick of the razor-- and clothes properly put upon his body. Ready to face the day, ready to... well, probably not die.

Outside of the bathroom, he'd practically ignored his roommate as they switched places-- Toni going into the bathroom to bathe, whereas Bran himself was leaving to clean up the mess he made of the lamp earlier that morning. He'd make sure to pay for the lamp when he went to hand back the hotel key later that evening. Where he kept from cutting himself while shaving, he now didn't care if the glass left little trails of blood across his fingers and palms, and quietly worked to ensure that there wouldn't be any of the dangerous little shards on the floor. They had guests coming over, after all. He wasn't going to let them cut themselves on something that he had done.

With that taken care of, he questioned what could be taking his companion so long in the shower, but a knock on the door kept him from bringing his attentions to Toni. At the door, he opened it to reveal a pair of bright blue eyes that made his eyebrows lift. While the lips on the fact attached to those blue eyes didn't move, a voice did come from somewhere-- higher pitched than he'd expect from the masculine form that he, well, kind of grumpily scowled at. He let his gaze drop and his eyes landed on a short, black-haired girl who had taken to staring at his chest. He sighed and rolled his eyes lightly as she introduced herself and then attempted her companion-- "Oliver, yea, we spoke on the phone. Look, I'm not all into this whole... grouping up thing, but seeing how large this thing is, we're gonna need all the fire power we can get. Come in." His voice was deadpan, as usual. He really, really wasn't in the least bit excited about this whole ordeal, but even with the help of Toni, he wasn't sure they could come out of this hunt unscathed. Stepping to the side to let them in, his eyes followed Oliver as the male sat on his bed and he shrugged.

"Not much, really. There were a few more bodies last night-- we managed to get one of the stragglers after the main group scattered. He seemed new. Didn't pose much of a threat physically, but I got the idea of the majority of the kills were to get him used to it." He was busying himself shuffling papers about on the table near the door-- mostly notes, maps, things that had all the information he'd gathered. "It's an oversize coven trying to up their numbers in a small town with less actual humans now than undead. A little cleaning house is in order, I'd say." He managed to make a neat pile and took the necessary steps to cover the distance between him and the blond male, dropping the papers in his lap. "If we don't get them-- or at least a majority of them-- tonight, then we might as well torch the whole town and call it settled." Bran didn't really like that idea in the least bit, but... whatever it took, he'd do.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he hear his partner's voice from somewhere behind him. He turned, instinctively, and caught sight of the other male in nothing but a towel covering his most delicate regions. That stern expression his face always held faltered tremendously; the tip of his tongue even peeking out for a split second to whet the tiniest portion of his lips. With a gulp, he attempted to regain composure quick, finally managing to pull it off once he cleared his throat. "Pretty sure they're where ever you took them off at last, Toni," honestly, how could he be expected to know? "It's not like I took them off you last night or anything." An inward threat kept his heart from skipping the beat it wanted to as he made the comment and he sighed through his nose.

"I'll be so thankful to get out of this podunk ghost town." or at least out of the hotel, where his mind wasn't reeling in the repeated image of a mostly nude demon.

[Jazeraint]

xoxoxA deep breath would bring her into the hotel room. She'd seen the insides of them on plenty of occasions. More like regular, nightly occasions. Not to sleep, but to have somewhere still to stay, even if just for a few hours, because normal people slept. It didn't make sense for her to be up and wandering all hours of the night and day-- someone might put two and two together and see that she didn't quite equal four. She really didn't like the idea of 'normal' people knowing what she was, because if they made a big stink about it, then a hunter would roll around into town and begin thinking that he or she was big and bad and would send the mean 'ol demon back to hell. Well... attempt to send the demon back to hell. Sometimes she played along, let them think they were winning and-- instead of coming out as a giant plume of smoke from her body (partially because she was warded inside the body, but also because she was a bit too strong for that), she'd just poof away. To be completely honest, there were probably a good number of hunters out looking for her practically non-stop to make a second attempt, or were too afraid of the demon the devil's trap didn't hold to try.

That currently didn't matter, but the air inside the hotel room felt a bit too tense for her liking. She preferred the backseat of Oliver's car to this-- well, she preferred anything to do with his car over pretty much anything else in the entire world, but that was to be expected. That car was freakin' sexy. If there were a human personification of that vehicle, she'd be doing whatever it possibly took to get in those pants, but instead, she got Oliver. Who-- if this was honesty hour-- she would easily admit to thinking of being the literal human version of his car, except that his car would roar like a ferocious lion if she touched it just the right way, whereas Oliver would... run headfirst into the hotel door if she so much as brushed her fingers across his thigh. So much for perfectly personifying the car she not-so-secretly found orgasmic. She hoped he'd come around eventually.

Unlike Oliver, she didn't take a seat anywhere in the room, choosing instead to stand with her arms crossed below her chest. Her eyes would be dissecting every inch-- every nook and cranny, every misplaced object, every wrinkle in the bed linens. A slight twinkle in one corner of the room would be the only hint she needed for the obviously missing lamp on the night stand-- her mind would play with the thought of how it had managed to become quick friends with the wall. ...Mostly dirty scenarios came from it, which left a small, but pleased smirk on her lips.

She barely heard Bran talking as her brain continued to change things up-- partners, what Bran's looked like, how she'd kill for something a little less boring right now. Her eyebrows furrowed when he mentioned the word 'coven', however. Even as she wasn't really interested in listening, she wouldn't mind knowing what they were up against, but he'd never actually said the name of the creature, or creatures, rather, and she was left grasping for straws. Coven? Another word for grouping, clan, family, really. So it could be anything, but -- "Va---" a distraction presented itself before she could really get the word out, and her attentions were tuned in perfectly to the lanky form standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

She had mere slices of a few seconds to get in as much of the sight as she could and write it to memory. Hips, stomach, chest, biceps, traps, collar, shoulders, adam's apple-- that absolutely adorable face that didn't quite look like it belonged on a body like that and, "Not bad." Better than bad, tempting. She pouted when he retreated back into the bathroom, calling out for this thing called pants that she was honestly starting to dislike as much as she currently hated towels. Particularly on the--

--"Wait a ********' second." She'd turn her gaze to Oliver and Bran, a perplexed look on her features, one finger pointing towards the bathroom. "He's a demon?" She... hadn't expected a demon. Of all things. Another off-limits hunter, sure, but a demon-- like her? Why hadn't anyone mentioned this before? Well... Oliver probably had and she just missed that part during the drive. Or wasn't really interested enough in this idea to listen. Now, however, he had her attention. She shuffled past the boys on the bed, and waited much like a lioness stalking her prey outside of the bathroom door, questioning whether it would be rude to let herself into the bathroom or not. She hadn't exactly promised to be a good girl going into this, but at the same time, this was a demon like her and he had a human, too.

She wanted to talk to him. Ask him questions. Mostly about if he preferred cherry or banana and if Bran really had removed his pants the night before-- hey! It was an important question! She might be a demon, but she wouldn't go attempting to mack on someone else's squeeze. It had been quite a while since she'd been around one of her own kind that wasn't outright trying to buy souls or cause death and mayhem. "Do ya really gotta cover those strong thighs with denim?" she'd practically whimper through the softly spoken question, not exactly meaning to say it as much as she meant to think it, but there it was, out there, and she would not be embarrassed by it.

She glanced over her shoulder back at Oliver and Bran-- and Bran still looked like someone pissed in his cheerios. "What. Don't judge me. There are humans all over the place for you two to relate to. You don't see me thinking weird things about you for it." Okay, so there was that one chick that attempted to flirt with Oliver at the McDonalds that she could have easily mauled if she reached out to touch his bicep one more time, but that was different. If anyone was going to taint the virgin, it would be her. She called dibs, damnit.

[Jazeraint]

|| CLOTHES || MUSIC ||

xxxxxConnor seemed to accept Damien's answers to his questions with a half-grin and a good laugh, evidence enough that even the tighter grip on his hand didn't phase him. Even the purgatory comment just made him laugh-- he got the idea. Highschool could be hell... well, he got part of the idea. He'd never truly understand the significance of the comment, but it brought a smile and chuckle to Raleigh's lips, which was enough for him. Damien's little quirk of an answer to his mentioning Connor had never heard of him? Well, that just made him nod. "Fair enough, I guess I've never mentioned my prior schooling, either."

Raleigh... well, for the most part, sat back and watched the exchange from afar. Staying silent, she could watch body language and truly access the situation. Connor seemed completely laid back, like he felt he had the upper hand in the situation, whatever situation it was, but not necessarily prideful in the situation. He leaned back on his heels, comfortable, let his shoulders shrug, and went completely lax over control of his facial expressions. He honestly seemed completely comfortable in his surroundings, not threatened, not frightened in the least bit, and definitely not bothered. Damien, on the other hand... well, she'd known him long enough to at least have an idea as to what the subtle changes in his facial expressions meant. Especially when he turned to look at her-- her eyes widened and she simply nodded in a quick movement that would barely go noticed by Connor, if noticed at all. Even when Damien excused himself, she found herself turning to see just where he headed off to, only to smile when she saw, of course, his mother. Raleigh loved Damien's mom, about as much if not more than her own mother, since her own mother spent more time at spas and hair salons than with her, but that was beyond the point. If Mama Russell was going to be on this trip, then things couldn't get too bad, right? At least Raleigh knew where she could run off to if things got too heated... well, maybe.

Connor took a few steps closer to his fiance after Damien had left, one hand resting gently around the back of her waist. "I don't think he likes me," well, at least he got the general jist of it. "Remind me not to piss him off."

Raleigh bit her tongue, but merely nodded. "Damien may seem a bit rough on the outside, but he's not what you think he's going to be, if you take the time to get to know him," god, she was smiling. Like, straight-on, big grin. Seeing Damien would tend to have that affect on her, but Mama Russell helped, too. The idea of a vacation, too, made her feel more at ease, which only helped the smile on her lips. Sure, she may be ignoring the fact that there would definitely be a metaphysical storm brewing between the two men in their twenties, but for now things were simply hidden thoughts in tone, and not physical. Well... not noticeably physical. For now. That smile shifted to a smirk, and she looked upwards at Connor with her peripheral, knowing the next few words out of her mouth would strike a chord in him, whether he responded to it or not. "You two better get along; I can't possibly marry someone my absolute best friend doesn't approve of." Absolute best friend? Well, aside from her diary or Denir, Damien really felt like the closest person to her. She really didn't talk with anyone from highschool anymore-- most stopped calling before the first semester in college was half-way through. Even though she and Damien hadn't spoken recently, she couldn't deny that just seeing him made their time apart seem like mere hours versus months.

Connor mostly grunted in retort, not exactly pleased by what he hoped to be a joke more than anything else. Could Raleigh really expect him to try and be pleasant with someone who might not care to be pleasant with him? Was that something she could honestly ask of him, even by putting their relationship at stake, over this guy? Just who the hell was he, really, that his opinion suddenly meant so much to her, when Connor hadn't even heard of him until literally not even five minutes ago? Before he began spouting off, he took a deep breath and made a decision to move himself away from that conversation for now. "I'm going to go help your dad finish unpacking the SUV, alright? Looks like he's trying to get the chairs together," and with a gentle kiss on her cheek, Connor went off in the opposite direction, towards the SUV and the remainder of the camping equipment, leaving Raleigh alone with her thoughts.

Turning to look at her tent, she sighed softly, knowing her back was practically towards everyone. Vacation it may be called, but the idea looked more like a farce than anything else about now. At least not for her-- something told her that the next few days would consist of her tip-toeing between Connor and Damien. She bent over to place the stakes in the ground, in the hopes of keeping the tent that took her most of her morning to put together in place for the entire trip. While working on the necessary stakes, her mind swam with thoughts of the night prior, when her father laid down the plans for the 'vacation', including a minor detail that, at the time, seemed tiny and far from problematic... who slept in what tents. At the time, no one told her that Damien and his mother would be there. Her father had simply stated that, except for the married couple (him and his wife), sleeping arrangements would be on a single gender basis. Last night, that simply meant Raleigh and Connor would sleep in separate tents. Now? Now it not only meant that Connor and Raleigh would sleep in separate tents, but that... "Connor and Damien will be sharing a tent, oh sh---" yes, yes, she let the word slide precariously over a few seconds. Her parents raised her better than to resort to 'potty language', and even though she now sat at the ripe age of twenty, she still ended up catching herself instead of just letting it out, despite not needing to care. "---Shitake mushrooms." A common ending for her attempts to catch the 'potty' word, more out of habit than anything else.

Even as she spied Connor helping set up the chairs outside the 'adult' tent, her mind swam with hundreds of outcomes for when the boys both realized what the tent situation would be, and even after that, when it actually came around to bed time in the tent. Honestly, knowing Damien, he'd probably just say 'screw it' and sleep outside-- or she would, and let Connor have her tent. She might prefer that, honestly, sleeping out under the stars. That sounded wonderful. Unless... it rained. Lifting her hands up to her head, she rubbed two fingers of each hand against her temples-- she could feel the headache slowly coming on, even though she knew, too well, that she could just sit back and let things escalate. She didn't want to play go-between or, especially, referee to two men in their twenties. Far too much testosterone for her likes, and besides, they both had, what, an average of a foot between the two of them on her in height? Like she could stop anything from happening, if it did, with her words or even physically. They hadn't even finished unpacking and she nearly felt as stressed as she did during finals week and nothing had actually happened yet.

With the tent staked in place, she backed off a few steps and... well, tried to come up with what she could do next. Connor and her father seemed to have the remaining things out of the SUV and, well... nearly everything seemed finished. Except for her father laying down the 'camping trip rules' and watching how the boys took to realizing they'd be sleeping in the same tent. As much as she wanted to just relax, given her notoriously stressful school schedule (in the hopes of finishing much quicker, which originally was the plan so she could come back home sooner and find a certain someone), she thought better than to go join the other lounging women. One, she knew, had legitimate reasons to sit back and relax, though she figured it would take a lot of coaxing to keep herself from exerting herself more than necessary-- that would be Mama Russell. The other, well... her mom could use some dirt on her face, versus suntanning in the middle of the campsite with a book-- well, in her case a kindle or nook-- and a glass of--- "The hell did she get a margarita from?" Now, Raleigh had seen her mom pull off some amazing stunts, but pulling a margarita out in the middle of the woods? That was just... insane. Simply insane. She couldn't spend a few days in the woods without alcohol? Really? At least drink a beer, woman!.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxS u n l i g h t streamed in from the partially open window of the hotel room, but it didn't land on him. He rolled over once before agreeing with the rest of his waking mind that he needed to get up and move. Eyes scanned the mostly empty room-- apparently, everyone else felt like having an early morning. Only he and Julian remained, which felt a bit odd. Well, Julian almost always slept in, but Rhys? Never. Fingers grasped a fully charged iPod and pressed play, knowing someone would have set up a speaker dock in the bathroom. Pushing himself off the mattress, he made his bed out of habit before waddling his nearly-nude self to the bathroom, which was currently devoid of persons. Of course, he could easily tell who went before him. Jade always left his toothbrush loitering about on the counter, Wiley's comb took up a spot above the spigot. He'd move the toothbrush, but not the comb. Wiley wouldn't be able to figure out where he put it if Rhys moved it. Jade, on the other hand, would be able to find his toothbrush if it was left in the correct spot, instead of where ever Jade laid it last.

Water. The slushing sound of it coming out in quick stream and then several smaller, harder streams as he switched it over to the shower. Pressure was different than his body was used to, but the warmth felt familiar and calming. His heart had been pacing in his chest for some time now; probably what woke him up in the first place. This elevated heart rate would be the death of him one day. Letting the water come into contact with the thin skin of his eyelids, washing away the grime of a night of air stewardesses and cabin mates, he silently wondered how he had gotten here of all places. His parents always pushed him towards bigger and greater things, yet here he stood in some random hotel shower, barely able to catch his sight; wanting something, someone to remind him to breathe. Broken, downtrodden-- why had that red head flirted with him? All it served to do was remind him of lost causes. The next sound to enter his ears made perfect sense-- 'I am heaven sent, don't you dare forget. I'm all you've ever wanted, what all the other boys all promised.' His lips curled into a smirk. Perfect timing. 'I am the cause to all your problems, shelter from the cold; we are never alone.' Finally he began scrubbing himself. How long had he been standing there, thinking?

'This is war, every line is about who I don't wanna write about anymore.' Fingers curled up into a fist, concentrating on not punching the wall. Good thing his voice made him feel better about himself, huh? 'Holding onto your grudge, oh, it's so hard to have someone to love. And keeping quiet is hard, cause you can't keep a secret if it never was a secret to start.' He paused all movement, again, just letting the water phase into him as his back felt the cooler tile of the wall. His lips moved to mouth the words that played over the speakers, painfully a reminder of his past aggression. Before he caught up with Jade. Before they started the band. Before he actually expected they'd go somewhere with this. Back when he thought he needed to at least pretend he liked doing something other than losing himself in his instrument. Rhys hated singing. She sang, much better than he ever could, but he did it back then because he needed something other than a punching bag to help him get past his anger. Fingers clenched and released. 'This is the price you pay for loss of control. This is the break in the bend, this is the closest of calls. This is the reason you're alone, this is the rise and the fall.'

The water was getting cold.

He really needed to stop having mid-life crises in the shower, it made them quite annoying towards the end. Bringing himself back into the real world, he quickly mussed up the shampoo in his hair, scrubbed the rest of himself clean, washed out the conditioner and shut off the shower about the time it hit ice cold. The song had long since changed and he felt immeasurably thankful for this. A towel around his waist and another currently being fluffed through his hair, he allowed the warm bathroom air to bring his temperature back up as he stood in front of the mirror and, well... checked himself out, for the lack of a better term. He definitely wasn't anywhere near Julian-- adorable and highly confident in himself and the words coming from his mouth; the gentle touch, not unwanted against an upper arm or knee that drove the opposite gender wild. He wasn't Jade-- a nicely chiseled jaw and hair that looked fantastic no matter how messy it looked, he couldn't just remove his shirt and let the girls swoon over toned abs and jutting hipbones. Wiley would be the last person he could even remotely compare himself to. Hazel-green eyes and long lashes that he could hide them under; that perfectly sculpted body from years of personal fitness training -- he'd perfected the bad boy look long before it was even considered hott. In personal comparison to the three men he shared a room with-- he wouldn't even begin to count Jesse's absolute adorableness and the way he could light up a room with his smile-- he truly felt like the bass player hidden in the back of the room that no one notices because he's completely shadowed by everyone else.

Grunting, he took the comb and gel to his hair, followed by the electric trimmers to keep his whiskers in check. He trimmed up a few other places, since he already had the razor out, and when finished took to completely drying himself and dressing. Boxers. Pants. No undershirt. Shirt, leaving it completely unbuttoned, because why not? Belt. Suspenders-- his favorite pair. Pizza slice necklace, a gift from Jade when they became a band. Shoes. Hat. Jacket over his shoulder in case it got cold somewhere. It was July, how cold could it possibly get?

Finally out of the bathroom, he paused to glance over at Julian's bed-- he'd heard the door open and close, but he hadn't seen the boy use the bathroom at all since they got into the hotel last night. Something looked off, but he wouldn't press. Julian never pressed into his problems, after all. Out the door, in the elevator, on the sidewalk. Through narrowed eyes he viewed the city of dreams with a heavy sigh and exasperated footsteps. New York was far too hurried for his tastes-- he preferred the quieter life back home, where he could snuggle up with his girl under a tree in the park and not be surrounded by twenty other couples doing the same thing. He ran a hand through his carefully matted hair, mussing it up in that way that probably made it look more natural and accentuated his features more than it had in the mirror earlier. He was down a couple of streets, just enjoying the lack of scenery before he realized he was subconsciously ignoring the direction he should have been traveling in. Deciding to cross the street and actually head towards the diner, he waited for the pedestrian crosswalk light to turn white and began the trek across four lanes of traffic, only to be stopped in the third lane quite unexpectedly.

How to explain the feeling? Well, his legs took the initial hit of the car slamming into his body, and like in those action movies, the momentum carried him across the hood of the car in a rolling movement, the heat from the vehicle feeling like it burned through every layer of skin and clothes. The air had already been knocked out of him, so even when he landed on his wrist wrong and felt the sickening crack of his bones splintering apart, he couldn't even cry out in pain. His chest hurt nearly as bad, as the second portion of himself to hit the asphalt to the side of the vehicle and thankfully the car coming up in that lane had managed to stop before nearing him. Something felt out of place beneath his shirt, but he had to use the one working arm he had left to hold himself up off the darkness that felt like fire, telling himself that if he laid on it any longer, he'd surely burn just as black. His vision swam like a disturbed pool in front of him and his ears couldn't catch and decipher a single sound correctly. Even his breathing felt jagged-- broken, or maybe that was just the pain talking. Someone was trying to lift him off the ground, see if he could walk-- another voice was starting to take shape behind him as he heard the distinct noise of a car door slamming.

"Really? You don't know how to cross a street, punk?!" The guy didn't sound very happy, and Rhys could feel an all-too-familiar feeling welling up in his chest.

"The crosswalk said it was safe to---"

"I'm gonna be late for work now, you ******** punk!"

And that was all Rhys needed. He spun around from being held by a random passerby and let his working fist fly-- straight into the offender's jaw. "You had a red light, you little s**t." He could feel the eyes of the people surrounding him all widen in unison. "Maybe you need to go back to elementary school and pass this time, since you obviously don't know your colors." Rhys had a lot of pent up aggression, and this guy seemed like the perfect stranger to wail on. At the hit, the guy had stumbled backwards and landed against his own vehicle, leaving yet another dent in the already pretty smashed up hood. Rhys wanted a picture of this s**t-- if his phone wasn't damaged in that 'little' tumble. It didn't take long for an officer to come by and place a hand on Rhys's shoulder, asking him if he needed to go to the hospital. Considering Rhys couldn't feel anything but excruciating pain from his right elbow down, he definitely wouldn't turn down the trip. He did, however, manage to get a photo of the trashed vehicle with his phone before being carted off to the nearest hospital to get his arm looked at. The offender's insurance would be paying for his hospital bills, and Rhys knew better than to deny free medical care, so he'd calm his rage at most definitely being late to the diner-party if it meant free pain medication.

Nothing out of the ordinary about the hospital visit. They took some x-rays of affected areas-- basically, anywhere Rhys said 'this hurts'. He left the hospital with a prescription for Tylenol 3, a broken wrist, several bruised ribs, two of which were actually considered greenstick fractures, and a severe hunger in his gut for something covered in grease. Or to punch something-- he liked the latter more than the former, but in his current condition, he assumed the former would be easier to procure. Also, he was pretty sure he had stitches under his cast, but he honestly couldn't remember that much of the visit. How would he explain this to his band mates?

One of the nurses had offered to hail him a cab, but he insisted of walking. Something about getting hit by a car made him less inclined to let one of these New Yorkers drive him anywhere. The doctors had wrapped his chest up pretty tightly with a bandage, but it still felt like it was on fire. They said to be careful, not to move too much or work too hard-- rest and such-- he knew he'd ignore it. Rhys had a tour to do, he wasn't going to let getting hit by a car stand in his way.

The vibration in his left a** pocket reminded him that there was another world surrounding the one he currently stood in. Checking it, he noticed a text:

To: Rhys
From: Jess
Yo, you okay?
Everyone's here.
Just making sure ur ok.

A smirk pulled across his lips and he made sure to watch where he walked as he texted back with his good hand. In fact, he was probably overly careful of every step he took.

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
I got hit by a car.
Be there in ten.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
EXCUSE YOU!?
OMG YOU OKAY? D:
Should I come get you?
Where are you?

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
Nothing to be worried about.
Just typing one handed.
Nah, I can walk.
You should see their car.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
Your arm got hurt?
Do you need to go to the hospital?
Idc about the car.
Are you okay?

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
It's fine. I can still play.
Might have to wear a cast for a wee bit.
Thankfully it's not pink.
Seriously, though, I think I totaled it.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
We don't have to do this.
We can go get that cast now...
I think I have a wrap back at the hotel.
Until we can get you something better.
Well of course you did. Have you seen you?

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
Huh. I've already got it.
Just been waiting for them to finish signing insurance papers.
I think we just made twice what this gig is gonna get us.
I need to get hit by a car more often.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
Jesus christ.
Should I come get you?
Okay...Pfft. Dont you dare.
I will punch your pretty face if you try that shiz.

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
Nah, I'm good. Like I said, I can still walk.
I think I might have stitches.
I can't tell.
These are damn good pills.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
Yeah, okay, that makes me feel better.
(note the sarcasm)
And you think you can walk here?
Seriously, dude, Rhys, I'll come get you.

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
Nah, nah. I'm good, I'm good.
Ten minutes and I'll be there.
I'm already on my feet and walking.
Promise.

To: Rhys
From: Jess
Okay....please be safe.
One scare is enough for this year.
I'm out front with Jules.

To: Jesse
From: Rhys
See, I knew we could come to an agreement.
Btw, I think I lost a shoe.

Looking down at his feet, he realized just how serious he was about having lost a shoe. Oh well, he'd just have to get a new pair. Where the hell did he lose a shoe at, anyway? Looking up, he realized he only had one more street to cross and the diner would be right in front of him, safe and sound for the time being. He waited patiently at the cross walk until the sign turned white for him to walk, but he waited to make sure that all the cars were at a complete stop before partially jogging-- too many meds, he'd end up on his face if he wasn't careful-- until he made it completely across the street. Catching sight of the small pack starting to form near the front door he gave a wave-- with the wrong arm and winced at the pain running through the length of his entire arm to his shoulder and neck. "Ouch, hey guys! Nnngh, okay, okay, wrong arm, got it. 'Sup?" He was trying to smile, but he looked pretty battered and bruised. Sadly, his shirt and pants had been ripped up a bit from the fall, and he had a few new dirt stains in places on his shirt that wouldn't make much sense unless he explained that he'd been flipped over a vehicle. "Please tell me I didn't miss food." He chuckled-- then winced and leaned forward considerably. Crap that hurt.


x

[Jazeraint]

xoxoxR e i n e t t e hadn't expected Jade to come in second. She hadn't expected him to tell the bartender to stop giving her drinks; hadn't expected the lips he brushed against the edge of her ear and that low whisper he used that sent shivers down her back in all the wrongs ways; she didn't expect the hand on her shoulder or the way he just let her lean back into him, losing any self-confidence she had moments before sipping on her drink, alone at the bar and without a care in the world. It seemed less than five minutes was all that was needed to change her outlook on life completely. She had heard the girl beside her speak and smiled as best she could manage, trying not to lean against Jade nearly as much as she might otherwise. "Scotch," she tilted her glass ever-so-slightly, letting the ice cubes clank against each other and the glass, "and you?" Not that it mattered anymore, the boy who currently rested one hand on her shoulder-- where the world could see-- and the other hidden behind both their bodies just above her hip, had stifled any chances she had of getting anywhere near as drunk as she had originally made plans to be. "And you-- look absolutely amazing, sexy as hell," and that would not be the booze talking.

In fact, with the last sip of scotch, she let herself completely lean back into the hard frame behind her. She could smell the gentle smell that was Jade-- mostly a mixture of aftershave and old spice, since he was far too picky about colognes and just liked smelling 'like a man'-- but also minutely hear the sound of his heart beating in a slow, fine-tuned rhythm. She'd fallen asleep to that heartbeat so many times before, it was practically cathartic for her. Probably why she let him continue to do as he did, even though she knew it wouldn't be good for either of them in the long run. She didn't... she didn't love Jade, not in the way that she had loved Abel (and still, despite her pleading with herself, loved him). Jade was like a strong stone that couldn't be moved by time or age. A friend who would hold her close to him and make everything better with his voice and touch. But never... never romantically. They had attempted that, once-- and she wouldn't deny the action, but the feelings were never really there. Even he would admit that it felt empty and that he'd only done it because he thought it was what she wanted; what she needed. That was two years in the past, though, and she needed to let go of it. She needed to let go of a lot of things.

She heard his voice before she saw him. Her heart sunk completely and her breathing came to a stand still. She wanted to turn and look at him, wanted to acknowledge him, to smile and make like everything would be okay. She wanted to, but with the hand on her shoulder and hip, the reminder that he had been the one to betray her trust in the first place, the tug in the back of her mind about how Rhys would feel if she just up and acted like nothing sour had ever happened-- she couldn't let herself. She had to act like there wasn't a part of her heart constantly bleeding for him. She had to act like she didn't care about him, that she possibly even hated the thought of him-- but it was all such a lie, how could she lie to herself like that? Lie to him? She finally allowed herself a breath, a deep one, even as he closed the distance between himself and--- oh thank god he was talking to Jade. Not her. He wasn't talking to her. Still, she was right there, right smack dab next to him and Jade, and that... was very easily the closest she'd been to him in the past two years. And she'd be the one sending mixed signals, wouldn't she?

She was the one to call him because he missed a day in his habitual, monthly texting her. She'd honestly been worried something had happened to him, that he was dead on the side of some street somewhere she wasn't and couldn't be, and that would be it. Partly it was selfishness, not that she thought he'd kill himself over her, but that she wouldn't know how to deal with herself if something had happened to him while she was still out and about trying to live this lie of hers. If she never got to really get over him like she'd been trying to force herself to, or even tell him that she really still cared. She had made the call because she was worried about him, about his well-being, and because she didn't want to live with the guilt of basically lying to him all this time and never being able to make it a truth or correct it. So, yes, she was selfish in making that phone call... but only the first one. The second time she called-- again, after he missed the date to text her as he usually had-- hadn't been because of a fear of losing him. Instead, it was her answer to the loss of something she'd grown accustomed to. She'd deny it, but she always waited for that monthly reminder that he still existed out there, in that wide open world of strangers and people who would do her harm, and he still cared to let her know that. She called because she wanted to call, because she wanted to hear his voice again, even if over a shaky telephone line, because both like and unlike her closeness with Jade, his voice stirred something inside of her that she couldn't completely push down and... dare she admit to being addicted to the way he made her feel?

She wanted to keep up her charade, because how could she trust him again? But in all honesty-- had she ever quit? She told herself she couldn't, and that was why she left, but it never felt right. The further she got from him, the worst she had felt. Even as she ignored every call and text message, she hated herself a little bit more for it. She forced herself through it-- told herself she'd be better because of it, because hadn't it always been that way? Didn't she need to keep herself away from the things that hurt her? Yet, she still came back home. Still stayed in that tiny town with the people she knew. She'd tell herself it was because she had more to be there for than just him, and she'd keep as far away from him and as hidden away from him as she could manage-- eventually talking Jade and Rhys into randoms stints outside of town for weeks at a time just to ensure she stayed away from him-- but she couldn't lay all the reasoning of remaining there on her friends' shoulders. She was trying to bury that part of her that continuously clung to him, but as she sat there, slightly leaning on Jade and trying very hard to get out of his grip at the moment, what with Abel being so close, she took in a smell.

A smell that was highly not Jade and highly memorable. A smell that she once indulged in with ferocity. A smell that, once upon a time, would bring the biggest grin to her face and she'd end up pulling the owner of said smell to the ground with her because of. It wasn't like Jade-- Jade smelled like a man, like any other twenty-something-year-old who couldn't be bothered to search through hundreds of colognes to find one that fit him. Abel, however, had a smell that was completely and unabashedly Abel. A smell that completely filled her person with the knowledge of his presence, even if she couldn't see it. A smell that, had they still been together, would have elicited an immediate physical reaction from her. She had to fight the urge to turn in her seat and pull him down to her height-- the urge to remind them both of the closeness they once shared.

His voice was too close to her-- Jade's voice, even though she'd been this close to it for the past few minutes, bothered her, as well. Not in same way Abel's did. She finally let herself turn her head and glance at him, noting the absolute closeness of him that caused a hitch to catch in her breath. Her lips strained in a line, fighting off a smile that would give away absolutely everything she tried so hard to hide. To kill. Then she heard it-- her light in all this darkness she'd created for herself-- a familiar voice that really wasn't all that familiar in the past few years. Someone from before all this drama and pain with Abel. "Sarah...?"

His voice sparked her into real movement. She slid down out of her chair with a quickness, leaving Jade's hands still where they had been, but without her to hold onto. She was half-way to him, slipping carefully passed Abel to keep from falling into that touch as she feared to, and the smile she'd been fighting off progressed into an all-out grin. The breathing that had been labored came so easily to her-- she didn't have to hold herself back or pretend to be someone she wasn't with him. "Judas!" she sounded more than happy-- she was ecstatic, relieved, confident, and amazed. She didn't pause a single step on the way over to him, she even climbed over a chair instead of moving out of its way and practically jumped into his arms when she got close enough. Her own arms snaked their way about his neck and she clung to him much like a toddler to a security blanket. She repeated his name a few times over, even as she stood there, hugging herself to him, allowing herself to be awash in the emotions of seeing him again. Judas-- the man who had been the literal closest thing to family for her when she did stay in the orphanage. The first man she'd ever seen stand up for her, for others; the first man she ever knew how to trust. The first man who'd never do anything to hurt her and she knew it and loved him for it. She practically buried her head into his chest and shoulder as she got used to the idea of him just being there, really there, physically there.

She'd eventually let him go and step back, that smile never once faltering from her lips. "Judas... it's been so long. You've..." she looked him up and down carefully, a brow raised in interest, "absolutely fantastic. Definitely made it through puberty with flying colors," an honest, earnest laugh that she didn't need to fake made its way through the barricades she'd put up otherwise. She had no need for them with him. "How's Audrey? Is she here?" At least she now had someone else to concentrate on. At least now she didn't have to fight with herself over Abel. At least now... she didn't have to remember that he was there, in the background, somewhere behind her, making her heart beat a little faster and a little bit harder, but lower in her chest so that it hurt with each pulse. Right now, she could relax and relapse into Sarah. A girl who had two very close friends whom she shared her life with completely for a few months; who didn't live in fear of the next time she'd be beaten or worse. Right now, in this very moment, she didn't have to be a liar.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxG i r l s do what they want, boys do what they can. Jade wouldn't lie if asked if that song was originally written about a certain someone. A very certain someone who currently sat under both of his hands and leaned against him like they were closer than they normally let on. Truth was, Jade had spent many a night in the same bed as the raven-haired beauty he was currently attached to. Plenty of times she laid, cuddled up as close to him as she could possibly get, practically clinging to him in her sleep. Many a night they slept barely clothed and without sheets thanks to the pure heat of the summer; some nights he wore only his boxers and she a shirt, for no reason other than not having anything else to wear. More often than not, she'd find his arms while tears stained her pretty little cheeks, bare footed and barely dressed. How she made it the few blocks to his house in nothing but a towel on several separate occasions, he'd never know. All he could really say is that he knew, undeniably, that from the day she set foot in their little town, hidden away amongst the larger cities of California, whenever something happened-- whenever she got hurt-- his were the arms she ran back to.

His.

Now, Jade isn't a man of jealous tendencies. He isn't a selfish man. He isn't a man to claim someone for his own, or to complain about being friend-zoned. He isn't the kind of man to become a child when he's refused or ignored. He isn't the kind of man to force his personal feelings and opinions on the people around him. He's the kind of man that understands the feelings of the people around him, and he adapts. He does everything he can to absorb those feelings and make those around him feel more comfortable. He takes pleasure in being there whenever and for whatever his friends need him for, even if it seems that he's being used or abused by it. His mother and cousins often told him that he just needed to ask Reinette out already; they were practically married, after all. They would ask him why she didn't go to her boyfriend's house when she started dating Abel. Jade merely shrugged and smiled; Reinette would do as Reinette felt she needed to and Jade would be there to comfort her if she needed him. He would be there for anyone who needed him, always.

He pressed his lips together as she spoke to the other woman at the bar; a smile attempted to play across his lips as she leaned further back into him, as she seemed to not mind the hand he placed just above her hip. He knew how certain touches affected her, he'd been around long enough to test and learn and let these actions slide into normalcy. The hand on her shoulder would stabilize her, give her a calming reminder that he was there to hold her up if she needed it; a steady rock in the windy world. The hand just above her hip was a reminder that he loved her, that he would always be that soft heart whose arms she could return to if things ever got too shaky. It didn't help, though, that he knew what was coming-- he knew just how soft the sand beneath their feet really was. How precarious the happiness they currently shared could be.

The way she tensed against him when he watched Abel come dancing into the diner only cemented that thought process in the front of his mind. Jade couldn't help but grin upon seeing him; Abel and he were friends, very good friends. Jade had, much to his own personal dismay, kept the secret of Reinette staying at his house after the break up to himself and away from Abel's ears. In fact, he'd refused to allow anyone to come over while she stayed there, keeping her away from her adopted family and from the eyes of what hurt her so. He wouldn't-- couldn't, really-- hate Abel for anything that had happened. It wasn't Jade's problem. It involved two of his closest friends and he didn't want to lose either of them to this. "Yo! he lifted his head ever so slightly in a strange nod to Abel's greeting and the grin on his lips only grew larger.

"S'alright, much better than the trips to Wales," he laughed a bit, shifting only when he felt Reinette tense further. With Abel right next to him, he knew that she couldn't be feeling all that comfortable under his touch-- which hurt, Jade would admit to it. It hurt to know that he couldn't keep her calm and happy while conversing with someone he considered his best friend. "Eh, slept a bit. Not as much as I'd like," another chuckle, "no where near enough to get rid of the in-flight hangover." Oh yes, Jade enjoyed the alcohol there and in the nearest bar as soon as they were off the plane. And again when they got back on the plane until he finally crashed in his hotel bed. "Not so sure 'bout the others, but Jules and Rhys were still sleepin' when I left this mornin'. What about on your side of the field, eh?" He was concentrating on Abel, so he barely felt the movement as Reinette slid out of her chair. If it wasn't for the fact that his hands no longer had someone to hold onto, he may not even have realized it. His eyes followed her movements, not trying to be too obvious about it, but-- he hadn't seen her smile like that since long before her and Abel broke up.

"Hey, Abel--" Nope, he needed a better plan to keep Abel from seeing the scene of Reinette hugging onto some random guy-- well, not random, Jade knew this one. Judas. They'd been good-- hell, great friends for a really long time. The guy even taught Jade how to play guitar in the first damn place! Jude had been the one to propose that they both start bands-- honestly, Jade would've been just fine with them making one together, but Jude seemed to have his heart set on them 'competing'. Whatever, Jade was going to have a good time. But good times meant keeping people happy and he could almost feel the tension rise in the air as Reinette's arms wrapped so lovingly around Judas's neck. If Jade felt a twinge of jealousy, he could only imagine what might go through Abel's mind.

He had to do something! So, without a second though, he grabbed Abel's hip with one hand, tugging him closer and the other took his cheek to turn their faces to meet and-- well, made history. Jade would again be a liar if he said he never wondered what it would be like to kiss his extremely attractive best friend, but he hadn't exactly expected the circumstances to be quite like this. Their lips pressed together roughly-- and it was far from a chaste kiss-- Jade needed to take up as much time as he could, so the hand at the cheek had slid around to fixate partially on his neck with a finger or two behind an ear. Okay, so, another lie would be if Jade said that this wasn't kind of... well, hott. Completely unexpected and improperly timed, and he'd honestly feel better about this if he wasn't primarily doing it to distract his best mate, but at the same time he was okay with making it seem as real as humanly possible. Thus the fingers digging into Abel's hip and the ones pressing into his neck and cranium to hold him as close to Jade as he could possibly manage within those few spare seconds that their lips met. If he put a little tongue into it, well... Jade did think think that Abel was one hell of a sexy mother effer and had it not been for a) them being best friends and b) Abel's very obvious love for a little raven-haired girl that Jade had also once had feelings for, he probably would have asked him out to the winter formal their senior year.



OOC

Clothes

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxB L O O D dripped from an unknown wound in his skull, canvasing his right eyebrow and cheek in red. It felt sticky and the copper taste coated his lips and mouth; he crouched low, narrowly avoiding a sharpened low beam as he stalked along the upper floor silently. He hated this part-- he much preferred open confrontations. Sneaking his way in and out didn't sit right in his stomach, but a job is a job and he needed to do as told. He paused, hearing voices below him and shifted his weight to fix his gaze on a pair of men, surrounding a much smaller man strapped to a chair. Which was his target? He could only assume the two lording over the tortured male, but better safe than sorry later. He pulled a thin piece of what looked like a cellphone from a side pocket, placing its vision over the men, letting it scan carefully-- bless technology. He wouldn't even have to jump down and take the shots if he knew who he needed to take out. His free fingers worked the leather strap that sat at his upper thigh and he gently pulled a well-loved Colt pistol from its holster. The scanner completed its job silently and a devilish smirk pulled across the man's lips. He knew his target, although he couldn't honestly say it was expected.

BLAM!

He leaned with both hands on his wash basin, looking down at the pink-tinted water below him as it slowly pooled down the drain. Killing a man tied up and defenseless never really sat right with him, but he knew he had to do it. If he didn't, someone else would. If he didn't, some other soul would be damned. If he didn't, he'd never get to see her again. His fingers dug into the cool marble as he gritted his teeth against the memories. He didn't need to think about it right now. He needed to clean himself up, pack his things, and get out of town, as he always did. He knew the routine and he followed it well. He may be hired by the government, but that didn't make him above the law. If he ever got caught, he'd face justice for every life, but not today. No, never today. Pushing himself up, he turned the faucet on full blast and tossed the duffel bag he carried everywhere over his shoulder. His entire livelihood sat in that bag; everything he'd ever need on a moment's notice slung over his shoulder. He had money; he barely touched it. Only the necessities. He couldn't afford-- at least, not without getting caught-- the luxuries his bank account could provide him. Spending money meant he could be traced and being traced meant that he could be caught. Getting caught meant never seeing her again and never seeing her again meant death. He chose, then, to live smart instead of dead and never went anywhere with more than twenty dollars in his pocket at any given time; he never took anything from the bank. He killed people, after all, and pockets always seemed to have some loose change.

He was two blocks down the road by the time anyone noticed the flooding; too far for anyone to notice him, but close enough that he knew no one would make a connection to him. He waded off into the dark alley and disappeared from sight; he already had his next target in mind.

But not every story has a happy ending.

He didn't know what bothered him more; that he allowed himself to walk so nonchalantly into an obvious set up or the fact that once he got in, they pretty much forced his hand to take out friendlies and hostiles alike, if he were going to make it out this time. He sent a boot into a chest, a knife into another and expended an entire clip on a pipe. Somewhere in the explosion, he managed to escape; not that it mattered, he knew no one else made it out, but when he stepped out of the vision-blurring smoke and fire, his eyes narrows and his lungs cleared. He spied a forest around him that made little sense to him; he'd been in the center of L.A., not a reservation. But, he couldn't deny the twigs beneath his leather soles or the branches swaying overhead. His brow furrowed and he winced-- he probably had a couple of good cuts littering his body, but that didn't matter. He needed to know how he got here and why. Hearing some rustling from behind him, he didn't even turn before he shot-- a habit he'd picked up over the years. A scream echoed from before him and before the fellow who came crashing through could plunge his bowie knife into his gullet, he had the barrel of a glock against his forehead. "You shot, him, man! That was my brother, man! MY BROTHER!" Despite the hysterics, the man stood perfectly still against the drawn weapon, whimpering softly.

Covered in blood, some his and some belonging to the two poor souls who dared to cross his path, he found himself running through the thicket with two more men hot on his trail. His adrenaline raced through him, probably the only reason he'd yet to complain about the lacerations, and pushed him on further. He held a gun in either hand currently, something he sorely missed, and fired back on occasion-- rare occasion, he knew better than to waste ammo-- catching one would-be assailant in the foot and the other in the arm. Under normal circumstances, his aim wasn't this bad; under normal circumstances, he could see out of both eyes and not have one closed to keep the blood from getting in. When he felt the tug his body complied with it of its own volition, instinct taking over where intellect would have failed. He could hear as the other men passed, and had yet to take stock in his current savior. When he noticed the motion in the person, he followed without question, without pause. Even the screams that echoed somewhere off behind them didn't phase him as they ran, him more interested in watching the ground ahead of him than anything else. He took stock of when the other stopped and he himself collapsed beside them; not close enough to put himself in any known danger, but not far enough away that he couldn't speak to them in a whisper.

The sound of pulsing blood rushed into his ears; a familiar noise that nearly drowned out the sound of the woman speaking. ...Woman? He managed to open both eyes to get a look at her, eying her up and down for the first time since coming into contact. He listened, then, to her words; words were important. Information came in words and words he now had. Ophelia. Calsedia. Tournament. "Tournament," he mulled over his lips, tasting the word-- and some copper-- with his tongue. Is that what this was? A tournament? He lifted a hand to his forehead, feeling it sticky with blood and sweat. This wouldn't do; he hadn't had a chance to clean himself up from his last job, rather yet stitch any wounds and now he was stuck participating in a tournament? "Didn't sign up for a tournament." He kept his words chosen carefully, but finally sat up off the ground and pushed his duffel bag to the side-- how he had managed to keep a hold of it this entire time, he wasn't quite sure. Lifting his shirt over his head, He spat into it once and began trying to remove the caked blood from his eye. He could deal with it elsewhere, but right now, he needed to see properly.

Once he felt good enough about his job there, he stood up and pulled the bag once more to his shoulder. He could feel his guns properly holstered and stopped himself from instinctively pulling the colt out; she hadn't proven herself to be hostile, why should he? "Heide," he spoke with the same tone he had moments before; not giving away too much or too little. Sure, he chose his last name to his first, but who was she to think he hadn't? With clear eyes he looked her up and down again, but turned his gaze out to the forest around them. He could feel his lungs stinging; his body ached. How far had they run? And why did he suddenly feel like just toppling over into the grass? Running a hand through his mucked up hair-- he knew it had to be, he rarely had a chance to do anything with it these days-- he licked his tongue across his lips again to remind himself of that coppery taste. "Think we've got a chance to hit up a stream or something? Or should we keep a move on?" he took in a deep breath; he needed to get his cuts checked out or at least cleaned-- didn't want to risk infection out here unless he absolutely had to. "What's it like, two-thirty?" he didn't carry a watch-- the only electronic device he had on him was the scanner. His nose scrunched up. He could really use a smoke.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxR E M I , self-proclaimed people-watcher and thief extraordinaire enjoyed the little scene playing out before her. A man beset by two women, one of the more... vampiric and paid nature, and the other of a more... oh, what was the word she was looking for? Leaning in across her table, she stared ahead. This man was a possibility for a place for her to stay while on the hunt-- a hunter to use and swindle and then toss out when she was done. A useful toy for what he was worth. His clothes would be far too large on her, but his weapons? No weapon was too large. Although she had to question his intelligence. Reading a vampire book in the middle of a crowded casino? Surrounded by the very things he planned on hunting? Remi could get away with it, yes, but she could let off a vibe that made it obvious to the darker denizens to keep their distance or lose their head. And... that book was obviously a thing of fluff and fairytales. No proper hunter would take a word in there seriously. Except for the bloodlust part, but that was a given when it came to vampires.

Absentmindedly, she fingered the locket that hung from the chain about her wrist.

How long had it been since she last worked with a fellow hunter? Too long, in any practical sense. She'd been alone since she returned to Earth only a week prior; early, according to some of her friendlier counterparts. Why now? Why not wait until the portal opened and everyone could roam free? Because, dumbass, I'm a hunter, not a killer. Remi needed time to prepare, to stockpile, to get all the necessary articles to properly hunt and kill and close that portal before things got out of hand. Like they always did. Like it was a hunter's job to do. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, eyes scanning lazily about the room as she tried to decide the best way to approach this situation. He'd already been bothered by two other women this night-- a third approach would probably end up being the last thing he'd willingly accept. She couldn't blame him for tossing the first-- obviously paid to act interested; plus, a vampire, bent on searching out potential victims and/or idiotic hunters who might try to disturb their monopoly. Again, something Remi didn't have to worry about (other than alerting the vampires of her presence, in general, but she'd always get the first strike, surprise or not), but she knew could make or break another hunter's game.

How to approach another hunter, by Reinette DuPois, circa 18--something.

Step one: Watch, wait, listen. Interpret.

The second girl, cute, a blond, very attractive. Even Remi wouldn't mind jumping those bones, delicately, and then with a hint of malice. Obviously either sexually interested in this hunter or trying to check for his wallet with the way she grabbed his a**. Too obvious, to a trained eye, but an action that would otherwise go unnoticed in a busy bar like this one. Remi couldn't make out the words that were being exchanged, but the male didn't seem completely comfortable. Also, lying, as he had to take a moment to think before he spoke each time-- thereby compiling a list of thoughts and previous lies to make it easier for him to remember in case he bumped into her again. Smart move. What happened after her little kiss on the cheek is what caught the height of Remi's attention.

She didn't touch the wallet until it was safely out of his pocket-- which meant one of a few things. Ghost, which was a no, ghast, which was also a no, those would be far too obvious and stand out completely. Demon, which was also a no, since Remi could pick out one of her own kind and would have noticed by now. Or... witch? A smirk broadened across Remi's lips. Ahhh, yes, there it was. A witch. That made perfect sense. Also, why the air smelled a little odd, but not in a bad way-- in a good way.

Step Two : Pick out the best time to act.

Remi waited until another male sat himself down. They seemed close, very close. Intimate, almost, but Remi didn't want to make any assumptions. Then again, the first male did turn down two separate women as they made attempts on him. The second male looked familiar--- ah! The man from the blackjack table, yes, yes, she had placed her eyes on him earlier. Well, if he was a hunter, too, then things just got so. much. easier..

Standing up from her seat, she used a finger to push it back into place before practically sashaying over to the table where the two men sat-- taking a short detour to slide past the woman from earlier. It would be difficult to lift a wallet from her at a time like this, considering she was looking at it and taking the time to lief through it's contents, but it made it easier for Remi to pick out just who she was for later... interests. She gave the girl a smile and a wink as she passed by, brushing her bare fingertips gently across a shoulder as she slowly closed the distance to the table-- only to stop at a minor interruption when the taller, first male, stood up and seemed rather... bothered.

Oh, so he noticed, hm?

Step Three : Stay on your toes, be ready for anything.

Remi took a deep breath. Okay, so he knew about the missing wallet now. A quick glance to the side determined that the bunny girl from earlier had stopped and was watching-- of course she was, this could be important to the report she'd give back at the coven. Alright, great, so she couldn't just walk over and be like "Hey there, fellow hunters!" Ugh. That didn't even feel right to her. Shuddering down the thought, she closed the distance to the table completely, an idea in mind.

Step Four : The final step; Lie your a** off if necessary.

Placing herself between the two men, she leaned forward with her arms beneath her chest, but atop the table. She looked between the two, smiled, and used one finger to close the book the taller male had been so interested in earlier. Dipping her head down low, she looked at them both with half-lidded eyes and a drawn smirk. "You boys hunt?" Hunt. Yes, hunt, could be used in a "oh yea, I hunt deer" sense or otherwise. She obviously meant otherwise, but got the feeling that they'd try to play it off as deer or other game. Clearing her throat, she glanced over her shoulder to the bunny girl who was still watching. "Don't look up now, but-- ah, ah, I said don't look--" half-chuckling, she shook her head lightly, "the bunny girl you two seem so very invested in? Less bunny more...." She made a claw like movement with one of her hands and gave the two of them a wink. "Keep quiet, keep low-- she's onto you two. Well, you," a nod towards the taller male, of course, "and now you," a nod towards Dean, of course. "My suggestion? Don't rush in head first, and... as for your wallet--" Remi had been here a couple of days, there was more than one reason why this other girl was so familiar, "go to the show. Enjoy yourself. Watch out for the bunnies, they bite." She scrunched up her nose and made a biting motion, a bit out of place and playful for her tastes.

"And leave it to me," she lifted a hand to her upper arm, rubbing it, as if she were a bit chilly, "I can reclaim what was once yours." Oh, this was fun. This was already so much fun.



OOC

Clooooothes~; the locket is being worn as a bracelet, not a necklace, btw.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxH O N E S T L Y ? Remi didn't expect the boys to just up and trust her-- and if they had, she'd think less of them than she already did. A lot less, considering she actually felt a bit... excited about this whole joining other hunters on a hunt business. She hadn't been around fellow hunters in quite a while. Well, except for that one guy. Oh, what was his name...? Crap-- she'd met him in hell, just before she'd made her decision to finally get out of there. Probably about... oh.. a little under one hundred years ago? Inwardly, she nodded to herself a bit-- well, one hundred years in hell, that is. Since a year in hell is about the same amount of time as a day in the human world. So... three months? Oh geez, that wasn't long at all, was it? Poor dear. She did get to speak to him for a bit, before some other demons dragged him off to a torture session. Torture session being a relative term-- even for demons, just being in hell felt torturous enough. He was Azazel's, though, which meant he really had it bad. She could only begin to imagine what he had to be going through right at this very moment.

Shaking off an ill feeling, she returned her attention to the boys in front of her. Hunting trip. Deer. Right. She could almost laugh. Instead, she gave him a soft smile and short nod, obviously not buying the lie, but not really wanting to call him out on it verbally. Just a... non-verbal understanding of disbelief. Pointing out the bunny girl was easy, but she could always blow it off later-- in case a coven member wanted to know what she knew-- as properly warning the boys not to touch the bunnies, as per casino policy. She did want to keep her own cover from getting blown and, if necessary, keep theirs under wraps, as well. Though, whether the bunny knew about them or not was still up in the air, really-- she'd been eying a couple of different people around the place for a few days now. Anything was possible, really. Just like how Remi had yet to allow the current... surroundings and technologies of the world to really get to her. She just sort of... ignored the differences. Cars, computers, electric lights. You know, the whole nine yards of things that had changed since that fateful day.

Back to Dean and Sam. "The lovely little miss that passed by just a moment ago and absconded with your..." she paused, unsure of just what to call Sam, "compatriot's wallet. She puts on quite an entertaining show." Her lips curled a bit further upwards as he refused her help, to which she shrugged. "As you wish; I'm sure you are more than capable. Just thought I'd offer." She stood up off the table, glancing between the two boys, finding the taller one to be, for the current moment, the more friendly of the two, and smiled at him. Although her gaze returned once more to Dean as he asked her name and her smile faltered, momentarily, before returning as a smirk. "Sweet heart? You're cute, but not that cute," A soft chuckle and her arms found themselves crossed once more beneath her chest. "Name's Remi," would knowing her name tip them off as to who she was, really? Well, perhaps if she had given them her full, first and last, actual, god-given name. More than perhaps. She was almost perfectly certain that she was included by her proper name in the ah-- 'double murder suicide'-- that included a one James Winchester. As in, they killed each other, but it was considered 'suicide'. Which, honestly, was mostly true. But, back to the future.

She doubted she'd be telling anyone her real name, ever, ever again. So, Remi it was-- and chances were they weren't going to dig up anything by that name, either. Considering she just recently assumed that alias after popping out of hell and realizing how easy it would be to figure out just who she was if she did, in fact, go by Reinette. "And what about you two dashing gentlemen, hmmm? What might I call you?" She could come up with plenty of names for them herself, but considering that she doubted the information she already assumed for them would be enough to properly track them, she knew she needed to ask. Once Sam responded with his name, it seemed like it was time to depart and she nodded, giving them a wave as they left.

She stayed at the table for a few minutes, trying to think back over everything that had just happened. All she wanted was a place to stay; this was getting complicated. Had she jumped the gun on this one? She had to think-- back when she was still a young, living hunter, someone popping up and assuming her to be a hunter was... well, a warning sign, for one, unless they could produce proof that they weren't working for the other side. Hunters switching sides didn't seem as big of a thing now-a-days than it was back then, so she didn't assume the need. How'd she come to the conclusion, then, other than just a cut-and-run guess? The book, for one-- yes, anyone could walk into a crowded casino and read a book about vampires, but normal people didn't bring books into casinos unless they truly weren't interested in anything in the casino. Most casinos had more than just your centers of gambling to keep people preoccupied and interested, especially so now, it seemed, so he was out of place. Reading a book about vampires. Then again, she'd been dead-- err, in hell-- for so long that she couldn't really state that it was out of place. In her time, the best way to hide was in plain sight. She'd assumed things had changed since then, what with the supernatural world quieting down amongst the masses, but otherwise it did seem to be just... a lucky guess. She sighed and laid her forehead against the table. A guess, really? She'd just assumed-- well, they did sort of smell like hunters-- then again, he was reading a book about vampires without really knowing that he was surrounded by vampires. He'd assume that he would be ignored-- just another young guy in Vegas, probably lost all his money that morning or the night before, just sitting around to ogle the young ladies in their bunny outfits or try to bum some change for more gambling, keeping himself busy by reading.

Why was she second-guessing herself? She was a freaking seasoned hunter. More than that, she was Reinette DuPois! She didn't have lucky guesses, just correct hunches. Her instincts had, thus far, always proven correct, so why should they change now? The last time she ignored them, she ended up in a far worse situation. A situation she had no plans on recreating. Therefore-- she stood, pushing her chair in behind her as she headed for the door-- she would follow them to the concert. She would make sure to make herself known. She would figure out a way to talk them into giving her a place to stay. And she would, if necessary, force them to give up on her hunt or ask for her assistance. She would prove to them, to the vampires, to the whole, entire damn Earth that she was not someone to be trifled with or ignored. She would find Azazel and rip out his damn throat with her bare hands and stuff it back down the remains of his esophagus until she reached the pit of his stomach. ...Rather, she would exorcise him from his current body, grab his earthly demonic form, and... well, she hadn't gotten that far yet, considering there wasn't much physical about it, but she'd figure out something and then he'd be done for, permanently and painfully. Even if it ******** killed her-- for real this time.

Finding her way to the concert bar was easy. Paying her way in was easy. Getting herself a beer and a table was simple. Thankfully, she was certain nothing else would be easy. She was okay with that, she liked challenges. Glancing over at the boys a moment, she smiled, but turned her attention to the stage when Rahel stepped out. However-- it wasn't Rahel that caught her attention. Her eyes narrowed; she leaned forward atop her table and tried to get the best view of him she possibly could. By the god in heaven he was a looker! She almost had to slap herself-- he wasn't... alive. No, that was most definitely a spirit. A very well hidden spirit, given no on else seemed to notice him, or if they did, they didn't say anything or look at him. No, Remi felt certain that he was invisible to damn near everyone else. Why was he there? She'd been in this bar before, she hadn't noticed him before this-- why? What was he attached to?

She could barely enjoy the concert, her attention had been so enraptured by the man. Once the concert ended, he seemed to, well, disappear for the lack of a better word. Sitting back in her chair, her brain began to run off in places she didn't expect it to until she shook herself free and headed over the to bar-- she needed something to drink and an ice breaker to get back into conversation with the two boys. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Rahel came into contact with them and smirked-- things just seemed to keep lining up for her, huh? Ordering a total of four beers, she grabbed them up the best way she knew how-- a neck between her fingers-- and made her way over to the crowd, handing the drinks out and popping open her own, savoring the taste of the first sip... knowing there would be no effect.

She managed to come in right before Rahel complimented the group and she smiled, giving the blonde a sly wink. Cute. A playful little thing, hm? The wink, however, brought on something rather unexpected-- that spirit-man from earlier popping up between the group and Rahel. Remi had to concentrate to keep her visage from shifting. Instead, she tried to feign mock-attention, glad that keeping her gaze on the spirit meant looking like she was interested in Rahel. She watched as Rahel turned to leave, as the spirit began to follow her but kept his gaze intent on them, as Sam stood and moved to keep Rahel there. Remi felt the side of her lips twitch upward. "Ooo," she practically cooed, "looks like someone carries some extra baggage." Baggage, yes-- a spirit that clung to her like a despondent puppy. Of course, she wouldn't be saying that part aloud, but... she cleared her throat, obvious to the idea that the spirit may attempt something on Sam-- although knowing she couldn't do anything about it. Not because she wasn't able to, but more like... shouldn't. It wasn't her place to get inbetween these sort of things; that, and she really didn't need anyone questioning what she is.



OOC

Clooooothes~; the locket is being worn as a bracelet, not a necklace, btw.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxx" I x L O V E the flower girl..." repeated endlessly, once over again and again, in increasing volume over a length of time somewhat akin to five minutes. Small, barely awake hands deftly maneuvered from space to space, bag to bag, compartment to compartment in search of the noise maker which happened to disturb a rather long slumber. Long enough, in fact, that the small girl could honestly say she never saw the sun go down in the first place. Still, she fumbled with the objects that now littered her floor as she emptied out her bag in hopes of finding the source of the repeating music, grumbling to herself of her obvious annoyance. Upon finding the artifact, she dismissed the alarm clock and fell back into the lump of pillows she called a bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she heard the now all-too-familiar noise ring through the air again, stopping shortly after the fifth repeat. She rolled onto her side, lifting the phone up from its spot within the pile of random articles that littered the floor and checked to see just what caused this secondary disturbance in her still-morning ritual. Her eyes narrowed, trying to better see just what the text on the screen said, but found it all too difficult to focus. With a sigh, the girl once more rummaged through the things randomly strewn about until she came across a plainly colored case, popping the latch open and pulling out a pair of glasses, sliding them atop her petite nose before once more attempting to read the phone. A missed call. From... "Oh dear...." The tiny body hopped up from the makeshift bed and, careful not to step on anything fragile, made her way to one of the three rooms in her apartment-- the bathroom. Inside, she quickly turned on the shower, insisting to ignore the fact that the water felt ten degrees too cold upon her skin, and began the process of cleaning herself for the day ahead. Once separated from the freezing water, she quickly towel-dried her rather long locks before taking a brush and the hair dryer to them, affectionately trying to straighten what she could without the use of a straightener.

Within minutes, her naked frame graced the room that doubled as a living room, as well as her bedroom, ignoring the fact that her fifth story window sat open with no curtain concealing her from whomever might be looking inward. Once again careful to not step on anything sharp or fragile, the small, nude girl began the task of finding something clean and plausible to wear for the day, finding that only a single dress remained hung on the bar that served as her closet. Biting down gently upon her bottom lip, she stifled a whimper and dressed herself with only the simple reminder that most of her clothing choices fit somewhere far outside normalcy. It took only moments for her to dress herself for the day, pulling a pair of short socks on just before the last piece of her outfit, her shoes. She could not honestly answer if she ever remembered wearing the footwear before... but better now than never. With a quick stop in her third room to ensure that she did not leave the window open again, she exited the apartment and swiftly ascended the stairs to the roof; a customary action she promised the owner of the establishment she would attend to every morning. Upon exiting the door that led to the roof, the small girl found herself surrounded by a forest of carefully pruned pieces of nature, some in bloom and some not. She went from plant to plant, checking carefully to see if any of them needed assistance to continue living, such as pruning, water, or nutrients. She took much care in keeping the plants healthy, even in the worst of seasons. Making her way to the center of the flowering paradise, she came upon a small bush-- one which she took personal interest and care in. A single rose is perfect bloom sat near the top of the plant, a few buds sitting carelessly about it on other stems.

"Such a lonely blossom," she spoke in almost a childish manner, her lips parting slightly in a smile. At some point in her journey, she brought a pair of clippers into her possession and with a quick snip detached the blossom from the rest of the bush, taking a moment to enjoy its scent before carefully entwining it within the braid that wrapped around to the back of her skull. How she managed to get a rose to bloom this late in the year she refused to tell-- it was her precious secret, after all and if anyone else could do it, she would be out of business. Standing back up, she heard the familiar tone once more ring out and this time lifted the phone to her ear. "Yes, mum?" she spoke into the device, not quite excited at the nagging tone on the other end of the line. "No, mum, I don't take you for a fool. I'll be there within the hour, yes. No, I've not yet afforded a car, mum, I'll be walking. No, mum, I'm no poppet, I shant sell my wares on the street. Yes, mum, right away, mum. Good day, mum." She hung the phone up with the press of a button and headed back towards the door, only to be stopped by a man in black who held a rather large bag of what she could only assume to be goods and a gun. "Oh, bloody hell. A stick up at this hour? Can my day get any worse?"

"Only if ye keep runnin' yer tongue, now back off," the man spoke hoarsely, but kept his gun pointed to the small girl's frame, forcing her to walk backwards through the planted area, as there was only one route available to take off the room. She stopped when she felt the small lining that had been built to warn people that they were at the edge of the room itself and to keep them from falling over and gulped, knowing fully well that there was not enough room for two at the ledge. "Now be a good mum and make this simple for me, aye?" The small girl took in a deep breath and shut her eyes, hoping for a second that someone, somewhere, would come around and stop the man. As it seemed, she would be alone in this, what she could only suppose to be, her final hour. Opening her eyes again, she scanned the man, in case she found anything she might use against him. Her eyes landed upon his bag and she gasped.

"You're robbing me! That's my bag!" The man didn't take too kindly to the rather truthful observation, but instead of just shooting her where she stood, closed the gap between the two of them and pushed-- not like she weighed much; it took little than half his strength to unfoot her and send her falling down the five flights towards the concrete below.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

'They say your life flashes before your eyes just before your death, you know. Your whole life, all of it. I always wondered if the elderly knew when they were dying in their sleep, since they'd have quite a bit of life to recap before they take their last breath. It's funny, though, the thought that you'd see your entire life right before it didn't matter any more. All the good times, the bad times; the things you wish you could have changed. Even things you thought you forgot, I suppose. It also made me wonder what people with amnesia saw if they died before remembering anything about themselves. Would they only see from the point they woke up with amnesia to that exact moment? Or would they get the chance to remember everything, even from before the amnesia? And from which direction does one see their life? Does it start from the beginning, the birth or even while in the womb and wind up to the inevitable moment of their death? Or, does it, perhaps, rewind through time and allow you to see your life in reverse, completely, as if you read the book backwards? Or does it come sparsely, randomly giving you only the most important memories? How would it decide which memories are the most important and how can you be certain that it is, in fact, your entire life which you see? Even, how would anyone know that you see your entire life before your death, unless you lived to tell people? Would you then see your life twice, maybe thrice even, considering your life would then include seeing your life, as well? Did it... did it really even matter?'

The girl awoke with a start, sitting up abruptly and rummaging her hands over the ground on which she laid. Her eyes scanned the area, attempting to discern where she happened to be, but she lacked the memory, or intelligence, to know exactly where she sat. Only that... people seemed to be watching her, curiously. She returned their stares with a stare of her own, a slight curiosity abounding through her brain. She reached a hand up, habitually, to her hair in which she felt a... well, something. It owned a velvety texture, with several, what were they? Petals, perhaps? She didn't know. In fact, as she stared at the faces that stared back at her, she only knew that she didn't know much of anything. She looked down at the ground before finally standing and dusting herself off, feeling the odd fabric beneath her fingers, wondering what exactly covered her. Another one of those weird petal-ly things sat at what she could only assume to be a part of her, except that it felt more like the rest of whatever she wore. Once more her gaze turned to the people who still, oddly, stared at her and she opened her mouth to speak, only to find that she didn't quite know what to say. Puzzled, she bit down on her bottom lip, habitually, again, some subconscious action she picked up from somewhere she couldn't quite place. Now, what, or where, or who, or how, or when...? She cocked her head to the side, trying to think, but only pulling a blank.

[Jazeraint]

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xxxxxT H E x W A T E R felt hot against his skin, or it may just be his temperament keeping his temperature up. Regardless, Kaidan knew that his bath would help handle his frustrations for the day... or, at least he hoped. He held a rag in one hand, which had once been relatively clean. A few days on horseback from town to dusty town didn't help keep the dirt away. The rag slid into the water, trying to clean it off as best he could before putting more soap on it and lifting it up to his face, scrubbing away at nearly a week's worth of grime. He wanted to be clean; he wanted to look and smell like the prince he knew he was, but at the same time... he knew he currently wasn't the prince. He was a man, out on his own, with some coin to his name and a horse to ride-- a man without destination and without reason. Well... he had reason. He knew, he could feel it, that the time was nigh-- the dragons would return to Oarkshire and he... he would have to serve as the Caretaker to the Spirit Dragon itself. Whoever they might be. His head tilted back, breathing a sigh of frustration and anxiety as the he drug the rag down his face, his throat, collarbone and chest. The rag and his hand dipped beneath the water, running over his ribs and abdomen, trailing ever closer to the source of some of his frustration. Somewhere during the descent, he lost hold of the rag and felt his bare finger tips rub against the soft skin at his hips. A hitch caught in his throat and he shut his eyes tightly, a growl escaping his barely parted lips. He caught his bottom lip with his teeth and grunted, knowing all too well that he didn't want to go through the day feeling... frustrated, but there was... something else. Something tugging on the back of his mind; something he wanted to ignore for the moment, but he knew he needed to concentrate on.

His fingers drifted lower and he trembled against the feeling of his own touch-- so familiar, so callous yet oddly foreign to him. When was the last time he had to take care of himself? The last time he had not invited a whore to his bedchamber? Had it been days? Months? Years, even? His memory faltered as more skin came into contact with skin and he felt himself jerk-- but there it was again, that feeling. That... pull. Stronger than before, less pleasant. Demanding, even; it felt like it would rip him from his skull if it had to. He wanted to finish, to feel... refreshed, invigorated even, but this pull-- it refused to let up and dared to drag him from his self-serving dreams. His free hand lifted to his lips, teeth clamping down upon the knuckle of his index finger, drawing blood; trying to distract himself. His breath drew in ragged tufts of steam, quickening its pace as he stifled himself from crying out-- his lips parted, further and further open until he felt like he just could not handle any more. He grunted, lifting most of his body out of the basin that acted as a wash tub and took in a deep, yet harsh breath----

And found himself on the inn floor, doused in steaming water from head to toe as a maid shrieked upon seeing his nude figure, splayed out across the old wood. Again, he grunted, feeling the pain of the landing most acutely in his nether region and blinked a few times, trying to gain control of the situation. The maid still watched him, her eyes wide and her body unmoving, unsure of what to do in the situation. Kaidan growled, a low, guttural noise that allowed him to lift himself up from the wood by virtue of both his hands and his eyes lifted with his head to catch hers within his gaze. "Help, or be gone with ye," his voice felt raspy and unnatural to him, "tis not some show you've come to watch; be of use or I will make ye." Within moments, the woman set to work righting the tub upon its pedestal; unsure of how to deal with the water soaking into the floor boards. Kaidan lifted himself up off of the floor and found his towel, wrapping it about himself and twitching when he felt the coarse fabric rub against his sensitive flesh. He cleared his throat and placed himself in front of the only mirror in the room, moving the hand that did not currently hold his towel up over the scruff of his face; his eyes narrowing. He didn't like scruff, but he knew it afforded him a bit of... disguise. Allowed him to fit better amongst the common people and mercenaries alike. They couldn't afford to keep themselves clean shaven, after all, and he couldn't say that anyone aside from the castle maids had ever seen him with scruff before. "On with ye," he spoke aloud to the maid, the same gruff still emanating from his throat, "the rest is moot, I'll take care o' it." He did pick up a bit of the common accent for the area after the few days he spent there.

He felt the tug pulling at his brain again and he closed his eyes to the world surrounding him. He heard the door shut, hopefully from the maid leaving, and he let a breath escape his lungs. He could feel the darkness around him enveloping him whole, pulling his mind where it believed it needed to be. Maluna. He could practically picture the coast in his mind as he envisioned the word. With the intake of his next breath, his eyes opened to the sight of himself in the mirror and he laughed aloud. So, his dragon finally made it, hm? Good. It took the prince only a few minutes to completely dress himself and pack his things, before he used a drying spell to take care of the floor. Sitting his blade at his hip, his hands paused there a moment and he felt the frustrating boiling once more in his loins. With a grunt, he stifled the urge and pushed his body out of the door and down the stairs, stopping only at the front desk to place a gold piece on the wooden counter before exiting to the stables and preparing his horse. Once saddled, Kaidan made a quick movement to mount and begin the ride-- Maluna sat less than two hours away on horseback and it would take the prince less time than that thanks to his... good fortune.

-------------------------

A brisk ride later and the prince's horse took its first few steps into Maluna. His heart ached, softly, in his chest and he knew it would be only minutes before he came into contact with his dragon... he just needed to spot him or her, first. Taking in a sharp breath, he dismounted his steed and walked it to the nearest stable, unsure of how long he would be staying in the town. He, of course, paid up for the night ahead of time, and paused outside long enough to glance about the entirety of the town that was visible to him. He could feel her, somewhere, nearby-- or him, really, it could be either, but if his sister had been right, it was a she. He tilted his head to one side, feeling the joints crack and the relief wash over his spine. The entire ride had been frustrating. The morning had been frustrating. The afternoon, he believed, would likely be frustrating. He wouldn't be able to leave his dragon's side at least for the first week, and that would be frustrating. Everything would be, for him, simply frustrating. He hated the feeling in that he knew he wanted to get it done and over with so his nether brain would stop aching and he could properly concentrate on the task at hand.

Taking in a sharp breath, he closed his eyes, once more sinking into the depths of his mind as he had earlier that morning; searching for the tug. He could feel it, sense the direction he needed to travel in to find her, knowing she would be close. He let the breath of air he held go and once more opened his eyes, finding his feet easily traveling in the proper direction-- towards the Temple. His feet paused once he stood a few feet from the temple, taking in the sheer size of it. So that's where the taxpayer money went, hmmm? He laughed to himself and shook his locks free, once. His hair had dried during the ride over. His hands once more sat upon his hips and he grunted before closing the distance to the door, questioning if he should knock or merely enter. Taking in another deep breath and feeling the ache of the tug subsiding already, he lifted a hand to the door knob and pushed the door open, letting sunlight fill in from behind him. "Good day, priestesses-- I hope I do not interrupt anything?" he never truly knew how to act inside a temple. Part of him felt terrible for simply stepping inside after his... shenanigans that morning; but, he knew what had to be done and he would do it. For the good of the kingdom. "For the good of the kingdom..." he whispered under his breath and his visage fell to that of a statue.

knew not what to expect when he entered the temple; well, aside from the usual priestesses doing their priestly duties. He had not, in fact, expected to see a woman partially nude in front him him; nor did he expect to see his dragon partially nude any time soon. Alas, when he failed to expect both of these occurrences, the occurred, and left Kaidan standing in the doorway of the temple staring at the elegantly voluptuous form of his dragon wielding a candelabra to fight off the priestesses who were trying to clothe her. Somehow he managed toe keep his visage stark and unmoving, although he did manage to close his eyes at the sight. Not that he didn't mind the view; it was spectacular, but because he could feel the rumble in his loins at just the thought... and he needed to perish it right away. He heard her speak; heard her walk away, even and he finally brought a hand up to his forehead and turned his body around so that he stood perpendicular to the door frame. He dared not enter in his current... predicament.

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He needed to push that sight out of his memory as quickly as he possibly could, before he found himself unable to look at her straight. His forehead pressed against the stone of the door frame, feeling the cold press into his skin and slowly begin to relax him. He could feel the heat in his stomach subside after a few lengthy breaths as he forced the thought from his conscious-- it may resurface at another time, but he no longer had the luxury of being on his own in the main hall of the temple, as an all too familiar, yet unfamiliar, voice spoke. He barely had enough time to look up as the clanking of the candelabra reverberated in his ears and he felt a body pressed against him-- hugging him tightly. He knew her; he knew her well. And this? This was something he could honestly say he dreamed of in his daylight hours; wanting to hold her and hug her and tell her that everything would be alright, that he'd be there for her, that he'd protect her. His arms instinctually wrapped around her waist and held her tighter against him as he buried his face into her bare shoulder. His nose was met with the unfamiliar smell of orchid and honey-- her smell, he knew, he'd remember it from now on. He'd never be able to get enough of it.

"Yes, I'm real; as real as I'll ever be," he spoke low, softly. If he looked up, he could see the priestesses standing a short distance away, eying him as if they were aware of the taboo feelings that welled up inside him. "Kerti..." he spoke her name gently, reverently, as if he held it in the highest esteem. He'd seen her face so many times; watched her life... he knew that she had seen his. She knew all there possibly was to know about him... and he didn't care. He just... he never wanted to let her go. Ever. "You're here; you're finally here... after all this time... it's really you." His lips curled into a smile and he lifted his face from her shoulder long enough to realize-- remember, really-- that she wore no shirt. Not that he hadn't seen her before, considering, but that wasn't within his power to control. He cleared his throat and tried to avert his gaze; memories of this morning flooding his brain. Without hesitation, he stripped himself of his leather vest and eventually the tunic he wore, pulling the longer ends out from beneath the hem of his pants. "Here," he offered the tunic to her, still trying not to seem rude by staring, "I apologize if it... smells... a little, I've been riding all day... it was clean when I put it on this morning, however."

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[Jazeraint]

M O R G A I N E didn't care for dealing with people and their personal problems; she already had enough of her own to deal with, rather yet be saddled with someone else's. At least, she normally didn't care-- in this case, with this man, however, she didn't have much of a choice. Not so much to delve into his personal life and start critiquing it-- no, she wouldn't do that, she wouldn't want it done to her-- but more so to hopefully get him to believe that what she said held some form of truth to it. No one ever told her how the connection between the Dragon and Caretaker would be. Honestly, she didn't quite like how... intimate it could feel. There was aggression, yes, a hint of anger-- nothing big, nothing much, nothing to topple over and force a distance between them, but that was to be expected with the fire dragon, was it not? Fire took many forms-- chaos, anger, destruction, war, and ruin. It cleansed as it burned, purified even through the last lingering ashes. Love, lust, hate, determination, desire-- a truly chaotic element that often created such... stubborn, bull-headed individuals who could willingly rush along into things without a single thought or refuse acceptance of an idea altogether. Fire took life and brought life. What a hellish element.

The stubborn side to her wanted to just walk away and leave him there-- if he didn't want to accept any of this, then so be it, he could go wallow through the streets in die a mud hole for all she cared. Except that she did care and that, thanks to that oh-so wonderful connection, if he did go wallow about and die in a mud hole, not only would she die, too, but she would feel every last bit of pain he did along the way. Not quite as acutely as he would feel it, but the tingle and thought of it would be there. She already had to deal with the strong connection between twins once before, including the excruciating amount of pain that led up to Arthur's death. She didn't want to go through that all over again. Arthur... the thought of him brought her hands up to her abdomen and she rested them there a moment, her eyes closing in thought. Phoenixes rose from the ashes, why couldn't he? Realizing just what she was doing, she let her hands drop back to her hips and sighed. "Airi, alright. My..." she swallowed hard, "apologies for not asking your name sooner." She half-turned to him so that she could look at him proper, eying him with a bit of suspicion-- a teensy bit of contempt-- and a whole keg full of wonderment. How was she supposed to take care of him?

"I am called Morgaine, most just shorten it to Mo," she would not advance on him-- instead, she stood back and held her distance, careful to stay not too close, but not too far from him. "I'm not sure what festival you think you're in the middle of, but I can assure you, this is no festival. This is a town, Maluna, a fishing village off the coast of Calypsia. Not big enough to be a real port, but the High Priestess resides here, which brings in a good bit of traffic and keeps the merchants busy." She didn't know why she was telling him all this-- it wasn't like she expected explaining the land to make it any easier for him to accept that he wasn't in some festival somewhere back in his home land. "I don't... I don't know where you came from or what it's like there, but I can honestly tell you that you are no longer in that realm and... Goddess willing you may one day make it back there if you so wish, but for the moment you are stuck here until the mission, and your destiny, is complete." She could imagine, telling someone that they're stuck someplace and can't come home until they complete something they had no choice in the matter of whether they wanted to do it or not. Well... technically he did have a choice, but he would be stuck in Oarkshire, regardless. "Our world is called Oarkshire, we're not--- oh forget it, this isn't going to work."

Exasperated, she took the necessary steps to place herself in front of him, close to him, once more, still not touching him, but glaring up at him with determined eyes. "You yourself have already used magic once this day, yet you still seem unphased by the idea that is nothing but a show-- a festival of fools and freaks who willingly place themselves into roles and sink too deeply into them? Then fine, use your magicless logic to explain this--" shape-shifting, of course, was in her blood and not something that could be easily replicated by a magician's hand. There were no poofs, no illusions, no sleight of hand, just the transformation of her body's form into that of another. Her shape would shift and change color, expanding or contracting as necessary; bones, even, repositioning themselves as necessary. Muscles would gain or lose mass to fit beneath the springy skin. During this shift, she also chose to remove the pieces of clothing that wouldn't easily fit around the form she would end up in, gloves first, unbuckling her belt, hiking her skirt up a bit higher with the straps that kept it off the ground so that it hung about her mid-thighs-- not that she didn't have a pair of leather breeches on underneath. She undid the buttons of her coat, finally just unzipping and removing the article from her person completely, standing in front of him in a sleeveless woven shirt made of dyed wool, the hiked up skirt, her breeches, and boots.

Hands on her hips, she stared at him from a new-found height... of about four feet tall. The skirt sat at what would be a normal length and her hands were actually busy holding them up at the waist. Her skin lost its freckles and darkened considerably; her hair shortened and crinkled itself into tight, unmanageable, tiny curls close to her head. Her eyes changed from their light shade of blue to a dark brown even as she continued to look up at him, eyebrows raised. Her form resembled a somewhat younger child-- perhaps ten or eleven, but still held Mo's earnest haughtiness. Staying like that for a few moments, she took in a deep breath and allowed her form to shift again, her skin paling completely as she returned to a size more akin to her normal size; her hair lightened to a near-white, as did her eyes, and with no reason to hold her skirt and breeches up, she held her hands out as if she were showing herself to him, even as her hair grew long, falling with its tips below her rear. As if knowing that neither of these would work too well to prove it to him, she sighed and took one last breath, rolling her shoulders back as the muscles and bone contorted beneath her tanning skin which stopped once it matched his own. Her eyes darkened back down to a brownish color and her hair shortened once more and darkened to a black, curling ever so slightly-- again, matching his. By the time her transformation finished, she stood at his full height with a flattened chest and more squared body.

In fact... she looked like an exact replica of him, except in her clothing... including his facial hair. Her nose twitched a moment and lifted her hand to her chin, giving the hair a scratch. "How can you stand this stuff? It itches like the dickens." She sighed and placed her hands on her hips... his hips... her hips which were also technically, sort of, his hips, considering she looked like him. She didn't want to confuse herself so she just pushed it out of her mind. Watching him with raised eyebrows, she smirked a bit before speaking up again, "Bet they can't do that at your... festivals.

[Jazeraint]

xxxxxB L U E eyes met her own and she felt... relief? Possibly. She felt relief wash over her form. "Your name. Calahrim." She seemed giddy that she could properly pronounce his name after a few tries. "Calahrim!" Her smile graduated into a grin even as he spoke to her about touching his ears. She nodded, quickly, repeatedly, until her smile had dissipated completely, though her gaze never left his face. "I'm sorry, I did not..." she paused, searching for the word she wanted to use in this instance, "mean to harm?" She drew back ever so slightly until he helped her stand. "I will ask, yes, for permission, from now on." She knew she couldn't possibly be getting the words in the right places to form proper sounding sentences, but it wasn't like his English was something she could completely decipher, either.

Standing, her legs seemed fine beneath her. She didn't seem physically weak, just... mentally lost. The kiss upon her forehead brought the smile back across her lips and she giggled, lightly. As he spoke to her, and even as they moved, her gaze never once left him-- despite very nearly tripping every few steps. The heels she walked in weren't exactly comfortable, but she found that after she got a few feet in them that she seemed to level out more, becoming less wobbly and more steady as they walked. "You said... dragon," she pointed to herself, but turned partially in the same movement as if looking for something that wasn't there. "I have no wings. No tail," she even lifted the end of her skirt to check and see if a tail hid beneath the fabric, but to no avail. "Yet you say I am," her gaze flickered, momentarily, from him to the world around her and back once more. "Oarkshire, Maluna, fishing...? Horses and... the sea? And... elves?" her brow furrowed as she tried to process the thoughts, blanks coming up in some places where information was sparse.

Despite her condition, she did retain a decent bit of information that the doctors found astounding. Certain objects, thoughts, ideas-- they seemed to stick to her even after each reset. Information about flowers, land formations, types of rocks-- leaves and plants and nature in general, in particular, kept with her like it was keyed into her very soul. However, they found that they had to, often, explain the idea of cars and jobs and businesses and money to her. Cooking, and most tasks related to muscle memory were not technically forgotten of, just... lost until she had to take to the task again. Fears seemed to be retained, as well as likes and dislikes-- minimal, small things that were easy to skip over. She found that, in this case, certain pieces of information that he spoke of stuck, but in other cases... things like, Oarkshire, Maluna, and elves. Horses and the sea, well... that she was iffy on. Fishing, too, seemed partially out of place in her mind. Fish, yes, she knew of, but fishing?

"I... apologize, there is much..." with her arm in his, she used her hands to speak in front of her, holding them close together as if she were trying to make a bowl to measure all the things she knew and didn't know. "I do not know; that I do not understand. I do not know... where to start. I..." the fingertips of the hand that wasn't attached to his arm pushed back a few loose strands of hair and she found herself reminded of the object there. Taking it out, she brought it down to her height so she could get a better look at it, frowning slightly as she took in the sight of the drooping petals. "Poor thing is wilting," she brought it close to her face to sniff it, inhaling the fragrant scent before holding it up to him, as if asking him to look and smell and understand. "It is lonely. Lost." her eyes glanced once more around the surroundings, figuring out just why she seemed so interested in looking at everything-- she wanted to see what sort of flowers were in bloom. "Far, far away from home? No," she shook her head, pausing in her steps just long enough to stand in front of him, trying her best to get on her tippy toes and slide it behind his ear-- momentarily forgetting that she should ask first, but getting so caught up in her personal thoughts that she didn't really realize just what she was doing until the rose was somewhat in place.

Unbeknownst to Nia, the first Earth dragon, upon leaving Oarkshire, chose to impart a gift upon the new world it would be reborn into and brought with it rose seeds. The seeds were spread far and wide at its rebirth and while many gardeners fell in love with the plant, taking the proper care and time to ensure its survival in their gardens, it thrived throughout the continents. Roses of all shapes, colors, and smells blossomed, sometimes year round. However, as the flower grew more prominent in the new world, the roses on Oarkshire dwindled, their numbers becoming few and far between, making the blossom, in any shape or color, quite a rare find. To even find a healthy bush was to be applauded and, as per the orders of the crown, actually illegal to interact with in the hopes that the plant could re-energize itself if it were left without tampering. Red roses still seemed the most common, followed shortly there-after by the pink, yellow, and orange cousins, with the proper variations within. White roses, however, were considered completely extinct-- the last one being seen, noted upon a map, and then lost nearly a century ago.

"No, home now. Unknown, unsure, but home."

[Jazeraint]

xxxxx H O N E S T L Y , she'd forgotten that the bright white light that she believed to be the cross walk sign would only change into a... well, equally as bright white light, regardless of whether or not it was what she believed it to be. She laughed a bit to herself, shaking her head and just giving up the waiting game, stepping out into the street without a care in the world-- even as cars slammed on their breaks and came to screeching halts with their horns blaring to keep from running into the 'idiotic b***h' who doesn't know how to use cross walks properly. Pffft. Like she needed to-- WOOSH-- the feeling of something solid pushing its was through, well, something else that should have been equally as solid overtook her. Kismet paused, center of the street and glanced down at her lower half, which she could barely see, given the current amount of light in the area. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? WHAT ARE YOU?" She tried to turn her gaze to the speaker-- she knew she probably looked like a lunatic at the moment, but that didn't bother her much-- and laughed. Boisterously.

"I know what I am, but what are you?" The laughter continued to roll off her tongue until she couldn't handle it any longer and she made it the rest of the way across the street. Her wicked grin refused to leave her lips as she continued down the hallway, whistling an unknown tune to herself until the words started to form in her head-- "I'm swimming around in a v****a~ I try to make a princess," she paused each time she finished the line, humming through it until she made it back around to the verse and began all over again. Her eyes scanned the area, tracing the outline of the city, trying to decipher her current position in the ever-fading light-- she had to move during this hour or else the daylight would be too bright... or the street lamp light. She couldn't stand the light, honestly; it burned her irises the longer she looked at it, but it seemed to plague her everywhere she went. Drifting her eyes upwards, finding the specific apartment building she knew she needed to enter, she found her spirit calming. The lights were on-- he was home. She told him she would be turning off the light when she got there. After all, he hired her, she would enjoy the liberty of deciding how the second meeting would go.

The light went out in the room as she watched it and her eyebrows furrowed. This... seemed problematic. Her fingers twitched at her sides and she began running over all the possibilities of how things could have went wrong between gaining the job and now. Then the explosion happened-- her eyes squinted against he overly bright burst of light and she waited patiently for the aftershock of the explosion. She huffed and brought her hands up to cover her eyes from the remaining light and sighed, exasperated-- pretty much aware of the fact that... "There went my paycheck, ********] Her nose scrunched up and she turned and stepped into an alleyway, finding the dark corner to be much more comforting than the bright lights of the street. She took a few turns before she finally allowed her feet to stop moving-- or rather, forced them to stop moving and her head tilted, abruptly, to the side as she stared at the wall opposite her. A shadowy representation of herself met her gaze, head tilted in the exact opposite direction. "You know better."

"How was I supposed to know he'd get offed?"

"You know you should always get payment before starting a job0."

"He wouldn't budge."

"Then you don't take the job."

"We need the cash."

"We have plenty of cash, you should have demanded it up front."

"At least we have the loot."

"You could have the loot and your money now, if you'd been intelligent about this."

"Well, I wasn't, and now it's too late."

"You could find his second-in-command, he's the boss now."

"Deceased."

"How do you--"

"Caught his head on a railroad track this morning on the way to get coffee."

"How--"

"May not have been an accident."

"Payment?"

"Required. Paid. Already in the bank."

"Well, at least you're not a total ******** up."

"Shut your face, you're not even real."

"And you're technically talking to yourself."

"I know what I am, but what are you?"

"A figment of your imagination," and with that, the shadowy figure poofed.

Now what to do? You're stuck with a bunch of hot gems and jewelry with little to no local black market connections and the fencers will only take a few pieces at a time. You could hand it off to the poor, but now you've already done a job with no payment so you have to make as much money as possible off of this deal. Why are you sighing? You ******** up, you don't have time or reason to sigh. This isn't anyone's fault but yours. Now stand up straight and get your s**t together-- you've got a bag full of stolen goods and little to no ways to get it off your hot little hands. So, now what are you going to do? You can't afford to jump town, you've got too much going for you here. Plus, you've got that big little diamond-- oh geez, that diamond. Great. Wonderful. Amazing.

So, inventory time.

You've got a bunch of jewelry from a recently burgled store-- you burgled it, obviously-- that will take years to fence if you want to get your money's worth. You've got a bunch of gems that will be easier to get rid of at a good price-- gems are harder to trace in most cases, especially the ones that seem a bit more... common in size and color. There's a lot of those. Those can make up for the lack of cash inflow due to the time lapse. Do you really want to deal with fences and black market dealers? [/******** no." Then why deal with the ********? They're money-grubbing little pissants anyway and they take too long to get anything done. Plus, the ******** FEES! Then why don't you just find someone who will take them all off your hands at once? You know, sort of like your current ex-boss? Because, dumbass, how does that look? HEY GUYS, I'VE GOT ALL THESE STOLEN GOODS, WHO WANTS TO BUY IN BULK? No, bad idea. Lots of hidden cops that way.

The black market and fencers have hidden cops, too. This was a big heist, you know.
Yea, great, ******** my life. No way to drop off these pieces and I've lost a s**t ton of cash on this job.
Who the ******** would want to kill him, anyway?
Second-in-command?
Died this morning.
Oh right.
Uhm. Hm. Well... third-in-command?
No, first in command wanted the second-in-command dead, third is a p***y-whipped dickface who can't get his s**t straight and doesn't know his head from his a**.
Errr, you're the one who forgot the money.
[/******** YOU, THAT'S IT, I'M ******** DONE. GO ******** YOURSELF YOU ******** PIECE OF ******** SHI---" ...
Now look, you've got everyone in the area staring at you again.
Again?
Yes, again, you ********.
Ah s**t.

Taking a few quick steps backwards, Kismet sunk back into the shadows and began a trek back through the alleyways, doing her best to avoid people and find somewhere saf------

"Tacos sounds good, what do you think?"

A shadowy version of herself popped up, almost in perfect time with her speech. "Tacos always sound good."

"So, tacos then. Mmm, yes, yes, I do like that idea."

"No hot sauce this time, doing laundry sucks."

"Oh no, I don't think I could stand that, anyway."

"So, tacos, then?"

"Yup, tacos sound perfect. Let's go get tacos."

"You go get tacos, I'm not going to look like a total psychopath."

"I'm not a---" she raised an eyebrow at the apparition beside her as it disappeared back into the darkness.

Shrugging, I took the time to carefully, well-- nevermind, who am I kidding. I can't cross a damn street covered in street lights to a busy commercial building, brimming with people and even more fluorescent light without bumping into someone or something. Somehow I managed to slide through the cars-- or, rather, cross the street without getting 'ran over'. I still don't know how I do it. I don't think most people even realize that I'm there half the time, just letting me slide on through them. That's awkward. I wonder how many cars I've had in me.

Ooo, that's dirty.

I kind of like dirty-- oh god the light is too bright. ********, why do people need lights so much? Lights are so ******** annoy--- oh hell there. I bumped into someone. This is odd, he feels... ooo, those are some nice pecs--- no, no, wait a second, Elysia, get ahold of yourself. You bumped into someone. Someone who feels nice.... smells like... blood? Blood? Why would he smell like blood?

"Excuse me."




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