Welcome to Gaia! ::

The teen had been silent. Moreso than was usual. It could probably be brushed off as coincidental since he was learning new ground. His steps never faltered but he did take a slower pace. The bottom of the staff hitting the gazebo's floor made a warm, hollow sound.

He took a moment tracing the floor with his staff to learn the surface. It made a soft scraping sound as his other hand sought the frame. He felt the bitter softness of sand and salt worn wood. But it was comforting in a way. Something vaguely familiar.

"I would like to meet him someday, if he as close to you as he seems." There was a trace of warmth in the tone despite the softness of the voice. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he felt Elle's lips on his hand. Gently moving he followed the line of her face to cup her cheek. It was odd feeling so welcomed. But something he would not change for the world.

Something was bothering him. A niggling at the back of his mind. He knew the feeling, knew it was a forewarning, but of what he could not remember. Momentarily distracted he explored the little warning. And was rewarded with a tightening around his heart and a flash of pain in his mind. This could spell disaster in more ways than one.

"Elle, you have a choice at present. One to let me wander away for a time and ... deal... with something, or stay with me and find out what you might just rather not know about me. The choice is your's though I beseech you to keep your empathy clamped tight no matter what you see or hear."

He visibly relaxed for a moment when she spoke. Still, the real test was to come. Leaving his staff he let her lead him closer to the water's edge.

The tightening worsened around his chest and his breathing became a bit ragged. His hair seemed to become damp and his wings curled instinctively closer to himself, dampening themselves. Around the tips of the fingers Elle held a trace of red started to outline the digits. Closer now.

The water felt like a balm followed by a sharp n**. Then they were opening again, letting salt touch. Awakening slightly, a bitter gift.

"I know Elle, but do not let me hurt you. I cannot promise that I will be able to control my hands. I do not want to hurt you." Crescent cuts on his palms were not uncommon after these events.

He smelt the faint trace of lotus before it was dropped. A faint sense of guilt came with the realization she wouldn't at least dull her own worry.

THe teen sank to his knees in the gentle waters as scars along his back and chest opened. Breathing hard he clutched his hands to fists, holding them over his heart as the tightening came again. Crimson started to run from the corners of his eyes, faint tear-trails of blood.

"This is what I must carry, Elle. To bleed for the hearts of others." He fell silent as more scars opened and bled. The red on wings and hair became blood stains, turning the seafoam a desperate shade of red.

This felt like a short bout. He sincerely hoped it was.

"Don't..." The breif whisper barely made it past his lips. She didn't need to feel this. Shouldn't feel this.

Desperation. Pain. Fear. Terror. And then... reluctant acceptance.

The emotions were violent in their intensity, shaking him to his core. Jaw clenched a small rivulette of red trickled from the corner of his mouth. His wings twitched spasmodically, shedding looser feathers into the foam, creating little clouds of pink around them as they were washed away.

Images of pain, weapons, screaming, terror and a laugh that sounded like the devil's own flashed through his mind. He watched as the figure drew a weapon, aimed it as 'him', and snuffed out the life. The last trickling emotions of the man who'd managed to keep his proud face even facing his end were shunted straight into Lonan. He never even knew if the man really died or if through some miracle he had been found before he bled out. He'd never know.

Sooner that was usual the emotions started to subside. He couldn't tell. It could have been hours since it began for all he knew. Panting for breath the body started to slowly come down from the rush of adrenaline and emotion. His body was covered in almost delicate patterns of crimson. Slowly the scars started to heal again, eyes burning from the blood that he'd cried.

"...I.. am sorry you had to see that, Elle. So sorry..."

Black wings fell to the water, washing away the stains. He was shivering, from cold or the intensity of what he'd just experienced was up for debate. Hands slowly unclenched showing the familiar crescents and a new scar made itself known on his forearm.

He shook his head, sadness flowing through the tentative thread. Even with how tired he was Lonan was trying to sheild her from the residual effects. "No, Elle. I was meant to carry this, to be a balance. There's no reason you should have to experience it as well."

Feeling her lean into him he moved back to lean on her, forgetting about the blood on his freshly sealed skin. Leaning forward a moment later he coughed, spitting a final mouthful of blood into the water to be washed away. Regret and sorrow flowed through the bond for a moment before he checked himself.

"You're the only one who knows about this. I cannot stand the pity of others. But companionship... if we could just stay like this for a time without you becoming chilled..." He leaned back against her again, letting his head tilt back slightly to rest on her shoulder. On his face the tear trails cleared slightly, red dripping off as he allowed a few of his own to escape.

Feeling her pull him closer he relaxed a fraction. "Thank you..."

Just having her close without her piting him was a blessing. He had been aware of the fact she might after that, but she hadn't. It took a bit of the weight from his shoulders.

"I will tell you if you ask. I cannot tell the whole thing at once or in general. There is too much." Letting his own eyes close, for all the good it did, he tilted his head so his ear was nearer her neck, concentrating on the soothing sound of her stong heart.

He decided taht for now silence was the better part of valor. He'd never stop bleeding. That would shunt the burden onto someone else. He was unwilling to do that.

A soft murr rumbled from his throat at the gentle brush of lip and lash. The feathery touch was more substantial than stone.

"I told you before, you have netted your winter wren, and I am in no hurry to escape the net."

The wash of saltwater and the light brush of Elle's hand on his shoulder caused him to sigh softly, relaxing a touch further. The scars were there, as always, simply growing in number from time to time.

For some reason the touch meant more than words, letting him know that she wasn't disgusted. It frightened him that he had been so afraid of something like that.