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Sunstrike blinked in surprise as the hand grabbed his wrist, knocking him a little off balance and forcing him to sit or fall over completely. He rubbed the back of his head a little embarassedly, misunderstanding the purpose behind the hand that had reached out for him.

"Ah hell, sorry Vahn. I didn't....you weren't seriously comfortable like that? Were you?"

I should have just, let him be...maybe the booze had made the other man more irritable then Sunstrike had originally thought. He was too cold to fight right now...and he'd certainly lose if Vahn decided to take revenge over being referred to as a "lump."

There wasn't anything paticularly threatening about the way that Vahn gripped his wrist, though, and he didn't get the uncomfortable feeling that usually accompanied someone getting angry with him..

"Is everything alright?"

What Vahn wanted was lips, what Vahn got was a hand planted in his face. Sunstrike tsked, wishing he hadn't worried now...

"Goddamnit Vahn...your drunk, stop kidding around and get some sleep."

Now that wasn't really fair of Vahn. Sunstrike had been as nice as he could up until this moment...but messing with his emotions was going a step too far for the night. Neglecting of course, the fact that he'd been doing the same thing to Vahn earlier...which he vowed never to do again...

"I don't need the heat, I'm fine," So long as you don't expect me to be useful in a battle..."But you do, so please just...get some rest and leave me alone." The words were a little hollow sounding, even to himself, as he twisted himself out of Vahn's grip. "In the morning you'd best thank me too, you'd have been kicking yourself for this, probably still will..."

And with that Sunstrike moved off again, sitting some distance away and looking into the darkness...trying to figure out how the night had gotten a bit warmer...

Idiot...

Sunstrike went red in the darkness, ashamed at himself. Maybe it had been a heartfelt request on his companions part to stay warm. If so he didn't really blame Vahn for being insulted. But there was more to it then just denial...

He couldn't deny the fact that there had been, some kind of a connection there, for a moment...before he'd been stupid enough to cut it off. The fact was that he'd been perfectly honest to Vahn before when he said he wasn't a "one kiss" kind of person....

Vahn had been drunk, defenseless, and left open. Sunstrike didn't trust himself not to take that and run with it, if properly motivated....and what really wrenched his stomach was the fact that if he had, there was no saying that when the morning came, and Vahn became sober, that total rejection wouldn't follow.

Sun could handle Vahn being angry and stand-offish towards him, what he was afraid of, was complete and utter rejection.

Peaceful.

Everything was simply peaceful, as Nahara stared out calmly. The wind brushed on by her, as she sat in a small sheltered area, overlooking the vast oasis of the desert. Her tunica floating with the direction of the wind, she reached down with her slender hands, and picked up the cup of tea.

Bringing the cup to her lips, she took a sip. "!" It was much too coppery, too bitter for her tastes, in fact it didn't even taste like tea at all.. and staring down at the contents of the cup, she was compltely horrified. Blood. There was blood in her cup.

With a crash, she let go of the cup, it's crimson liquid spilling out a sickly color against the sanded grounded she sat upon. Horror clutched at her throat, as she raised her head, and found the same crimson stench and form dripping all over the walls and floor of the shelter.

It surrounded her.

"What... is happening...?!" As if in response, bubbles of air began to escape from the oasis, the waters furiously moving out in ripples, as bodies came floating to the surface. Corpses, long dead, and moaning as they broke through tot he surface, lifting themselves slowly out of their watery graves.

Murderer... Murderer... Murderer...

The chanting grew louder, and louder until it reached a din, as the corpses slowly made their way towards her, with arms outstreched, as if aiming to snatch back the life stolen from them.

"It...It...IT WASN'T MY FAULT!" Her cry echoed out, only to be drowned out by the moans of the dead.

"Get it away from me..." The words came out mumbled, lips opening partly, as breath came out, eyes still shut, even as a whole arm came flopping down.

The growing pounding headache that grew louder and louder as if someone were pounding a hammer into a spike in the ground, only made things worse, as he woke, his hair a mess and with bags under his eyes.

"Wuh..." The red-head, slurred his words as he got to his knees, only to slump forward and inch forward a bit like a snail. A rela inspirational role-model he was to kids, this one.

Vahn the snail had eventually wriggled his way towards the direction of the cup of coffee, and sleepily twisted onto his back, with a groan of protest to being up already. His jaws opened and a yawn roared out.

"Why's so bright..." Laying on his back, he reached out with hands for the cup, and twisted it all the way upside down, his mouth open wide, as the hot liquid poured down his throat all at once. He immediatly bolted upright, and started sputtering and hacking as he clutched at his throat. "Sonuva--- it burns!"

"Dammit... I hat--" He stopped himself short, as he lay there, sitting up, a wrist going across his mouth and wiping it clean. He made it for you, dumbass. At least be grateful. "Chih."

His cheeks flushed slightly from ambarassment as heard his companion laugh at him, he twisted his head to the side, obviously huffing. "Why do I care what you wear. You look just fine to me the way you are." A truer statement could never have been said, as deeper meanings could be brought out of it should one look for them.

The goggles struck against the side of his head, causing to actually look at what was thrown, and he saw for himself that they were goggles. His goggles to be exact... the same ones he had worn fifty years ago.

"This..." The sounds of footsteps, brought his attention back to earth, as he turned his head in the direction they were coming from.

A very surprising sight awaited both men, as they glanced in the direction of where the footsteps were coming from. Since Strata was located directly at the entrace to the mesa's, it wasn't at all hard to concieve there being solid enough ground to give off footsteps.

"Good morning to you both. My name is Winters, and I'm here to kill you."

A figure at about 6' 4", stood, staring down the incline of rock and sand, at both Vahn and Suntrike. He appeared to be a heavy cloaked and wrapped person, with a smiling mask.

He had 2 masks to be exact, one on each side of his head. One was smiling maliciously, while the other was set in an enraged frown, at all times.

This figure was a sad man in life, he is a sad man in his cursed existence. He is mainly soppy and wishy, but his sorrow quickly could turn into violent rage, and lust to cause others pain. In fights he would constantly blame his past life's sorrows on the person he is attacking or fighting. He was generally cool headed, but as a fight goes on longer and longer, he becomes more and more angry at the fictious cause of his sorrows and will edventually fly into a maddened rage.

Vahn just continued staring up at the figure, not quite sure what to make of the guy, let alone why he would come to the middle of nowhere, just to bother them both. "Hum?" He slowly lifted himself up off the ground, dusting himself off.

"What the hell do you mean, 'here to kill' us?"