Welcome to Gaia! ::

She did not write back. There really was no need, as far as Sasha was concerned.

A fair stretch of time passed before she found herself standing on the threshold to the Doctor's office. Her thick black hair was braided and pinned to her crown, and her slender, scar-free body was clad in a simple sheath of black.

It was obvious that Sasha assumed dinner meant something upscale, classy, and - more importantly - off the island.

Sasha did not knock. She merely tried the door, and if it was unlocked, Sasha would let herself in as if she belonged there.

"I'm ready for my celebratory dinner, Doctor."

She wanted to open him up, shovel out the raw insides and wear him like a suit.

Her nimble fingers deftly fastened the bow. Now and again she'd scrape her nails along his skin, if only to remind him that she was capable. Powerful enough? Not yet, no. But capable, absolutely.

"I hope we're leaving the island, then?"

Deconstruct him, yes, consume him, yes, become him, yes.

Once finished, Sasha gave the Doctor a pat on the chest.

"You smell lovely. Where are we going?"

Sasha let out a low hum and squeezed the Doctor's arm.

"I haven't. Is it very nice?"

"Why, yes, Doctor H, I have thought about what I'd like to do with my new position. I'd like to hollow you out, devour everything of /you/, and wield the same power and knowledge that you have."

"Most excellent, my dear. Shall we get started?"

Sasha entertained herself briefly with the thoughts that pitter-pattered around her mind as she waited for the Doctor to take his seat. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, the high slit on her dress falling away to reveal pale skin. She didn't bother correcting it.

"I thought I might like to get into golems, Doctor, but that's all so boring. Stuck on the island all of the time, or dallying about in Halloween," Sasha waved a slender hand. "I'm more interested in doing things less mundane, more exciting. Off of the island. I've decided I don't like islands very much, sir."

She eyed the wine.

"I've got a certain.. potential, I believe. A willingness to do whatever needs to be done in order to see things through."

Sasha paused and licked her lips.

"Acquisitions. Off-island, sir. Art, trinkets. Things of interest to the Life Division. Is there a place for me in that area?"

If there wasn't, she'd simply make room.

Sasha watched the Doctor closely through heavy-lidded eyes, pursing her lips as she reached for the wine. She took a sip and twirled the fluted glass between her pale fingers, waiting until they were alone again before resuming the conversation.

Mr. Worth sounded quite worthless, but it appeared that his worthlessness would be her gain.

"I understand completely. I do hope that this discretion might go both ways, sir. Should things get a little... dirty... on my end. As I've said, Doctor. I am not afraid to do whatever it takes in order to get you what you want."

In order to get what she wanted, remained unsaid, but obvious. As much as she hated it, she craved his approval. She always had. More than that, though, she craved his power - but she would settle for his approval, for now.

Sasha's eyes lingered on that smile, and for a moment she loathed the words that spilled from his mouth. That wasn't who she was anymore. She'd been deconstructed and rebuilt so many times that it was terrifying, but with each fraying she'd only become stronger - and most especially so after the last. This body was perfect. It was clean and smooth and free of scars.

"What I've learned, Doctor, is that I am more capable than I realized - something you once told me, I believe?"

She took another sip of the wine before setting it aside. Leaning in, Sasha tore off a piece of bread and nibbled at it.

"I've learned that I deserve more than I was giving myself credit for, Doctor. I've learned patience. I've learned how to get what I want. I've learned so very much from you, Doctor. Most importantly, I've learned what, exactly, I want from all this - and never to fight a battle I cannot possibly win."

Sasha waved her hand in the air before dropping it to the table, where she tapped her nails lightly against the tabletop.

"I have goals, Doctor. And I assure you that I am no longer the sad little thing I once was."

Ripped apart, stitched together. Over and over again. Each time, she lost a little more of the simpering, stupid thing she'd once been.

"Vous êtes un très bon professeur , docteur." She paused. A smile creased her lips, but it did not reach her eyes. "In all things, I should say."

"Not so ashamed, Doctor. She had too many vulnerabilities. That isn't to say that I have none.. just. Fewer than she did."

Sasha paused and adjusted the fine linen napkin across her lap. After a moment, she slipped back into conversation. Her voice was youthful, breathy, almost giggly. Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted just the slightest. In essence, she looked to be very much like the Sasha who had first stepped out of the pod, long-haired and curious and so very desperate for approval. The Sasha who had kept the feather that H had given her tucked away beneath her pillow. The Sasha who had helped Jerry make flyers for the little music club that had fallen by the wayside, and the Sasha who had dared confront H on whether or not he'd
She paused and sipped her wine. Her face seemed to shift once more, a little harder, a little darker. This Sasha was the girl who had been forced to watch her comrades fall at the mercy of the horsemen. The Sasha who had been nothing more than a plaything, pitted against not only beasts in the coliseum, but Wash, as well. Her voice, when she spoke again, was whimsical still but laced with steel.

"This one?"

She was quiet for a moment, her features growing just a little starker. Her voice, a little rougher. There was a darkness in her eyes, one that hungered for something unholy. This Sasha was the one who had had an utter fascination for one ******** Sun, William Reid. This Sasha was the one who had tasted blood and hungered for more. This Sasha was a dangerous, brutal beast who had very little sense of preservation.

"Remember me, sir?"

Sasha rolled her shoulders back, and her face changed again. There was a look of terror hidden deep in her eyes, true terror, and it was obvious that this Sasha was the one who had stained the ground of the chapel red with the blood of her grandmother. The Sasha who had lost her weapon, and had wandered back into the hellish mists of Scotland in order to find it.

"Or me?"

Her foot slid up his leg, and her entire demeanor turned a little more sultry, a little darker, a little wicked. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and touched the tip of her tongue to her cupid's bow, one brow arching with an elegant curiosity. This Sasha was perhaps the most terrible of them all. The Sasha who had ******** Lawr while he was not Lawr but Chantelle - in the portal room, of all places. This was the Sasha who had straddled the Doctor on the couch of his office, the one who still wanted to sink her teeth into him so very badly that her bones ached - and not in a pleasant way, but to devour him whole so that she might completely consume him.

"You haven't forgotten this one, have you, sir?"

Sasha took another sip of her wine, her entire frame slipping back into something more comfortable and easy to maintain. Once again she twirled the fluted glass between her finger and thumb, pausing for a moment to peer at the food that had been placed before her.

"This smells divine."

Sasha reached for her fork, her eyes flicking towards the Doctor. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"They're all still me, you know, sir. And I am not ashamed of any of them."