Welcome to Gaia! ::

he lays in his bed looking at the cold dark ceiling thinking of the days of the past her words and pictures of her flash through his head. He yearns for her touch the emotions he felt but now thats impossible. but something keeps him alive it was her last words she said: Live on for me never forget who you are please for me) as she died in his arms he gave his answer through a whisper:yes for you anything) he held her tight intill her last breath was given. He sits up on his bed the says to himself: Gogandantes stop dwelling on the past) he picks up his coat and walks out of the room then downstairs to the bar to drink away his memories

Reaching the fifth floor without a sound,her shadow casting oddly in every direction.An inaudible sigh passing between her lips as she sets off down the many rows of rooms,stopping in the most desolate area's of light.A dead end or it would seem,a door to her liking almost begging home.Opening the door without a sound and shutting it behind her to hear a soft click and a rush of cold wind.A simple wave of her hand and a soft red glow from her left hands fingertips,the room began changing form and creaking with onimous howls.After all was down,a single lantern in the center of the ceiling,casting a black flame with flicks of silver light.The floor seemed just plain black wood with silver glints every now and then.One window with a window seat included,a wodden chair and desk and of course a simple bed with black sheets and velvet drapes.Lightly placing her right hand on the wall closest to her a form of dialouge began forming all over the room in what appeared to be blood before vanishing out of sight.Just before heading back down to the lobby she whispered lightly to herself

"Morbid thought of sweet misery waiting breathlessly on deadly lips,frozen with grim determination of revenge...Bitter sweet courtesy are the raging corpses that fight blind...."

Sighing as he ascended the three floors from ground that he needed to reach his quarters, he had thought of nothing but that one person that dominated his mind. It was obvious how it was bordering on obsession, but he forced it out of his mind. Looking around at the slightly altered hall, he walked down it until he came face to face with the far pane of glass, his nose but inches from it as he gazed out across the, what he thought of as, diseased landscape, as if the very plains were dying. But that should change. The thought ran through his mind as he looked out, referring to how those who had inhabited this Mansion before would soon return.

Looking back about ten paces, he saw the door on his right, opening the door but seconds later. He walked through, and grinned. Minus the lack of dust, it was like no-one had lived there in the last few months that he had been absent from the Mansion. His bed was just made as he had left it, even the rug had that kink in it that he had meant to walk out before he left, but never did.

He looked at the bed, the walnut contrasting with the otherwise light shades of the walls and furniture, slowly walking around it, admiring the craftsmanship. However, he noticed scratches, about half way along the bed on the top of the side-planks. They were on both sides, and were in universal direction. Vertical.

"Forward and back." He said to himself, shielding a dark grin in his mind with a slight smirk on his face. "Forward and back indeed." He added, caressing the scratches and impressions of heels digging in. She had been violent, but he didn't think she had been that physical. Obviously she had, as he sat on the windowsill, having opened the window's door-style twin-panes easily, looking to the bed and reminiscing of lost times.

Stepping out of her room she caught a glimpse of someone entering the room at the end of the hall,leaving it to a later thought she descended the stairs to the fourth floor where she stopped for but a brief moment as she assessed how many rooms were occupied then continued down to the first floor.

He didn't even need to look at the door, or try to hear the differences in knocking patterns or 'styles' to realise who it was.

He stood up from the bed, and took off his coat. He had been wearing it simply because the windows were open, and it was a rather chilly day. She probably never felt it, but he would, simply because of the half human blood flowing through his veins. It was enough to set the hairs on the back of his neck up, but little else.

He walked to the door, and opened it, seeing the face of someone he had once told he would sacrifice himself for. What an unneedy act that would be, now.

"What is it?" He asked, dispensing with the pleasantries. It was obvious he was hurting, to some degree, but not even she could see that deep into a halfbreed's soul.

Reincarnate was only momentarily surprised at his sharp tone. Her eyes widened slightly and then closed into a dark glare. Sure, she made a horrible human being. She wasn't compassionate, trustworthy, or in that sense, loyal. But what was she suppose to do, wait forever? Forever was much to long.

She straightened her gown and her chin came up making her seem much taller than him. "We need to talk." She pushed past him into the room, her gown making a pattern on the dusty ground.

She folded her hands, now feeling awkward as if words were not meant to be spoken in such a place. Words and phrases that she had told herself to say to him fled her mind on wings. Her tongue danced along her lips, searchingly.

"Well. How have you been?" What words were these?! She inwardly groaned.

The way he painted her was lacking beauty, life. She hated him for saying such things.

But his words also poked at something inside her being. Was this truly what she had made him and herself into? And had she not waited for him also? In some recess of her mind, she remembered days of not coming out of her room, slowly watching every one once dear to her leave, and nights sleeping with nightmares. Soon days were not distinguishable from the night and she was always sleeping.

She wondered if this was her impromptu cue to leave him forever alone. Her eyes stared back into his and she wanted to beseech him, she wanted apologies to fill her lips and pass into his soul. But more than anything she wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that she hadn't used him, that he wasn't just another jewel in her locked crystal box.

A step forward. A pause. Two steps backward, a symbol of a hundred meanings. Maybe they didn't need to talk after all. He'd made up his mind it seemed and she'd soon make up her own.