The deranged beast that had once been the Jester walked through the corridors of his lair, towards the furthest cavern. The interior of it was that of a partially constructed building, and in a few areas various tables, chairs, and desks covered in increasingly complex-looking equipment. The Dawnsteel was hefted lightly over a shoulder, as was the almost entirely-cooled corpse of one of his closest friends and the blade?s namesake, Breeanalore Dawnsteel. The blade was settled upon a table behind him. Her body, not yet having fallen to the stiffening deathliness of rigor mortis, remained as limp as if she was simply sleeping off a very traumatic brawl. She was set upon the table with a tender, almost loving care. Her shirt and pants were cut away with a few careful passes with a razor-sharp claw. Her boots were removed and set aside, as was her belt. This left her in the bikini she?d had on beforehand, and there were no burns going below what that covered so until the most important facets of the trophy?s preparation came into effect, that could remain in-place. There was almost a moment of painful remembrance, but it wouldn?t break the madness that held him now.

Her hair was wet, the water he?d brought to the table in several pots and vats already sudsy and nearly crimson from the amount of blood that had soaked into her hair throughout their little trip. Once washed properly, it shone as it had before this had begun. Her arms were then tended to. The burns were washed thoroughly, and a healing salve had been applied to them. By the time he?d properly cleaned the blade, Bree looked as though she were sleeping, with arms and a neck that seemed to have been burned a long time ago. It was then that he began to tend to her face. It was so very beautifully constructed. The bash from his skull to hers hadn?t had time to properly bruise before the end. It was just a little reddened, might?ve been a friction burn for any caring to inspect. He dabbed at it gently, with a small measure of the salve that had been so useful thus far. It was now, as he looked upon her closed eyes and eerily red lips, that his eye died down to a golden-red and he heard and saw one thing more clearly than all the memories that came rushing into his mind.

?Don?t??

It rang out in his ears as he regained the lost awareness. Her eyes went dead right in front of him. Her body fell limp. His hands were around her throat. This is wrong. This didn?t happen. This.. Isn?t?. No? His hand was still hovering inches from her face. He pulled it back as though he?d been struck with a blessed weapon. He?d noticed her there.

That was the moment in which his mind shattered.

It wasn?t whipped up into a frenzy. It wasn?t raging or belligerent. It was broken. He?d actually, physically, with his own bare hands, killed her. Bree. The most loving and forgiving person he knew. The person he?d get drunk and wander around the streets with, laughing the night away. One of the closest friends he?d ever made. He couldn?t accept it. This wasn?t happening. They?d had to have simply done something wrong. She was just sleeping, maybe? His senses weren?t even called into play for this. He was too afraid of what they might tell him. ?Bree??? His hand moved out towards her, slowly and steadily, until he gave her a gentle nudge. She moved, slightly and made no other indication of doing anything. Ever. ?Bree? You.. You?ve won. You? You can stop holding your breath now! You can breathe again!? He was beginning to plead with her. It was pathetic, truly. There was something there then, from later. The voice was Stitch?s. He could only get parts of it, though. What was he saying?

?Yer worfless. Ye 'ave less o' a soul n' I do. Ye si' back n' enjoy while I suffer like this.. 'Cause yer th' smar' one. Yer th' one tha's go' e'eryfin' unner control. Ye pick n' choose wha' 'appens n' wha' affec's yeh... which I fink is safe t' say is noffin. Ye fink yer grea'. Charmin'. Ge' away wiff anyfin. N' wha'? WHY DON' YE KEEP ME FROM THIS?! WHY DO THEY ALL DIE?? His hands held lightly onto her upper arm. The right side. His eyes were glassy, but he couldn?t feel them so he didn?t know. He might very well be disgusted with himself if this becomes the time he discovers he?s capable of crying. ?Please! Bree! stop it! Just get up! DON?T LEAVE ME HERE LIKE THIS!?

But, she did.

Her body erupted in silvery fire. It was familiar, yet different. At any rate, it startled the Hell out of him and he promptly fell backwards out of his stool. He crawled back then, upon hands and feet, to the wall. His knees were brought up to his chest, and he pressed himself as harshly into the concrete as he could as her body flaked away like paper in an inferno. If it were something out of a movie, it would?ve looked beautiful. In this case, however, it was eerie and a little horrifying. By the time there was nothing left of her, the fires died down. It was then that two twin droplets broke the glassy surface of his eyes and slid down his face. Many would think that a sickeningly disrespectful amount to shed for an atrocity such as he?d committed, but he wasn?t in the many. He looked at where she?d been. He remembered her there. She wasn?t there anymore. Everything was wrong.

?Disappointing, Ski. Very, very disappointing.? She was there then. That short dress, those legs, that fiery hair, and the voice. Kairee. Things were heading downhill, to be sure.

"Hello? Helllooooo? Can anyone hear me? Please..."
Bree's voice broke across the barren terrain she'd found herself in countless hours ago. Or was it days? Whatever it was it felt like an eternity, and yet she felt no thirst when she should have been parched, no hunger when she should have been ravenous. She remembered a blinding burst of silver, searing heat she was certain would flay her flesh from her bones and leave them ashes.
Yet here she was, definitely not ashes, and definitely naked. She looked dubiously down at the thin layer of snow under her bare toes. Felt nothing. Not even a shiver. The land, she observed with her keen warrior's eye, had been ravaged by countless battles. Scars upon the hills and plains boasted tales of wars lost and won. It was the sky, however, which troubled her most of all. Dark and foreboding clouds turned endlessly in on themselves, circling around a pitch black vortex which, no matter how far she walked, always seemed to be directly above her head.
"Why does this look so familiar?"she wondered aloud, gazing up at the shawody nimbus.
Suddenly, a great rumbling broke the silence, resounding like thunder off a nearby cliff-face. Bree startled and looked towards the source. Her mouth dropped open as she gaped at the horizon where what looked to be an entire army was surging directly toward her. They were all on horseback, standards thrust high as they marched closer and closer. In an act she would later dub as insane, she immediately threw her arms up in the air and ran towards the horde, waving desperately. "Hello! Hello there! Excuse me but I was wondering if I could trouble you for...hello?"
She peered curiously up at the heavily armored figures, resplendent on their steeds, all faces bent forward.
"Can you hear me?" she addressed a particular soldier on a tall black horse, planting herself directly in his path, "Please I'm certain you're all very busy but I've lost my.....hey, stop!" She covered her face in alarm, fully expecting to be trodden on by giant hooves.
But instead of trampling Bree into the ground, he passed right through her.
"Oh gods..." she husked as her very substance intermingled with the imposing figure's. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move in that moment in which they were merged.
Couldn't breathe.
Can't breathe.
Skiddle?
Skid...
Her words were cut short as her air supply was suddenly cut off. Hands came up to pull hard at his, anything to get them off of her throat. The electric gray pools began to water. She was suffocating. "Sk...stttt....pll....sssss..." was all she could manage. Her head, forced back at a very dangerous angle, lolled to see the stars. They twinkled down at her, then swirled, and began to go very, very dark. Under his crushing grip she strained with tired neck muscles to look over at him, the pallor of her face now a dangerous bluish tone. Her teeth grit hard and her chest heaved in vain. One hand let go of his arms and reached, quivering, to poke him in the nose with all the fierceness of a baby kitten, "Don't..." rang out crystal against the alley walls as the gray pools that were Bree's eyes suddenly lost their shimmer and the body in his clutches went limp, her other hand falling to her side as she slumped.


And then they passed beyond her, and her breath came back, pouring into her lungs in gasps.
"Wait...No! Please come back!" she shrieked at the departing warriors, her own hands now pawing at her collarbone as she tried to shake off the horrid memory but the action only caused her to notice something else. "Where's my locket?!"
Tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn't even sure why she'd kept wearing the thing. Her and Stitch were over. He'd made his choice when he got into bed with whoever the red-headed whore was...hadn't he? Involuntarily the scent memory filled the grain nymph's nose and nearly caused her to gag. If only she'd been able to tell him how it felt to collide against another woman's fragrance wrapped around him like an impassable barrier that clearly said "Stay away. He's mine now."

He had never said he loved her anyways.

She turned again to look in the direction from which the army had come. Something there was casting a glow up into the sky. Happy for any distraction from her deplorable straits, she trudged across the icy ground towards it. Ahead of her, loomed a gateway.
No. A portal.
The girl crept tentatively near the alien archway, staring transfixed at its luminescent watery surface that obscured the landscape beyond, if there was even land beyond at all. What she saw actually reminded her of a school of fish, twisting and flitting kaleidoscopically inside the pool.
Bree, who had done enough dungeon crawling in her life, knew better than to just stick an experimental toe through the veil. Instead, she stooped to pick up a stone and pitched it at the center. It incinerated then burst into tiny fragments the moment it broke through. "Well, so much for that idea."
After staring for some time, she found herself recognizing the pattern, the shift in the material. Skid had taken her to that place. What lay beyond the void, was Limbo. "THAT's why I'm naked!". She remembered her last experience in the plane well. Of course, this realization would have come as more of a relief to her if Skiddle, the only person she knew who could set foot in that realm, had not so recently squeezed the life from her in the alley with his bare hands.
She called out to the vortex before her, thinking of her friends which might have some experience with such things, "Kairee?" then added more hopefully, "...Damien?"
No one answered. As far as she knew the only person who could access Limbo was Skid. Defeated, she sunk to the ground and drew her knees in against her chest, watching the gateway rather like a puppy waiting for its master to return home. Only in this case he would either come finish her, or set her free. All she could do was wait.

Time stretched on as Bree waited in that unassuming red mass, a dot in the sky miles above Limbo; the place known as Warrior's Rest.