Weaver stood tall as she peered out at the world ruled by the Underworld King. If any Weaver had been the only one of the Godspeed girls that knew and could claim the realm of the Parted Veil as her home. She had been born and raised in the Parted Veil much as her sworn had been.

Weaver would be different. She was not like the Blue Death, and far from the Hourglass Girl that stood beside her now.

?Are you ready for this now, sister sworn??

The gold of her eyes drifted down toward the smaller woman as her fingers tightened on her spear as she considered the woman beside her. There were subtle changes in Astraea unseen by eyes that would not search, but Weaver?s wisdom had always left her intone with a crafted sharpness of the alteration of the nature of all.

?I am.?

?You need to be. The son of the Under King is not one easily claimed. I have heard that the Lord of War was sent to watch over this Prince of Below.?

?The Lord of War?was he not your?um.?

?Yes. The answer you seek is yes.?

?But wasn?t there whispers he was meant to guard the Prince of Below.?

?So he is, but he is not here now is he? and this discord is disturbing the work of the Blue Death.?

Weaver?s eyes narrowed sharply, the frown savage and severe as she faced the wicked chill of the waste lands. The spear held fast in grip.

?They come. Be ready.?

It was the only warning Weaver could offer Astraea before destruction broke loose. The ruling of the Waste lands known as in the distance the discord of the Prince of Below was taking claim.

Weaver screamed out a war cry as the spear was thrown, in peripherals she would find the collapse of the Hourglass Girl. Blood a bright blooming rose against the white of Astraea?s dress as the wraiths of the waste land descended upon her.

Time seemed strange and corrupt as Weaver tore through the wraiths, but even as she fought back a handful more came forth. It was a trap. The whole thing had been a trap.

Deep in the cinder dark of the Waste Lands Weaver saw the Prince of Below and knew his laughter as chaos. Weaver?s teeth were bared into a savage snarl as she sneered at the one that had taken his wraiths to attack the Hourglass Girl.

?You??

The spear was claimed once more in possession of her grip as she watched the Prince of Below? the one to blame for taking the Lord of War from her, and now the one that was taking the Hourglass girl as his own.

It was only in that proximity of closeness to the bloody and crumpled frame of the Hourglass girl did she see the shattered pieces of the timepiece lying at her feet trailed through with tourmaline and azare... spread all around Astraea as if she herself had been broken.

Such could only mean one thing? time would change.

(Slightly mature content.)

Sheets entwined two sets of legs, a proverbial ribbon of lovers bound together solely by physical boundaries. Inky streaks of hair soiled sheets and caressed the cheeks of the man the cancerous butterfly found last night, unraveling herself from him in a graceful twist. She hadn't a single care in the world that her thinly stretched, milky complexion was bare to his wandering eyes, nude, slender silhouette draped in the crisp morning glow of sunshine from an uncovered window. It highlighted desirable assets, casting a blend of shadow that forced only a hint of imagination to take shape. A calamity of scarring and ebon stitching, doodles of sewn misfortune on the woman's tattered surface, snaked along the curve of spine, wrapping hips and ribs alike. They were juxtaposed with inky blue and red tattoos that blessed protrusion of shoulder blades, crosses and wings and fox's prowls. Her carelessness roused the one caught in a game of love beneath the sheets she shed from, a mere child to his emotions, deep chocolate eyes fluttering in a sign of morbid life.

"Mmnn, good morning, Mayu," he gruffly offered to the woman, hands coaxing locks of amber, still soaked from the night, out of his face.

She provided no reply, slender bends of white withdrawing from the shared bed to the nearby dresser where jewelry was scattered. Clothing littered the floor, cushioning soles, presenting a tale of animalistic carnage that unfolded the night previous. Their entwined desire still caked the air in a passionate, lustful aura. Rings and bracelets and earrings found their ways back on her person, each and every single silver garment accounted for.

He spilled from the sheets, toned body rippling with each drawn, sweeping motion. He rose and captured the fleeting woman in caging arms, fingers outlining marred flesh, kissing what lie beneath the surface in both sensual touch that cuffed the swelling of meager breasts and dastardly pecks to the crown of her head.

"I love the way you move, girl," his breathy voice sinking into an ear clustered with clamps, studs and rings. "The way I make you bite down on your bottom lip like that? especially when filling you with-"

A hand of Mayu's lifted to his chin, shoving him away in a manner that was neither appreciative nor rough. The valley of exposed skin was hidden away when retrieving her jacket and shrugging it on, the tail dipping low enough to grace the floor, the stink of their drinking the previous evening staining the clothing and stimulating an unpleasant twitch of her nose. She turned to face him, the meadow of her lower half still ripe for the viewing. He drank in that pleasurable section willingly.

"Where's my pants?" she asked with a snarky snap of tone, equally terse in feeling.

He stumbled far enough back that the dimple of knees clipped the edge of the mattress, balance proving easy to regather. He laughed. A smug, arrogant cackle. "Hell if I know, babe. You tore those suckers off before we even got back to the dorm."

She had done just that. In the alley where she'd met the stranger, drinking away his pitiful existence. That first moment they shared in barely a minute's time. She cursed under her breath, whirling about to find her image in the square mirror to wrap up tails of hair. Her sharp gaze weaved past the row of bite marks that penetrated skin along the rounded edge of slight bosom, barely a thought to their branding presence.

She'd suffered much worse than he, rivaled only by the immense pleasure he'd shattered her with. The tradeoff was worth her time. The lay was, overall, a resounding success. The void was, for now, filled. The calling of night would prove otherwise.

He quickly regained lost terrain, arms like slithering eels coiling her waist and pulling her against him. The curl of her rump found a perfect pocket against the space between legs, his eagerness apparent without heightened question. She ignored it, and by that stretch, him as well.

"Want to give it another go, babe?" he inquired, sweltering breath puffing along revealed, succulent section of neck once hair was done up.

Another uninterested shove pried him from her person, moving aside the dresser to gather what belongings were thrown aside once they found adequate privacy. A bra and heeled boots that clutched the base of knee were all that she'd somehow kept up with. Without looking back to him, she pulled the door open, concern absent in her mind that she'd be a barely clad woman in the men's dorm of Fuka Academy. It was not the first time. It was not to be the last.

Gone was that man's smug attitude and proud arrogance. Swiftly, he moved to arrest her before she found escape, hand tightly gripping a wrist. "Hold on a second, babe. Where do you think you're going?"

She froze in motion, daring a raging glance over a shoulder to him. The furrow of eye ridge wished to crush his meager existence where it stood. "I think I'm leaving, Reiji. Do you have a problem with that?"

Her snap reply startled him, but he refused to release his iron grip on her wrist, tugging at her to force her back into the room with him. The door closed of its own natural accord. "Yeah, I think I do. We just had an amazing night. Don't think those words we exchanged last night was for nothing."

'An amazing night' was subjective. Reiji was one of those clingy types, wasn't he? He rattled on the previous night about how much she'd made him feel better about himself; the way she expressed her interest in him giving him a fighting chance at self-esteem. Had it not been for her, it was certain he would have taken his life last night. She'd heard those lines so many times in the past; they were second nature to inattentive ears. It was a shame she wore herself out in that greedy want to be fulfilled constantly by a man willing to provide over and over again, otherwise this scene could have been prevented. She scoffed up to him, shaking off his grip that loosened following his success to keep her there in the same room with him. An amused grin eased into place of indifference, "Whatever. I've got places to be."

Amber fell over his eyes, cutting away a glimmer of ache her sardonic tone caused. "'Whatever'? What are you saying?"

She turned away from him, reaching to clasp the door's handle again. "I'm saying leave me the hell alone, dumbass. I don't give a shit about how you feel. All you were good for was a lay. Which I got, since you were wallowing in all this self-pity crap." She cut him out of her life with nothing more than that. "Hope not to see you around school, Reiji."

She pulled the door open, but it only proved to be a hazard working against her. A concussive blow met her skull that she couldn't have seen coming, slender figure snapping forward into the sharp edge of the metal door she was holding. Ink splattered the air in her whipping motion, falling in disarray over an expression of unbridled pain. Warm wetness trickled her brow when making contact with the frame of the door, beads of deep crimson rolling along the ridge of nose and over the parting of her mouth when she sank with a sickeningly thud to the floor.

"You stupid bitch," he sneered, stomping forward toward her dropped figure.

It was a theory close to chaos in her mind, a tangible dream running rampant and wild in her thoughts as she stretched out. She was a livewire, cold fire igniting in her veins to leave the star shine into something far more violent and raw.

The images flashed before her coating her vision with the things she wanted but could not have. The envy roared through her, twisting with that needful lust for things she could not possess. Sneering at her reflection she turned from the happy ever after the Parted Veil played of her other self, the Pale Star and those she kept companion with. No longer.

There were things Rosaura wanted that she could not have, and she wanted nothing more then to tear apart all that joy and happiness the Hourglass Girl had known. It was time the Star Maiden took over and claimed her place. She had been miserable and alone for so long, it didn't seem fair that Astraea could obtain everything she wanted.

Rosaura cared nothing for chaos, and wished to know nothing more about balance as skin abandoned the flowing lace and silk once worn. Replaced instead with leather and vinyl.

Dressed in black.

She eased back on the bed, a rise of dancer nimble leg iin the air as she zipped up one boot and then the other. A satisfied smile coiled as dangerous a viper across her lips as she smudged a blood red gloss upon the sultry pout.

Near vibrating with energy and anticipation she rose and pushed her hand through the glass to open the portal to the Parted Veil. It was time she paid Rhy'din and the dearest beloved of the Hourglass Girl.

It was time to play...

The world was on fire
No one could save me but you
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

None shall claim that last breath save him.

Some bits you lose, some bits you keep - in this ages-long evolution he has learned this is true.

But the bits you keep are the most important, the central core of yourself that can never be denied. So it is with all things great and small, whether they realize it or not. The universe wastes nothing in the end.

She may have been the victor in war, this is true - the long term was never his specialty. But the battle, the fray, the feud, call it what you will - this is his province.

And he's evolved since those long-ago days.

The wraiths don't know he's there until it's too late. With a bellow like the God of old he wades in, the spear in his hand a lance of burning light, bare-skinned save for a pair of brief leather shorts and boots of matching material.

The old ways, sometimes, are the best.

The wraiths fall and flee before the burning light, screeching out an awful wailing sound that makes the light dimmer with their dark voices. As they close, he snarls, whirling and stabbing in every direction. As one wraith leaps at him he pierces it with the point with ferocity enough that it stabs out the other side. That burning light flares out with pure white brilliance, consuming the wraith from the inside out even as it writhes in agony.

Others pour onto him, savage and furious at the vanquishing of their brother, even as others are beaten away. Just before he reaches the Weaver the spear is torn from his grasp, its light extinguished. Pain sears along his back as their claws rend his skin. Shallow cuts only, as they can dig no deeper into his tough hide. Reaching back over his shoulder, he grips the head of the wraith and twists. Its neck broken, it slithers to the ground as he breaks into the clearing created by his fellow deity of the feud.

He knows her purpose here, who she comes for and why. And even if he can't allow her to take the Prince, he will not allow her to fall by his minions, either.

Seizing her sword from its sheath even as she swings the spear - his spear, he now realizes, left behind all those many ages ago - he cuts up and across. The sword flares with golden-brilliant light as it meets a wraith falling upon them from above, and it dissolves into foul-smelling smoke. A look over his shoulder at her reveals the red light of blood lust gleaming in his gaze mingled with laughter.

"Of all the people to fall for this simplistic ruse, dearest, I would have thought you the least likely."

Looking beyond her and the snarling shadowy forms around them, he sees his ward. The look on his features is familiar enough - he had seen it on the street not far from the Inn's steps as the Prince leaned over a now-catatonic young man. The punk would recover, true enough, and with enough therapy might be able to lead a life without nightmares and a perfectly rational fear of the dark.

Foolish. He had gotten too close, and somehow the boy had sensed him.

It doesn't matter how, of course - somehow the boy had known, and managed to lull him into a false sense of security as he shooed away the wraiths and walked for home in a dilapidated section of WestEnd. He'd stayed long enough to feel comfortable that the Prince wasn't going anywhere else for the night before heading south.

His other wards would be hungry by now, and he missed wrestling with the growing pair of cubs. They don't seem to mind having someone their own size they can be rough with.

The next morning he'd gone to resume his watch over the son of his uncle, only to find that the boy had vanished. To where, he had no idea...that had been a week ago, and until today, when he had begun to think he should ask his uncle's help in locating him and facing being humiliated, he had felt it.

Felt her.

His sister spirit, her presence fiercer, more wanton than he remembered. Not the cool, dispassionate nemesis that had won the wars while he ruled the battlefield, but a flame of passion, a burning brand in the darkness...

The Wastelands? Oh, you fool...you know that's his realm!

He had come prepared - a spear taken from Apollo's arsenal would not last long here, but it would be enough to make it to the Weaver's side, where he stands now.

He hadn't really planned beyond that...but then, planning has never been his style.

He prefers to improvise.

When she had known him, the amulet at his neck had held an intricate engraving of great black hounds baying for blood, loosed on the battlefield. Little has changed, and as he looks down and whispers to it, the amulet flashes crimson.

That circle of shadows is still closing around them when the first howl sounds, a long, drawn out cry that pauses them all. It's joined by another...and then others....and suddenly from all sides the chorus rises and the reddish light of their eyes can be seen, great black shaggy wolfhounds that race forward as one with flames in their eyes.

There is a moment when all falls silent - the wraiths, the hounds, the Prince, the very air itself - and into that sudden hush he whispers, his lips turned upward in a familiar, gleeful smile.

"Cry havoc..."

And then the air is rent with screeches and the baying of the hounds as the Dogs of War are unleashed.

The pain had her screaming in agony as her fingers clutched into the blankets as her eyes swarmed with colors that near blinded her. The screams became whimpers of agony as she started to look around at her surroundings.

The gentle sound of the bird of prey had her looking over to Weaver's Owl and she mustered up a smile towards the bird.

"Thank you."

A whisper, her voice sounded savage and raw from where the wraiths near had strangled her. Somewhere close to her heart there was a burning rawness, a searing heat. The light within her felt like it was shattering her and cutting her open from the inside out.

There was another avian cry before the soft black blinded her eyes and her bandaged hands reached up to bury in soft raven feathers.

"Hello again..."

Only then with the Raven and Weaver's Owl in her companionship did clarity clear the haze from her mind.

"Toby!"
"Quiet. He's not here."

The swift reaction to that cemetary hushed voice had the Star crying out in pain as she sank down against the pillows of the bed. Crystal bright eyes held a fading of light as they focused on the Blue Death.

"Please... I need to see him."
"I don't think that's a good idea. Not yet, not now. I don't think you would much like what you see."
"Please..."

The tears spilled over before she could claim them as her own as she curled up upon herself as a broken child, sobbing quietly to herself even as she saw far more then she wished to. Rosaura had come and with a broken timepiece there was nothing she could do to fix it, to return to him.

Defeated in that moment even the caress of feathers from the raven did nothing to calm her as the sobs of the Hourglass continued. She could not blame Chela for her lack of comfort when the woman was the Death Fae in those morning hours. Still she could hear the other woman sigh as she sat down at her bed side.

"This is not dying... we will find a way, Astraea. We will find a way to fix this and I will do what I can to bring him to you... but we're trapped right now, Star. The Under King has us."

She had cried to the point she couldn't cry any more. In that time Chela had paced the prison cell. For a prison cell it wasn't so bad but even the Blue Death knew what a cage was. It had been fortified well to assure that no matter the hour, Chela would not be able to escape.

At least the Under King cared nothing for the visitations of the birds.

"Astraea, look."
"Leave me be."

The Star's voice was a soft broken thing, worn with too much crying and anguish. She had seen it all through Rosaura's eyes as if staring at her own mirrored reflection. The kiss between the Spark and the Star Maiden, the looks between Katt and Toby, all of it had left her in despair's clutches.

Weaver's Owl made his greeting known before the pressure of an added weight on the bed had her looking in his direction. An unmistakable box.

She sat up so fast that it brought a yelp of pain from her as she looked from the Owl to the Crow to share their silent commune. The bandaged hand reached up to curl into the crow's feathers before a smile crossed her lips as the bird relayed the other avian's message.

Taking the box she looked through the contents as she almost laughed. She could almost see him urging her to eat. One of the tubes was freed from his stopper and she swallowed down the shining blue as Chela watched on with her alien dark eyes.

"He still cares..."

Relief lived on through that whisper as she executed a quick way of devouring those dumplings. She hardly realized how hungry she had been until that moment. Her wrist held out and the crow alighted there as she eased out of the bed.

"Star. You don't think it's too soon?"
"No. They were planning on me to be broken for far longer. I can't leave the Wastelands, not yet, but this...prison I can. We can."

That brightness was back in her eyes. Such light was never meant to belong or exist in the Wastelands. She only had a moment to warn the Blue Death to shield her eyes before Astraea unleashed the full power of her light.

Moon and Star brilliance would shine from her, setting her figure in a blaze of color before the force of that power was shoved towards the prison bars and sent them to shatter.

Only when that light was sucked back in within her spirit did she look at Chela with a sheepish grin and a tiny giggle. The look from the painter was one she'd never forget.

"Let's go!"

She remembered in that last minute not to touch Chela before she took off running down the halls of the prison. It was time to do what she could to return to those she loved.

"How much time, Chela?"

She couldn't hide the fear in her voice as she stopped there before the other girl, hugging herself and holding on. It was almost the fear if she let go she would break apart into a thousand tiny shining pieces.

Astraea saw the Death Fae's lips moving but did not hear the words. A reflection through eyes not her own and Toby filled them. She saw nothing but Toby. Heard him calling out for her as much as she heard the voice of the other girl she had only come to know through Rosaura.

Her voice called out for him and through the possession of the Parted Veil she struggled. A battle born of spirit she struggled within as much as outside of herself. It felt unusual to fight the Imposter. His words drove her on. The emotions, the love there carried her through. He loved her.

Never in so many words was it spoken, more so he showed her by actions and expressions. He carried his heart through his emotions. Astraea gathered all that spirited energy of the love they shared and thrust it into the Imposter to sever the hold the Parted Veil had on them both.

She felt the world falling away even as she collapsed even as she watched herself through Rosaura take possession of Rosaura's timepiece to shove the sun dial right through her heart.

When she opened her eyes again the world was filled with color. Phoenix red and sun gold and the brilliant artic blue. All she saw was him when she opened her eyes and found herself in his arms.

Toby.