He was starving, exhausted. It had only been ten days ? or was it more ? since he?d last fed and the hunger was beginning to wear on him, wear him thin. He looked haggard, pale beyond the natural tone of human skin, the veins showing like blue spider webs beneath the translucent skin, his icy, pale blue eyes sunken, giving him a haunted look. Being in the tavern had been nearly more than he could bear. The warm crush of soft bodies all around pressing close like sweet temptations feeding the hunger that clawed at his innards insistently.

Erin had been there? warm, soft Erin with her sweet, devilish little smile. She?d been drunk, again, smelling wonderfully of whiskey and wine. He?d barely been able to stop his mouth from watering. How easily he could have taken her, cradled her fragile little body and drained her dry, reveling in the taste and rush of the alcohol he could no longer have himself, losing himself in the ecstasy of her blood as its intoxicant-laden heat rushed into his mouth and down his throat while her life slipped away.

He paused in the alleyway and groaned softly, even the thought of it. It had been all he could do to drag himself away from her, to deny himself the pleasure he wanted ? and Gideon had never been one to deny himself pleasure in any form. But that was the reason he was here, and if he ever wanted to leave this miserable, one-horse, backwoods, backwards town it was a lesson he would have to learn ? or at least pretend to.

So he had left the inn, left the sweetly drunken Erin behind and made his way out into the alleyways of Rhy?din, knowing that he needed to feed his hunger and feed it soon or risk making a mistake that could cost him dearly.

Ten days ? he knew he should be able to go for longer, left in isolation he could have survived indefinitely depending upon how strong he was mentally. But here, with the press of others so close all the time the temptation was too much to resist. Gideon refused to take what he needed by force, though. Despite what he was and his nature the act of attacking an unwilling, unwitting victim was too much like rape for his tastes. Messy, violent, and emotional ? the blood tainted with the bitter tang of fear. No, he enjoyed the seduction, the sly and silent dance, drawing his lovers into a web they couldn?t see. But he had no time for that tonight.

He strode through the alleyways, feeling the heartbeats of those around him in the dark, the poor unfortunates of the town that stood in the shadows or crouched by the buildings. He could smell them; scent their blood, their bodies. He could reach out and hear their thoughts as he passed by them. A woman, he preferred women, always, though men were larger. He ducked into a shallow dead-end behind a dingy, old hotel. Leaning up against the damp brick wall he closed his eyes and let his head drop back as he drew a breath he didn?t need to take.

Breathing was a hard habit to break, even when the body no longer needed oxygen the brain?s impulses still went on. Vincent no longer breathed anymore ? but then again Vincent no longer did much of anything human anymore. The thought of him set Gideon?s teeth on edge and he pushed it away firmly. He drew another deep breath and reached out, out to the street rats around him, the junkies and runaways, the homeless and drunks. It was a clever little trick Eve had taught him? in fact it was how she had ensnared him herself. He could reach out, stand in the streets, even before houses, open his arms and reach out and call to those who wanted his release. They would come, the ones that craved death, craved indulgence, craved his absolution. They would wander into his arms and embrace him, dull-eyed and dim-witted as the sacrificial lambs they were. Tonight would be no different.

It was a young girl, a teenager perhaps, it was hard to tell, pin-thin little wisp who answered his silent call tonight. She hadn?t been far away, crouched by a pile of refuse. If the scent of her was any indication she hadn?t seen shelter or a bath in more than a month. She was scrawny and strung out, but she was alive and she came, sleep-walking into his arms like a lover, slipping her fragile arms around him blithely as he gathered her to him. She didn?t even make a noise, not a whimper as his teeth sunk in and tore away a chunk of her throat. He held her close, gorging, the taste of her like manna from heaven as her hot blood filled his mouth. He could feel it, literally feel his body absorb her essence, feel himself take on her heat as every cell plumped and the ache eased. He let her memories, her emotions, all of it pass away. He cared not a whit to know her or who she was. The sharing was nothing but a bother to him, it always had been. It was the pleasure, the taking that he loved the most.

Usually he didn?t kill, but he was too starved not to take all he could from this little forgotten one. He could feel her weak heart falter, speed up, falter again. She whimpered then, making a soft gurgling noise as he crushed her closer, feeling her ribs break slowly as his arms tightened around her with preternatural strength. He fed greedily, drawing out all he could before he could feel her death rolling over her, tearing his mouth away just in time. He couldn?t swallow her death, he didn?t want to. Some he knew loved it, usually the same ones who enjoyed the bitter blood of violence, but it was an acquired taste Gideon never had a palate for.

The nameless girl slumped backwards in his arms with that odd, almost amusing boneless ness that accompanied the complete release of muscle tension. He gathered her up and gently placed her in the nearby dumpster, closing the lid over her lifeless form. He brushed himself off carelessly and fixed the collar of his coat as he licked the blood from his lips. She hadn?t been up to his usual standards, but she?d done the job admirably. The hunger still gnawed at him somewhat, but its howls had been reduced to a mere whining, and he could tell his appearance and attitude had been markedly changed.

He lit a cigarette as he strode out of the secluded dead-end and out into the maze of alleyways once again. He?d have to repeat his little act once, maybe twice more before he could be truly satisfied, but the night was young yet and he had all the time in the world.

The envelope, once opened contained a letter on a thick, almost parchment paper. Once it was drawn out of the envelope, Erin's necklace(the one that Gideon had given here) rested at the bottom of the envelope. It was curled up into a little knot, the charm sitting above the balled up chain.

Her script was spidery, to say the least, it was hard to read, but well formed and consistant.

"Gideon-

It?s always been a challenge for me to express myself in words. Though my actions are often confusing, they are all I have. I am not a vastly educated woman- University traded for marriage and inevitably motherhood, so I never learned the art of letters like I did the art of china patterns. This missive is my sore excuse of an explanation, and furthermore, a goodbye.

I have wracked my brain for a legitimate explanation for either of our behaviors. My conclusion, about myself at least, is jealousy. Of course I took our declaration of casualness and assertion of independence as far as I did?I never was one to subscribe to double standards. I was so jealous of your dinners, flirtations and business trips, that I threw myself on most any man. I wanted you to claim me as your own and give up your freedom in exchange for mine.

I know now, love or no love, that you will not relinquish control, and I will not give up mine non-mutually. You once said that all I wanted was love, and in part, you?re right. Though, you?ve said you love me, and I believe that I loved you(if not still), my definition of the word includes trust and mutual vulnerability. You will never be vulnerable, especially to me. You say you?ve done al you could to make me happy, but happiness was not about gifts or attention?I had that in London. For me, happiness is about a partnership I believe you are not capable of.

I don?t? harbor ill will for anything, save your touching me in anger last night. Yes, you could kill me, force me, overpower me? We both know that. But to *steal*(and that?s what it was) my affection? To just take that part of me, that passion and caring?it?s inexcusable. There is not love for me in that action, but love for power over me.

I am sorry this has happened how it has and that I cannot deal with it personally. I am not returning from my trip. I have a larger mess to clean at home and cannot be complacent in my hiding. Also, you are bad for me, Gideon. I lose myself when you?re around: I do stupid things to make you jealous; I get angry and break things, cry and scream? I cannot live like this. I cannot be in the same universe as you, let alone the same room.

You said that I was not lustful for power and you were right. Though, I am desperate for power over my own life and actions.

Yours,
Erinalle M. Dunbridge

PS. If you feel compelled to respond, I will be staying at The Ritz"

It was a week since Erin had left, and in all honestly Gideon had been more than pleased with the absence. It gave him room to breathe, room to move and play as he would without the constant nuisence of Erin's unrelenting jealousy and petty games. Such a luxury was hardly salve for the wound to his ego, though.

Now, out in the market place, Gideon lay back on the bench near the square's fountain, the collar of his thick woolen pea-coat pulled up high to keep the chill off the back of his neck, blue jeaned legs crossed, the heel of one expensive leather shoe resting on the toes of the other. Dark glasses hid his eyes even as he gazed up at the stars. It was cold enough out that he could have seen his breath, had there been any warmth in him to make it visible. As it was cigarette smoke served for a nice replacement. He tugged the cigarette away from his lips and tried again, reaching out, calling for her.

Cricket....where are you? Come to me, duckie... I need a chat.

She slunk across the cobbles in a tick tock click of her boot heels. The air pushed her hair away from her pale face as she stared dead-straight ahead smoking like a chimney, or something. She stopped to peek at the languid form spread out by the spurting fountain. The duckie girl came along as bid....

Gamine pourrit! She cooed as she assembled herself by the fountain.

He assumed that like himself, she had learned to tune out the incessant noise around them, the thoughts of everyone, their emotions, the psychic bombardment that could drown the senses. But he knew from experience that she should have been able to hear him if he pushed hard enough...and sure enough there was the click of familiar footsteps along the cobbles and that rich little voice purring at him in french. His generous mouth curved into a satisfied smile.

Her dead stare came to land on his face, her indigo eyes curious.

"Just go to Erin. Have a happy ending, and wild sex!"

He turned his head to face her, drawing his glasses down to peer over their rims, his pale, icy gaze almost luminecent in the dim light.

"I don't want to, Duckie."

He swung his legs down and sat up, bracing both hands on either side of the bench by his knees.

"I'm not sure I want anything at all to do with her again. She was a mistake, and a stupid one at that."

He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and cast a glance at a happy couple strolling by not far away. Cricket pouted and rolled her eyes as the cigarette swung back and forth from her lips.

"What is it, Giddy? You two are perfect paramours? You are the same....."

She trailed off as his words slipped out in a surprising few sentences. Was the guy for real? She nodded and looked to the same couple, that wistfulness filling her darkened gaze briefly. She lifted her eyes to his hidden.

"You don't mean that, surely. She's a great girl. We've all got our bad sides..."

Her free hand ran through the lengths of her hair in quiet thought. Accordians of smoke lifted across her face as she stared her friend hard in the eye.

"We are both the same, you're right. In fact we're too much alike."

He turned his head back to her, gaze hidden behind the mirrored lenses.

"All she ever does is fight with me, yell at me, get angry at something I've done. I'm over it, Duckie. I've never let a woman treat me like shite the way I've let her. I don't know why I've put up with her for as long as I have."

He laughed softly, lowering his head with a small shake.

"It's this damn town, the exile from home."

"I'm confused......you guys have always had your ....little petty fights and naggs, but surely...."

She shook her head and patted his shoulder, letting silence speak what she could not.

"I'm sorry then, if it didn't happen how you wanted it. But there are special parts in this town, sometimes you just have to look..."

She smiled kindly, her chest heaving a little as she exhaled away from him.

"Maybe just have a break. See how it goes. But I've seen the way you look at her, Bug. It's...really cool"

She looked down and took a long drag, studying the way her boot laces fell in tangles of black, like onyx fleshed worms at her ankle. He lifted his head again and gave her a suprisingly warm smile.

"I know there are... But I never loved her, duckie. I'm not that kind of guy."

He said with a noncommittal shrug as he drew off the glasses and folded them, turning them over in his hands thoughtfully.

"Besides that she's mortal, human, you know that."

Cricket gave a shrug to his own and turned to face him.

"Sounds tha you've made up your mind."

She bit her bottom lip and flicked the ciggo away.

"What's the problem?"

"No problem, luv. Just missed your company."

He rose from the bench with that easy, unnatural grace of movement predators like themselves possesed, coming to stand before her and reach for her hand, draw her up to stand with him. She sat a moment then stood eyeing him strangely. He ran the backs of his knuckles slowly down her arm, his pale gaze following the motion of his fingers.

"I think I've come to realize the futility of trying to be close to humans. They are fragile, frightened things...Not like us."

He lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers, smiling down at her admiringly.

"They fade away in the blink of our eyes... and we go on forever. It would be foolish to try to love a human...wouldn't it?"

Funny that, she was feeling that way herself.

"Hmmmm"

A stenciled brow was arched as a funny little smirk rippled her lips.

"Try lovin a drow."

Beneath his inspecting, scrupulous, icy funhouse mirrors she looked down even though his fingertips propped her chin to him. His one brow twitched upward in amusement as the corners of his lips curled sardonically before he let her chin go.

"Having fun, are we, duckie? You know I miss this... we used to have such fun together you and I. We could own this town together, if we wanted." He said, his voice softening slightly along with his smile.

"Gideon...."

She thrust her palms to his chest and rolled her neck back in a laugh.

"We could.....But I work now." She rolled her face back to look at him directly, musing on his intentions here. Strangely she felt nervous beneath his gaze.

"And I'm not about to watch you seduce me in a marketplace when it's all in a side step to what you know you don't want to face."

Her fists unballed and her palms pushed at his chest playfully, her eyes growing heavy as she viewed him with a coy smile.

Gideon pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone, his lips parting as he licked gently at the delicate line of that elegant bone.

A sadness appeared in her eyes, feeling for his plight. She knew not a thing of his past, like Erin. She clung to him still, a diminutive sphinx collapsing against him, nuzzling his cheek as she heard the longing and hurt in his resonating tones, a sweet haunting blaze that trailed itself within her ears and into her blood. Her body ached to be touched as she let her head roll back and closed her eyes, cool Fall air whipping in slow lashes at their clothes and skin, her body rippling in a tide of goosebumps.

"Take me with you, Gamine...", she purred in a shrill, tiny voice at the edge of a whimper.

"I will, Cricket...I will..."

He whispered against her skin in promise, as he lowered his head to press a heated kiss to the upper curve of one breast.

Night sank across the horizon and bleached the fountains ripples in sheeny milky white as the moon's crescent sent drowzy light across the Marketplace. She surrendered in his embrace, whispering for him to take her home, wherever that may be ...for a pair like them.

He cradled her close to him and let her slide down to her feet, his arms wrapped round her as he began to walk, to take her back with him to his hotel. He'd gotten what he wanted, as he always did, and he couldn't help but smile in satisfaction as they strolled along.

Darling I'm lost
Adrift in the dark
I'm clutching your words
To my vampire heart once more
So let in the light
Turn me to dust
If it don't end in Bloodshed dear
It's probably not love
Here we are
In the darkest place
My reflection
Shows only your face

Gideon paced the long wall of windows that lined the spacious, open rooms of his suite. The sun had only recently set, and it's light still clung desperately to the horizon in the distance, leaving long trails of pale orange and lavender clouds snaking across the gathering gloom.

He had awakened in agitation, restless and angry. It was all Erin's fault...or was it his own? The sound his bare feet made on the cold black marble floor annoyed him, but he kept pacing, glowering out at the city as it settled into evening's arms.

She'd come back - damn her. Of course she had. It'd been too good to be true that she'd have left forever. She came back and had been there at the Inn several nights ago, just about to fling herself infront of someone's sword like a madwoman with a deathwish. And he, without thought or hesitation had stopped her -WHY?! He slammed a fist into his thigh and felt nothing. He should have enjoyed watching her be run through as she tried once again to play the foolhardy heroine. She'd greeted him with contempt, but he'd expected and hoped for no less.

It was nothing though - not compared to what had happened a few nights later. Once again the self-destructive little bitch had gotten herself in over her head, and this time she had been lying on the couch, bleeding and broken. Once again he'd acted without thought - it was as if another person took over him. He'd taken her home with him, back to the bed they'd shared so often. He'd healed her, let her taste the dark sacrament his veins held - let her see breifly beyond that door he always kept shut. But it was for nothing. He hated her still - but she twisted something in him that brought him to his knees.

She'd healed, of course, and he lied to her. Told her it was an elixer, a potion. He'd curled himself around her and slept, drempt of crushing her, breaking her... but held her like she'd been made of glass.

He paused in his pacings and approached one of the enormous glass panes. No matter how often he did it, it still made his stomach clench to watch the side of the building drop away beneith the edge of the floor, that thick pane of glass all that stood between him and the cold, pushing, prodding hands of the wind that urged a jump into the void. He leaned his forehad up against the icy cool glass, watched how even his breath gathered condensation against the pane, frosting the reflection of his eyes.

The fingers of his hands spread against the smooth surface of the window, the lights of the city below twinkling like stars caught between his fingertips. And then there was last night...

Erin had found out about him and Cricket. He knew she would, and had eagerly anticipated the fall out. He knew she'd forgive Cricket - who wouldn't? She was such an innocent. But he had relished the thought of the anger it would provoke towards him. He'd seen it in her eyes when she spotted the pair of them entangled on one of the couched by the hearth in the inn. It wasn't the rage he had hoped for. He'd miscaluclated. Something inside Erin had broken, and he saw it. Crciket had gone to her, begging for forgiveness. He had left - just left. He didn't care to pick up the peices of his mistake. Let her lie there, let her rot...

But she had come to him last night, alone, wet from the rain and still broken. He'd let her in, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, comforted her. Something told him she didn't really care about him and Cricket - there were other things that had driven her to his doorstep that night. Once again he'd helped her up, held her, let her into his bed and slept beside her. Thank god she'd been gone when he awoke that night.

They took their turns driving knives deep into each other, and it seemed more than once Erin had bent his own hand to wound himself, his pride, his ego. Pressed agianst the pane of glass he gritted his teeth until he could hear them creak in protest.

This was not a game he wanted to lose, as much as he longed to step away from it. Everything in this little, backwards place seemed like a test, a challenge. It was what he was here for, and behind it all he could almost feel Vincent's cold, calculating glare; weighing, judging...

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don?t lose my head
They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed
Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I?m alone
Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home
There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain
An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?
And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?
And will you never try to reach me?
It is I that wanted space

Hate me today
Hate me tomorrow
Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

Hate me in ways
Yeah ways hard to swallow
Hate me so you can finally see what?s good for you?

Gideon didn?t always get what he wanted in life. Sometimes plans worked out the way there were supposed to, sometimes they never worked at all?and other times they worked out far better then they were ever meant to.

He?d never imagined when he?d given Sebastian the little mental razzle-dazzles he had that the man would have taken it this far ? that he would have actually had the lack of foresight to tell Erin that he was hearing voices ? and he suspected Gideon of causing them. Looking back it could have fallen out worse? somehow the bastard had actually come to the conclusion that Gideon was a vampire, or at least something more than human. Perhaps he was getting lackadaisical with his masquerade, he had been flexing his preternatural abilities far too often and too openly lately. It could have gone badly, for him, very badly? Save that he?d been careful enough and lucky enough.

He almost had to laugh at it. Sebastian had told Erin about the ?voices? in his head?and Erin had ingeniously suggested he was going insane. From what he?d overheard it was tearing them two of them apart far better than any wicked scheme he could have actually engineered. Bastion resented Erin for disbelieving him and thinking him mad, and Erin was despairing that her beloved boyfriend was losing his mind.

He shouldn?t have been surprised when Erin approached him tonight in the inn, but he was, in fact he?d been almost shocked considering the curt exchanges their conversations had diminished into once again.

Gideon opened the alley door silently as he slipped inside once more, back from whatever 'business' it was that had stolen him away earlier. He shed the thick woolen coat again and tossed it aside carelessly into an empty booth. Long fingers raked back through mussed, dark strands. He seemed less cheerful then his previous visit, but not out of sorts.

Seat at the bar, drowning herself in wine, Erin?s eyes stopped on him. She waited though... she would approach him once he was settled. The long gaze stopped as she waited it out, smiling down at Lydia as she ran opening sentences in her head. Hands wrung, stopped just long enough for another swig from that bottle. True, she was soused, but fancied herself clear headed still.

Gideon?s feet carried him invariably towards the haven of the hearth and he flung himself down upon one of the couches, stretching out in full repose against the worn velveteen, careless of dirty shoes as he let the warmth and noise of the place envelope him once more. He caught a snippet of Erin?s conversation in particular that set him on guard.

?...I really hope so.? She said rather faintly. ?It has to? Here I go.?

And she moved from the bar, heading towards the hearth. She slid onto the arm of Gideon's chair, the cold of her evident. A knee length black shirt, ankle cut off tights, a black and red striped sweater. Her hair was pulled in those messy pigtails, still a leaf or two in them. She perched there, legs pulled tight at the knee for a second before resting a hand on his arm.

?Could I have a moment??

Gideon?s pale eyes opened lazily at the sound of Erin's voice, their gaze drank her and her state of affairs in for a moment before he answered, the smirking, smug smile on his face redolent with pleasure.

?For someone who continually begs me to leave them alone, pigeon, you seem to be asking a lot of me these days. But of course...?

He sighed as he sat up and swung his legs to rest his feet on the floor.

?A moment and more - for you.?

?You're in a good mood.? She said with a faint smile as she turned a little more to face him. ?I...well... it's time we cleared some things up.?

It wasn't mean or threatening at all. She reached a hand up to clear a piece of hair from his face, looking at him intently for a long moment before speaking again.

?You know that I care about you, right?? A purse of her lips. ?I don't want to be mad with you... I... I don't think I love you anymore, but... I want you in my life.?

It was all said rather softly, leaning in so that a strand of hair fell over her face and between them. She was watching him, looking for eyes as she spoke.

The eyes she sought narrowed as she drew close enough to touch him, jaw clenching as she brushed away his hair. He glanced away at her words, his smile fading fast, replaced by that vertical line between his brows that formed when they drew together. He glanced back up at her, glowering slightly.

?Oh you do?? The words were bland of emotion, cold and clipped
?Of course I do.?
She pulled back at the contempt, afraid of it. Her eyes narrowed and mouth pursed in confusion.

?You didn't know?? That was a squeak, barely words. ?I get mad, I know... but, you know that about me.?

A pause, eyes went to the ceiling then came back.

?I just... want this cold war to end. I've come to ask for a truce.?

?No, Erin. I don't know that about you... There seems to be a lot I don't know about you these days.?

Did his eyes flicker towards the chain round her throat? It was difficult to tell - just as fast they were holding hers again. Her attempts at contact infuriated him, especially after she'd struck him last. It seemed false, a wheedling way for her to get in his good graces once more.

?You get mad at me, Erin, more often then not...and never for any good reason. I've never harmed you...or yours. Ever.?

He sighed and ran his hand back through his hair again, fingers closing viciously on the short strands as he peered at her past his arm.

?What do you really want, pigeon? You don't want my friendship, my caring, my help...you never have though you are the only one I've ever offered it to until recently.?

An uncomfortable hand went to just below her throat. A moment of thinking then it passed and she let her hands fall back into her lap.

?I know. I know.? A frustrated, almost yell. ?You terrify me and excite me, attract me and make me want to run like hell? I can't live without you and I sure as hell can't be with you. I gave you everything, Gid... you were the only person ever? at that moment, that I ever said I loved. And you spit at it. You broke my heart. Yes, I'm mad as hell. I'm too mad to think when I see you... and I do stupid things. But... I can't go on like this. You hurting me over and over again... I'm finally happy. Really. And... please, leave him alone. Please... I'll do anything you want of me. For the memory of what was or could of been or... please...?

She was on the verge of tears, a hand gripping his upper arm, eyes searching for his. She had reduced herself to begging, and from her eyes it was sincere.

His brows gathers further as the words tumbled out of Erin's mouth like a dam had burst within her. He caught her face in his hands and drew her to him roughly, stopping her mouth with a kiss, breif and searing. He held her like that, caught tight, his thumbs stroking the rounded curve of her cheeks.

?Erin... I haven't touched your foolish boy. And I don't want to hurt you - I don't want anything to hurt you.?

The begging in her eyes hurt him and he cast his eyes down with a frustrated growl.

?I... don't want anything from you, Erin. Not anymore.?

She let him kiss her, wanted it even. The passion of it? she had missed the hunger in him, the way he was rough with her, but not violent. When he pulled back, she was crying, silent tears, quivering chin.

?He said you put a voice in his head... please tell me you did... I couldn?t take if you... just tell me you did.?

She was broken and small. It took her a long moment to take his last words in, to really absorb them and that did make her sob, one quick gasp for air, a turn of her head. Another stake to the heart.

?I know... just...? She lowered her voice between the pair of them. ?You're not a vampire, then... we're no different, you and I. Right??

Her crying tore at him and he felt a delicious thrill of hatred turned inwards as he lied to her, straight faced, catching her tears against his fingers. He drew her towards him, into his embrace, resting his cheek against the softness of her matted hair.

?No, pigeon...I did no such thing. What do you think I am? I'm from London, like you... we're no different.?

?Oh god...?

That made he cry more. The realization of it. She trusted him. Which was stupid, but she couldn't help it. He had always been there to hold her or heal her, to love her(though he would never call it that). She leaned forward to try and wrap her arms around him, a shudder of her body. Lips turned to whisper into his ear. Moist and hot with tears and breath.

?Your boy hates me - don't you think he would tell you anything to turn you against me?? He asked quietly, catching her chin to tilt her face upwards toward his.

?Don't cry pigeon... don't.?

He kissed away one hot tear and then another, as sweet and gentle as Lucifer himself.

That only kept her crying going. Now she knew Bastian was crazy. It killed her. She was dying inside. She leaned up again, one more whisper, indulging herself perhaps too much. But, the emotions of it... she couldn?t help herself.

?Did you ever love me? Even just a single moment of a single day??

He drew her close to him, cradling her, caressing her shuddering back.

?Yes...I think did, once Erin.?

He pressed a light kiss to her temple.

?And I couldn't not care for you no matter how much you hurt me... but I don't love you anymore.?

Another hot knife driven in and he could have felt his heart convulse in exquisite, beautiful pain.

?Me either.?

A lie for a lie? Perhaps. She rested against him, letting herself cry it all out. The breakup they should have had... the moments they should have gone before everything else.

?Thank you, for always being there... I don't say it enough.?

A hand smoothed a wrinkle in his shirt absently.

?I'm sorry.. I was terrible to you... for so long.? And she meant it, her eyes closed as the last of her tears eked out.

Gideon grit his teeth in silence at her sweet admissions, words he'd wanted to force from her for so long now, and yet they fell so hollow in his ears. What was this satisfaction of hurting her as she had him? What was the safety of driving her love away from him now? It was a hollow, empty victory, but a victory nonetheless. There was one who held his heart in a grip much stronger, one he didn't need to fear would hate him for what he truly was. He sighed as he released Erin slowly.

?I'm sorry too, pigeon. I won't bother you and Sebastian again... I swear it.?

Whatever lies he'd told before this at least was truth. Unless the boy harmed her he wouldn't lift a finger to abuse either of them.

She slid from his lap and off the chair, standing before him then. Short, slight, a child, really.

?I destroy everything I touch.? It was an admission to herself as much as him.

?If only you'd said that... just once... before...? The what if died in her head, she couldn't process it, couldn't think of it. She shook it out of her head. ?Thank you, Gideon. Really.?

Tears started again... god.

?For everything you ever did. I won't ever forget you... or this.? She held a hand out for him.

?This was never your fault, Erin.? He reached out and took her hand, only to press his face into it, crushing his cheek against her palm; sinner to the benediction of saint. He was a demon, to lie to her like this, to let her take all the blame upon herself for all the hurt he?d wrought in her life, all the pain he?d built between them to shield them both from his reality? and yet a part of him loved this, reveled in it, the darkest part of himself that enjoyed inflicting this endless spiteful pain upon his own black soul. He released her hand with a silent growl, rising from the couch.

?Go back to your silly boy, pigeon. Love who you want??

?I tried that.? She cut him off quietly and turned on a heel, leaving him there, pulling back her hand, and heading to the bar and her abandoned bottle. Having to turn away, to hide the new wave of tears, the wave of self hatred, all of it. She snapped up the bottle, and tossed it back to take a long swig, a hand leaning on the bar. She was holding herself up. Holding herself together. This hadn't gone as planned.

?...Just not me.? He concluded, muttered softly as he crossed the room and gathered his castaway coat before slipping out the door, to seek solace in the arms of the one he could love, the one he did love.

(answer: when his lips are moving)

The pair of them clashed more often than not - each interaction a wary circling of two predators feeling the other out, both posturing and bristling, fearful to take the first steps foward, to be the one to let their gaurd down. Gideon had invited Thalon back to his appartment soon after their first meeting - perhaps too soon.

From the inn Gideon strolled off down the street, in no particular hurry. He glanced at Thalon as the pair walked along, marvling at the man's state of near undress despite the frigid weather.

"No coat? I didn't think you were that vain..."

Thalon glanced briefly at the warmly-dressed Gideon, gaze stroking over the other's form pointedly.

"Vain? I may not like the cold, but I have less use for smothering."

His eyes lingered on the scarf, a flick of his head sending strands over his shoulder to cascade down his back, and he whirled toward Gideon. A hand twisted into the scarf drew the other near, and Thalon's head tilted as he breathed against cool lips.

"Or is it because of vanity that you wear the coat? Does it keep you warm?"

He stepped back, though his grip on the scarf lingered a moment longer, never having quite completed the contact to make it a kiss.

Gideon grinned as he was tugged close, teased and then shoved away again. He tossed the end of the scarf round his neck as he walked on.

"I wear it for camoflauge, mate. And it keeps the warmth close for a little while."

He led them through the winding streets of the city easily, deeper into the heart of it all until they drew up at the doors of a large, posh hotel, its stories towering over the buildings around it, standing out against the thatched roofs and more rustic buildings around it, a modern bohemeth clearly built by someone the nexus had ejected here from another time and place. Gideon made his way in through the large glass doors and through the lobby and into the elevator, letting it whisk both himself and Thalon up toward his lavish appartment. He stepped off the elevator and turned the key in the lock before pushing the door open and stepping back to allow Thalon entrance.

Thalon gave the building a cursory examination, but found little of interest to him. Architecture had never been one of his studies. He didn't recognize the design, certainly, but then he didn't recognize the design of many local buildings. Of more interest to him, however, was the elevator - that he wasn't familiar with, though he'd encountered the magical alternative often enough to brush it off as inconsequential. Nor did he hesitate to enter the apartment before Gideon, stepping to the side of the doorway to rake his gaze over the room.

"What, no crypt? I'm almost disappointed. Not even a few spiders and cockroaches to create atmosphere?"

He gave a mockingly disappointed shake of his head, and a sideways glance at Gideon.

"You did so well with the last glass of wine you made me back in the inn, I certainly hope you have some here."

The appartment was a lavish one, nearly all rooms encompased in one enormous one. Cold, beautiful black marble lined the floors, the walls, the kitchen and the large columns that supported the soaring ceiling. The entire outer wall was nothing more than one unending window out onto the city, it's lights flickering like fallen stars, save for the one interuption, a fireplace where a gas fire burned, lit even now in its constant glow. The furnishings were an odd mix of antiques and modern peices, but all comfortable, minimalistic. He shut the door behind them and strolled in, dropping the keys back in the pocket of his coat and shrugging the garment off to toss it over the back of the wingchair sitting before the fireplace, the scarf following.

"I'm afraid I don't keep much in the way of food here...but wine I do have."

He crossed to the kitchen, every step echoed faithfully by the slick marble. The flame of the stove flared to life as he set a pot upon it before turning to peruse the full wine rack built into one of the otherwise bare cabinets.

Thalon laughed softly, crossing to glance out the windows before draping himself into the wingback - after nudging Gideon's clothes off onto the floor, deliberately careless. Pulling the chair around, regardless of the effect the legs would have on the marble flooring, he tilted his head against the back and watched Gideon through half-lidded eyes, fingers absently drifting a slow course up and down the haft of the whip always at his side. A twist, and the sword sheath gets pulled loose, tossed aside to skitter across the marble until it comes to rest at the base of the wall.

"No food? What a shame. And I was just starting to get hungry, too. But I suppose I'll settle for wine - since there's nothing else to nibble on."

Gideon chose a bottle of cabernet sauvignon before turning around to watch the sword slide noisily across the floor. He gave Thalon a cruel little smile with a tilt of his head as he set the bottle down to draw out the cork. The man's demenor infurated him. Anyone else he'd brough her had been impressed, awed by the scale and sheer cold beauty of the place. Thalon abused it without leave. A slow bitterness rising within him, he clicked off the heat of the stove and poured a measure out into a glass cold instead, coming round the corner of the kitchen island and over to the fireplace to set the glass on the small table beside the chair. Anything now to spite the cruelty he received.

"I suppose you will."

Thalon glanced distastefully at the cold glass, then ignored it completely as he pointedly glanced around the apartment. Black marble, columns, and the distinctive chill of stone despite the fire.

"Entertain much?"

Abruptly uncoiling from the chair, he paced restlessly to the windows, showing no reaction to the plunging view as he prowled back and forth, staring down into the night.

"Perhaps I should have said 'mortuary' instead of 'crypt'."

"No."

Gideon drew his blazer off, and followed it with his hoodie, tossing both upon the arm of the couch before he sank down upon it in his worn black t-shirt, ignoring Thalon's restless pacing as he made himself comfortable, feet propped up on the opposite arm.

"Usually the guests I bring here are the ones who do the entertaining."

Gideon sighed with a quiet, mysterious little smile reflected inwards as he watched the fireplace.

" What's wrong, Thalon? You really were hoping for a cave?"

Thalon raked his gaze over the reclining form, but didn't return to the fire. Bracing his hands on the windowpane, he stared down into the street below, then laughed softly and turned to scan the rest of the room. Gradually he worked his way around, prowling throughout the apartment, fingers lingering every so often on something that barely caught his attention. Only when he has examined every niche and corner did he return to the fire, leaning down to brace a hand on either side of the reclining Gideon. Perhaps he was hungry, though the expression he turned on the other man was more reminiscent of a bored cat than an ardent lover. Hair cascaded forward over his shoulders, pooling blood-black across Gideon's throat.

"Oh, I've been in a few very comfortable caves. And this place looks less alive than most of them. But wrong? I wouldn't say anything is wrong. Perhaps boring, but not wrong."

Gideon reached up to stroke the strands of hair that poured foward over Thalon's shoulder, both silken and coarse at once, alive under his fingers. He swallowed as he felt it slide across the skin of his throat. That mass and length of blood-black hair was perhaps Thalon's most attractive feature, certainly the one that drew the most fascination from Gideon. Leaving his caress he grasped either collar of Thalon's loose-fitting shirt and gave it an almost careless tug, sending buttons flying as if he'd torn it with force, his gaze coolly traveling down the swath of skin he's exposed with an oddly detached expression.

Thalon didn't flinch at the caress, nor at the tearing of his shirt, though he did straighten up. Torn silk is left clutched in Gideon's hands, clinging briefly to the soft leather of pants and whip before falling free. Hands lowered to lock around the man's wrists, and a twist of torso left Thalon settling astride Gideon's hips as he leaned down, hair forming a dark waterfall to veil their faces from the light of the fire as he traced the others' lips with teasing flicks of his tongue, tasting, taunting, and sat back up.

"Am I supposed to be your entertainment, Gideon? Or are you mine?"

His fingers tightened, compressing wrist bones just enough to retain the grip as he pins them to either side of the man's head.

The dull pain of the grip was delicious, and the tease of a kiss, like so many others tonight left him wanting much, much more. He lifted his chin with a challenging, grim smile as he ran his tongue over the dampness clinging to his lips.

"Can it not be both?"

Thalon swayed gently, a slow, lingering tease, as he bent to that tempting mouth again. Teeth capture Gideon's lower lip, biting down just short of tearing skin before softening the contact, tongue soothing the sting away. A snick of his own teeth serves well to create a different form of lure, lips parting to close firmly over Gideon's as his tongue teases across the edges of the other man's teeth - leaving just a hint of blood behind, bare tang of salt-sweet heat.

"Is it worth my while? After all, you weren't even able to come up with a hot drink to warm away the night."

Gideon pushed against the couch in the kiss, arching his body slightly under the other male's. He felt the sharp little teeth pinch hard on tender flesh and it made his head swim slightly. His mouth opened under Thalon's in the kiss, his own tongue eager to catch that sweet, small touch of blood, drawing a stifled moan from his throat. He leveled an icy gaze at Thalon as his lids parted half-way

"I think I'll let you earn what little niceties you want from me, luv. Otherwise I don't think you'll appreciate them...at all. You'll find I'm not nearly as generous as I let on to be."

He twisted his wrists free effortlessly and sat up, his arms coming round Thalon's back, short, close-clipped nails digging into the flawless flesh over ribs and spine as he traced a line of kisses between the cleft of Thalon's bared pectorals. He drug his fingers slowly downward, rakeing Thalon's skin mercilessly, feeling it tear in places, the embrace of his arms tight and close as steel bands. His cool tongue traced the dusty circle of a nipple, needle sharp teeth touching flesh here and there, threatening but never peircing.

The right nipple doesn't need piercing - it already has it, fine gold chain tracing a curve back around his side to the matching ring in his shoulderblade. Hot, slick blood followed the course of raking nails, a shiver of vicious pleasure discernable in the tight embrace. Beneath Gideon's lips, a peculiarly double shudder marked the throb of heartbeat, and a deep breath swelled ribs slowly. One hand curled around Gideon's throat, forcing him back down onto the courch and away from the temptation of hot flesh, while the other caught in the hem of his shirt. Fingers slip upward, pulling up up over his head, rather than simply ripping the fabric away. Teeth and lips followed the gradual appearance of skin, nipping, flicking, parting to enclose first one, then the other tender nub in searing heat. More than mere warmth; flame licks and writhes between parted lips, and Thalon drifted back up, closing his teeth on the curve of Gideon's throat - and biting, near to tearing skin, with sudden strength before shrugging away the other man's arms to surge off the couch and too his feet.

"I don't earn, love. I either accept, or don't."

And back down to the couch he was borne, his eyes closing once more as a sweet, satifying shudder ran through him with Thalon's attentions, that strange, intoxicating heat that the other man posessed hooking him like a drug, making him at once envious and grateful. His eyes sprang open however as teeth closed on his throat, every muscle of his body tensing under Thalon's, hands rising, ready to shove him off, save that in a blink of an eye Thalon had surged up and away. Gideon rose more slowly, shedding his shirt heedlessly onto the couch. He was livid now. Again this talk of love. First Erin, then Cassie's badgering and Kairee's tormenting. He'd had enough of it.

"Love was never something on the table, Thalon." He said coldly, pale eyes feirce. "You don't much look like a creature capable of love... something I rather admire I have to admit."

Thalon actually paused for a moment before making the connection with Gideon's statement, a warm - though hardly affectionate - laugh purring from his throat as he turns his back on the other man, a couple of strides closing the distance to the sheathed sword, and a lithe bend plucking it from the floor.

"A term of familiarity, Gideon, nothing more. I tried loving somebody once - it really is a waste of time and effort. I don't ask for affection from you, nor expect it."

He turned back, the weapon balanced in his hand for just a thoughtfull moment as his gaze lowered to the place his teeth had so recently gripped, lingering down over bared skin in a near-palpable caress.

"However, if you think I'm going to 'earn' anything from you, you're mistaken. I appreciate pleasure - and I don't give it in return for nothing. Satisfy me, and you serve yourself. Don't... " He shrugged, crossing to stare up at the panoply of stars.

Gideon strode off towards the windowpanes, each glistening with frost that clung to their edges. He glared down at the city with a burning hatred. This place plauged him, poisoned him... and now this odd effegy sent to taunt him... it was almost too much. He trembled with the urge to both murder and make love to the man gazing out the window a few paces away. He could still feel the sting on his skin of teeth, the burn of kisses and the grip of fingers. He turned toward Thalon and closed the gap between them in a stride, or so it seemed. He bent his head, resting his forehead against Thalon's temple, one hand caressing the curve of of the opposite cheek, his brooding gaze cast downwards.

"There is nothing I would not give you... and nothing I would not demand in return." He breathed into the space between them both.

Thalon didn't move as the man moved toward him, and remained still for several seconds after the soft words whispered into silence. Finally he turned toward his companion beneath the harsh ice of starlight, warm arms caging cool flesh and pivoting them both, trapping Gideon between the heat of his body and the chill of the windowpane. Careless of whether the glass might be fragile, he leaned into the man, slashing lips to lips in a brutally hard, demanding kiss, hands sliding down to cup buttocks and force Gideon's body hard against his own. His head lifted, green-gold eyes as hard as the kiss, though lacking any trace of true anger, just enough to breath against the others' lips.

"There are some things I won't take, and some things I won't give. But if you can..." A mocking smile. "...Live with that, and if you can be content with it, we can each find satisfaction in each other. And to start. Mulled wine. Hot. When next I'm here - if I return."

Gideon's hands caught Thalon's face in the kiss, fingertips pressing hard enough to leave bruises as he returned the rough kiss with as much passion and more, his body pushing back, the skin between them suddenly an unwanted barrier crackling with the electricity of their collision. He drew back from the kiss with a sharp inhalation sucked through his teeth. He smiled recklessly as he gave Thalon a shove, pushing him off of himself.

"And if you'd like that then you'll bring that crop of yours again... and do more then toy with it."

A spark, the flare of true amusement, as Thalon plucked the whip from its resting place at his hip. Gently he traced the curve of Gideon's cheek with the satin leather of the haft, lashes cascading down the man's chest a harder, rolled finish that catches and slides over the contoured planes of chest and belly, breathing lightly across still-clothed loins.

"If you'd rather feel this kiss, then you'll make certain I want to return. Or, perhaps, I might take you home with me some night."

A lazy, sensually warm smile, as his gaze followed the curve of the thongs downward.

"And find out whether I live in a cave, as well. I can assure you, I don't live in a mortuary."

A step back, and a deft flick of his wrist lays the hard thongs across Gideon's belly, enough force to sting, but just a promise. Without further ado - and without following through on that promise, he stalked toward the door leading back out of the apartment.

Gideon's wince at the sting of the lash was eclipsed by his satisfied smile as he watched Thalon stalk away. He stepped away from the window and towards the fireplace once more, sinking down in the chair Thalon had turned about.

Thalon didn't glance back as he opens the door and stepped through, closing it softly behind him - but the turn of the key that had earlier been placed in the pocket of Gideon's coat, the same coat that had been draped over the chair Thalon had claimed, was a firm click in the marble mausoleum. Within a few strides, Thalon watched the door of the elevator glide shut and the box starts down, simplevenough to control with a little basic logic.

Thalon could have the key - though the loss of an expensive keychain was regrettable it was hardly devistating. Gideon watched the door for a long moment after it had been shut and locked, smiling to himself. It was not to be the last time he made the mistake of treating Thalon no differently than the other 'playthings' he filled his time and loneliness with, but it left an indeliable mark upon Gideon's memory. He would come to recall the harsh words he'd offered this night, and rue them.

...

Later that night Thalon circled, prowling the streets as the lingering touch faded completely with distance. He was fairly certain he knew where Gideon would have gone, and it was no great surprise to find himself stalking, prowling with caged, frustrating energy before the steps of the Inn again, staring up at the door. Nor did he still when it slammed open, though there was more wary puzzlement in his glare than anger.

"What did you think I expected from you, Gideon? What did you expect from me? Unlike some around here, I don't read minds."

Gideon had come barreling out of the inn only to stop as movement in the shadows beyond the porch steps, the gleam of cat-green eyes and the dull toss of darker than black hair in the movement of the wind telling him at once who it was. He ground teeth against each other in painfully aching pressure. Perhaps he would just let the bloody sun take him this morning and be done with it - this exile grew less comfortable by the hour if not by the day. Instead of the bitter tirade he had been expecting, Thalon flung questions toward Gideon that he would have liked answered himself. He let out a slow sigh as he came down the porch steps with deleberate steps, his eyes on the ground before him.

"I don't know what you expected from me, Thalon. Perhaps a plaything? You're desires seem as inconstant as the wind. As for what I expected... nothing. I was flattered by your interest, and more then a little enticed by the sheer bloody-mindedness of you. I wanted..."

He sighed and sank down on the lowest step of the porch, hands dangling between his knees, bone gleaming wetly against through the skin of the knuckles.

Thalon noticed the injured hand for the first time, and dropped into a crouch in front of Gideon to lift the hand by the wrist and examine it. Expression hardening, he glanced past the seated form at the door. His words are blunt, but the only cruelty in them is honesty - though that can be more vicious than any lie.

"I expected sex from you, and I didn't expect you to want anything more than that. One minute you seem to want to gentle, and the next you're asking me to whip you with a weapon that's made for cutting flesh. Which is it, Gideon? How much difference is there between the passion of desire, and the passion of rage? Maybe there's more of a difference for you than there is for me. Or maybe I've just encountered them together too often to be able to tell the difference. I've had my taste of being somebody's possession - it won't happen again. But I'm not looking for a slave, either. I have no use for somebody that wants to be owned."

Gideon watched detachedly as his hand was lifted, catching his lower lip between his teeth thoughfully only to have the corners of his mouth curl in a slow, bitter smile.

"Well then we are in agreement on two points; neither wishes to be owned or to own the other."

He sighed as he curled his injured fingers around Thalon's.

"Sex... Is well and good enough, and something I would willingly share with you - but it is something I could have from anyone with the same effects."

He released Thalon's hand to catch a lock of that heartbreakingly beautiful hair between thumb and forefinger.

" You are far too fascinating of a creature for me not to want more from. Friendship, hatred, companionship, lust..." He raised luminous eyes to meet Thalon's. "You walk into a room and everything fades into the background - do you not know that about yourself? You manage to eclipse everything with no more effort then your smile."

Thalon met that gaze, as wary and, in that moment, as feral as any wild hawk come by chance to light upon the hawkers' glove, offered a choice bit of meat - but uncertain if he should accept, or strike at the hand that offered it. No matter the morsel, it wasn't worth it if the treat concealed jesses. His head tilted, and muscles shuddered with the tension of remaining still.

"Sex is what I'm used to giving. I don't know if I have more to offer or not - I'm not even sure if I could trust you enough to find out. Hatred... that one's easy. That smile you seem to like so much is usually me imagining most of the others in there ripped to pieces and spread for the crows. I've given lust, and I've given love, but friendship? I wouldn't even know where to start. If that's what you want, then I'm willing to try, but go into it with your eyes open about who I am. I already know that you can quench at least some of the fire in my blood, but are you willing to risk being burned?"

Gideon's gaze flicked towards that lock of hair he held as he released it to run his fingers back through the rich mass of it all, cupping his hand round the curve of Thalon's scalp and drawing him near so that their foreheads rested against each other.

"I'd rather writhe and burn in your fire than freeze among all the mindless cattle of this city."

Thalon tensed at the touch, then forced himself to relax and accept it. His own hand lifted, combing lightly, for the first time, through Gideon's hair, to smooth down his neck and curve around the hinge of his jaw. A thumb stroked away lingering evidence of earlier tears, and then he rose, pulling Gideon with him.

"Well, if you don't want to freeze, lets get out of this cursed wet air. Where do you want to go? Not back to the Inn. After visiting your home, I'm not too sure you'd really find mine comfortable - but at least there's something to eat."

He paused, shifting a fraction closer to the other man, a reflex that hadn't escaped him before. In truth, he rarely sought intimately close physical contact with others, unless meant to mock or intimidate.

"Other than myself, that is."

Gideon laughed under his breath at that and let himself be pulled back to his feet. It was chill and damp, and though the darkness still clung around them, solid as before, he could feel the morning coming on swifter and swifter feet. He hesitated for a moment - the thought of being left completely helpless in his sleep at Thalon's mercy was a terrifying one... but he knew Thalon was right. His own home held no creature comforts in it. Thalon's subtle little shift towards him sealed his desicion and he nodded his consent.

"A bed and a hot shower woul dbe all the comfort I need."

Thalon shivered, barely restraining the impulse to whirl and stalk off, instead modulating his movements to a strained, but slow, turn as his arm slid around Gideon's waist, and guided the other toward his own home. Excess energy thrummed within his veins, and he did succumb enough to push the pace a bit, threading the streets with rapid dispatch.

"Those are two things I can provide. And no sunlight, as well."

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

**WARNING - MILDLY EXPLICIT CONTENT**

Thalon glanced up at the solid weight of the ceiling, calculating the angle of the sun outside, before leaning over the work table again. A slender needle of fire licks across clear paste. Clear dries to white, metal darkens, white fades to translucence, and a fleck of metal shimmers into liquid crimson, spreading across the juncture of tiny scale scale to miniature body. A touch, and heat is drawn from the metal. Already the eyes are set, twin blazes of golden light from a head not yet attached, lighting the room with the golden luminescence of daylight - and with all the natural properties thereof. Sunstones. Reaching for a cloth, Thalon pauses, lips twitching into a slow smile, and leaves the stones uncovered - they were small, the light dim. Rising, still clad in only a sanguine cascade of hair, he closes the workroom door and threads through to the bedroom, sliding beneath blankets to wrap Gideon's motionless form in the caged heat of his body, leaning up on an elbow to watch the vampire intently as the sun slides lower toward the horizon.

Gideon lay as if dead in the position Thalon had left him, no breath nor heartbeat to even stir the stillness of his lifeless form, yet an an unnatural beauty still clung to him. As the sun touched the horizon the dead weight of him lifted somewhat, small muscles tensing, reviving from their torpor, and as the orb slid below the edge of the horizon his lungs filled. He shifted against the sheets and pillows, rousing, eyelids flickering once before slowly opening. A million senses bombarded him at once, but most present was the delicious heat that surrounded him, the light brush of cotton sheets against his bare skin, and the touch of other, living skin against his cold, marble flesh. He turned his head against the pillow, pale eyes reflecting the small, pleased smile that spread itself sleepily across his generous mouth as Thalon's face came into view. He closed his eyes and let a langorous stretch roll down over his body, spine arching, cat-like.

A shift, the slither of cloth against skin, and he was leaning over the arching form. Hands brace on either side of Gideon's head, hair slithering down to block the light of the fire but for faint slivers of glow, reflecting clearly in Thalon's eyes. Chest lowering, he pins the man to the bed with weight and heat, teeth closing firmly on an ivory shoulder as a lazy, teasing growl vibrates his throat. One hand slides down, limning the contours of chill flesh from shoulder to hip, and Thalon traces the hollows of the vampires throat upward to tease lightly at tender lips, catching one between his teeth briefly, but not deepening into a true kiss. Leaning back again, he blithely twists toward the side of the bed, by all evidence intending to climb out.

Gideon sighed blissfully as Thalon rolled over him and held him to the bed, his smile growing as hard ivory teeth sank into his flesh. He was young yet, and hadn't lost all his human softness to the Gift.

"Mmmn...I do believe this is the best awakening I've had since I arrived here."

He murmured as Thalon's fingers caressed the slightly ticklish skin of his side, his musings drawing up short as his mouth was stopped by the unfullfilled promise of a kiss. His own hands came up round the other male's back and slid downwards, fingertips seeking out the ridges and rise of his ribcage, the sensous dip of the spine right before the upwards swell of buttocks. He spread his fingers over the round muscle of the tops of Thalon's thighs, tender skin sheathing palpable strength that rippled just under his hands as Thalon moved against him. He moved quickly though as Thalon made to rise, catching his arm just above the elbow and dragging him back into the bed. He sat up, arms catching round the other man's waist and chest as he pressed himself to his back.

"In a rush, luv?"

He whispered as he nestled several soft kisses into the hollow behind one ear.

Thalon arches his neck to the side, exposing tender skin to Gideon's attentions without hesitation, a purr of amusement rumbling. His tone is mockingly flat, a tease of obviously feigned disinterest.

"Was there a reason a linger? After all, haven't you given up pleasures of the flesh with the beat of your heart? I would have thought you'd want to be up and hunting. But I suppose, if you feel up to a bit of pleasure..."

"No I have not....not entirely."

He said softly as he let nibbling kisses trail down the line of a prominant vein that pulsed just under the skin of Thalon's throat. He touched the tip of his tongue to the delicate throb and felt the heat radiating there, the skin shielding his mouth from that fire. His hand that lay, palm open, against Thalon's chest caressed its way over the much deeper subterranian throb of Thalon's hearts until his finger tips closed over the ring that peirced his nipple. He gave the small golden hoop a gentle flick as he let one needle-sharp tooth lance the skin the separated him for what he wanted, creating a short, thin cut that the blood welled from slowly. His tounge caressed the tiny wound, the burn of the blood a delicious torment as his cells greedily drank it in.

Winding the thin golden chain once aorund one fingertip he gave it a small, brief twist as he closed his mouth over the wound and took one long, deep draught, a pull that Thalon could have felt tugging against his hearts, a heady rush for them both... a sensation of faintness, then a sudden gush of warm bliss that washed the senses in an unforgivingly sweet tidal wave. Nothing else mattered, all the world collapsed into this one brief second that suddenly seemed an eternity, until Gideon's mouth released and the connection dropped instantaniously, as harsh a sobering as any down.

He swallowed, the exquisite pain of the firey blood burning down into his stomach and exploding like a powder keg. He could feel it seep throughout him, reviving, bathing each cell in its warmth until he felt almost feverish. He shuddered against Thalon's body as he pressed a kiss to his shoulder, holding him close. His voice was thick with lust when he spoke again.

"I don't need to hunt."

Beneath the carress of Gideon's hand, the echoing pulse of counterpoint heartbeats speeds and deepens, nipples hardening at the teasing of his piercing. His neck arches back, eyes closing as he relaxes against Gideon's chest and shoulder, fully aware of - yet making no protest to - the slash of sharp fang against hot skin. Heat flares, rising rapidly at the tantilization of touch and bite, and as Gideon draws upon the measure of his heart the echo firms, rising fully into a counterpoint beat, speeding and strengthening the flow of blood. Raw vitality given willingly, firey, primal life as Thalon's body arches in pleasure, a low growl rising from deep within his chest, yet never passing parted lips. No sooner is he released from the bite than golden eyes flare open again, and a deep, slow breath cascades into his lungs.

"Good, because I don't think I'd be inclined to let you leave."

A lithe twist, one hand catching that tangled in his chain to keep it from tearing the metal ring free as he moves, and Thalon presses Gideon back against the bed. Lips clash violently against lips, fingers pressing the hinge of the jaw to ensure they part to him, and his tongue snakes violently past to taste the lingering heat of his blood against Gideon's fangs. He gentles, teasing with slow, stroking thrusts as his hands stroke down the mans' torso, exploring cool skin. He lifts away, teeth tugging at a captured lower lip, but only to meet the vampires gaze.

"I hope you didn't have any plans for tonight."

Gideon moved back obligingly as Thalon moved, greeting his kiss and drawing him in, yeilding, for the moment. He let his finger slip from the circle of the chain as he smoothed the backs of his fingers down the vulnurable skin of Thalon's stomach, trailing down into the soft, downy fur just beyond the dip of his navel. He returned the heat of Thalon's kiss, tongue and mouth inviting, the coppery tang of the lingering blood replaced with the taste of Thalon's intrusive kiss, the tip of his tongue teasing against the length of the other man's as it brushed the now harmless small points of his fangs. He groaned, soft and deep within his throat as Thalon's hands resumed their explorations. He pushed his hips upward against the caress of hot fingers, his eyes opening into blue slits.

His fingertips slid down against the tender skin below his navel, down, skimming the shaft of him teasingly before stroking the heated flesh of his innermost thigh, ticklingly gentle before they curled round the inside of his leg in a possesive grasp.

"The only plans I had were not to leave this bed until you and I were both more satsified then we had any right to be."
Gideon says:

Thalon doesn't bother answering that statement with words, body shuddering at the brush of chill fingers against hardened flesh. Nor does he immediately move to attack the body beneath him, but rather lowers his head, dark waterfall of slithering silk tangling around them, to trace hot lips along the curve of Gideon's shoulder. The lift of the mans' hips is answered by a hand drifting across, fingers tracing slowly over tender tissues, curving to grasp, squeezing, but releasing to come to rest upon the flat of a hip. Lowering, his teeth close sharply around a nipple, tugging, the wet heat of his tongue flicking it hard. He lifts his head, shifting to more fully cover Gideon's body, hip to hip, shaft to shaft, belly pressed hot against cool belly, stroking himself against the vampire like a great, tawny cat against a carressing hand.

"You seem to prefer women, usually. Have you ever been with a man?"

He suspected the man had, but it would be best to know before they moved to much further.

Gideon smiled with satisfaction at the shudder that shook Thalon's frame at his teasing caress. He removed his hand as the other male pressed close, letting his fingers slide up the curve of one bare buttock, pressing those hips closer still. He let his head fall back against the pillow, a soft sigh escaping his lips as Thalon's tongue brought his nipple to a taut bud. Brows knit, his expression one of complete concentration as he strained to follow Thalon's words, all too eager to escape into the pleasure of their embrace. He gathered those slippery strands of hair into one hand, lifting it off his neck and letting them slide through the seive of his fingers.

"I have... but just one other."

He admitted, his gaze grown dark. It's hadn't been a choice of his own volition, and the man who'd it been was the same who had made him what he was. Vincent was a force of nature, a terrifying and beautiful creature. He pushed the image of his maker's face from his mind forcefully, focusing on the exquisite face before him now.

Thalon watched the bruised darkening of Gideon's expression, guessing by tone and shadow that the memories of that previous encounter weren't among the man's most fond. A knee parts Gideon's thighs, and Thalon nestles even closer into that cradle, intimately meshed flesh-to-flesh. Hungry he might be for the satiation of his body's need - in a hurry, he was not. He bends again to Gideon's lips, nipping and nibbling teasingly before tracing the soft bow with his tongue and deepening the contact. One hand slides down the vampires' arm, capturing a wrist to pin it beside his head, before the other repeats that action. A whisper, more growled that breathed.

"Don't fight." A moment of pause, then a trace more humor. "We can try that another time."

He sinks into the kiss, tongue stroking and carressing Gideon's in sensual emulation of the press and glide of his hips.

Fighting was the last thing on Gideon's fevered mind...

He's a street light in the evening rain,
An empty seat on the rush hour train.
He's a polaroid lying on the street,
He's the lover I may never meet.
Every night I breathe him in,
Feel him sink into my skin.
Still I feel,
That I am envious and obvious and desperate for your love,
I am shouted by and criticised,
Still I crave your touch.
And I know the time you're killing is mine,
But I... I don't mind.
He's a phone call in the dead of night,
A stranger's voice I recognize.
He's a radio playing in the dark,
He's the name you'll find written on my heart.
Every night I breathe him in,
Feel him sink into my skin.
Still I feel
That I am envious and obvious and desperate for your love,
I am shouted by and criticised,
Still I crave your touch.
And I know the time you're killing is mine,
But I... I don't mind.

**WARNING- MILDLY EXPLICIT CONTENT**

The night stretched before them both like a long black river, and their tumblings slowly, gradually became more familiar, more comfortable as each learned the secrets of the other's body. Both testing, trying and toppling each other in that endless circling that was their way. Each exchange and test carried with it a small gem of information, a nugget of truth that spoke of them both.

Thalon had growled in pain as Gideon had wrenched arms cruelly behind his back, seeking dominance, his reward a biting, grim smile.

"Only because I let you, Gideon. Never forget that."

Gideon paused the path of his tounge and lifted his head with a slow smile, tightening his grip until he felt bone rub against bone.

"How does that make you different from anyone else?" He asked.

"I suppose it doesn't, does it, Gideon? It makes me no different than any other food source, taking and giving sex in exchange for a drink or two."

He locks his gaze on the vampire coldly.

Gideon let tender flesh slip from between his lips as cold blue eyes flashed upwards, their light mocking, knowing, infuriating. He prodded at Thalon with words, now that he'd found a wound, always testing.

"It's so easy to hate, isn't it, Thalon? So easy to believe I'd use you like an object and throw you away. It's almost comforting to be that detached...isn't it?"

He murmured as he burried a heated kiss in the yielding hollow where thigh met hip.

Thalon snarled, a harshly gutteral sound more fitting to a large, caged feline than a human throat. His hips lift, pressing into the pressure and snare of hands and mouth as his back arches, the snarl modulating into a golden purr as he watched Gideon toy with him.

"At least there's honesty in hate. Do you really think you won't do exactly that, when you get bored with me? But comforting? Detached? No. Perhaps a form of safety."

Tense hands slide down Gideon's neck, fingers tightening on his shoulders and tugging lightly, then kneading as he resists the urge to draw the man upward and quench the fury in his throat within that cold mouth. Teeth close on his lip, self-inflicted pain an anchor in the chaos of anger and pleasure.

He tried and failed to repress a smile at the sound of Thalon?s snarl. He loved his anger, that blaze of uncontrollable rage that made his eyes glow like embers. He knew how to bait people and Thalon was no different. The other male?s spiteful words fell on him with a kiss as biting as a lash?s and the urge to retaliate, that struggle within was bittersweet and heartbreaking.

"If you want to receive, Gideon, you'll have to learn to give as well. If the only way you can get any joy from me is to piss me off, it's not worth my bother. I've lived with hate long enough to know it - it's a tool, a weapon, a shield, but it doesn't rule me. I don't hate you, but I could. Do you want that?"

He lunged off the bed, stalking away from the vampire to toss a few more pieces of firestone into the hearth.

Careful with the sharpness of his teeth Gideon recoiled as Thalon threw him off, expression morphing from pleased to shocked to smug all in a split second as he let himself be thrown off under Thalon?s curious strength that matched and perhaps in some ways overpowered his own. He smiled placidly up at the other man as he raged.

"Pissing you off is not the only way I can get joy from you, Thalon?though it is no small pleasure to watch you posture and bristle like a thing possessed."

He sat up as Thalon lunged off the bed, bracing his arms behind him as he watched the man move like a big cat.

"You take me too literally, luv? I tease you and you become incensed when it?s little more than casual flippancy on my part."

He rose and slowly crossed the room to where Thalon stood by the hearth. His hands skimmed down the long, leanly muscled arms, until his hands closed over Thalon?s wrist, guiding his hands upwards to brace against the heated stone, then slid back down, tickling the tender undersides of his arms and smoothing down his sides as Gideon pressed close against his back, bestowing light kisses across the curve of his shoulder and the elegant arch of the nape of his neck.

"I think that even having your hatred and contempt would be more fulfilling than having the loving worship of any other creature I?ve set my eye on in this cursed, forgotten place? but to have your adoration would be a prize I don?t quite know I?m worthy of." His voice was a cool breeze against Thalon?s smooth, flawless skin.

Fire dimmed, the burn of emotional fury cooling abruptly to pale embers as Thalon watched the physical dance and ripple of flame lick up the fresh stones, reflecting from a bed of ivory sand formed of spent fuel. He moved slowly, deliberately as he allowed Gideon to place his hands on the mantle, fingers curving to drive the tips against unyielding stone. He accepted silently the pressure of cold flesh against his back, unresponsive to the carress of hands along his arms and sides. Flame reflects from expressionless eyes, and he releases a slow sigh.

So be it. Lids veil the green-gold mirrors momentarily, and he allows the pleasure of Gideon's lips to tighten muscle through shoulders and neck. He shifts easily, leaning into the brace of his arms against the hearth, muscle jumping sharply beneath the stroke of fingers along his thigh. Again his growl rises, hunger and a slow, sleeping rage clear in the throb, as the icy caress tantalizes and stimulates, a sharp breath drawn. His head tilts back, eyes closing again as he sublimates thought to sensation, dismissing the slash of spoken words as trivial, in favour of the bestial comfort of raw, carnal desire.

Gideon smiled to himself wickedly as Thalon relaxed against him and let his head drop back. He pressed his cheek to the broiling hot one of his lover, stealing a kiss from the corner of his mouth.

The two of them joined again, All of Gideon's heart in the sheer need of this act. Again Thalon asked him once more to give in, give up. Gideon wanted release, oh how he yearned for it, and he could feel the build in his belly ? but this ecstasy was painful beyond all torture. He was no longer made to feel this, to have this bliss, and his body was tearing at itself the same way it would have had he consumed food and poisoned himself with it. A cry tore itself from his throat as he felt a horrific burn tear itself through him. He clung to demon before him as he shook, face contorted with the ache of the forbidden release even as his body was racked with a sort of rapture that only saints and angels were privy to.

Gideon staggered back and landed on the bed, falling backwards. He put a hand to his face, his expression numb, shell-shocked as he slipped backwards slowly. His insides burned as if they'd been washed in acid. He couldn't even bring voice to the pain.

Thalon drew a deep breath as he felt the vampire pull away, forcing himself through the fog of reaction, darkness snaking and rippling across his skin in a deep, dark blood-black glisten, before he forces it away again. With feline - or reptilian - speed, he crossed to the bed, sinking down onto Gideon, pinning the shocked man with his weight and the heat the other seemed to so enjoy. Dark hair pooled around them as he raked his gaze over the others' features, his voice a soft purr, as much command as offer.

"Take what you need if you need it, Gideon. You won't do me any great harm."

Slow arms rose like angel's wings to enfold Thalon and crush him close. It wasn't blood he needed, and he'd taken overmuch already from his lover already this past evening. No blood in heaven or hell could fix this -but his pain was assuauged by the knowledge that he'd wake tomorrow with the sensation a distant memory and his body mended. He burried his face in the soothing wash of silken, dark hair and shut his glacial eyes, seeing the stars of heaven reflected there against the darkness of his eyelids. He exhaled a prayer to whomever would listen, his voice shuddering and low.

"Oh lord...make me pure.... but not yet..."

Thalon answered the embrace in kind, rolling to draw Gideon hard against his body, one hand snaring tangled blankets to pull over both of them. He shifted only enough to put his back to the hearth, caging Gideon in the confines between his body and the back wall of the niche, and growled his satisfaction into the man's neck. Teeth grip, tighten, and release; blood holds no special allure to Thalon. Once covered, he strokes both hands slowly, massagingly, soothingly over the cool body, as much claim as comfort. He'll worry about getting both of them cleaned up later - for now, he needed rest. Yet golden eyes don't close beyond slits, the quiet purr of his pleasure never rising further than the echoed throb of his chest. Relaxed, sated and satisfied, he watches over the vampire with all the smug satisfaction of a dragon over his hoard, fingers tightening on pale skin at the sound of the breathed plea, his own voice no louder.

"Not yet."

Luminous eyes opened slowly as he lifted a hand to stroke the perfectly molded cheek of Thalon's face. Something dangerous and painful swelled within his heart, and if it wasn't love he could not put a name to it to save his wretched existence. The force of it, the sheer unstoppable power of that feeling frightened him. He slid foward to steal a lingering, long kiss from Thalon's lips before relaxing against him, their long limbs entangled, blood-black hair fanned out about them both. Blue gaze watched Thalon with an odd saddness, an emotion Gideon rarely if ever gave display to, but it was there, haunting those beautiful eyes before he let them drift shut, as much in need of rest as his lover was.

Thalon answered the kiss, asking no more, as he savoured the lingering, icy burn, so different from his own natural fires, lingering deep within his flesh. He meets Gideon's gaze without question, drawing the vampire even closer as eyes drift shut and Thalon wraps himself, body, heat and possessive passion, around the cool form. The savage curiosity of another mind brushes his own, revelling in the lingering flavours of pleasure, puzzling over the peculiarities of complicated emotion, before turning to more important things - like the freshly killed carcass of a beggar. Claws scrit across tiles above, but no sound penetrates into the rooms below. Satisfied thta the door is guarded, Thalon succumbs to the demands of his body for rest.

Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you
Now you got someone to blame
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
It's one love
We get to share it
It leaves you baby
If you don't care for it
Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's too late
Tonight
To drag the past out
Into the light
We're one
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One
Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come tor raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
We hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other...

Gideon's pace slowed as he moved along the inky black alleyways, his hands slipping from thier pockets and spreading slightly, arms opening. He closed his eyes as he walked - he didn't need sight to find his way through the maze of damp, chill alleyways. He reached out, slowly, silently, using all of that horrible gift to sing that siren song that brought them out like lifeless marionettes. Sure enough, there was one very close - an answering echo.

Thalon drifted, cat-paw quiet through the night, as comfortable in darkness as any wild beast. Not so comfortable in the chill, but heat sheaths bared skin to hold that at bay. Scent guides, but more so that subconcious sense innate to his bloodline, speaking as clearly as words, here is that which is mine. A larger shadow pours itself from the night, velvet brush of slender muzzle against too-hot skin, nostrils flare wide to drink in the one scent to enter, and leave intact, their lair. They stalk.

Gideon turned the corner and let his eyes open gradually. There, in the doorway of a run-down building, an overcrowded apartment complex, a woman stepped out into the night, her feet bare against the freezing cobblestones, a worn nightgown fluttering about her thin legs. Gideon welcomed her as she slowly made her way towards him, entranced. She was past her prime, careworn and roughened by whatever stones life had beat her against, but none of it mattered. She was his now.

The long black coat billowed in the icy breeze as he spread his arms wide and she stepped into them like a lover. He folded her close to him, feeling the frailty of her body crush against his own. It never failed to fascinate him in a detached sort of way as to why they came, these moths, drawn to the flame of release he offered so selfishly. This one was sick - and she knew it... dying of some rotting disease.

He smiled to himself as he smoothed back her matted hair and bent his head as if to pray. He could feel the quickening beat of her heart against him, could practically see the liquid life that rushed through her veins only kept from him by that thin, fragile layer of skin. He closed his hand on the back of her neck as tenderly as if he cradled a child, and sank is teeth into her throat with the loving viciousness of a beast. He gorged, the warm liquid pouring forth into his mouth and down his throat, one strong draught almost enough to drain her, leave her weak. She mewled in sudden shock, weak fingers scrabbling against his back for purchase, her consciousness lost in the ecstasy of the giving.

Lift of wedge-shaped head, eyes flashing reflected light as the beast glides from the mouth of one alleyway to the confines of another. Chill, gritty stone bites into tawny skin as a shoulder brushes against a wall, soft whisper of skin on rough mortar. A few long paces bring the two together again, arm draped across silver-splashed obsidian shoulders. Two shadows merged into one, they slip from the alleyway, boots and clawed feet both predatorily silent as they glide through darkness toward their quarry. As one, they still, studying the tableau no more than a few yards from them: Lean male back, arms embracing a tattered female in a kiss that must surely leave only one to walk away. With a thought, the larger of the observing pair wheels, vanishing back into the alleyway, claws scritting across worn stone cobbles. Arms crossed across his chest, chain glittering softly in diffuse light, Thalon braces a shoulder against the wall.

The noise behind him brought Gideon instantly to the surface of the dark pool the kiss had plunged him into and he jerked his head upright, leaving the woman in a swoon, bleeding out down herself, the precious liquid coursind down her shoulders and back, dripping down her legs to waste itself on the unforgiving cobblestones. Gideon's head whipped round as he glanced back over his shoulder, his own unbeating heart caught in his throat.

Thalon tilted his head, dark hair slithering forward over his shoulder to splay, stark contrast, across his chest. Blood-black spill - black as the blood that courses from the savaged throat of the woman in Gideon's arms. Light flares, green-gold reflection of the lamps, as Thalons' gaze strokes down the other man's form and back up that of the woman. A brow arches, and a faint scuff stirs on Gideon's other side, golden-green flash of animal eyes against darkness, gone as soon as it appears.

Gideon didn't need any preturnatural sense to tell that it was Thalon's figure that the dim streetlights silhoutted at the end of the alleyway. He snarled softly, the hot rush of guilty embarassment almost too much to stomach. His head whipped to the side at the unfamiliar noise, however, embarassment seugeing to caution and fear in an instant. He glanced back toward that mockingly beautiful shadow, anger burning coldly in his luminous gaze.

He glanced down - the heart beat against his chest had stopped. She was gone, nearly half of her wasted on the street at his feet, a slick puddle still steaming slightly in the air. He let her corpse drop from his grasp, watching her hit the hard stones with a sickening crunch. He ran the back of one hand across his stained lowerlip and chin, glowering at Thalon from under lowered brows.

Thalon had hunted, and he'd found the prey, the quarry, the prize. Mocking amusement meets cold rage, and a high-pitched squeal of resonates from the direction of scuffing paws. Thalon's head turns, orienting more directly on the beast. Silence. In a few strides, the distance between the two is covered, one hand lifting as though to touch the vampire's cheek - but dropping again before any contact is made. With one booted foot Thalon stirs the figure on the ground, then simply turns and walks away.

Gideon took a step backwards at the squeal, body coiling as he searched the darkness for whatever monster it was that lurked there, torn between his anger and his fear. He jerked away from Thalon's half-attempted touch and watched the man turn to go, incredulous. He'd have screamed at him, worked out a rather colorful and inventive string of profanities if only there weren't a dead body at his feet and something large and rather unruly lurking nearby.

"Bloody pleased with yourself?!" Was all he managed to blurt out, as it was, eyes flickering from the retreating back to the shadows on his left and back again.

Again Thalon lifts a hand, and silver-spangled sable stretches from the night, far from where the last sound was heard, to touch it, golden-green eyes luminously reflective in the lamps. Velvet muzzle brushes down bare chest, a purring growl rising, and Thalon turns to stare back at Gideon. Green-gold, golden-green, one half completing the other. Black lips curling back from ivory fangs, the whine of a blood-mad weasel, a hand slaps lightly at the lifted muzzle. With a snort, the cou'ri whirls fully back into the alley, claws grating harshly on stone as it plunges away on a hunt of its' own, and Thalon turns fully to face Gideon.

"Actually, yes. I didn't think you'd be that easy to hunt. Getting careless, or just hoping somebody would take you up on the opportunity?"

"What the fuck is that?!" He hissed, drawing himself upright as he watched the cou'ri nuzzle Thalon like a horse would before diving off like some incensed, enormous kimodo dragon. He turned a disbelieving glare back on Thalon.

"I wasn't expecting to be followed. If I'd known I'd become some kind of sport or spectical for a half-mad elf and his overgrown iguana I might have concealed myself more carefully."

Thalon paused, intrigued by wonder as to what an iguana might be, but dismisses his curiosity.

"Careless, then. And sloppy."

He indicates the dead woman, flesh chilling and hardening at Gideon's feet as what blood remains to her settles to the bottom of her body.

"I do hope I didn't interrupt your dinner. Don't mind me - go right ahead and finish. Oh, and be sure to chew mint afterwards - she looks like even her blood must be rank with filth. And it's half-mad half-elf."

Gideon glanced down at the broken body at his feet, laying futilely in a crumpled heap. She hadn't even had the joy of passing in his embrace - instead suffocating as she bled out with no comfort of the distracting lies that the mind could play. His upper lip curled in disgust.

" Wasted."

It was one word, muttered with such vehemence and anger that it rung off the dank, dirty walls on either side of them, lingering eerily. He wanted to shake with rage at Thalon's careless disconcern about when and how he interrupted his life, harsh words bubbled up from within and wasted themselves against his clenched jaw. He stepped over the body and strode past Thalon in disgust and anger. The man had the infuriating ability to turn his world upside down with little more effort then batting one of his beautiful green cat's eyes it seemed, and with nothing Gideon could find good enough for retailiation in kind.

Thalon stepped closer to Gideon again, true anger flaring for the first time that evening. Heat bleeds into the night air, and a jerk of the head flings hair behind his shoulders as he glares at the other man.

"What are you angry about now, Gideon? That you were caught in the act of killing - or that it doesn't bother me? Or is it just that you aren't sure you came out on top of our last... conflict? Were you expecting me to be your pet, just because you deigned to spend a night on me?"

Thalon laughed softly, as much mockery of himself for even mentioning it as mockery of Gideon for being so upset. He turns his back on the vampire, moving quietly toward the alley the cou'ri had left down.

" I don't WANT a PET!" Gideon raged as he turned round, his skin on fire with color from the blood that he had taken. He looked almost alive, though his eyes burned with that unnatural brightness to them.

"You're so certain of everything, aren't you? So bloody sure. I don't need to own you, Thalon. I could have any plaything I wanted in this godforsaken town - and for what? The pleasure of deceiving them, destroying them slowly? It's hollow, useless here!"

Gideon felt no need to explain his anger or give voice to the restlessness, the unending loop of thoughts that fed fuel to the fire of his angst, not to one so callous as to interrupt the intimacy of his feed just to prove a petty point.

"I give myself to you until I bleed and still you insist that my aims are selfish. Tell me Thalon, since it's not logic that feeds your accusations what is it? Jealousy, contempt? ....Insecurity?"

Thalon whirled, a lunge snaring Gideon's wrists and flinging him back against the wall of the building, fingertips gouging into the stone to hold him there, dialated eyes alive with searing, yet unfocused fury, an impotent rage at life and fate more than at the vampire so cool against the uncageable heat of his body. But his voice is soft, whispered breath with barely a trace of tone.

"No. I'm not sure of everything. I'm not deceived by you, Gideon, and you can't destroy me just by being what you are. Life is hollow - Forsaken Gods, death itself is hollow, from all I've seen. All you can do is fill it with whatever you can find that hurts enough to make you feel. Tell me, Gideon - did you give any more than you took? You gave what I asked - and I gave without you having to ask. Neither of us dominated the other, because neither of us could stand to admit the other was stronger. Jealous? I'm jealous of what is mine. You are mine, Gideon, but not in a way any cage would prove. And contempt? What am I contemptuous of, Gideon? You? Or myself? As to insecurity... I don't think there's anything alive - or dead - that's free from that emotion. I would be a fool to claim to be."

Gideon grunted in pain as he was flung back against the wall and pinned against the brick that cracked under the force of his blow. He raised his head slowly to give Thalon a hollow-eyed, empty grin. The heat of Thalon's anger billowed off of him like an infurno, but it was the blaze of his eyes that burnt Gideon more thoroughly than any fires ever could have, he met them head on, regardless, with that same reckless abandon and willingness to hurt himself that Thalon so accurately put his finger upon. He laughed mirthlessly as he let his head drop once more, forehead resting against Thalon's shoulder.

"Am I yours, Thalon? And if no cage could prove it is that what you ment to do tonight? Is this how you prove it, by hunting me down like an unfaithful spouse only to catch me in the one act I have left that I despise and love at once - the one truth I can never escape from? Is this how you own me, by making me face all that I try to distance myself from, all that I try to hide?"

He lifted his head suddenly and let it hit back against the brick with that same sickening thud the woman's body had made when he'd dropped it, his eyes rolling skyward.

" I'd save you from myself at every turn and yet you find me out despite my best attempts. How could you not have contempt for me?"

He whispered skywards towards the dark grey clouds that covered the stars.

A slow, stringently controlled breath sighed from Thalon's throat, stirring the hair at the nape of Gideon's neck as Thalon leans into the others' body, neck bowed, his anger a restless beast on a too-tight rein, gnawing at the bit even as it is curbed. Lips peel back, and teeth close hard on the curve of tendon between shoulder and neck as Gideon slams his head back against the wall, a snarl tearing itself free from Thalons' throat to vanish against the skin. Deliberately, he sinks his teeth in, just hard enough to draw blood before releasing. He makes no effort to taste of the dark smudges.

"I followed you from curiosity, and more to see if I could than out of concern for what you might have been doing. I don't care if you kill, Gideon. What I don't understand is why it would shame you to be what you are. You control yourself - I have seen that. Why despise what you must do to survive? Should I torment myself because I have killed to feed my body? I have stalked humans at least as often as you, if not in person, then by proxy. I can no more escape what I am than you can - but I'm not ashamed of it. Have you slipped your own leash, Gideon? Have you slaughtered for the sheer pleasure of it? You and I aren't that different. If I want to survive, I have to contain my anger - and if you want to survive, you have to control your hunger. Are you so terribly afraid of yourself that you can't bear to be yourself? I don't need to be saved from you. Or want."

Gideon's eyes clenched shut momentarily as the sharp points of Thalon's teeth exploded in a brilliant small supernova of pain. He let all the breath in him escape in a soft sigh as his head rocked to the side, cheek resting against Thalon's. He couldn't find the words to explain it all - how used to being an immortal creature surrounded by nothing more than fragile humans he'd become, how the unending, unabating thirst was what shamed him, his endless need almost more humbling than the monsterous act itself it took to abait it. He brushed a whisper of a kiss against the hollow of Thalon's ear.

"If it's testing me you'd like to do I'm sure we could find better ways of it than this. Shame or no, it is not an act I want an audience for."

He freed a wrist from Thalon's steely grasp and cupped the man's face in his cool fingers.

Thalon did bend his head now, lips closing over the wound inscribed by his teeth, hot tongue soothing the punctures, though without the healing properties Gideon himself would have. Still, it surely wouldn't take the vampire long to heal. Icy blood, or more accurately the mortal infection it contains is pure tinder to his anger, but he keeps that explosion tightly contained. Distilled vitality of elven blood, mingled with older, and even more intense vitae: Truely he feared nothing from that chill liquid. Lifting his head again, Thalon leans back to meet Gideon's gaze without waver.

"Try to kill me, Gideon. I can match your strength, and you can't drain me, even if I wanted you to. Watching you rip the throat out of some woman, or some man, isn't going to disgust me. Would you rather not know you were being watched? I could have left without you ever seeing me. You should have known I was there before I ever got close. What would you have me test, Gideon? What you are? Or who?"

The warm, wet caress of tongue against his skin was an unrivaled pleasure at the moment. The wounds had already healed, dark blood laved away to reveal smooth skin. He ran his fingers back through the dark, silken strands of Thalon's hair, letting his fingertips drag across the tender scalp.

"Who."

He answered without hesitation, nuzzling a sucking kiss under the curve of his jaw.

"But I am not afraid that I will kill you Thalon... but I will outlive you."

Thalon tilted his head without the slightest hesitation, exposing the tender skin of his throat to Gideon's lips. The hand remaining on Gideon's wrist tightens, but the free hand drops to rest on the side of the man's hip, breath shuddering deliciously from his throat.

"How old are you, Gideon?"

He stepped back away from the wall, twisting Gideon's arm down and behind him as his other hand slides around to keep the cool body close. Another shudder courses through his body, of a far more carnally primal nature, as he led Gideon back toward the alley he'd almost vanished into earlier. Dark movement amidst the black shadow, a soundless presence that is as much Thalon as Thalon is it.

"Do you know, Gideon, that I have no idea how long I might live? I know that I can be killed, but I have no idea how long it will take age to touch me."

"I was twenty three when I was made." Gideon answered softly as he winced at the twist of his arm, bones aching in their sockets as they turned unnaturally. He gave the tender skin beside Thalon's adam's apple another suckling small kiss before nipping sharply at the skin of his shoulder. He drew his head up however at that little tidbit of information, regarding Thalon in curiosity. He stroked back a lock of hair from his face with his free hand, tucking it behind the curve of one ear, his fingers caressing the lobe slowly.

"What is it you are, Thalon? I asked once and you teased me... I've tasted your blood and the heat in you enough to know it's something powerful and ancient. And that thing that was with you tonight...?"

Thalon closed his eyes, purring a velvet growl at the nip, but tenses when he hears Gideon's question. Only the intimate contact of their bodies gives away his sudden tension, and he attempts to conceal that with a sudden twist and lunge, easing the pressure on Gideon's arm just before the mans' back impacts the solid, warm, velvet-furred shoulder of the very beast he'd just asked about. A splash of silver in the dark, the musky blood-sweet scent of a carnivore, and deep, steady breathing against the vampires' spine.

"I am... a mongrel, according to some. My mother was elven, as you've noticed. My father... is dead. If he had a race to call himself by, it died with him. It's his blood you've tasted in me. How long has it been since you were made?"

Gideon's breath was a sharp gasp as his back came in contact with the beast that he spoke of. It was only the wary, trembling beginings of trust he had in Thalon coupled with his confidence in his own immortality that kept him from struggling with all his might to be free and flee as far as possible from the unnatural creature. He was as rigid as a board as it was and twisting in Thalon's grasp.

"I don't know! Five, ten, maybe twenty years? You don't understand..."

He racked his brain, surely it hadn't been twenty years, and just as surely more than five....but it was different to live in his world, to ignore the passage of time that humans found to important, to wittness the world only through the veil of darkness.

"Twelve! Twelve years now..." He exclaimed as he twisted himself free and slid out from between the grasp of Thalon and the cushion of the cou'ri. He backed away hastily.

"What the hell is that thing? A dragon?"

The cou'ri blocked the way out of the alley, the dark bulk of the beast jockeying to trap the vampire and remove the option of easy flight. Thalon simply stands there, hands falling slowly to his sides, as he watches Gideon's panicked response. Abrupt motion: not toward the vampire, but a synchronized whirl of two conjoined minds. A black shoulder dips, a lithe form springs, and Thalon sits lightly astride the cou'ri's shoulders. Of its own accord, the creature turns broadside to Gideon, and Thalon offered his hand to the man.

"No dragon. He's a Cou'ri." He hesitates, trying to find words for what were never meant to be more than thoughts.

"Redclaw is the closest I can come to translating his name." Slowly, the hand begins to lower.

"You've been a vampire for twelve years, which makes you thirty five now. By fifty, I'd reached my full height. By eighty, I'd reached what I assume is my full strength. You're afraid of outliving me, Gideon? I'm afraid of outliving my desire to live."

Luminously feral eyes fix on Gideon, set in a wedge-shaped head more suited to a cat than what looks more like to a horse than not. But with a spine too limber, a neck too lithe, and claws on padded feet instead of hooves. Velvet fur sheaths hard, lean muscle in a veil of deepest, glossy black striped with deeper ebony, starkly contrasted by the silver-white silk of sleek mane and tail. Velvet lips curl back to reveal curved, predatory fangs - a creature one might imagine would occure should a weasel be crossed with a horse. A questioning purr sounds as the muzzle stretches toward the vampire, a snort of disgust sounding as it jerks back again.

~Coldnastytastebad. Darkstainedbloodclawsrip? Notmeat. Thrustthrustsquealfunbloodcoat? Huntsoon.~

Gideon looked up at the other man with an unreadable expression contorting his features, such was the mingling of confusion, awe, trepidation and sheer incredulity that all vied within him, and he couldn't pull his focus away from the cou'ri long enough to give Thalon his full attention. His jerk backward echoed the thing's own. He had no desire to be anywhere in close proximity to this monstrosity, infact he had a rather pressing urge to be as far from it as possible.

He shook his head, putting a good ten yards between himself and the cou'ri.

"You're certainly full of suprises, Thalon."

He would have liked to address the fact of Thalon's curious age and the likelyhood of his own immortality but it hardly seemed like the more pressing issue here at the moment.

Thalon closed his eyes, letting his hand fall completely to the beasts' shoulder. A soft, questioning croon rises from the cou'ri's throat, as it curves its' neck around to nuzzle that hand.

"You see him as nothing more than a beast, something to be feared, and as a monster in that right. Know this, Gideon. I am as much him as he is me. 'Ri bond for life - mindbond - with a single creature like enough in temperament and nature to understand them. If Redclaw is a monster to you, then so am I. As some would have it 'Till death do us part'. When he dies, or I die, we will no longer be two halves of the same soul - until then, we are. If you can't accept what he is, then you will never be able to accept what I am. I think, I reason, and I feel far more deeply than a Cou'ri - but when it comes to basic nature, we are both predators. Killers. Hunters. If you can't accept that in another, will you ever accept it in yourself?"

A sway as of one body as the two pivot away from the vampire. Long fingers tangled in silver mane, the male twisted to stare back at the figure left behind, the beast's attention on the path ahead, padded feet silent on the worn cobbles.

Gideon kept his own counsel as he regarded Thalon and his odd pet from a safe enough distance. The truth was that he did find Thalon a monster of sorts, dangerous in a way far more insidious and obtuse than the terrifying looking cou'ri. And perhaps the murderous creature was a kind thing - towards others like itself - but Gideon had come from a world as mundane as any, and the month or more he'd spent here in Rhy'din had not yet numbed him to the swarms of odd beings that existed elsewhere, much less such a nightmarish creature as Redclaw. It had been a piss poor night of others telling him what he thought of himself, what he should and should not do, and wasted meals. He had neither the desire nor the need to follow Thalon and his cou'ri anywhere.

Let him think what he would of Gideon - the vampire could not bring himself to care at the moment. This creature was changing him, dangerously, unhealthily so, and the only proving grounds where he could fight this battle was within himself with himself. He turned away and sought out an opposite route down the alleyway, strides ringing out against the close walls.

He actually longed for Vincent, for the certainty of his frightening cruelty and cold ambition, longed to have something solid and unchanging to challenge and thumb his nose at. Thalon's love was far too treacherous, too inviting and infuriating at once. Yet he knew there was none other in this entire forgotton place that could match him as well, understand him and pit themselves against him... He rubbed a rough hand across his forehead with a soundless growl.

The hunger still gnawed at him, and yet he was completely devoid of the want to feed - Thalon's interruption had seen to that. Shame had little to do with it - it was the intimacy of the act, that he loved, and it had been shattered for the evening. He'd taken life before he became a vampire and it never bothered him greatly, if at all. What was a stranger's life worth? He'd treated Thalon foolishly though, as if he were human, like Erin or Cassie...or any other number of his passing favorites. Underestimated him and continued to pay the price for it with each encounter.

He would have loved nothing more than to have spent another blissful, debauch night in the sticky heat of Thalon's rooms, but he was going no where near the man for the moment - not with the cou'ri about. It wasn't an abject hatred of the beast that drove Gideon from appreciating it for what it was but rather a cold, instinctive fear that curled itself in his belly and screamed with every instinct left in him to run. Perhaps he would overcome it, perhaps not.

Thalon watched until the vampire turned away. Only the beast beneath him could feel the flinch, the tightening of muscles as though bracing against a physical blow. The cou'ri lifts his head with a snarl, seeking the source of his companions' reaction, then whines questioningly to find nothing there. Surely the beast would gleefully fight against any odds if the foe were physical - but it simply hadn't the capacity to understand a more emotional wound.

Yet Thalon, in his own way, revelled in the slash of deeper pain. He'd opened as much as he had in a very long time, he'd offered more of himself than most ever knew existed, and the vampire's rejection did hurt - but at the same time, it left another scar, another callousing of emotional tissue. And a fraction more of what made him 'human', without the taint of human blood, fell away. Teeth bare in a vicious snarl, and he leans low over the Cou'ri's neck. Tonight, they would hunt together, and as one would revel in the kill. And be damned who might witness their play - let the fools come if they wished, and let them die. It was a good night to hunt.

**WARNING - EXPLICIT CONTENT**

Gideon's breath caught in his throat as the cool, impersonal leather closed over the bones of his wrists, the weight of steel both a comfort and a curse. He shivered as Thalon's hands caressed him, and tried his shackles with an experimental tug. He groaned softly as he felt the heat of Thalon's mouth and the pinch of his teeth against the nape of his neck. His eyes snapped open at the whispered words, a sudden constricture of desire, mingled perfectly with fear, exploding in his belly. He let the air escape his lungs in a slow, hissing stream.

"Yes...I did."

Feather-light fingers glidE back upward, over Gideon's belly and chest, thumbs brushing teasingly across nipples before falling away entirely. He leaves the vampire to face the blank stone of the hearth's rear, turning aside to the panel he'd earlier caressed. A touch released the catch, and he examined the array before him. Cautiously he grasps the haft of one, near-black hide glittering with countless reflected pinpricks of light, but doesn't lift it down. Instead he selects a scourge of multiple falls. Heavy, soft leather cascades across his wrist, carved into round lashes. Sueded bullhide. As he turns back, that velvet weight falls to his side, before coming up and across in a slow, broad slash. Not from this the bite of cutting thongs, but rather a heavy, near-bruising impact. Only that one stroke, his palm smoothing across the path in the leathers' wake, soothing, savouring. For just a moment, Thalon presses his body to Gideon's spine, his head bleeding into the coolth.

A step away, and the whip falls again, curling down over the vampires' shoulder to spend its' force against his chest.

He would have twisted as much as he could as he was left alone against the wall, turning to glance over his shoulder in curiosity, save for the fact that he savored the unknown, relished that anticipation that made each small muscle tense and tremor. He kept his face to the wall and curled his fingers over the chains that bound his shackles to the stone. He could hear the hushed sursurrus of leather thongs moving against each other, and bit back a soft moan, eyelids clenching shut tightly. The first strike, perfectly timed to suprise him, made him jump, though he did not yet cry out. He felt the burn of air escape his lungs, not to return - the shock driving the breath from him.

And then there was the flooding warmth of Thalon's body pressed close to him for an instant, soothing against the suddenly hyper-sensitive skin of his back. He swore he could feel the bunch and gather of muscle movement, the kiss of each downy, invisible hair on his skin, even the push of blood through the tiny capillaries of Thalon's skin in that breif touch - but it was all washed away with the next fall of the whip. He gritted his teeth as he jerked his head to the side, feeling the cruel finals of the lashes stinging against his throat, chest and nipples. His skin prickled as if it burned. He'd fed once before coming - a maid in his hotel, drained her near dry. The blood made his skin alive, lent it color. It reddened where it had been struck, though the rosy glow soon faded as the tiny, ingenious cells began reparing themselves instantaniously.

There's no hurry, none of the fiery anger that so often burns in his blood. For once that inferno was near-quenched, spent in the flesh of those he had far more reason to hate. Slowly, rythmically the lash snakes back over Gideon's shoulder, hissing softly as it is brought slashing across the man's lower back, this time to curl around and bite into his belly. But then the whip is hung, ballanced across a taut shoulder, as Thalon's hands explore stung skin, gliding down, lower, to slide within the waist of his jeans. Not this time to carress, but rather to guide cold steel, also taken from the cupboard, across soft skin. Razor steel parts fabric, tracing a chill line down either leg: it would take a tailor considerable effort to repair the garments to the point of being wearable again. Footwear, at least, is removed less permanently before the lot is discarded. And again the whip glides heavily back across Gideon's shoulder, falls trickling down his spine, across his buttocks and thighs.

Thalon earned a hissing breath drawn in through sharp teeth as the flails caught a glancing blow against the tender skin of his stomach. He twitched away from the soft touch of hands against the tingling skin, more knee jerk reaction in expectation of another blow than anything else. It took far more effort for him to bite back a cry of protest as he felt cold, sharp steel press his skin and part the expensive fabric of his clothes, leaving a line down his legs, splitting skin here and there, the parts in the flesh knitting instantly. Left suddenly naked, he tensed as the thongs caressed him treacherously.

Yet that weight draws away, falling free again even as the vampire presses into it - and as his head falls back, they return, battering upward across the tender skin of his back. And there's no gentle touch to sooth away the sting this time - even as that blow presses him forward the whip is turned, momentum unspent, to slash across bared buttocks. Again, and again, without pause: from neck to ankles, a steady, thorough pounding of heavy lash against exposed flesh, only the occasional turn of Thalon's wrist or shift in angle keeping his most tender organs from feeling the battering weight. But finally it slows... one, curving around his shoulder to bite into his chest... and again, wrapping around ribs to overlap the last, but inches lower. Again, across diaphram and belly... and down, to spend a sharp snap against his belly. And then, again... and this time, the blow falls across his lower stomach and groin, carefully placed dangerously close to the one area left unscathed. This time, the lash lingers, falling away slowly rather than drawn back. But it is drawn back, once the whip is freed.

Now it came at last, the rain of lashes that fell fast and furious so that the pain of the first dulled into that of the next until his entire back was a brilliant, blinding inferno of red pain. Welts criss-crossed his skin beautifully in a latticework sculpture of raised flesh. It was nothing he could not tolerate, though, and the cold heat the beating raised in his skin was a welcome sensation. It was when the blows began to fall on the front of him that the pain sharpened, intensified, grasping his senses and mind and bringing him back again. He grunted in pain as the whip fell against his ribs and belly, his stomach clenching as his body sought instinctively to protect the vulnurable front of himself. Thalon at last earned a shout from him as the thongs fell against his lower stomach and groin, the blazing sting of white-hot pain arching his entire body backward like a strung bow, muscles flexed exquisitely under the flame of reddened skin. He panted for breath, eyes wide and wild, the sinews of his jaw standing out as he clenched teeth in preparation for the possibility of another cruel strike.

Yet it isn't the whip that falls across abused flesh - rather, it is the fire, the soft, burning touch, of Thalon's hand as he presses his own bared flesh hard against the beaten backside of the vampire. The heat of his mouth opens against Gideon's neck, tongue laving skin, before he breathes into the man's skin.

"Is this what you want, Gideon? To feel pain, to rejoice in the lash that proves you can still feel something? To have every nerve set ablaze, yearning, yet fearing, the next kiss of leather? This is only the begining."

Nnnh! ::His moan was soft and urgent, and the only response that he could manage.

Again Thalon steps away, tossing the heavy flogger onto a couch as he scans the cabinet again. This time the appearance of the whip is far less impressive - a single fall, long, slender and lithe, of rolled leather tapering to a gradual point. Moisture glistens faintly on Thalon's skin as he runs the thong through his fingers, moving once more behind Gideon. There's no warning this time, leather cutting through air with nary a whisper, before that narrow strip bites into skin. Nor does it have the weight to do much immediate damage - merely to raise a livid welt. But this is a tool of precision, rather than brute force - the lash flicks back and falls again with barely a breath between blows, slashing again into the same place before the vampire's body can heal itself. A clean stripe across his back - and again, again, until narrow leather cuts through welt into flesh. Not a weapon that could ever do any major harm, though the lash hardenes, stiffens with each drop of blood it soaks in.

Gideon squirmed slightly with that wonderful constriction that once again left him panting, chest heaving for air he didn't need. The breath was cut short though as he howled howled with the first vicious strike of this new flagellation that split his skin in two blows. Fingers tightened against his chains as he tore at the slippery metal. The skin of his back parted like silk, dark blood a cold cascade of drips that stained the now perfectly flushed skin, ran down his buttocks and thighs in long, thin ribbons left behinds by the tickling descent of thick droplets. The snarl caught between his teeth was inhuman - but this was what he craved. He could feel the flesh of his back begin to visibly heal after every other stroke, only to be laid open anew in a fresh spot elsewhere.

This was his penance, this was his wish. He shuddered under the blows, face and front pressed hard into the unwelcoming embrace of the stone.

There's a delicate beauty to the lacework of blood tracing patterns over Gideon's back. And each deft slash of hardened leather adds another complication, another pattern to complete the whole. Passion flares to incendiary heights as Thalon's lips part, breath shuddering through his lungs with the impact of each blow, the ecstasy of each new droplet of dark fluid against pale skin. Those slashes don't fall at random - rather he controlls each cut, marking an even laticework down Gideon's back, alternating from one side to the other in diagonal lines. Liquid spatters across the polished stone, but he doesn't stop. The whip curls viciously around one thigh, then the other - upward to carve a searing line around Gideon's throat. Down, with a twisting snap that curls around and spends itself entirely in a single slice against the vampire's belly. Unrelenting, unceasing, as the pattern across the spine is completed and continues down along long, beautifully lean legs. Purposefully, deliberately Thalon spills his lovers' blood, draining out the crimson tide.

The art of this pain was weilded perfectly in Thalon's adept hands, and the release it offered Gideon was immeasurable. Cornered, chained - he had no choices, all power taken away, all distractions and stresses lost to the sudden, real power of the now and the exquitely beautiful pain that kept him harnessed to that feircsome present. He rallied against it, fought against it with everything he possesed, and eventually yeilded to it, accepted it and loved it, each harsh crack that pained his ears, each rip of thinned flesh, even the scent of his own dark blood and the weakness he was begining to feel as he bled slowly all were beautiful, perfect things. A prayer of a moan escaped him on a shuddering breath as he heard blood splashing in drops upon the floor like rain - the precious gift and Dark Sacrament wasted like the life's blood of his victim had been the night before. He rolled wild, pale eyes heavenward, dark lashes twitching with each blow.

A dark, glistening tapestry - pale flesh peeking through a net of bloody trails. And it could go on forever, as the vampire's body heals itself - from neck to ankles, ready to begin anew before the course is run out. But not yet - for there is still canvas to paint, for one with the skill to direct each kiss of hard, wet lash. And the whip falls. Curling across Gideon's shoulder, the first solid bite into his chest... once to welt, again to deepen the welt, and the final blow to slice it own. He won't turn the vampire, won't give him aught but blank stone to see, but Thalon slowly, patiently begins to mince the chest he took such pleasure in carressing with his lips. To limn each graceful rib in the swell and surge of blood, then shatter that limning with a splattering final kiss.

A familiar path - though this time, with the trickle of fluid to herald where the next blow is likely to fall. Yet no cut bisects a nipple - not yet. Downward, first from one side, then the other, crisscrossing as the slash again moves toward that most tender of targets. And finally a pause... sodden leather drops.

Gideon rocked backward with the first blow to the unprepared skin of his chest a rush of blood deafening his ears as unmolested skin became the new target, bringing fresh misery with it. Blood splattered his face as the whip found it's marks, and he wrenched his head to the side to escape it, burrying his face against his raised shoulder his cries quieter now. He shut his eyes, turning the world black and each stroke of the whip a bright, radiant line of white that illuminated that darkness for a moment before fading into a deep red, a dull lingering ache that burnt out the second a new slash of white lit up the darkness. He began to dispair of an end to this.

That was of course, provided that he had the desire to leave - which he did not. He nodded anyway and let his hands stroke down Thalon's neck, chest, and sides. I'll run the water, hm? He stepped out from around Thalon, giving the other's shoulder a teasing nip. He paused halfway across the room.

"By the way... check the pockets of those jeans you so thoughtfully destroyed. I brought a gift for you."

Nestled in the left back pocket lay a small, hard little object carefully folded in a grey velvet cloth. Gideon gave the other male a mischevious smile as he made for the bathroom to turn on the water, raising it to a scalding temperature and waited for the steam to gather as he glanced in the mirror. He looked a mess - blood streaked and spattered, his skin too pale, almost transparent, the dark blue veins begining to show through where the skin was thinner... around his eyes, near his ears and throat, over his chest and in the hollows of his elbows.

Well, it was a good thing Thalon hadn't followed his first impulse, which had been to toss the jeans into the fire. He does that, however, once he's certain all of the pockets have been emptied. Rather than explore the gift immediately, he carries the results of his foraging into the bathroom, bracing a shoulder against the wall as he watches Gideon prepare the bath, his own skin streaked dark with the vampire's blood as well. The packet is turned between curious fingers, but set aside for now. Instead, Thalon steps down into the sunken hollow, unfazed by the temperature of the water surging against his skin. A flush of blood rising to the surface, so vividly stark in comparison to the others' pallor. A careless hand snags out, pulling Gideon into the heart of the surging steam, dark stains trickling down tawny skin as they start to soak away.

"Gifts can wait."

It doesn't occur to him that Gideon might have difficulty with the temperature. Instead, he's far more intent on exploring the man's body as he cleans away the marks of whip and passion.

He watched Thalon set the gift aside unopened, dissapointment well masked as he stepped down into the hot tub, lowering himself down through the vapors rising off of it. He winced at the heat, but his skin quickly adapted to the burn of it. His hands spread in the water and swept foward as he pinned Thalon back against a wall of the tub, burrying a line of cool kisses around the curveing intersction of neck and shoulder. His fingers stroked and fondled the tender hollows they could find under the water; caressing the soft underside of his arms, the ticklish joint of hip and thigh.

The blood melted off of him wherever the water touched. Dirt didn't cling to his skin as it did normal flesh, and the scalding liquid bathed his skin to a marble sheen.

Heat soaks into skin, matching and rekindling the heat within. He relaxes back against the side of the pool head falling back, dark hair spilling around him as the touch of chill lips sends shudders through his body - so stark a contrast from the warmth enfolding him, a shock against smouldering flesh, setting every nerve alight with sensitivity. He arched and pressed into the explorating of skilled hands, his own gliding across Gideons' back, across his shoulders, one lifting to curve around the back of the man's neck as cool lips draw a shiver of raw pleasure through him.

Palest ivory against flushed gold, a classic image of purity and hedonism entwined. Lifting his head again, lips and teeth find the vampire's shoulder, licking droplets of steam and water from the ghostly skin to revel in the simple flavours of water-warmed flesh. Golden eyes tracing the line of blue veins, Thalon releases his grasp on Gideon's neck to follow those snaking maps with a fingertip.

"So cold, so fragile... yet you are, perhaps, the only lover I've ever taken that I didn't have to fear I would kill with a careless touch."

Gideon's generous lips curved into a satiatied smile at that and he lifted his head to rake Thalon's handsome face with his gaze.

"As are you, love, as are you..."

He grazed the other's lips in a tease of a kiss, letting the tip of his tongue lick lightly at the damp center of Thalon's lower lip. Strong fingers closed over his lover's lower back and flexed in a slow massage, thumbs digging firm circles upwards against taut muscles.

Thalon closed his eyes, revelling in the sensations as he answers the tease by nipping at the flicking tongue, catching it just enough to suckle before pushing away from the side of the pool. Deepening suckle to kiss, he keeps his arms tight around the others' body as he twists sideways to plunge them both below the surface, hair, darkened to the seeming of true black by the moisture, tangling in a silken shroud about them both to ensnare and bind together tangled limbs. However, unlike Gideon, Thalon can't remain below the surface indefinetely - he surfaces again, water streaming down his body, fingers raking hair back behind his shoulders roughly. Hands fall from that as he backs against the side of the pool once more, bracing to pull himself up into a seat on that surface, knees parted to grip Gideon's hips as he's pulled close, groin to groin, chest to chest. Already water steams off Thalon's torso, long strands clinging tight to send rivulets across his skin. Fingers reach behind to locate Gideon's gift, and he leans down to nip at the vampire's throat teasingly as he explores the contents by feel.

"Now, or later?"

Thalon had a way of being cruelly beautiful no matter what his condition - but underwater, with the black tangles of his hair spreading about them slowly, he took on the aura of a godling. Gideon deepened their kiss, loosing the reigns on his passion for a moment before Thalon had to break away and surface. He followed, rising out of the water like a pale Adonis himself, water streaming off of him in rivulets. His skin, so abused earlier, now flawless once more, not a mark, not a scar or a trace left behind to tell of the loving kiss of the lash. He laughed softly as Thalon drug him close and glanced up to watch Thalon's fingers close over the folded swath of grey velvet, a pleased smile lengthening the corners of his mouth.

"Open it now."

Thalon bit a fraction harder, then straightens from that temptingly tender column. The grey velvet is unwrapped slowly, carefully, fingertips savouring the texture - and he can't help sneaking a glance at Gideon to see if the man notices his procrastination. However, finally the last fold is turned back to reveal the contents, resting lightly in his palm.

Even in the soft-focus light provided by the billowing steam the gem resting int he palm of Thalon's hand gleamed with an inner fire, sparkling against the velvet. It was a black diamond, nearly five carats in size and already perfectly cut into a teardrop shape. It glowed darkly in the dim light, unset and unmarred by any flaw. Gideon drifted away from Thalon, to take a seat beside him against the wall of the tub, watching his lover's expression carefully.

"It's a diamond..." He explained needlessly, "I could think of nothing more perfect for you."

Silently Thalon studied the stone, dark flashes glittering against reflective eyes as he rolls his palm. Slowly, he turns his gaze from stone to vampire, subjecting Gideon to that same, searching scrutiny, before leaning across to capture Gideon's lips in a soft, undemanding kiss.

"Thank you. Fine stones are... a passion of mine, I must admit. No one has ever given me a gift like this before, lover."

At that, very few had given him any gift at all, other than the occasional use of their body. Carefully he folds the velvet back around the stone, finally curling his fingers around the package again, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not really familiar with the giving of gifts, but I'll find an appropriate way to set it. Do you have any suggestions?"

Gideon's smile was one of pure pleasure as Thalon admired the stone and he returned the kiss gently, one hand rising to stroke the wet silk of his lover's hair. That it was an unusal thing for the man to even receive gifts made it all the more pleasurable for Gideon to give it. He shook his head as he rose out of the bathwater and wrapped a towel round his waist.

"No... I'd like to see you do with it what you see fit. It was meant for you and you'll know best how to use it."

He reached out a hand to help Thalon from the water, pulling him up into a kiss, slow and sensuous. He released him , letting the backs of his fingertips stray across his hot, damp cheek.

"I told you once there was nothing I wouldn't give you...and nothing I wouldn't ask in return."

Sharp teeth catch his lower lip as he lets his eyes drop. He'd wrestled with this, sulked in it and drove himself mad with it, but it was not to be contained. He cursed himself silently as the words slipped out on their own.

"I love you... and I'd have your love, Thalon."

"Of course, now I need another bath. Care to join me, or would you rather lay there and bask?"

Gideon rolled over onto his stomach, drawing a pillow under his chest and head, resting his chin upon it as he watched Thalon with a hint of a smile curving his generous mouth.

"I'll wait for you."

Thalon left a hand to trail down the man's spine, lingering, luxuriating in the feel of warmed flesh beneath his touch, and he turned away to clean himself off again. A shower, this time, scouring away any lingering traces of semen, blood and sweat. Despite the pleasure of hot water, he doesn't take long - it takes longer, in fact, to comb out his hair afterwards, roughly towling most of the moisture out before working at tangles. As he does that, he wanders back past the bedroom, glancing curiously at the bed before scooping up the diamond and heading for his workroom.

Gideon sat up as Thalon dissapeared into the bathroom once more and cast about for his clothes. The remnants of the ruined jeans smouldered in the nearest hearth and he shook his head as he picked his fallen shirt up off the ground to toss it beside his leather jacket left in a chair by the door. A walk home pantsless would be an interesting excursion indeed, but not one he was ready or willing to make at the moment. Rather than fling himself back onto the bed he slid into the embrace of a chair near the hearth, one leg dangling over the arm of it, his head resting against the back of it, one hand dangling over the opposite arm, fingers grazing the floor as he basked in the heat and light of the fire. When he closed his eyes it felt almost like sunshine.... almost.

Fingers brush across Gideon's shoulder as he passes the occupied chair, but he doesn't linger. A few more firestones added to the hearth, and he passes into the workroom, to rummage among small boxes stacked on one of the more neatly organized tables. A tiny parcel - the remnants of the material used for the dragon, which, complete, had already been tucked away. Settling at the bench, Thalon sorts through the pieces of metal, unwrapping the diamond again as he selects what will be used with it. A strip, long enough to form a bezel: six bits of wire for prongs, and a longer, heavier length. Examining the gathered parts, he wraps them all within the velvet and places it in the center of his table, the next project to be made. The rest of the box goes back on the other table, before he
retraces his steps, lifting Gideon's hand to settle on the arm of the chair, before letting it fall again across his legs. He doesn't speak, simply watching the flames coil and writhe as shadows flicker across walls of golden, striped wood.

Glacial eyes slit open at the touch and watched Thalon's naked back slip through the door. Something about the way the man walked about naked, so comfortable in his own perfect, beautiful skin gave Gideon a delicious chill of pleasure. It was almost animal, the movement of Thalon's stalking stride - muscles rolling under that golden, silken furred hide with all the latent power of a wild cat.

Something's slippery fingers clutched at his heart, giving it a pleasent, painful grip before sliding away. He let his eyes drift shut agian until He felt his arm lifted and replaced upon Thalon's lap. He tilted his face upwards as he leaned his cheek against his lover's arm.

"Thalon....tell me of yourself."

He rose and took the other male's wrist, drawing him back into the bed, curling his body around his, strong arms finding a comfortable embrace as lazy fingers stroked up and down random swaths of golden flesh in langorus, light touches.

"Give me your story."

Thalon followed willingly, limbs tangling with Gideons' as he makes himself comfortable, drawing rumpled blankets over their entwined forms. He frowns at the request, sorting his words carefully before responding. Bending his neck, he strokes his cheek along the smooth skin of the man's shoulder, breathing the scents of the vampire deeply to once more engrave them on his memory. Hands knead firmly at back and shoulders, teasing any tension from the muscles, before he finally speaks.

"There's not a whole lot to say, really. You've seen the work that I do - my own designs. I rarely create anything to anyone's specifications. I don't usually stay in one place too long. At least, I haven't in the past. This area is new to me, but it seems fairly promising so far."

The tightening of his embrace gives silent explanation of that statement.

"If you want the framework, it's not too complicated: My mother was elven, a young female. Young enough that she shouldn't have been able to get pregnant, by elven standards. Oh - and I should mention that by elven standards, I wouldn't even be considered an adult yet. So you don't need to worry about me keeling over from old age any time soon."

He paused, fingers trailing slowly along the vampire's spine, down to the cleft of buttocks and up again, to brush across the nape of his neck.

"Birthing me killed her. I know that much, and it's no regret to me. Had it not, she'd have killed me as soon as she could. My fathers' attentions were not by her choice, though I've no doubt he was as shocked as she that there was any result."

Gideon's soft chuckle into the curve of Thalon's shoulder was his response to the lunacy of the idea that he was accepting the amorous advances of a more than 80 year old minor... but his laughter died away as Thalon told, vaugely, the story of his parents and his birth. He drew the sharpness of his teeth thoughtfully over the curve of one shoulder, ending in a soft kiss.

A sudden weariness grasped him. They'd spent a long night together, and if dawn wasn't upon them it was close. He blinked wearily only to see that Thalon was nodding off as well. He brushed a tender kiss over burning, moist lips before he nestled his head beside Thalon's on the pillow, forehead pressed to temple, his lover's spill of dark hair soft and scented under his cheek.

The satiation of flesh, and a pleasantly heavy weariness of mind and muscle combine with warmth, and the pleasure of the body against body to sooth Thalon, despite the pangs of old caution. He'd never given anyone the full details of his creation, and, as much as he might care for Gideon, he wasn't sure of the wisdom of sharing that information now. Regardless, sleep was fast drawing him down into the darkness of its' grasp, breathing slowing and deepening, the soft pulse of his heartbeats no more than a peculiar echo. His lips part beneath the kiss, savouring the taste and texture of the other man, before shifting to wrap his heat around the cooler form. Slowly, with a relaxed pleasure he'd rarely indulged in before, he lets sleep claim him - even before it claims his companion.

The lamp is burnin' low upon my table top
The snow is softly fallin'
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly callin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon the page
The words of love you sent me

If I could know within my heart
That you were lonely too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
The shades of night are liftin'
The mornin' light steals across my windowpane
Where webs of snow are driftin'

If I could only have you near
To breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love
Upon this winter night with you
To be once again with with you...

Cassie was huddled in her leather jacket, walking towards the porch slowly. Her mind was elsewhere tonight, and she was paying enough attention that she didn't run into anyone, but other than that, she wasn't with it. Tonight, her mind was on the past.

Behind her a part of the shadows broke off, moved of its own accord, and followed Cass. Only three steps behind her and unnaturally silent, he moved, drawing close enough to touch her, close enough to wrap his fingers round her throat... He followed her up onto the porch, stopping short when they reached the door, his hand suddenly reaching out over her shoulder to press against the wooden door. He could hear her heart beating. He could smell the life that throbbed through evey gorgeous inch of her.

In her preoccupied state, she didn't notice him following her. Normally, despite his silent progress, it was likely she'd have gotten that prickly sensation, but she was too lost in thought tonight. So up the porch she went, and she actually started to open the door before she realized he was there. The door didn't open when she pulled, and she glanced up to see a hand pressing it closed. That caused a rapid jump in her heart beat, as she whirled about, pulling a knife from beneath her
sleeve and moving to press that blade against the smooth skin of his throat. It was all reflexive, and even when she realized it was Gideon, and not an unknown enemy, she followed through until it pressed so lightly.

"You."

The shdows of Gideon's face moved and shifted as a sad smile spread across his emaciated face and the cold blade of the knife pressed hard against his marble-white skin. He almost sighed in releif and pleasure as she pressed it harder even when her lovely eyes sparked with recognition. He pressed himself closer against the kind blade, eyes pained, mourning, completely incongrutious to the smile that spread his generous lips.

"Please..." He breathed softly, and pressed even closer. The blade bit into his flesh, peirced, a thick welling of blood - oddly dark in the dim light oozed down the silvery steel.

The fact that he made no move to pull back and protect his throat was slightly unnerving. Even more so as he pressed yet closer. She held it carefully, not enough to prick the skin, not yet. Blue-greys swept over his face, sickly even in the dimmer lighting of the porch.

"You don't look well, Gideon.. Perhaps we should go inside and get drinks." That knife still didn't move though.

"What for?" He sighed. Even his voice was dry, brittle sounding as the remnaints of the fall leaves that skittered along the cobblestones in the grip of the bitter wind. He moved to press himself closer against the knife, but turned as one of the inn's patrons approached the porch, and he drew away, out of their path towards the door. He withdrew to the comfort of the darkness provided by the eves of the porch, his chin sinking against his chest, face hidden behind the raised collar of his coat.

She scooted away from the door as well. She didn't have an desire to get smacked with it if someone exited and she still stood in front of it. She stayed a little closer to the light, dim though it was, knife still in hand, but she'd dropped her arm.

"What for? It's warmer inside. More comfortable. Some tea could perhaps do you good..." Yeah, right. He looked a little beyond a simple cuppa.

'Yeah right' was exactly the look he shot her over the edge of his collar, pale eyes hollow. He withdrew a cigarette from his pocket and held it up, but paused, gazing at it as if suddenly lost, as if he had no idea what to do with it or how it got into his fingers. His hand trembled.

She nodded, acknowledging the silliness of the statement. She also slid the knife back up under her sleeve, she was starting to feel silly with it just hanging in her hand. She frowned at the lost look, and reached up to pluck the cigarette from his fingers. When she spoke, her voice was softer, gentler.

"Hey.. You okay there?"

He watched her take the cigarette, his gaze moving upwards slowly to her face. For once the expression on his face was neither sly nor slick... far from it. He looked like a lost little boy, a broken soul. He shook his head slowly, miserably.

"No... no I'm not, Cass..."

She tucked the cigarette into a pocket absently, confused by this change in him. This was not the charming, self-confident man she enjoyed a back and forth relationship with. It actually kinda broke her heart to see him like this. And brought out those latent nuturing instincts. She reached out and took one of his hand slowly, cradling it between both of hers.

"What's wrong?"

He closed his fingers over her cradling hands slowly, and drew her hands foward, pressing his cheek against the soft skin of the back of her knuckles, his eyes closing tightly. He had to focus to think beyond the torment of the sensation of the pulsing blood that he could feel rushing under her silken skin.

"I can't... I don't..."

He struggled against the words, as if admitting this made it real. He drew a slow breath.

"Thalon...he's gone."

She let him hold onto her hands. She didn't feel like he meant her any harm at the moment. He certainly looked too pitiful for violence. She hadn't expected the answer she got. Love, that wasn't Cassie's forte. She leaned forward, and up on her toes, to press her lips to his forehead lightly.

"I'm sorry."

Gideon exhaled softly as she kissed him, her lips soft and warm against his skin, now cold as death and oddly, unnatrually smooth. He opened his eyes miserably, hating himself more now than ever...though feeling an odd sense of comfort at having shared the source of his pain with someone, anyone. He let his hand slip from the grasp of hers and fall against his thigh.

The feel of skin was noticed, but she made no mention. She never did. She didn't have the best bedside manner. And she didn't really know what to tell him. She hadn't realized quite the depth of his feelings. So once his hand slid from hers, she did the only other thing she could think of. She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug.

"Ah Cass..." He groaned as she embraced him, and lifted his arms awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with them until he pried her away from himself gently but forcefully.

"Don't do that, luv... I might hurt you."

He caressed the curve of her cheek lightly, hungrily. She was so fragile, so delicate and beautiful...it broke his heart to watch her and see the mortality within her - or was it envy and not appreciation that tore at him? He was confused, and the hunger only muddled his thoughts more. He groaned softly and moved past her, towards the steps of the porch.

"'M sorry, Cass... I have to go."

It confused her, him prying her away as if it pained him to be touched all of a sudden. Or perhaps he'd decided he no longer wanted her comfort. She didn't know. Not hurting her? From a hug? She followed after him, reaching out to grip his arm lightly.

"Hurt me? Where are you going, then? In such a state.."

He paused as she grabbed him, drawing up short, teeth gritting, enamel grinding against enamel roughly.

"Does it matter?" He said lowly. He needed to be away...the desire to murder her was harder and harder to repress. He could see her slender limbs snapping in his hands, see her ruby red blood splattered across the cobblestones as he licked the clotted gore from her torn flesh. He was shaking uncontrollably, his tone low, warning.

"Cass..."

"I guess not."

She dropped his arm. She heard the grind of teeth, felt the shaking. She wasn't entirely dumb. She didn't step back though. She'd gotten tired of people treating her as if she was a twig to break in a stiff wind. She'd certainly survived a good bit in her life up to now, after all.

"Fine. Go. I guess it matters not."

He smiled sadly - it was almost exactly what Kairee had said to him 'it matters not'... he mattered not. But it was what he wanted...wasn't it? He glanced back over his shoulder and suddenly whirled and pressed Cassie's back up against the hard stone wall, his hands clenched hard enough on her arms to bruise her as he'd inadvertaintly lifted her up a few inches off the ground. His mouth closed over hers roughly, his kiss angry, cruel.

She hadn't mean he didn't matter, but she was angry that he'd pushed her attempts at comfort away so rudely, in her eyes. The sudden whirl and grabbing of her surprised her, and she didn't move to pull a knife. She made a little sound in her throat, though whether it was at the pain in her arms or against her mouth was unknown. Her lips parted, she had no desire to cut them against her teeth at the pressure from him, but there was no return of the kiss. She was fairly passive to his attack, but then, she'd been unable to yank her wrists from his grip before, and she needed surprise rather than a contest of strength on her side.

Gideon could feel the lack of return and pulled his mouth away, teeth bared as he held her there, his brows furrowed deeply. He looked like a man possesed, dangerous, feral and unpredictable. He released her suddenly with a fustrated growl.

"Hate me, Cass. Hate me for your own bloody good. You don't want to know me."

She pressed her hands against his chest in a reflex moment to keep her balance as he released her, and then dropped them as if she'd been burned once she realized what she was doing. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on his face. She leaned forward and caught his lower lip between her teeth. A bite, certainly not a gentle, loving nip. She would release him without drawing blood, but it was hard enough to sting.

"I don't know you, Gideon. I know you're not what you seem, and that's about it, despite the time I've spent with you. It's impossible to know you."

He looked shoked at her retalitory bite, almost comically baffled as he touched his lower lip curiously and looked from hsi fingertips to her. Clearly he was not himself, and he was not alright. He laughed softly, the sound of it almost unhinged.

"You sound just like Erin. Would you care to throw a glass at me next?"

If she hadn't been annoyed, she'd have laughed at his reaction and the look at his face to her biting him. The fact that she'd shocked him was amusing in of itself.

"No, I don't sound like Erin. She and I are quite different people. And if I throw something at you, it'll do more damage than a glass."

Normally he would have had some slick, sharp response to that ready on the tip of his tongue... but now Gideon just touched his lip again before letting his hand fall.

" 'M sorry Cass."

"For what?" Not going to give him a break now. She would have crossed her arms to complete an insolent, defiant look, but resisted the urge, trying to appear fairly neutral for the moment. She did watch him touch his lip again, and had to work hard not to smile.

"For..." He searched, grasping fruitlessly at all the past wrongs he might have committed unwittingly or uncaringly against her...but it was hard to appologize when you never really considered your actions important enough to be considered turely hurtful or wrong. He waved his hand absently in an encompassing gesture.

"For... whatever it is that will make you feel better."

It was also interesting to watch him attempt to decide what it was that he was apologizing for. A blink, at the answer he came up with.

"Well, okay."

Not the average apology, but she'd take it. A sigh, and then she'd give her own.

"I'm sorry I bit you."

He lifted one shoulder in a disjointed sort of shrug before giving her a pained, thin smile. He felt awkward and odd, his emotions on a perminant rollercoaster with no brakes and no way off. He almost dreaded what might come next, what Jekyll or Hyde would rear its head from within the turmoil.

She was feeling a bit awkward herself, though it was more because she wasn't sure what would trigger Hyde, so she wasn't sure what to say.

"So. Still don't want a drink? Because it would be nice to get out of the cold..."

He shook his head. More than anything he wanted to be gone, to go back to the cold dark basement from which he'd been hiding from the world, to retreat and curl himself around his misery once more and submit to the bitter hollowness that pervaded every corner of his soul since Thalon had vanished. But it didn't matter where he hid or who was near - he was truely and utterly alone - and perhaps for the first time in his blessed, priveleged, spoiled life Gideon realised it at last.

He has spent so long, worked so hard to keep others at bay, to do just what Cass accused him of. He was a master at it... people liked him but never knew him, he let them touch him but never come close enough to see him... he didn't even have to try anymore - the evasion just came naturally. And now he had no way to express his loss, his heartbreak....the confusion of finding the one soul he'd allowed himself to love - vanished. He didn't know the words, or if he did the damn within had been built too high and strong. There was no breaching it. He'd walled himself in and was drowning in the rising tide of dispare. He couldn't recall the taste of blood, his body dry in his futile, cowardly attempt to starve himself to death. It was almost laughable; an immortal starve to death? If he had been less of a coward he might have thrown himself into flames by now and embraced their hot release as they cleansed the universe of the abomination of his existence. But death still scared him... and perhaps some small pathetic part of himself still clung to the thin, unraveling spider's thread of hope that somehow, someway his lover would return. Again he shook his head, pale gaze drifting out across the frozen street. He didn't deserve the comfort she offered, and had no idea what to do with it anyway. His hunger made him more of a monster than usual...and it had grown so that he could not trust himself around these precious, fragile creatures any longer.

"Licking your wounds in private won't necessarily help." Quiet, though he'd probably have no trouble picking up her words. She guessed easily enough that that was what he was going to go do. A bit of a sad smile, and she'd touch her fingers to his cheek lightly.

"I know it doesn't."

She let her fingers drop from his face to take one of his hand, and tug lightly in the direction of the door, unknowing of the suicidal thoughts he was harboring. But aware enough of the misery he was in. Misery was something she knew quite well. She'd done it quite often. Less so, since leaving her family home. But still, she hadn't forgotten it. And there hadn't been anyone to comfort her.

"Licking them in public won't do much good either..."

He returned, rather snarkily for his present state of mind. He let her tugging propell him towards the door. He could hear the movement of the gathered bodies inside, hear their hearts throbbing wettly in that delicious percussion... if he listened too hard they all began to run together, and beat as one in an enormous, deafening timpany that threatened to overwhelm him. He hesiated, looking frightened.

"Cass....I....I don't belong in there."

It could quickly be discerned that Alain was wary as he walked down the street towards the Red Dragon Inn, his hands in his jacket pockets, looking over his shoulders as he walked quickly towards his home. He heard Gideon's last remark, that he doesn't belong in there, as he walked up the front porch steps... and so he tells him, with a grin
looking all the more devilish in the moonlight,

"Then stay out here a while... make a deal with the Devil, while you're at it."

For Cassie's part the snarkiness was ignored. It was expected, and so it didn't annoy her all that much. She just continued to tug, until his comment and she stopped, turning to face him again. Until Alain appeared and spoke.

"No one asked you, Alain. We're busy."

And she let the implication fall where it may, even though it wasn't what was going on. She even sidled up to Gideon, slipping an arm around his waist. A hand reached up to pluck the color of her jacket down, to reveal a fading but still obvious bruise at her neck. Not from Gideon, but unless he told Alain, Alain wouldn't know that.

Gideon's head swivled in the direction of Alain's voice, his brow furrowed. Even in the pale moonlight the wight of him would give the other man pause. He looked like a walking corpse, skin like pale parchment, dark circles ringing fever-bright phospherescent blue eyes. He looked emacated, dry... , and the expression on his face was lost - not his usual presence. He was oblivious to the little game Cassie used him for, his gaze lost on Alain as she snuggled herself close to him. The other man was large, strong...he could fairly see the pulse that pushed against his healthy skin where the throat tapered to collarbone.

Alain appeared not to notice. His hand was around an envelope in his jacket, tugged halfway out. He didn't look at Cassie at all... only at Gideon. The jealousy game was not a good one to play with him.

"Calm down... the Devil has only to deliver his contract and be on his way."

He frowned slightly at Gideon... and then a manila envelope changes hands.

"...You'll know when you need to use this. Meanwhile, take care of yourself. ...You look like hell." He let another gaze linger, and then pushed his way inside.

Gideon went from staring absently at Alain to staring in utter confusion at the envelope in his hand. It had something to do with...business? The city...? He couldn't bring it to mind. He couldn't think of much. The whole thing seemed so useless now, so petty... for a second he contemplated tossing the packet away into the bushes... but only for a second. He turned the envelope over in his hand before stuffing it carelessly into a pocket of his coat.

Cassie was silent during the exchange of the envelope, though she was looking at Gideon, concern written all over her face at the blankness and confusion. She didn't know what the job is, but she knew it was dangerous. Best not to be so confused in that sort of thing.

" Hey.. You don't have to go in..."

He glanced down at Cass and blinked, almost as if he was suprised to find her standing there. Brows drew together slowly as he echoed her.

"I don't..."

"Okay.. Do you want a drink? I can get one and bring it to you."

Speaking slowly, softly, almost as if to a child. Which is kind of how he looked, a lost child. It was extremely unnerving to see him like that.

"No...thank you."

He bent and brushed cool lips against hers before he drew away, his hand sliding down over her shoulder lightly. It was sweet, how she offered to care for him, the way she looked at him, half frightened-half concerned... when all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into her and drain her dry as a husk. It drove a spike of white pain through him, to have such a strong desire to kill something so lovely, so kind. He touched her chin breifly, his thumb pressing the corner of her soft mouth.

" I need to go."

The light brush of lips was returned as much as could be before he pulled away. She sort of saw in him a kindred spirit at the moment. She understood loss well enough, she'd experienced a good bit in her life. She turned her head slightly, pressing lips against his thumb lightly.

"'kay.. I'll be around, though, if you need anything."

Gideon nodded, offering her his best attempt a a smile before he turned away and strode down the steps, only to dissapear into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, gone as suddenly and as silently as he had arrived.

The lake is frozen over
The trees are white with snow
And all around
Reminders of you
Are everywhere I go

It's late and morning's in no hurry
But sleep won't set me free
I lie awake and try to recall
How your body felt beside me
When silence gets too hard to handle
And the night too long

He's a stranger to some
And a vision to none
He can never get enough,
Get enough of the one

For a fortune he'd quit
But it's hard to admit
How it ends and begins
On his face is a map of the world

From yesterday, it's coming!
From yesterday, the fear!
From yesterday, it calls him
But he doesn't want to read the message here

On a mountain he sits, not of gold but of sin
through the blood he can learn, see the life that it turn
From council of one
He'll decide when he's done with the innocent

On his face is a map of the world

From yesterday, it's coming!
From yesterday, the fear!
From yesterday, it calls him
But he doesn't want to read the message here

Illy was experiencing the rarest of emotions: anger. This unseen Rhydinian force that kept tossing her about was truly getting to be more than an inconvenience. Her stride to the inn's back door was somehow determined, which forced her walk into something uncharacteristic. Strong, perhaps. She paused before pushing inside, suddenly feeling as if she'd drop over without a cigarette.

Against his better judgement Gideon had left his self-enforced isolation, plauged by his hunger and the demons of his lonesome mind. He should have long ago retreated underground into that strange dormancy that came so easily to greiving and distraught vampires, however some small remaining shred of hope that Thalon might return had kept him from the respite he so desperately required to put his grief and confusion into perspective... and so he persisted in his starved state, now half-mad with the pain.

He looked like a hollow shell of his former self, the starvation both strangely refining him and ravaging him - leaving him with smooth, perfectly poreless marble white skin, its texture hard and cold as stone but thin looking as parchment, every vein and capilary showing like blue shadows beneath. His eyes burned bright as twin stars, their eerie phosphorescence visible even in the pitch black. Simulatinously sharpened and dulled with starvation, his senses swam unintellgiably. He could hear the heartbeat of every living thing in the city's walls.... the moist, maddening timpany like a cruelly tormenting orchestra tempting him further into madness. He had wandered blindly for hours now since sunset, and knew not where he was... only that something dragged him onward. Little did he realize in his sunken state that his feet had carried him back towards that place of singular comfort, the Red Dragon Inn.

There was an almost sinful pleasure in being alone. Illiana felt as if, when alone, she was infinitely liberated. Free to lavish in the way the chill felt against her skin, the way bricks were often laid with imperfection in the alleyway. She mused upon things not worth discussing. Her frame was small, shivering, and somehow flushed with a perplexing sort of pleasure. She leaned against the bricks whose shapes she had examined with such strange reverence. The cigarette between her lips was caressed, tongued gently, and lit with no rush. Eyes closed and Illy inhaled particles of ice, she imagined, along with the smoke. She pictured the tiny pieces of snow adhering to the walls of her lungs, exhaled as if it was liquid, ice transformed into water by her body.

Perhaps subconsciously he knew where he was headed, but who could have said for sure? The reasons his subconscious could have led him there were numerous... but whatever muse it was that had guided him there tonight was a cruel mistress indeed. He had been slouched in the dark shadows of the alley for more than an hour now, lost in a mindless stupor as he listened to the myriad conversations going on within the tavern. Then he felt it... something, someONE else in the alley with him. He heard her coming, perked up slightly... like a lazy cat suddenly scenting a mouse and rousing from sleep. The scent of her was oddly familiar - like someone he ought to have recognized had he been thinking clearly, but as it was it did not register. At last the bloodlust had won out, the hunger had control. His body gathered itself and he coiled in the shadows only a few feet from the door where Illiana stood, indilging the in the visceral fantasies of her cigarette. He struck like a cobra.

Iron hard grasp coming down on her wrist, the other closing on her throat, crushing the windpipe, closing off her air passages, strangling any possible yelp or scream before they even had a chance to occur. He dragged her into the darkness with him and pressed her back to the chill, unforgiving stone of the wall, pushing her up against it hard enough to crack the back of her head and fill her vision with stars.

And stars she did see. The fear didn't have time to creep into her brain and bloom. Rather, the impact of skull to stone set off a particular pattern of neurotransmissions, which translated in Illiana's mind to a veritable sea of stars. She saw, fuzzy though it was, the outlines of Coma Berenice and Canes Venatici , the sparkle of Venus. Her body went slack, and consciouness threatened to leave her body completely. The sounds were what snapped her back into the reality of her situation, which she was increasingly unable to identify. It was this lack of understanding that caused the panic. Fingers curled, went rigid. The cigarette that had been so lovingly held now bit back, the ember embedded into the diaphanous flesh of her wrist, at the crease created by the locking up of her hands. The burning was what caused her body to react, though the struggle was wholly and utterly enveloped by the hold of her captor, whose identity was a large and blurred question mark. Terror crept up and manifested as something audible, though unintelligible, in her throat. The sound to an outsider would certainly be pitiful.

She was soft, wonderfully soft... and alive. He could feel the life of her throbbing beneath his fingertips, the scent of her filled his nostrils, and the second he sank the length of his razor-sharp fangs into the delicate skin of her throat he could taste that delicious vivrancy. He didn't stop at his fangs though, in his greed he sank each and every tooth into her flesh, the sickening crunch of it followed by the audible tear of her skin. The blood fairly gushed forth.

The groan was sickening, like the quiet splash of tepid, dirty water lapping against the sides of its container. She prayed, to ancient gods, to gods of the trees, of the stars, to the pantheistic gods of nature, to Yaweh. Not for strength, not for a savior, but for release from the insurmountable pain. It was like a slow warmth that traveled from the site of her fresh wound to the strong throbbing muscle in her chest, so safely beneath ribs, encased in flesh. The pain increased with every beat of that wet machine.

Gideon groaned, the noise one of pure and utter esctasy. Men made this sound in the desert when they had their first taste of clear, cold water in over a month. The blood felt hot, roilingly hot as it flooded his mouth and cascaded down the parched tissues of his throat, and it hit his stomach like an orgasm, exploding, radiating outwards through the entirey of his being, parched, hungry cells sucking up the red heat of the blood. He could feel it, feel sense and reason return...and just as quickly feel them fade away again into the bliss that was the feed... and through him, through the wet fount of sanguine life that connected them, his pleasure, his ecstasy became Illiana's... the pain ebbed away, replaced with the most raw, perfect rapture either had ever felt, the delicious esctasy of it eclipsing all else... time was nothing, the world slipped away. There was only the bliss of this feed, and the slowing rythmn of Illiana's beating heart, that moist metronome that marked the limit of this hellish heaven. It was this sensation that Gideon had missed almost as much as the blood itself, it was this pleasure he had starved himself of. And now in the throes of it he gave himself over, submitted to the lust. He let the tidal wave of his victim's memories come crashing over him through the fount they shared...let her life play out upon his mind's eye as death approached with greedy hands to collect his due. How odd the human mind, the images and memories it produced in it's final attempts to make sense of the brevity and curious meaninglessness of life. He would bear wittness, though. He would see this life and remeber it, keep it close to his heart so when all mountains wore away to dust and oceans covered the deserts this life would go on, caught in the web of immortality along with it's hapless bearer, this pitiful detestable creature that called itself vampire.

Her spine threatened to snap with the arch that her back formed. The gods had answered her silent cries with the kind of pleasure that poets could only hope to capture in their art, in their iambic pentameters and laudanum inspired imagery. Boticelli himself could not have translated this image into thick paintstrokes as he described Venus in all of her goddesslike glory. Behind her eyelids, childhood images of play, writing on walls. In her nostrils was the heady aroma of the pheromones left in the air after her first time making love. Her mind, finally, seemed to slide away from her body, upwards, detatching in liquid motion. Up, farther, climbing into a final sleep so sweet it transcended human desire or comprehension. And yet, though her dissociation from herself was more intense than any stupor acquired through warm desert cactus or manufactured powders, she found her lips fell open, and her voice slipping from her mouth, from her throat, though she couldn't hear herself over the sound of blood rushing in her ears, the sound of her heart slowing and slowing and threatening to cease its trusted rhythm.

"Please..."

He shook his head in awe of her. She was beautiful, yes...the Gift did that, brought that undefinable exquisitness out, polished the body like a bit of marble, wiped away all flaws. And still she thanked him for this monster he'd turned her into. He wanted to bash his head against the bricks, but it would do no good. She would learn, perhaps, in time. He reached out to touch her... he'd denied himself contact from others ofr so long it was a comfort, that tactile caress of another. He cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones.

"Illiana, you're my fledgeling now. We have...rules... we live by. You and I are not immortal, but we are close as one could ever get to it. You must live by these rules now, or you will surely die without them. If you cannot agree it is better that I kill you now than set you loose."

While his mind was yet silent to her, she read his expression and his body's language, left over perhaps from his own years as a human and social being. She was content to be regarded as a student, and if he was right that she would grow angry and cold to him, then she would yield to that when it came. She gave herself to him as a pupil to master, completely. His touch was no comfort, and yet it stroked something within her.

"I am clay in your hands, sir." Not a touch of sarcasm. She meant the words with every inch of herself. Her head tilted somewhat, leaned into his palm. And at that angle, when her cheek was pressed to his palm, she spoke again.

"I am not grateful because I want to live forever. Only because of the moment that you fell victim to yourself. The humanity inside of you that caused you to do evil if that was the only way to save a life. If Thalon gave you that, I thank him. But it isn't for what you think."

She was strong, so much stronger than he had been. He'd raged for nights on end...his anger at the betrayal only sedated by the irrepressible sleep that accompanied daylight. She embraced this fate as if it were no more than a change in her hair color. But she'd not taken life yet... she'd not been tormented by the familiar scents of food and drink, pleasures she could no longer have. And most of all she had not grown to miss the beauty of daylight. His handsome expression contorted in pain at her words. Unwittingly she drove white-hot blades into him, and he embraced it, let it punish him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"No... you were a perfect vase in my hands, Illy. In my greed I smashed you to peices to have what you held. But I will do what I can to put the peices back."

He released her from his embrace and took her hand.

"Come with me."

She would be quiet, now. The pain in his face was enough. She resigned herself to follow him wherever he would lead her. Questions, like seeds, began to bloom inside of her, but she trusted that the answers would come. Gothic literary images flashed in her mind: coffins, burning flesh, stakes, silver bullets. This beauty was not part of the archetype that she had studied once, in her first years of university. It was impossible for her scientific mind not to analyze this experience as if she would document it somewhere for review by her colleagues, and yet she knew that would be infinitely impossible. Forever. She wondered mildly whether she would ever be able to put those pieces that Gideon alluded to into any sort of arrangement that made sense.

He led her through the maze of dark alleyways...knowing that they both had to feed before the night was out. He could not deny himself any further and still be able to mentor his new charge. He led her along, watched her move.

"You will hunt with me other nights, and by yourself. We have no time tonight though."

They drew up to a darkened building and he paused. Releasing her hand he held out his arms as he turned towards the decrepit building. From the shadows of the doorway two men rose and walked foward slowly... vagrants, moving as if sleepwalking. They came to Gideon, so mindlessly simple. He closed he hand around the neck of the one while the other stood by stupidly. He beckoned Illiana to him and pushed the man he held towards her. Up close the lanky man was a youth who could not have been more than seventeen. Malnourished and quite likely strung out the young man gazed at Illiana enraptured, a dreamy smile on his youthful, bedraggled face. Gideon stood behind him, handsome features stark and chill in the silve moonlight.

"Kill him."

Without thinking, like the independent pressure she had applied to her first embrace of her master, she reached forward and cradled the boy's neck. Gideon ceased to exist for her. The pulse of life was all around her: the rhythm was in her fingers at the boy's throat, the sound of his heart was in her head. She smiled at him. Moved so close to him, held him with so much intimacy. Mother to child, lover to lover. She leaned close. The boy was in a stupor, and felt no fear. She sensed the rush in his genitals at her caress, and her free hand reached up to brush the greasy hair from his eyes. Closer she leaned, cheek to cheek, and she inhaled his scent, his life. She kissed the very lobe of his ear, and then grasped his shoulder with one hand and the back of his head with the other, forcing his head back. Her teeth seemed to change, and then she was ripping into his neck. Right on target. She drank from him and the dark pleasure of it was like a sick patient's morphine drip - a warm room, inviting, and she felt her thirst and her need rise up like an uncontrollable beast. She sucked the liquid until it felt cold. Instinct drew her away from him before he sank to his knees and bled to death. The horror was creeping into her. She stepped back and stared at the dead boy, mouth open.

Gideon watched her set to the lad, immediately instinctively knowing what to do, and yet without any finness or control. It gave him no pleasure to watch, but rather a sort of confirmation. This was the first step. He watched her let the boy drop and saw the horror flicker behind her beautiful eyes. His smile was lucifer's own as he nodded.

" Yes. Now you see."

He reached out and grabbed the other man to himself and sank his fangs deep into the pulse just behind the jaw. His feed was cleaner this time. There was much less urgency in his need, though the blood was sweeter than ever before from the abstinance he had regained control. He bled the man to near death and flung him alongside Illiana's boy.

"This is how you live. If you are good you will learn to how to live without always having to kill...but now, while you are young you are going to need this much and more every single night."

She was silent for a moment, but in that moment was an eternity. Every ethical tenet she had ever held had just been violated so completely that it was staggering. Her head shook in slow time with her inner reasoning, her fight with herself, her confusion and disgust and anger, and then she kneeled at the dead boy's body. Pulled his head into her lap and stroked at the cheek she had pressed her own to. It was not sentimental. It was a study of death. Death by her own hands. Was this how a lion felt when he came upon a vulnerable gazelle? Did the definition of murder change when the rules of the animal world were applied? What was this? Eyebrows lifted as her gaze traveled back to her master.

"Is there a way to ..." She was searching for language. "Can I choose? I know I have to feed. But, these new powers, can they distinguish a good man from an evil man?"

He nodded.

"They can. But in the end you will realise a life is still a life. There is no truely good men... and as for the truely evil, well that is us. The rest are all shades of grey. These men wanted to die...that is why they came to us. Soon you'll hear them, in time you will hear everything and all at once. It will take practice to tune it out and focus your concentration. Then you will be able to call to them if you chose. But that is a lesson for another night."

He reached out a hand to her as he stepped over the bodies fastidiously.

"Come, luv."

She reached out to take his hand, but hesitated, hovering just out of reach of his fingers.

"This new relationship we have is still not reason enough for me to like being called by pet names."

Spoken with no harshness, only matter of factly, and then she did take his hand. She stood and moved close to him, waiting for him to lead her to her next discovery.

Gideon drew a deep, long suffering breath.

"Illiana, then." He closed his hand around hers and strode out of the alley, walking along with her at a brisk pace. The blood of the man was pumping through him, revitilizing and refreshing him. Already he looked more human, less sickly and strange.

" The most important thing for you to remeber, the single most important rule that we live by is secrecy. Our lives depend on being able to walk among mortals without them knowing what we are. Can you understand why?"

Her pace did not suffer for all of the studying she found herself doing. The air against her face perplexed her, for it did not seem to move into her lungs. The blood was in her, and yet it did not move through her veins the way her own blood had when her heart beat. She was new again and she felt like a child. A child with very sharp teeth.

"Daylight kills us. If we are the only true evil, as you said before, then humanity seeks to destroy us."

She paused, a new thought interrupting her studentlike reply to her teacher.

" Do vampires sense each other?" Still keeping up, not missing a stride, she closed her eyes and tried to simply sense Gideon's presence, but it was no use. Either the power was not one she had yet, or it was some strange link between maker and creation. Or perhaps it was something she would never acquire.

"Are we threats to each other? Do we want to guard our food source?" She was absolutely starving for knowledge, now. It was like the first day of a new graduate study, although of course Illiana understood the gravity of the situation more than that.

He laughed softly at all of her questions as they walked along. It took no time at all until they reached the building where he owned his penthouse. He held the door for her and guided her toward the elevator, his hand resting gently agianst the small of her back.

"Daylight does kill us, as does fire...but that is about all that will do it. We do sense each other...sometimes. More often than not you will scent the difference in blood. Pay attention to scent and you will learn the difference between humans, vampires and other creatures like elves and lycanthropes. You and I will always have a special connection because of the blood we share... but you'll realize it more in time."

The doors to the elevator opened into the hallway just before the door of his place. He stepped out and turned a key in the knob before opening the door for her.

"Other vampires are among your most dire threats. We compete for food, resources... territory is important. Sometimes covens form, and we cooperate, but not here. You are very young and very easy prey to others vampires. Stay away from them, flee, come to me... or stay and fight if you think you can. But in all things be subtle. Not many vampires in this city care to keep our secrets.. these are the most dangerous of all."

Welcome back
Says the voice on the radio
But I never left
I was always right here

In your hand all the colours
You thought were kings
At the turn of a card
Can just disappear

I wish I could comfort you
If love is our defence
It's alright I can comfort you
If you let me I could love you to death

Need to see
Need to say
Need to be
Something beautiful

I can't get today
Out of my mind
Need to say need to call
To love someone beautiful
A day like today
Has stained my eyes


Gideon tucked his chin lower against the short, stiff leather collar of his motorcycle jacket and cursed himself silently for not dressing wamer. The winter in this city was bitter, unforgiving, nothing like the relatively mild weather of London. He dug his hands deeper into the chill of his pockets and stalked onwards silently. He'd been tailing Illy since the start of the evening. He couldn't say why, only that when she'd left the apartment he'd felt the insatiable urge to follow her and watch her. Perhaps it was because he'd never observed her alone since she'd been turned. He winced as the cold wind stung the side of his face as it blew snow like birdshot against his skin. He told himself that was it - he just wanted to see hoe she handled herself now, what she was learning. It felt good to watch her though, good to see her dressed elegantly in the clothes he bought her. She was so feminine, so fragile. It made his heart ache pleasently. He kept his distance though, silent and gaurded, careful not to even let her sense him.

The dress was clinging, each stitch of fabric melding into a liquidlike dermis. Long over feelings of panicked exposure, Illiana's movements were as fluid as her second-skin attire, whose dip into the space between her breasts was plunging. A long coat covered pale limbs. Unbuttoned, it left the thin lick of flesh kissing the chilled air. In this apocalyptic dream sequence weaved with reality, she understood the insanity and succumbed to it with a quiet flourish of hunger. Where was the eponymous goddess Aphrodite? She'd have taken anyone who mixed delicacy and beauty so naturally. Sounds of inebriation filled Illy's ears, and the soft clicking of heels against cobblestone paused. Eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, scents of liquor and pheromones filling her. With a quick motion that was almost imperceptible - except of course, to any would-be fellow vampires on her tail - she stamped her heel into the stone and the stiletto stem snapped. She moved forward, the limp an exquisite theatre. Breathless, she came upon the drunken men in the sensual shape of vulnerability. That hemline inched up as she stopped in their view and bent to fiddle with the broken heel, a quick call into metaphysics causing their bumbling chatter to cease as they looked her way.

He'd been careless for a moment, almost too lost in his thoughts, but he snapped to attention as he saw Illy's posture suddenly change. Like a large cat scenting her prey her entire bearing took on a new shift. It was marvelous to watch, fantastic to see this little pantomime unfold so neatly. He backed away, stepping into the darkness afforded by a nearby dumptser, blue eyes burning like coals as he played witness, the breath he didn't need held in anticipation.

The more bulbous of the duo, a red-faced and middle-aged man stepped forward, then, and whistled. The pitch was high and ended in a bout of raucous laughter from them both. "Sweetheart, you here to see me?" Stumbling into Illiana's space, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her tiny body close. His lanky drinking buddy threw down his bottle, the sound of shattering glass a piercing cacophony in a sea of quiet. The two of them pressed against her, their sweat and stink surrounding her completely. Her posture was lamblike, wilting, and she cried out.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

A wounded doe, all wide-eyes and frozen. The fat man laughed and reached up to roughly grab her breast, thin fabric shifted aside carelessly. She struggled against his touch, but her strength remained sequestered. It was a test, really. If they let her go, she would move on until she found someone that wouldn't.

"We just want to play with you a little, missy. Ain't gonna hurt you too bad if you shut up and let us get on with it."

His hand moved from her breast to her crotch, where his fingers pressed urgently against her pubic bone. She snapped. With a fiercely fast series of motions, the fat man's neck was broken. He fell, stunned, to the ground. His thin friend reeled back, but her hand caught his throat like lightning. Her teeth ripped into his flesh unforgivingly, and with a controlled sucking, she let his blood fill her mouth.

Perhaps most men in his situation would have felt compelled to move foward, to speak up and stop such harassment. Illiana did look so convincingly caught between the pair of drunken bastards. But Gideon, of course, knew better, and his smile curled slow and cruel. She should have been an actress. The pleasure of watching her dispatch the pair was unspeakable. He didn't dare blink as she sank her teeth into the less fortunate man's fleshy throat, entranced. She was a natural and while he disagreed with her attempts to make the kill less morally detestable by weeding out the 'bad' members of the flock, he had to admire her commitment. As he watched her face he could see the change in her expression as the ecstasy of the blood took over, and for a long, long moment he found himself wishing he was the one she embraced there, the one who's life drained away in a river of sanguine rapture to that sweet, beautiful little woman. Ah to die in such a manner... she blessed that scum more than she knew. It was a death worthy of saints, not sinners. He felt himself step foward, out of the shadows, moving slow and silently so as not to disturb her. He drew near enough that she would see him for sure when she at last looked up, but not close enough to crowd her, his face a mask of perfect neutrality, expression almost always one mistaken for distain or anger in it's blankness.

Disgust mingled with satisfaction in her posture as she let the man fall, a sickening sound of crumpling limbs. He twitched in the anticipation of oncoming death throes, his expression still all fear and shock. Illiana drew the back of her hand to her lips, wiping away excess droplets from lips whose color was already refreshed by the feed. She glanced downward at her dress, moving the violated fabric back over the swell of her breast. She began to button up her coat, then, a Christmas present rewrapping itself in shame at being peeked into too early. Her eyes settled upon Gideon, and she ran her hands along the buttoned coat, smoothing it.

"You watched that whole episode, didn't you."

He didn't speak, but only moved foward, his hands drawing out of the burrows of his pockets, one coming to cup her cheek, the other to pull open the buttons of her jacket and slide inside over the satin-clad curve of her lower back. He watched himself do this as if detached from it all, unable to stop himself. God in heaven but she was beautiful, lower lip stained, still glistening moistly and her pale, cold eyes unflinching. He bent and kissed her, closing his mouth over her lower lip, tasting the sharp coppery electric shock of the blood. His hand slid behind the nape of her neck and he kissed her deeper, the tip of his tongue licking at the soft inner skin of her upper lip.

Each one of her muscles seemed to melt at his touch. A swell of some darkly stained emotion strained in her chest as she succumbed to his kiss, her tongue sending traces of blood to the roof of his mouth. Her fingers inched upwards along his arms, and dreamlike, she practically purred into his mouth. The intoxication of the feed peaked and her skin softened. She imagined she could feel her heartbeat. And then reality crept up behind her and pounced. A cruel lioness. She pulled away from him sharply and stared at him, eyes saucerlike in earnest, this time.

"What are you doing?"

He looked confused as she drew away and reached for her again, stepping foward.

"Kissing you... "

Her hand rested flat-palmed at his chest.

"Why?"

"Why do you question everything, Illy? Some things don't need answers."

Gideon stopped his advance and closed a hand over the one pressed to his chest.

"Because... because you're beautiful, and because I want to."

Her gaze fell to his hand over hers at his breast, features soft as ether. Pale blues flickered with something like longing, like pain, like unspoken confessions. Something broke inside of her. She didn't speak, although her lips parted for words, for more questions. She took a step, pressed her lips to his hand against his chest, and was still as glass.

He watched her draw near again and felt the warm press of her lips against his chilled flesh. He drew his other arm around her and pulled her close, flush against him as he pressed his own lips to her forehead, kissing the smooth porceline skin once, twice before dipping lower, kissing the column of her throat, nipping gently at her delicate flesh.

She was like a pubescent girl against him, the nervous quiver in her belly spreading to her limbs. She shivered at his teeth against her neck and a gentle whimper escaped from her throat. Her head swam, dizzy brain locked in a puddle of confusion which shimmered like an oil slick, reflecting dark hues. She was terrified and lusty, weeping and singing, ripe like a fat plum against the earth.

"You can't want me this way, Gideon, can you?" Her eyes closed, tightening. Waiting for the blow.

He lifted his head only to give her a puzzled look so profound it was almost comical.

"Want you...? Illy, of course I want you. What do you mean, 'this way'?"

He slid his hand off of hers and cupped her jaw tenderly, tilting her face upwards.

Her eyes fluttered open and caught his, a stream of disoriented and irreducibly complex feelings.

"The way you touch me. This way. Like lovers."

As a feline nudges its master for affection, Illiana pressed her chin gently into his palm. It was like the beginnings of drowning, the fear at the gut, the lungs not yet invaded.

"If you would let me...I would." He murmured softly, lowering his head again to cover her mouth, this time his kisses soft; many small ones tugging gently at both her lips. The arm that held her chin released it and slid inside her coat, fingers tracing up the deep v of her neckline only to push away that slinky fabric once more, his palm cupping her naked breast, half soothing, half possessive... an unconscious attempt to wipe the touch of the dead mortal from her perfect flesh. His thumb stroked the nub of her nipple, pushing back and forth against it slowly.

She was falling, tumbling into a cloudy pool. Deep and dark and private. Her eyes closed once more, head tilting back, smooth pale neck a beacon of sighing angels in the moonlight. The gentle murmur from her warm mouth was unintelligible, an ethereal language, the language of wildflowers speaking to the soil that gave them life. Her breast was his clay, her flesh a cloak over ribs that only wished for him to sculpt her. The very marrow of her bones warmed to the stroking, and catlike, she crooned and swayed, a lilting bud of petals that glistened and pursed.

He growled softly and dropped to his knees, blithely unaware of the two bodies they stood in the midst of. He drew her coat aside and took that sweet pink bud between his lip only to run his tongue agianst it lightly. How long had it been since he'd made love to a woman for any reason other than to steal the satisfaction of her release through blood? He kissed the sweet pink circle and drew back only to admire it for a moment before he drew the clinging satin back over it and rose again, pulling her coat closed against the jealous cold. He held her close for a moment, his face burried in the scent of her hair.

"Illiana..."

Her stomach was gone, replaced with unsettled robins. Their wings beat against her insides, insistent and frightened by the capture, the pink walls, dark and swollen with ardor. His mouth, his hands, his voice, she was letting the water fill her lungs, now, inhaling the liquid willingly, sweetly high as a fragile swimmer sucked into salty undertow. His scent, the iron swirl of blood, it was heavy against her like the stone door to a hidden tomb. Their closeness consumed her.

"Yes, Gideon?" A waver to her voice, the tone low, throaty.

"Let's go." He said quietly, his hand reaching for hers as he lifted his head and glanced toward the sonds of the busy street not far away. He stepped fasitidiously over the fallen men and shot her a sly grin over his shoulder.

"You should have been a bloody actress, you know that?"

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

High up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
If you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

The sun was still lingering on the horizon, but Gideon was already awake and restless. For the past week now he'd spent his nights roaming the city streets alone, moving with the determined stride and tenacity of a man seeking something - or someone. No matter where he roamed though the face he sought never appeared in the crowds, and every evening managed to bring his footsteps back to the same place - an abandoned bathhouse tucked into a back alley in the West End. He would lean against it's door and close his eyes, but no movement stirred within, no cushioned footfall or scrape of cruel talon rung out against the tiled floors. No one breathed within. He couldn't bring himself to go inside. The sight of the empty rooms would have broken him, the scent lingering on the cold, stripped bed would have surely killed him. Every morning he turned away, questions unanswered, to return to a sleep plagued with memories freshened and honed on the whetstone of grief.

He stood in the living room now, in the light of the dying sun, bare chested, wearing only a pair of impatiently pulled on black trousers. He'd pressed himself to the glass, the invisible wall of his self-made prison, keeping the monsters separate from the rest of the world. Both hands pressed against the cold glass shoulder high, his forehead rested against it's cool surface as well. From behind he was a black mark on the beauty of the evening sky, his perfect frame silhouetted by the blazing rainbow of salmons, lavenders, indigos and brilliant oranges. The shining sanguine orb of the daystar hung low and heavy against the mountains in the distance, pregnant with night. It's light burnt him gently, made his pale skin tingle painfully like the sensation of touching scalding water. It darkened him, turning his porceline palness into a warmer bronze, but it could not kill him or do him damage. He stared listlessly as the round ball of deadly light slipped further and further away, the cloak of a star-filled night coming on to cover and comfort in it's hurtful, spiteful, jealous wake.

The jerking of her body from dream-drowned slumber was a rush of panic at the gut. The world was still grey and blue, cross-eyed and heaving. Executing bishops and gnawing cutlery. The very corners of her eyes seemed set with drying blood, waiting again in the dream of death. It was revenge, & it was resignation. It was "I can't deal with anything that's not your hands", "I love you," & "I don't love you". Her stuttered opening of eyes was glass and silence, heartache and confusion. Her limbs untangled and sighed, teeth cutting into her cheek as if to remind herself of life, and the swelling of her mouthflesh was a terrible sequence, like the mathematics of love, of loss. Her lungs made the motions of exhalation, of a sigh that might bring relief, but even as she dressed herself in the dark, even as the cool fabrics touched her skin, she was dazed as if hypnotized. Wiping her eyes, she ventured into the great room and pressed herself against the door once closed. As if she were an unlucky priestess, reverent and resigned to a faith that would wring her hands in doubt.

If he heard the click and turn of the tumble to her door's knob he made no motion to acknowledge it. As it was, the sun had slid away behind the mountains, bathing the jagged, snow dusted peaks in a blaze of fuchsia and glorious tangerine light. He hung his head with a soft exhalation, and the form of his body came out of the darkness of its stark silhouette into the pale light. Each muscle in his back wrought itself perfectly against his flesh, their stretch and pull slow and deliberate as the motions of an instrument as his head dropped low and his hands flexed against the window-prison.

Illiana watched him regard the dusk for perhaps too long. Her moments for study at the battered pages of his text were often starved, never satisfied, and so she took her time in her appraisal of his body, of the curve of his shoulders and the awkwardly disciplined line of his back, the dimple and bend of muscle and bone. Eventually, her own mournful music quieted, she joined him at the window, following his gaze. Her mouth was closed, although never tightly lipped, the wane of her blood a slowing trickle to the back of her tongue.

Gideon?s head lifted and his gaze turned toward her as she joined him, watching her watch the world below. Somehow he was never very ashamed of these moments she caught him in, the silent ones when he'd been lost to himself. She never felt intrusive or judgmental. His cool, composed mask slipped back over the pale glaciers of his eyes as he gaze back down at the city, the air around him returning to normal, the palpable electricity of his raw emotions withdrawing. He drew a slow breath and found his voice, low and quiet.

?'Evening, Illy.?

Thoughtless, she pressed her fingertips to the cool glass, the tactility an unbruising distraction. Her lips wrought themselves into a smile, and she watched his eyes through the reflection of the window. His face was framed with starlight, and the unearthly halo at his crown was like a cruel irony.

?Can we go somewhere??

The sterile air of the apartment was increasingly stifling, pressing her worries to her skin.

?Of course.?

There was never any hesitation to indulge her. Doubtless she could have asked to be flown to the moon and he'd have found a way without breaking a sweat. His hand flinched, contracted, and then slid across the glass to cover hers, large for all it's long-fingered elegance. He tore himself away from the city below to give her a taut, tentative smile, like the one given to strangers that are caught staring. Yet there was a genuineness in it that his wide, charming cheshire smiles always lacked, a failure to spread to the eyes perhaps.

?Anywhere you like.?

Briefly, childlike, her imagination wove his long fingers like the stems of daisies into a chain and hung it 'round her neck, the scent of thirsty flowers a drowning pool. Spell-locked though she was, she gently slid her fingers from beneath his and touched them to her lips, the motion masked as natural gesture, as thoughtfulness.

?I want to surround myself with mortals, Gideon, because the hunger is the least of my worries.? Half-curls spilled like wine, like stained string instruments across her shoulder as her head tilted. ?If such a thing is not too repulsive to you.?
He watched her slide he hand from under his and felt the press of his sharp fangs sink into his lower lip, stifling words that welled up against the back of his teeth. He kept trying to touch her and she clearly wanted no part of him. He drew a slow breath again and prised his hand from the glass, pressing it to his leg to rub her touch off against the cloth of his pants, the motion disguised as a casual gesture.

?It isn't. I'll get ready.?

He pushed off the window with his other hand and strode past her towards his rooms, the muscles of his back moving beneath the surface of his skin with each quick stride before the door shut behind him with a harshly punctuating bang.

The sound sent her eyebrows into each other, the set of her mouth like a painful kiss, as warm flesh to ice without warning. She could hardly stand to be so close to him; his heavy magnet was tilted so that his field pushed and then pulled, as if it were all a divine comedy of choreography. She moved to her room, pulling a coat from its hanger and wrapping herself into it. The thick comfort was unwilling to impart itself to her, and when she returned into the living space, she stood close to the door, her posture restrained.

In the heat of the shower the steam closed in on him like a smothering blanket, and the cascading water hid the choked sounds of his tearless sob, half cry, half snarl. It was the briefest escape of emotion before the shutter of cool, calm control came swinging shut again. He toweled off quickly and shrugged himself into loose jeans, a white button-up shirt covered by pale grey unzipped hoodie and a crisp, flawlessly white blazer. He stepped out of his room running his fingers back through his dark, damp hair to shake the drops of water from it, glancing towards her with the brevity and lowered brows of a kicked dog. He moved towards the door and past her, opening it for them both, standing back for her.

Illiana glanced to the space beyond the door, and then to him. Without her consent, as if her mastery of herself had been sucked into the vacuum of his spear-eyes, she pressed herself to him, her hands traveling like lost swimmers over his chest, his shoulders. Her force pushed him into the wall of the apartment, and she seemed to sway.

?Sometimes you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. You torture me. If I dream anymore, it's you. I can't bear it.?

Gideon felt his back knock into the wall behind him as Illiana suddenly crushed against him. His hands went up instinctively to grasp at her elbows, and he stared at her, shock giving way to pain almost instantaneously. Blood tears rimmed the lids of his eyes as he lifted his chin, the set of it hard, clenched. He trembled as he fought to dam the wave of emotions that welled up within. His hands clasped her face roughly, his mouth closing over hers with suddenness that made his kiss clumsy. He pushed away from the wall only to send her back against the one just opposite, jolting them both. His fingers tangled in her soft curls, crushed them against her velvet skin. He gasped for breath in the kiss and felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. He ached to destroy her and at the same moment to make love to her.

His hands against her were thorns, pricking and stinging and yet the pain was some kind of intoxicant. Her flesh was pliant to him, her lips an unlocked diary of too much hindered love against his. She broke the chain of their mouths and, on the tips of her toes, she moved her lips along his cheek, his jawline, his neck. Her forehead was buried into that cruel space below his earlobe, and she choked on her rushed whispers.

?You have to teach me not to love you, if that is what you desire.?

He growled pain, his eyes shut in a wince of agony. Each word she spoke was like the calculated thrust of a knife through him, the pain exquisite. His hands shook as they grasped at her jaw and he wavered on the dagger's edge of his emotions until, slowly, determinedly he pushed her away, bit by bit until there were inches of space between them. It took all he had to school his features into stillness, but his voice suffered for the effort, thick with regret and misery

?It is better...if you don't.?

She wilted against the wall, thread seeming to keep her from a full collapse. The cloud in her chest was thick and violent, a turbulent monsoon. The waves of her ocean crashed and destroyed the jetties at her heart, only to carry the wreckage like driftwood, and she fought with her arms to keep them from reaching for him, to pull him close again, to disappear into his frame. Head lowered, she drew blood from her lower lip, a snapshot of mourning.

?Better like safety-belts, or better because?? Her fingers lifted to brush against her torn flesh, and she couldn't find any language.

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first

Gideon moved across the darkened main room of the penthouse. He'd awoken early, as he usually did, just before the sun set. He couldn't say what drove him, but the second consciousness flooded back from its escape into the void he had one driving urge. Leaving his room behind he slipped through the shadowy maze of the living space and towards the door of Illy's room. Grasping the doorknob he turned it with inexorable slowness, easing the door open soundlessly. He stepped inside the pitch blackness and moved toward her bed. The mattress gave way beneath the weight of his knee as he lent over Illy's form. His hand reached out to pull the sheet off the curve of her shoulder as he lay down beside her, then dropped, his arm curling over her stomach, drawing her close to him.

The small frame of the girl seemed to be swallowed by the larger vampire. Dreamily, in a cloudy daze, Illy murmured incoherently and pressed against the unbidden company. For a long moment, the sensations were all very natural: of course his hand should be there, of course the small of her back ought to be warmed by his body. Groaning with sleep, her fingers traveled down to cover his at her belly, squeezing. When she was finally greeted with reality, Illy's eyes flew open and she felt her stomach drop from her body, leaving her dizzy and breathless like a surprised child.

"Gideon?"

She shifted so that she could stare at him from her back, pale blues warm and liquidlike, confused.

"Mmhm." He responded as he nuzzled into the space between her neck and earlobe. He moved as she shifted, his arm draped across her, hand stroking lightly at the inside of her arm. He didn't bother to lift his head to meet her confused stare, and instead nestled closer, one leg burrowing under her own as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Was she dreaming? Had she finally crossed over into that space where one couldn't work out the difference between being conscious and being enveloped in slumber? The sounds of him seemed real enough, his flesh moving against hers, their flesh against the fabric of the sheets, the low vibrations of his wordless answer at her neck. Inexplicably, her spine seemed to arch mildly, as if to accomodate his presence. Dancing things in her abdomen, that thrill too nerve-wracking to be dreamstuff. She reached between them, then, and moved her fingers through his hair as he pressed.

"What are you doing in here?" Gentle stroking through those strands, gentle as her question.

It was a fair enough question, but Gideon was damned if he could work out a good enough answer to it. He had a whim, he'd indulged it. Another one of his knee-jerk reactions made to sooth the demands of his insatiable id. He found it hard to put a sentance together as her fingers rippled the hair on the back of his head, sending a delicious sensation over his scalp. He closed his teeth genly over her shoulder as his hand lifted and pressed against her chest, thumb idlly tracing back and forth over her collarbone.

"Just... laying here."

She couldn't help it. His answer was so childlike, and she found herself giggling at him. Sliding her fingers away from his crown, she reached down to cover his fingers in her own at her collarbone.

"How long have you been here?"

Her question was in earnest. Closing her eyes once again, Illy restrained herself from lifting his fingertips to her mouth so that she could plant kisses at each one, and instead focused on every place that their bodies met, still in a pleasant sort of shock.

In the darkness one corner of his mouth curled upwards at her giggling, amused. He drew the tip of his nose up so that it traced against her cheek, and ended in a kiss at her temple.

"Not long. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'd rather be awake if you're going to be here, like this."

How strange, this juxtaposition between the love she felt for him and the unease she felt at his proximity. It was like the first gulp of water against a long-parched throat, awkward and beautiful at once, tinged with a hint of pain. Here was Gideon, treating her as if they were old lovers. And here was Illiana, wrapped in little more than sheets and the silk of a sleeping garment, drunk on his skin and her recent affair with slumber. The pair of them was a sight, surely.

"M' sorry." He mumbled quietly, and drew back slightly, his head rolling back against the indentation it made on the pillow. There was something about lying next to someone, and not trying to seduce them, just sharing a bed, and contact. It felt right, it touched some need within him and made it ache wonderfully. His hand slid off her chest as he moved onto his back and lay blinking up at the ceiling somwhere in the darkness over them, it was invisible, little more than a palpable feeling of containment from above. He drew in a slow breath and let it go.

"Don't say that you're sorry."

Her body moved with his, following him to maintain the closeness. Chastely, she pressed her lips to his shoulder. The welling of emotion was strong, and seemed to peak with that tiny kiss. Her turn, now, to slide her arm along his torso and settle. Confessions lingered in her mouth, unspoken passages about how she loved him perfectly despite the torment of his aloofness. And what was she to do with this new sense of him? She eased her forehead against that place where her kiss had met his shoulder, and felt herself accompany his sigh with one of her own.

He let his eyes drift shut as she moved towards him, her arm encircling him. He slid one arm under her and pulled her closer against him. He rested his cheek against her forehead for a second, then moved, kissed her forehead...and then again. One hand slid under her chin and tilted her face upwards. His lips brushed hers breifly before he licked lightly at the part of her lips, just the cool, damp tip of his tounge tasting her mouth tentatively.

Perhaps in her mouth, he would find her secrets. Fearful to imagine, and yet Illy found that her lips felt as if they had been sculpted only for this, for this one moment. Despite being wrapped in the comfort of this bed, she found herself dizzy and weak at the kiss - every one of his rare kisses had drawn this from her, it was ferocity and tenderness, longing and hunting and surrendering at once. To his tentative touch, she responded with warmer presses, her fingers tightening against the flesh of his body as she sought his mouth with only the mildest amount of caution.

He took his time as he kissed her, closing the cupid's bow of her upper lip in his mouth, the silk of his tongue stroking against the delicate inner flesh of her lip. He sucked lightly and released her lip, moving to catch the fullness of her lower lip next. His hand slid back into her hair, cupping her head. She tasted wonderful, cool and delicious. He felt his stomach tighen as the lust rose up slowly, felt the pressure of her fingers as his muscles moved under the skin she held to.

His lips drew curious sounds from her, sounds forgotten over too many years of loving no one. Sighs and low, throaty groans. The pressure of his fingers at her skull was divine and driving, her teeth suddenly catching his lower lip and gently biting. She didn't break the skin, only delighted in the sensation of his flesh. Smiling into the meeting of their mouths, then, she released his lip and moved to touch his jawline with her lips, and then his throat. The taste of his skin was hypnotic, clean. She wanted at once to consume him and to be consumed. Sighing, she at last opened her eyes and pulled only far enough from him to stare at him.

Her noises drew him in, her response a wonderful tease. He moved, pulling back the sheet that lay over her before rolling over top of her. Braced on his elbows he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled gently, tugging her head back. He ran his tongue up her throat from the dip in her collarbone to her chin, ending in a growling nip. The silk that covered her slid against his bare skin, the sensation of the thin, slinky fabric moving between them like water.

Liquid between them, indeed. The silk reminded her of demureness, of blushing and casting her eyes downward, ladylike, proper, shy. She could do none of these things here, trapped happily in his grasp. She gasped at his bite, her back arching as if her body were begging for him to cover her completely. Blinking up at him, she felt herself lick her lips thoughtfully. She regarded him that way briefly before lifting her hands to his arms, fingers curling and tightening. If words would come to her, she would speak to him, but touch seemed to be her only language.

His eyes drifted shut once more as her hands slid over his arms, sense and sensation all that was important. He slid one hand out from under her and down her side until he grasped her knee, drawing it upwards, urging the silk to pool down towards her hip, baring her thigh. His hand skimmed down the inside of its tender flesh, fingertips tickling senstive skin all the down into the hollow of her hip.

The intake of breath was sharp, even if unnecessary in a purely biological sense. The girl found her head tilting back, imagined her heart would race if only it could. Her flesh seemed to burn where his fingers touched her, the kind of heat that could only exist after too many secret early evenings imagining these caresses. She was poised for this, whatever this was, still sleepy, dreamy, practically purring. Her fingernails began to dig into his arms, then, as if she were bracing herself. And in a strong sense, she was.

The sweet sting of her nails biting into his flesh was like a spur, and his grin broadened as he rose on one elbow and slid down the length of her until his face drew level with her thigh. His hand curled round the circumfrence of her leg from underneath and his tongue took over the caresses his fingertips left off, until he reached that wonderful little hollow right between thigh and hip, the innermost, softest bit of flesh. He kissed her and felt his fangs push downwards, opened his mouth and slid them into her sweet skin, twin pin-pricks of tiny, flashing pain instantly lost in the sudden rush of pleasure with the sharing of the blood.

A short journey, his motions, and yet time seemed to stretch itself for her, to move at a crawl, so that every last drop of that motion was sensed most fully. The crest, of course, his teeth, that was something new altogether. The pleasure of it was like the first bite that made her his fledgling: a veritable rainbow of sensory overload. Images, colors, whispers, sweetly aged wines and earth. This time when her back arched, it was full and blooming. She felt tears welling behind closed lids, salty red and passion, fear and love.

He only took a taste before his kissed the wound, lips brushing over it even as it closed perfectly, and then he was over her again, her face in his hands his mouth seeking hers, tongue tasting of her blood. He sat back and his hands went round her arms, pulling her upright with a slight jerk of sudden desire, pulling her to himself as his arms went round her, hands on her bottom pressing her to him as she straddled his lap.

Blurry and lustful, she whimpered both at the break of his mouth at her thigh and at the break of his mouth at her mouth. Hungry, her body followed his leadership, and now it was her hands at his jaw, at his neck, as she sat up against him. The thin fabric between them was as warm as she was, and she kissed him with less tenderness this time. Her teeth nipped at his lower lip, her tongue seeking that taste of her own coppery blood in his mouth. She was bursting, her lungs filled with emotion. Without permission, then, she pressed her lips to his chin, to his jawline, to his throat. Her own fangs slid into that skin with strange, reverent urgency, and when she tasted him, she heard herself moan into the small wound, the pleasure dark and heady.

His groan at her bite was low and feral, his teeth bared as she both took from and gave to him at once. The rapture slid down over him for those few blissfull moments and his hands clenched in the silk that covered her until the fabric strained. He willed himself to release his grip and his shaking fingers slid the straps of her gown off her shoulders instead.

His fingers at her nightgown seemed so distant, eclipsed fully by the universe in his blood. She forced herself to draw away from him, to lick lovingly at the wound as it closed itself, to kiss the healed flesh. Her shoulders rolled in the most subtle of shrugs, the motion urging the thin straps to fall precariously, hinting cruelly. She watched him quietly for a beat and then whispered, her voice trembling more than his fingers.

"You're sure?"

He had to catch his breath, and draw himself up short. God, he was ready to ravage the girl. His hands pressed against her back as he looked up at her, luminous eyes searching.

"Aren't you?"

Her eyes glimmered in the dim light, fire and kindness, questions and desires. She met his gaze unwaveringly and grazed her fingertips along his jawbone.

"I've given myself to you countless times in dreams."

Despite herself, she smiled at him. It was gentle and sweet, trusting and self-conscious. And yet, also something like sureness, solid.

His brow furrowed slightly in passing, but he returned her smile, one hand lifting to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip as he watched her, suddenly less certain.

To his thumb, she pressed her lips in a quiet kiss, drawing the digit into her mouth just enough to give him her warmth. Nervous, she reached up and took his wrist.

"You didn't tell me if you were certain, Gideon..."

Could she offer him anything more gentle than this? Her grip at his wrist was tender, questioning, and the ebb of confidence in his expression gave her pause.

Ah, gods. Everything she did made him want her more! He watched her suck lightly at his thumb and felt it deep to the pit of his stomach. He growled softly and rested his forehead foward agianst her shoulder, eyes screwed shut in fustration. If he did this he was feeding her hopes, fueling them unfairly. He drew a breath and the scent of her filled his nostrils. He felt as if he'd be sick with the force of containing himself, but his will was strong and unforgiving as iron bars. His hands fell to her hips and rested there, useless, as he heaved a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Illy."

To say that she had expected this would be brushing close to truth, and yet. She felt the astriction in her muscles intensify and then melt away. Swallowing with some difficulty, she brought her hands to his face, pulling him from her shoulder. She touched her lips to his forehead, a maidenly gesture that spoke more clearly than her throat would have allowed. The words were about capitulation, perhaps some mild cataclysm, acceptance. No more fever. Smiling inexplicably, if with some sadness, she maneuvered from this too-private position of hips against hips, and stood up at the side of the bed.

"I ought to get dressed. I'm hungry." Loose language, absent and strangely tinted in regret. She didn't meet his eyes.

He said nothing, only turned his back to hide the expression of exquisite pain and self-abuse tinged with longing that took hostage the features of his face. His entire body sung the hymn though, in every line; his fist that braced him upright clenched in the bedclothes, the taut rise of his shoulders and hunch of his proud back. Jaw muscles worked furiusly as the clenched, released and the clenched harder. He threw aside the sheets roughly and rose to stalk out, furious with himself and his weakness.

The agrument between Erin and Gideon had ended much the same way it always did; they fought, they railed at each other and then gradually the anger gave way to appology and reconcilliation, usually with Erin begging Gideon to cease change his behavoir and just be kind to her.

Two evenings later, however, proved to be the setting for a much greater row.

Within the inn Erin poured a glass of wine for herself. A look to her friends and she had that weird feeling from earlier.. with Alain and Amalia. Like she was somewhere she wasn't much wanted. Silly Erin. She stayed behind the bar, leaning on it, eyes staring off at the far wall.

One second Gideon wasn't there, the next he was. He must just move sneakily like that. Right behind Erin, strong arms straddling her, leaning on the bar on either side of her where she stood, his voice a low purr in her ear, cool lips brushing her earlobe.

"Million dollars for your thoughts."

Erin almost jumped out of her skin. Really. She did. she wasn't sure who it was until the voice. And then she knew. And was pissed. Bar on one side, backbar behind him, there wasn't much room to do anything. Without much thinking she turned around at breakneck speed. Now they were almsot face to face. That wasn't that smart.

"What the fuck?!"

Beyond Erin Grem and Lydia glanced up at their friend's exclamation, heir faces registering suprise and consternation.

Gideon himself was in a perfectly happy mood as he grinned down at her whirl and her furious little face. The gall of him. He leaned down and stole a little kiss, nothing flirtatious, but infuriating nonethless.

"Hullo Pidge. Sorry to startle you. I came in through the kitchen, wanted to see if I could sneak up."

He clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth with a tilt of his head.

"Tsk. Such language, Erin..."

"Just... don't kiss me." She was trying to break out, pushing on one of his arms.

"God damn it, Gid." She had heels on, and took a shot at one of his feet.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Grem was equally unamused.

"Erin." His voice low. Not quite a growl. "Want a hand?"

Smooth as a dancer Gideon moved his foot out of the path of her vicious heel and leaned back, letting her out, all contriteness, hands raised and open in defence.

"Sorry! Jesus..."

"You dont' just sneak up on women and kiss them for the hell of it. There are words for that kind of behavior!"

Erin gave a grateful look to Grem, and a little bit of a shake of her head. Too headstrong to take help, she was. Her glass was snatched up and she went through the break.

"Just leave me the hell alone."

She was stalking almost towards the hearth. Face red, bottom lip bit to almost bloody. She would have broken the glass in her hand if she were any madder.

A clink, as Grem's glass came to rest on the bar and he straightened from his lean.

Gideon blinked, watching her go, smile unfazed. She was adorable when she was steaming mad. Good thing too, because it seemed even sharing a room with her made her that way.

"Yes, I believe the word you're looking for is 'debonnare' or perhaps 'charming'.... " He said in a voice raised to carry a bit. He followed her at a distance, taking up a lean against the hearth's mantle, watching her in amusement. Regardless of her volitile reaction he actually had been intent on making nice with her tonight.

"Can I do nothing to please you, pidgeon?"

"I'm married. This isn't... what the hell are you on tonight? You could have walked up and said "hi, how ya doing?" You didn't need to..."

She slammed the glass on the end table, standing about two feet from him, pacing with the energy of it.

"Do you just wake up some days and go "I think today I'm going to piss Erin off beyond belief, try and ruin her marriage and if I'm lucky maybe she'll cry?" Is that like.. your goal?" She was one notch under screaming.

Sure, Erin had shaken her head. So, she didn't want help. A brief glance to Lydia, then, before Grem stepped away from the bar, following the pair. Frown in full, as he coughs. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep, eyes on the other man.

The whole situation was getting ridiculous, it was. And seeing her sister upset.. it upset her... Lydia moved towards the hearth as well, certainly frowning, pale blue eyes just faintly lighter than the norm.

Gideon's brows furrowed and he reached for her, taking hold of her shoulders and bringing her pacing to a stop.

"Erin. I simply asked for your thoughts, you looked preoccupied. I gave you a peck, so what? It was chaste. I didn't bloody assault you in the alley for crying out loud. Calm down. Uh..."

He glanced up to see a rather furious, livid Grem standing just beyond. His expression tightened somewhat but he managed a smile for the bloke, cold as it may have been.

"I think we can handle ourselves with out your help, thank you mate."

His pale gaze flicked to Lydia and he cursed under his breath.

"Bloody hell Erin. You have an army assembled or something?"

"Okay... okay..."

She was calming down a little, stepping back and out of his grasp.

"Look. Just... don't touch me without permission, yeah? Sneaking up on me like that.... it sets me off."

She was giving him eyes. He should know why she doesn't like to be touched out of turn. Or surprised.

"You can't just walk up and do what you want with me. It's not like we're... I thought we've been over this." At the end she was getting mad again.

Grem glowered at the man.

"Didn't ask you. Don't care what you think. And I don't like seeing my friends harassed." He didn't move from where he was, as yet, just spoke through clenched teeth and watched.

Gideon frowned slightly and let her go, shoving both hands deep into his jeans.

"Alright... sorry. Christ, pidge. I think it's about time to switch to decaf, yes?"

He glanced to Grem and made a face of annoyance. His own patience was wearing thin.

"Look, bright eyes. How about you piss off, alright? No one asked you, either."

"No. It's about time you stop thinking you're a God's gift to women." Erin waved an arm around.

"Can't go kissing me in public." A look back at her friends. Had she been alone, this would be a different fight. She was forcing the anger down as she took another step back.

"That's it. This is it. We're done. I thought we could be civil, but... just... pretend I'm not here."

Lydia's eyes a touch brighter, narrowed a little as she stepped closer towards the others, gaze on Gideon.

Grem's lips pulled back from his teeth, nostrils flaring, but he held his tongue and his place.

Gideon looked like he'd been slapped.

"Fine, Erin. You know what? You have no bloody idea what it is you want. I'm cruel to you and you act civil. I try kindness and you kick me. Screw you and your rabid little group here."

He gave Grem a look halfway between amusement and daring as he moved past the man, just close enough to hit his shoulder with his own - hard.

"Down, boy. He murmured, between them, his tone one of master to dog... or wolf.

Gideon made for the alley door, his pace furious.

Grem snarled over his shoulder to the man, before he looked back to Erin. He stepped closer to her, voice kept low enough that the others around will not be able to hear it. Almost a whisper.

Erin called after him.

"You know what, youv'e had a stick up your ass every since Thalon dissapeared. Dont' take your own relationship problems out on me. Just because you're unhappy doesn't mean I am."

And she grabbed her glass and turned for the bar, stopping for the whisper, blinking furiously in suprise as Grem's warning resounded in her ears.

"......what.....?" She dropped the glass.


Lydia's hands clenched into fists but.. she restrained herself. Really... she's better at such things lately. She turned towards Grem and Erin, moving closer to them, frowning a bit at the dropped glass.

Gideon paused as she spat her words at his back, his hand on the door. Shoulders rose up behind his ears. He could have ripped the door off its frame and flung it at her and flattened her and Grem in one go, but he did not. Instead he flung to door open so hard the knob broke against the wall it it, and he stormed off wordlessly into the back alleys of Rhy'din in a black rage. So much for trying to be nice...

?Don't you start on that Illy!? Oops. She got snappy with the other woman. Though she hadn't intended to. ?I can look around and see freaking elves and dragons and all manner of beings, so it's entirely thinkable that they exist! Both of you stop treating me like an idiot!?

?Thank you, Illy.? He replied, glad to have a voice of reason in the conversation at last. He gestured towards his flatmate as he looked to Cass, pleading her to see reason and sense. ?Cass, Illy lives with me. I think she'd know if I spent all day in a coffin, avoiding crosses and mirrors and sucking the blood of the innocent to survive.?

?Darling, Rhydin has many things in it, you're right. But if vampires exist...? And at that moment, she nodded in agreement with Gideon. ?....I would most certainly hope that they don't share apartments with helpless professors.?

Illy gave Gideon a small laugh, then, as if to demonstrate the absurdity of the idea. Returning her gaze to Cass, her features softened.

?Don't talk down to me! Good grief! Pulling out the bloody stereotypes to make me rethink the existence of vampires? Well that's not the right tactic, I can tell you that much.? Digging in even more stubbornly now.

?I've met one, you know. And quite willingly spent time in her company.? "And played blood donor" was the next logical statement, though she left it unsaid.

It was true, she was treating Cassandra now almost as she might have treated a wayward student. Gentle, and yet in that authoritative plane. Her eyebrows lifted slightly at the confession, and she reached out to touch the girl's arm.

?Cassie, why would you put yourself into danger that way? Are you mad??

?You know what Cass. You are right. There are all manner of odd creatures around this bizzare town But I am not from here. I come from a world where these things do not exist. At all. I'm human, and nothing but human. I'm not going to continue this ridiculous argument.? He gave Illy a taut smile, irritated but appreciative at her vote of confidence.

?Maybe I am. But I know what I've seen and experienced. And there's danger in everything, it's simply a matter of weighing the rewards.? Chin lifting defiantly again, and she glared at Gideon.

?Fine. If you say so. Obviously you're going to stick to that lie.? ::Those were fighting words!

?Cassie, I've always been kind to you and tried to help you when you've asked for it. This is such a hurtful thing of you to suggest. I can't believe you'd treat me this way... or think such a thing of me.?

?Maybe you see it as hurtful, but I didn't see the insult that you've obviously taken. You're the one who's taken exception to me! You dare to condemn me for something beyond my control??

?I have NOT!? Cass was pushing him towards blind rage territory rather quickly. He'd had just about enough of the ludacris women of this inn lately, and he'd be damned if he was going to take one more helping of shit from another of them. ?I am simply incredulous, I don?t care if you are half Smurf and half ogre, for fuck?s sake.?

Gideon looked pointedly to Illy.

?Ask her, Cass! I live with the woman. She has to put up with my dirty socks and the mess I make of the bathroom counter. Don't you think she knows what she is talking about??

Illiana?s features changed suddenly, seriousness shrouding the smile she'd once forced. Shadows in her eyes, then.

?If Gideon weren't human, I would know it. Wherever this information is coming from, it's poorly collected or else poorly offered.? Perhaps this was the first time Illy had been harsh to someone in years, but it required so much strength to keep from trembling. Her control was becoming more and more difficult to master.

Illy lifted a hand to rest against Gideon's arm as if to quiet him as she took a small step into Cassie's direction.

?You are clearly upset about things that have nothing to do with him. Perhaps it's best you work those things out first. You're such a lovely girl, it would be a shame to see you behave poorly when such things are undeserved.?

Gideon glanced to Illy in concern and back to Cass, obviously infurated and hurt.

?Look, Cass. It's one thing to insult me with unfounded insinuations, it's another to upset Illy with them. You are crossing a line here. Please appologize to her.?

?He's the one who got upset with me!? A point at Gideon. Perhaps a bit petulant, but really, this was not what she'd been expecting when she broached the subject.

?You upset me, Gideon. Should I demand an apology from you as well??

?I'M NOT THE ONE FLINGING ABOUT UNFOUNDED, INSULTING ACCUSATIONS!!? He roared. She'd tipped the scale now, and very foolishly. Cassie was very fortunate to have Illy standing between her and Gideon at that moment, very fortunate indeed. She was rapidly loosing herself one of her best allies, though.

Cassandra did wince at the roaring. That was not a happy volume in such close proximity to her ears.

?Lower your bloody voice, Gideon. You act as if I was interrogating you in order to toss you into a jail cell and leave you to rot. It was not meant to be a bloody insult, so stop.?

Illy winced at Gideon's exclamation. She gave both of them a pleading look.

?Please...both of you are behaving poorly, now. Gideon is a regular human being, Cassandra. That is the end of that discussion. ::She straightened, then, and sighed.:: I think I may head home, Gideon. Please stay out of the kitchen, won't you - the housemaid left home-made garlic dip.? Had she really said that out loud? She was panicked, perhaps, and couldn't allow herself to take Cass seriously.

Gideon flung his hands up in the air in a gesture of pure and utter fustration.

?I'm sorry Illy. I can't take this. I'll be outside whenever you are ready to go.? He muttered contritely, though he did smile ruefully and shake his head at Illy's little comment. He turned and headed for the door in long paces, letting it swing shut behind him with a bang, leaveing the girls alone together.

Heaving a long sigh, Illy watched Gideon leave. She turned to Cassandra and frowned.:

?I don't know what began that episode, and normally I wouldn't interfere in such things, but Gideon has been stretched thin lately with all of his arguments.? She swallowed hard at that. Offered a half-smile. ?I wouldn't take anything he said to heart.?

Cassandra waited until Gideon made it out the door before addressing Illy.

?No, he's not, and you're lying. But rest assured I'll not bring it up again. Christ. He needs to take a bloody Midol.? Then she softened a bit.

?It was not meant to insult him, Illy. I take no exception to whatever he may be. But I knew long before this that he isn't a simple human. It didn't bother me then and it doesn't bother me now, except that it annoyed me to be unable to best him in strength.?

Outside in the bracing, soothing cold Gideon paced like a tiger in a cage, wearing off the energy of his own rage slowly.

In response to being called liar, Illy's eyebrow lifted somewhat. But she ignored the comment, crossing her arms over her chest and regarding the girl.

?If he isn't human, then I am ignorant to it. Either way, you pushed him farther than he needed to be pushed tonight. And it's me, not you, who has to endure such things in private space.? She flushed slightly, unused to such forward conversation. Drawing herself up, she shook her head.

?I think I'll go with him. I hope the evening treats you more kindly, Cassie.? And with that, Illy turned on her heel and slipped outside into the night, positively shivering with some mix of chill and fear.

?It wasn't meant to be insulting and I had no idea he'd have such a damn hissy fit.? Mouth opened to continue, but Illiana walked away! She huffed a bit and dropped onto the couch, annoyance obvious in her posture.

Erin hadn't slept in almost 48 hours. Still in heels and that blasted dress, she looked good, but it was hard to be so tired and... in heels. Her ankles hurt, her head hurt, and the nexus was having its way with her. Erin was wandering again, at least around the better part of town. She had a letter in her purse that was begging to be delivered, and the building it belonged in? Was just ahead. She pulled open the door to hotel and nodded to the doorman, who still new her, for the elevator.

Upstairs Illy had retired to her room, leaving Gideon to stew in his silent anger at the night's unfoldings. Blasted Cassie, the violet-haired idiot! He could have throttled the life clean out of her tonight. What was it with the women of this town, so suspicious and stubborn and bloody-minded? He sat, or more accurately had flung himself to rest in the large, wing-backed armchair by the fireside, and here he was sprawled still, arms hung out stiffly over the armrests, feet resting on their heels with legs haphazard. The stream of silent cursing running through his mind was enough to make a sailor blush.

Erin approached the door and really thought the place would be empty. So, she wasn't particularly quiet with her approach. Purple jacket unbuttoned, hair a bit tosseled, she bent by the door to slide the letter through. It looked as most things written by Erin did--immaculate. The script was almost perfect and the letter was a thick weight and an offwhite color. She had it about half way under the door and she stopped. It was more likely to be seen that way... half in-half out that way. She took a moment to right herself and started mindlessly primping in the hallway for her return home. In actuallity she was considering going to a local club to get a finer glass of wine than the dragon could offer and perhaps smoke something expensive and flavored. She hadn't had a chance to properly celebrate...

The click of footsteps in tired heels was unmistakable, and reached his ears first. He sat up and turned towards the door. The steps paused as if on cue, and a rustling began. His anger flaring again for no other reason than that he didn't wish to be disturbed, Gideon rose and strode across the room like a man possesed. He turned the knob and flung the door open with a resounding BANG that most likely left the drywall severly damaged. Incensed pale blues landed on Erin and his face contorted in a spasm of rage. Oh this was not good at all.

"You! What the fuck are you doing here?!"

Her letter caught under his foot, unnoticed.

She backed herself against the opposite wall, the matching purse she had been clutching fell to the floor. Her face was as if she had seen a ghost, the "o" of her mouth, the saucers of eyes. She just stammered, hands held open as if she had to prove there wasn't a gun there. Stammering and stuttering precluded the speach that was to come.

"I...I...uh...you're he--" A pause. "I was just leaving something. I left it."

A small step towards the elevator.

He advanced on her, stooping down to grab up her purse.

"Leaving me something? What, posion? A bomb? A bloody fucking razorblade so I can slit my own wrists?!" He spat at her. Looming there in the hallway his shoulders hunched upwards his posture in attack he looked like a dark, avenging angel. She'd seen him angery before but never like this. He was terrifying.

"Or did you just come by to twist the knife you lodged in my back last night a little deeper?"

She shrank against the wall, hunched shoulders, face still pale and wide. She was scared of him. She had never been scared of him before. New knowledge and the way he was reacting brought on the look of abject terror. She breathed heavily for a long moment before the noise that was trying to be words started again.

"It's just a...I just left a..." An arm was pointing to his feet. She looked like the walking dead, to be honest. "....it's an appology."

He glanced down sharply at her stamming and pointing and stooped to pick up the letter. He turned it over in his hand slowly, glancing at the thing for a long moment before he suddenly flung it back at her.

"I'm through reading your trite bloody missives. You have something to tell me, just fucking say it!" He was no longer shouting but his voice was in no way lowered.

"You have no problem any other time telling me exactly what's going on in that thick-skulled brain of yours."

He turned with that and strode back into the apartment, her purse still in hand, leaving the door wide open. He flung her handbag with unnessary force against the kitchen counter, where it hit and skittered off, back onto the floor. He continued in his path towards the fireplace.

Erin was terrible at speaking about things like her feelings. Sebastian knew that best. She was an animal of letters. Scrawled on nice paper and slid under doors. She bent to scoop up the piece of paper that had spent hours being created. Recopied and reshaped to be perfect. It was clutched to her chest as she stared at him. Finally she just shook her head and followed to get her purse.

"....it'd be better if you read it..." She left it on the countertop. "I can just go... if you're... I mean... I shouldn't have...."

She scooped up her purse and stayed on the other side of the counter. She was still terrified of him.

"I'm bad at saying things when I really feel them." Said at an almost whisper, shifting her weight back and forth on those heels.

"That's a load of bullshit if I ever heard it." Came his answer as he leaned against the mantle of the fireplace.

"You have no issue saying things you mean that are cruel and spiteful. You're a coward, though Erin. You can't say a damn thing that might make you vulnerable for a second. No, that you have to write down and slip under doors so that you're safely away when someone reads them."

He glanced coldly over his shoulder at her. His voice was ptiched low but it rung with a finality and chill that sounded like the doors of heaven slamming shut upon the damned.

"I'm so through with you."

"You're no different than I am."

She put the purse back up on the counter, and looked around for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I came to say I'm sorry..." She was a touch angry that he had called her out so well. He always had her pegged and it was frustrating beyond belief. But comforting, too. He may hate her, but at least he understood her.

"I had no right to say what I said. I did it only to hurt you, and that was completely out of line. And while I may not be in love with you, I do love you-- in some way that makes no sense to me at all."

She sighed, shaking her head. Her eyes closed as she took a moment to think, her hand run roughly through her hair before she lifted her head to speak again.

"You're dangerous in so many ways, I shouldn't be here and I am here. Again. I just... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I felt I had to hurt you like that-- that I am capable of it." Another pause and she snatched up the purse once more.

"Read it, burn it-- I don't care. If that's what you want, I'll just go."

He turned and walked slowly over to where she stood, drawing right up to her, glaring down with an intesity that felt as if it should burn. He stood for a half a moment, fists clenching and unclenching before suddenly and without warning one hand let fly and the back of his fingers hit solidly across her chin and the soft of her cheek in a back-handed slap. The sheer speed of it knocked her head to the side, and he could feel the reverberation of his fingers off her cheekbone. He scarcely gave her time to realize she'd been hit before he grabbed her face in both of his trembling hands. His lips were pressed tight, shaking, his expression at once livid and contrite. His voice was low, though, intimate.

"Now. Now you're sorry. Never speak his name to me again, do you understand? Never."

This was not the time to be in heels. The force of it almost knocked her feet out from under her, but he caught her face and there she was. The explosion of pain wasn't foreign to her. She enjoyed it, actually. Her eyes closed in pleasure as it burned and then opened to look at him. There was something in her eyes like a challenge. If he looked hard enough he could see that she wanted him to hurt her-- kill her, even. Something had tipped her over the edge, brought her back where she had been the night before. She wasn't speaking, just staring. Blank and begging all at once, some how.

Gazing down at her Gideon saw that sudden flash of desire mingled with the pain, and it silenced something inside of him; an unspoken answer to a silent question. He released her with a little shove.

"Get out."

She just nodded, clutching the purse to her chest.

"I won't." She finally answered the question from before. A mumble under her breath as she stepped past him, her cheek red from the force of his hit. Steps were a bit slow now, she was unsteady on her feet, breathing hard.

He watched her go, most of his fury spent. He'd never struck a woman out of anger or for any other reason, and though it disgusted him that he'd finally done it, he also felt better. A million times better.

She made her way to the door, grabbing the knob. A look over her shoulder, mascara already starting to smear with the silent crying.

"I really am sorry." Almost a whisper and she pulled the door behind her, heading back to the hall, though the door just swong back open behind her.

He walked after herand paused by the counter, turning to pick up the letter she left on the countertop. He moved to the door to shut it behind her, and leaned back against it as he tore the letter open and let the envelope fall to the floor as he unfolded the thick, smooth paper and read.

I've sat at my writing desk for hours now unable to write anything. Not a word. I want to say I'm sorry to you; I am, but I cannot think of the right words to articulate this to you. Each sentence penned seemed trite and unfeeling. I've lost the ability to feel in a meaningful way. Honestly? I wanted to hurt you. It was stupid and mean and petty and cruel... but something I decided to do. And so I am left with the consequences and guilt of the action.
However, I don't want this continuing anger and hurt to live between us forever. To ruin the somewhat shaky ground we are ever building and the ability of us to interact with what seems to be a somewhat communal group of friends. I had no right to say what I said. I had no right to react the way I did.
It's hard for me, sometimes. I know I seem completely fine and normal, but certain things bring back--the incident with Renna. Being snuck up on, kissed, touched unexpectedly. I can...react badly. And I did that to you. But it is more than that, it is the fact(that I thought you know) that interaction with you puts me on the rocks with Sebastian. Talking, drinking, being with the same people-- that is okay, that I can explain. But touching, kissing, whispering in ears... Gideon, that can have dire consequences for me.
I want this to work. You and I. I love you, if not in love with you, in a way that I cannot easily understand. Perhaps our entire relationship(or whatever it is) has been based on a beautiful lie. Perhaps it is in your -nature- to use women for what they can give you and then learn to hate them so. I don't know and honestly, at this point, I don't care.
I don't want to cause you pain, and yet I do. For that-- I am deeply sorry. Accept this simple scribbling of nonsense from the girl that once slept in your bed. Know that she cannot sleep with the guilt of her actions and that she hopes there is at least a touch of forgiveness in your heart.

Erin

Deja vu? But wrong door, really. Everett Ogden moves into the common area, balancing two cake boxes in his arms. The man is a -mess.- Usually one little thing is off, sometimes two. Tonight, it all works together in concert to paint a truly pathetic picture. Hair, a mess. Cloak, a mess. Shirt and pants, both wrinkled. His lenses are not even entirely straight on the bridge of his nose.

Gideon sprinted in after Everett, only his direction took him towards the bar. Two hands on the bartop and he launched himself over it in one graceful, sailing arc, feet-first. He landed in a crouch and rose, glanced about like a mad man. He grabbed a bottle of Glenlivit, aged 25 years and two glasses, snatching them off the shelf. Target Aquired.

"Ohmigod you have cake!" Cassie never failed to notice pastry boxes, and tonight was no exception as she noticed Everett walking through that door. Gideon was ignored for the most part. She would let him set the tone, since she wasn't sure if her apology had made it around to him just yet.

To a vacant table he teeters, lanky steps awkward. Once there, he peers over the tops of the boxes, a stage voice.

"I have cake, cake for any and cake for all. I should not be able to eat it all, but mind you, fair gentles, it is... day old cake. For that I am sorry, but it cannot be helped."

Cassandra She was off of that stool in a heartbeat and sashaying over towards Everett in that slinky little black dress of hers. A grin, as she sidled up beside him.

"What sort of cake do you have in there? Might you have some vanilla cake? With the creamy icing?"

Glasses went into the pockets of his coat, and with the fine scotch cradled like a football bound for the touchdown in the superbowl, Gideon flung himself overtop of the bar once more and was hurtling toward the steps that led upstairs, taking them two at a time.

Ohhhh.... trouble. He may forget his mission as he looks at the lovely woman in the slinky dress beside him. Woman smell. A little stutter as he answers the lavender vixen.

"One v---anilla, with the chocolate shiny icing..." which he sets for her appraisal. "One strawberry." A sage nod, a dreamy smile. "Take a piece, take it all, be happy in your cake." Poor disheveled everett. Theatrical yawn. He so looks a mess.

"Oh good! Perfect! Vanilla with chocolate icing is perfect!" Arms going around Everett in a spontaenous hug!

"You're going to have cake with me, right? You aren't just going to leave me to eat it by myself and have me end up looking like the fat kid?"

Gideon's head poked around from the very top of the stairs, his eyes widening as they landed on Everett being waylayed by Cass in her slinky dress.

"LAND MINES, EVERETT! SNIPER FIRE! Run for it!" He called desperately. He knew that look in Cassie's eyes all too well.

The stamp snaps him right out of it, and he remembers his resolve! Be strong man! Be resolute. He nearly shudders as she hugs him, but the man still stays strong. This is no time to forget himself.

"Yes, yes, the woman demands cake. I would love to join you, but if I eat another thing today, I may explode. I am just so weary, I mean to go upstairs to my rest straightaway." A grave nod. And then. Yelling.

Cassandra's attention was drawn quite sharply by Gideon's yelling.

"Oi! Come down here and claim him yourself then!" Tightening her arms around Everett a bit. Her tone was playful though, and she even managed a smile, after sticking her tongue out in Gideon's direction. How dignified.

"Er... Cassie..." Firmly, but not without his usual brand of polite. "I must insist you unhand me, beautiful though you look, lovely though you smell, and highly I regard you. I really must away."

He tugs himself free with a wan and wistful smile. "Please do enjoy the cake, though." He backs away a few steps before turning to make for the stairs, blushing all the while. Gads.

Gideon's expression darkened and for a moment his face withdrew from the top of the stairs, but it was only so he could come marching slowly, bravely back down the steps. Courage like this should be written about in the history books. He ambled over to where Cass has her stranglehold on Everett and reached out, took her by a wrist and lifted her arm clear of the poor fellow. He gave her a glower and handed Everett the scotch bottle.

"No man left behind!"

He dropped Cass's wrist in punctuation and followed Everett towards the stairs.

Sebastian had certainly had enough time to think about his decision to pay Gideon a visit and could put off the confrontation no longer. With the trashy tabloid article folded none-too-neatly in his jacket pocket, Sebastian hurried inside the hotel. It was perfect, you see, for Sebastian didn't get off work this evening until sundown and poor Gideon was doomed to be a night crawler - so Sebastian should be catching him just as he was waking. He hailed a bell boy and managed to find out what floor the ole' blood sucker was on. With each bell hat chimed his ascent in the lift, Sebastian's anger grew more in its amount. He'd worked himself into a right frenzy by the time he reached Gideon's door. He heralded his arrival with the sharp rap, rap, rap of his knuckles against the door. Suddenly, Sebastian took a step back. What in the bloody hell was he doing? Even with his gift from Angela, Sebastian was in no way a match for a blood-crazed vampire in case this session should come to blows. Ahh well, no turning back now.

Gideon was awake early, as was his usual, and sat watching the sun sink down behind the horizon in the vast silence of the great main room. The rapping at the door jarred him, and he glanced curiously across the room. Unusual to have callers at this point in the evening. He rose and crossed the room, clad in nothing but black pajama pants, his bare feet silent against the cold marble floors. He turned the knob and drew the door
open, his face registering surprise and then suspicion as his eyes fell on Sebastian, who looked like he was wavering somewhere between fuming anger and nervousness.
Gideon smiled dryly, his eyes not following the effort of his mouth.

?Sebastian. To what do I owe this dubious honor??

He'd been nervous, that is, until Gideon opened his mouth. Nervousness was replaced with more anger and disdain.

?You know, the amount of bullshit that spews from your mouth is really quite remarkable.?

?Really? I was of the same opinion of you, actually. What a coincidence. But seeing as how you've just observed we have more than enough of the stuff here, how about you go peddle your wares elsewhere, hm??

?Oh, but I can't leave yet, old friend.? His words were like poison and a literal job to get beyond his teeth. Sebastian took a step forward, reaching into his jacket.

?We've got something to discuss. I'd like to know where you get the notion that you have the right to even touch my wife, let alone kiss her.?

The clipped article was presented, but Sebastian knew full well Gideon wouldn't touch it.

Gideon's brows furrowed for an instant before a look of frustration and consternation came over his face. He reached out and grabbed the article - god the man had carefully clipped it out, what a madman - and scanned it.

?You cannot be serious...?

?I don't normally read such trash, but a friend of mine had quite a ball showing it to me. I talked to Erin later that night and she confirmed it.? Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly. ?Where in the hell do you get off doing this all the time? Can't you get over the fact that you lost? She's not your little pet anymore and you can?t just....do these kinds of things, Gideon.? Surprisingly, Sebastian's words were not hateful, but actually close to conversational.

Gideon shook his head in consternation and handed the article back to the man, lord knows he probably wanted to keep it for the 'I loathe Gideon' scrapbook he was no doubt gleefully compiling in his spare time. Gideon pinched at the bridge of his nose, gathering himself for a moment before he looked up and gave Sebastian a withering glare.

?That's exactly what that article is, De Vernon. Rubbish. I gave Erin a peck - A PECK. It was a greeting, nothing less. I surprised her and she overreacted, I apologized and she still had my hide for it. What's the point of you coming for what's left??

He shifted in the doorway, arms spreading out, hands pressing against the doorframe.

?Despite whatever lunacy you've cooked up in that brain of yours I have no designs on stealing Erin away from you for myself. She and I are done. I've wanted nothing to do with her for a long time. You on the other hand...?

Gideon left the door frame and stepped towards Bastian slowly, pale eyes glowering dangerously at the younger man.

?You.? He jabbed a finger hard in Bastian's chest in punctuation. ?I'd be happier than a bloody clam if she'd leave you. You don't love her, not the way she deserves to be loved. You are a foolish, spiteful, selfish child, Sebastian, and you are ruining Erin a little more every damn day. For some reason that woman loves you... and you!?

He flung his arms wide, his expression furious.

?You doubt her and distrust her... you're never happy with her! Erin loves you. She loves you. And what do you give her in return? Accusations that she is unfaithful. Threats to leave her. Misery and solitude.?

He let his arms drop, the anger draining out of him slowly, replaced by something quite close to sadness.

?You're a bloody fool, De Vernon. One of these days you are going to turn around and Erin won't be there anymore. And then, then you'll realize what real misery is.?

Sebastian could care less about the article and he let it drop to the floor. A hand was lifted to rake through his hair, which was in great need of a trim, followed by an exasperated sigh.

?A peck is still unnecessary when she loathes even the very air you breathe.?

Anger rose again as Gideon jabbed at him, causing the wiry boy to plant one foot behind him. Other than that move, however, the boy stood his ground. Facial features grew grim throughout Gideon's tirade, but Sebastian remained silent until the older man was finished. It would be more than obvious that Sebastian was struggling with hiding his initial reaction - hurt - but even still his anger was paramount.

?You have no idea what it's like, do you? To have something real...? Sebastian?s chest caved as he expelled a wavering breath, only to take in another so he could continue.

?I know that my wife deserves someone better than me, Gideon. Erin deserves the absolute best that the world can offer. And yet, Gideon, she chose to live the rest of her days with a silly longshoreman who gets angry and selfish and whatever else it was that you called me. Why? Because I do love her. More than I can even attempt to express.
Yes, I have distrusted her and made accusations, all well within the bounds of warrant - because of my faults. I'm.... human. In a real relationship, people don't just make one mistake and then hate each other forever. We forgive each other. We lean on each other. We make every effort to build a strong foundation in our marriage. She isn't unhappy with me, Gideon, and she tells me that every morning. I know what a gift I have and there is nothing in this world that I'll allow to endanger that. I apologize if my actions were misguided, but they were in the service of someone whom I love and I'll do anything for her. She doesn't like you. She doesn't want to talk to you. She doesn't want you around. Leave my wife alone.?

Gideon was ready to shake the man until his teeth rattled in his thick-skulled head. He restrained himself to a baleful glare, however.

?You self-righteous idiot. You know I do hope Erin comes to her senses sooner rather than later. As for Erin, believe it or not, De Vernon she's her own person. She'll decide who she speaks to or wants around. But as far as I'm concerned you can both go rot.?

And with that he took a step back into the doorway and slammed shut the door between them. He paced back into the room, ready to tear his hair out. Perhaps it was time he and Illy started searching for a different place to live. This address was obviously a little too well known.

The lad was young yet, and so ideallistic, so optimistic. It nearly broke Gideon's black heart. Sometimes men did make their own fates. Sometimes, though, a selfish demon stole their fate and twisted it to their own dark purpose. Sometimes fates ruined men. He forced a generous smile and lifted his glass, clinking it's edge against Everett's.

"Cheers to that, mate."

He drank a sip and set his glass down to take back the ring box, examining it's contents critically before snapping it shut.

"What about you, Ogden? You ever been in love?"

A celebratory drink to Gideon. Then.. That question jars more than the knocking earlier, and he nearly flinches to hear it. Love, terrible love, ghastly consuming thing. He has a book full of that, though the words are trite at best. Reading their insignificant patter over again makes him ill. Everett sets the scotch down, and finds that he is blushing, just a bit. He could dance around this, he had the words, just as sure as he didn't have the stomach to discuss it at length.

"Love? In love with a woman... I think so, once, though never have I loved a woman so fiercely as I must love my words, my family. To these things I swear my honor, my heart, to these I devote my passion. I pity the woman foolish enough to love a silly man like me. Ink stained hands and jumbles of useless words... So much passion there, I should worry that not enough would remain for she."

Though it did, in waves, and her name was there, scrawled on his heart just as certainly as the words scrawled on the pages of his desk in the corner of that little room where two men sit. Room Two-Oh, Everett's new home. Not nearly so comforting as the idyllic farm and a thousand times easier to bear.

Hey, is it just him or are those spectacles just filthy?? Everett removes them and begins to clean the lenses, using the hanky he keeps for only that purpose in his rear right pocket. The cotton is moved in slow circles on the glass.

Gideon watched the other man in fascination, his own torment forgotten for the moment as words spilled out of Everett's mouth like a well too full, sluceing over it's own walls messily. Something Gideon knew well enough was when people were lying, particularly to themselves. He was good enough at the craft to recognize a fellow. But Everett held his secrets for a reason, and Gideon wouldn't pry anything so precious from the man. With every fiber of his being he hoped to whatever god there was that the man wouldn't end up locking himself away with the false comfort of his books and quills, content with their hallow safety over the frightening, unpredictable but fullfilling world of real passion. It would be a tragedy too bitter for the vampire to imagine. He swirled the wine in his glass silently and licked thoughtfully at his lower lip.

He does not know what it is. Perhaps the intensity of that blue stare. Perhaps the scotch, or perhaps he feels that Gideon is owed for his own accidental indiscretion. While the world is still blurry, and after another long sip of scotch, the brown eyed Englishman answers the question more directly, if monosyllabically.

"Anne." And slides the spectacles back on to the bridge of his nose, hooking them behind his ears and then pushing them to the right spot with one index finger right in the middle. To say her name out loud for the first time in months both pained and relieved, like shoving a dislocated limb back into place. The same action attempted by his journey now, to mend the man's dislocated heart.

He found his gaze slip downwards again, to Everett's bared collarbone, to the slash of warm flesh given shown by the half-undone shirt. It was a pleasently painful torment. He was drawn up short in his admiration however, as the name dropped between the pair of them like a steel gate. He glanced up in suprised. He'd half guessed-half inferred the story from Everett's words and from what thoughts he gleaned off his subconscious... but he hadn't expected honesty like that. It left him speechless for a second before he gathered what wits he had about him. His mouth tried the name itself, voice holding it delicately.

"Anne. Did she love you?"

"I think...probably not. I honestly hope not." Truthfully spoken again. She had liked him a great deal, that much he knew, but all of this would be well worth it if she did not suffer as he had. Everything happened for a reason, and at least Everett could be certain that he did not lose her to a lesser man.

"I had nothing but words for her." Ink stained fingers move again to quaff another long drink, and Everett smiles, not so sadly as one might think. He is comfortable in the knowledge that he took the only course that was right. The only course that could lead to anything good for them both. This was the story he had weaved around himself during the seasick months. A security blanket for a twenty three year old man.

Gideon too took a miniscule drink before running his tongue over the edge of sharp teeth.

"I'm sorry. What was she like?"

"Kind, and quiet, though she had a bite." Genuine admiration from a man who loves women in the best way. Especially her. "Her tongue was sharper than the forge's best sword, just like her wit. You never would have known, save her dress, that she was a peasant."

He finishes the scotch and pours a second, laying himself so foolishly bare as visions of her dance across his mind. Her earthy, sweet smell. The dulcet laugh.

"She had the most beautiful eyes of any woman who dares to breathe. Helen of Troy would have died of envy to see her eyes, luminous, the color of dark honey, and exceptionally alive. She stares and it cuts like a knife. I was never safe from her eyes." A shudder at the thought. Damn it all. Another long sip, and again, he scratches his head.

Gideon's smile was one of pure amusement, perhaps touched with affection. The man was a poet to the core, no matter what professions of mediocraty he made, he had that gift. He watched the wine in his glass swirl in a slow vortex.

"Why did she choose your brother?"

Startled gaze leaps from scotch to companion, a jolt there. Had he mentioned John? He must have...

"I---" Deep breath, and a little frown. "John, I think, loved her as well as I."

More of the fairy tale, the security blanket. Things he had to believe.

"And he shall have the farm. My words would not feed her and warm her house in the winter, and clothe our children." Common sense, the way of things then. "I never told him, and neither did she."

Gideon's lips tightened. He'd slipped there, and the question itself was thoughtless. He was becoming more and more careless the more comfortable he became in this city. Nonetheless he felt a pang of saddness for Everett and his unsatiated poet's heart. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"If she chose common sense and security over love then she wasn't as good a woman as you give her credit for."

If she'd chosen a farm over the adoration of the young man infront of him, the woman was as blind and cold hearted as they came, was more the line of Gideon's thinking, but he bit his tongue for once in his bloody life.

"To do the thing that would best honor her family, and bring such joy to mine? I am inclined to disagree. That is the best kind of woman. A constant woman. A woman you would never fear or doubt." Those words come, unusually resolute for the gentleman. Heavy on the gentle.

"I think I love her more, for her sense of duty." And if she did not love him, then it was more than fair. He never had the nerve to ask her. She never had the audacity to bring it up.

And so it becomes clear to Gideon why Everett isn't going home anytime soon. Until he convinces that heart to turn, he cannot bear to see John have what he cannot, no matter how much he loves his eldest brother, no matter how right it is. That is Everett's sin, to his mind. How he covets his brother's pretty wife and her pretty wit. He'll not be mad enough to stay where he may never mend.

"Of course." He feigned agreement flawlessly. It was a situation of such regret and fustration that he suddenly felt he understood better the reason Everett cleaved to his books and words as much as he did, why he turned to the cold comfort of them instead of the bevy of soft beauties that surrounded him day and night. It was no different than Gideon's own attempts to close love out of his life, turning again and again to the cold embrace of his own self-destructive hatred rather than to the arms that ached to hold him. It was a dizzying realisation, and it only cemented in him this path he had chosen. He would tell Illy his feelings, he would offer her what he had left to give, and take the chance that god would reach out and punish him for the cessation of his self-abuse.

"You're a better man than I am, Ogden." He said quietly, watching the other male with that peircing, intense gaze. "Far better."

He will not argue with Gideon, as he has not made any women weep, of late. Instead he says,

"You would not tell the girls."

Though Everett is certain he already knows the answer to the question that does not sound so much like a question, it still bears statement aloud. He finishes his scotch with one good long pull, that sleepy warm feeling of a buzz beginning to relax his antsy limbs.

"I could not bear their pity." God, the only thing worse than a broken heart was to be pitied for it. Everett despised pity to such a degree that he would go far out of his way to avoid it.

"Never. They'd take my life first."

Now that would be a feat. Nonetheless he'd never breathe a word of it to that ravenous pack of she wolves. He rose from his seat and reached across the narrow table to rest the reassuring weight of one hand on Everett's shoulder.

"You have my word."

Almost a grin, a brave effort indeed. Everett nearly looked himself, and he gave a pat to the hand on his shoulder.

"I appreciate it greatly. And now..." A little roll of his shoudlers, a nod towards his desk. "I must answer the call of my muse so that she might allow me to sleep."

"Of course. Thank you for the drink. I must return the favor sometime. You should come visit Illy and I some evening for dinner... and bring your work perhaps?"

He couldn't help the suggestion, and it was made half-playfully, brow raised.

"This is our address." He fished a business card out of one pocket and handed it to Everett. The paper was heavy and expensive, the guilded type Roman, letters curving elegantly into the name Gideon Adrian Davidoff, VI with the address of the penthouse in the Lanesborough underneath along with a phone number.

"Call anytime, though we are usually out during the day, or asleep in coffins if Cassie's rumors are to be believed!" He laughed softly. "And thank you for keeping my letter safe."

The card is taken, pressed against the side of his left index finger with the pad of his thumb. It is impressive, and noted as such.

"I would greatly enjoy a meal with you, I shall make it a point to pay a call." The coffin remark warrants a laugh. Madness, really, and that good natured grin finds his companion. Drinking buddy, for lack of a better term. Englishman trapped down in the foxhole together, really.

"It seems we both are to be thankful for discretion, tonight." Everett opened the door for his guest, then, and stood beside it, still holding the substantial calling card in one hand.

"Yes, indeed." He shoved both hands deep into the pockets of his coats and strode out the door. "Evening, mate."

And he was off down the hallway in long, easy strides, headed home with a heart both heavier and lighter than it was upon arrival.

"Goodnight, Gideon." He locks himself in his room again, returning to his desk with a thousand words swimming on the page, and so few churning to the surface.

**Warning, contains Mature Content**

Gideon's smile turned bittersweet at her words and he glanced down to watch her gather her handful of petals as he listened. Reaching down he picked one petal out of the bunch in her hand and stroked it softly down the curve of her cheek, over the fullness of her lower lip, and softly down her throat.

"I was cruel to you Illy, because of my own fear. I am coward and cad... and so much worse. I won't pretend to deserve you, but I can't live without you anymore."

It was unclear to her whether it was relief that flooded her belly or something else entirely. Whatever it was, it was warm and it spread through her body in slow motion, gentle waves rolling into the very tips of her fingers. At the places where petal met flesh, she felt entire cities shaking. Swollen suddenly with the breadth of it, she grasped the fingers of his hand, plucked the petal from them and kissed each of them eagerly, as if there were no other motion for her lips to make. Between these kisses, she whispered to him.

"It isn't a matter of deserving, Gideon, I am yours."

I am yours. The words echoed within him, brushed against something that had long lay dormant and woke it. He watched her kiss his fingertips like a slave at worship and suddenly surged towards her, scooping her up into his arms as he claimed her mouth for his own, his strength and need raw, primal. Hands made rough with lust pulled her robe down off of her and then rent the silken fabric of her nightdress, tearing it in half. He released her with one arm, only to pull at the drawstrings of his own pajamas, rising to drop them, leave them on the floor as he stepped into the tub and offered her his hand.

The kiss drew some wanton nymph out of her, surely, but what gasps he coaxed from her with his movements. The sound of ripping silk reverberated within her skull, dazing her until she was painfully aware of her own body. Parted lips drew air through them, as if the oxygen and the steam could grant her the courage not to cover herself. The struggle between her timid breeding and her limbs' desire to wrap around this man was written into each of her features. Stomach whirling from within her, she took his hand and stepped into the water, her smile nervous and starving at once.

He sank down into the hot water laiden with bubbles and moved back to lean against the edge of the tub, watching her with a gaze half hungry, half adoring. He drew her down and towards him so that she sat straddling his lap, the warm water lapping lightly round her waist. His hands stroked up the elegant line of her back and round her ribs to cup and lift her breasts, thumbs stroking nipples tormentingly. His gaze ate her up, devoured every inch of her body. One hand slipped low, down into the heat of the water, and slid its way up her slippery thigh until his fingers found an even greater heat. He was merciless, teasing her gently in slow circles, all silence.

The water crept at the small of her back, following her skin as her spine arched. Her whimper was inhaled, swallowed, and her eyes closed as his hands moved against her flesh. The small swells of her breasts lifted and fell with invisible breath, and as her body curved to meet him, she felt stars breaking inside of her abdomen, sending their dust and their glitter into the flowery heat between her legs. Labored and suddenly consumed, she braced herself against him, her fingers gripping the sides of the tub.

If there was ever anything more beautiful in the world than her, he forgot it in that moment, watching her give in to the wants of her body. He was so hard with desire he thought he might break, but he let her decide when she was ready. His fingers stroked and teased, slippery against her pink flesh under the water. Teeth were clenched so hard in restraint he could feel the muscles of his jaw ache. He lent foward slowly and traced a line of suckling, licking kisses up between the cleft of her breasts, all the way to her throat, his mouth nuzzling, sucking lightly at that delicate white column.

Illiana's heart seemed to beat again, to drum and pulse and throb against every inch of the interior of her body. As his fingers maneuvered so hesitantly, she felt herself wrench free of some nameless, formless binding. Her hips pressed with urgency against the gently invading digits as he set his mouth to her throat, which seemed to vibrate with her quiet groaning. For every knot he untied with his caresses, another seemed to weave itself at the very center of her. The most gifted mason could not have built a fortress strong enough to keep her from him. She arched further into him, each muscle of her tightening as if ready to snap. There was a low trembling, and her gasps filled the space between them. Her eyes fluttered open and she reached up to pull his mouth from her neck, gripping his face so that she might kiss him almost brutally. Her teeth sank hungrily into his lower lip, drawing tiny droplets of blood. She was still and in motion at once, wrapped utterly in the broken dam at her thighs. Dizzy, she spoke into his mouth and licked delicately at the waning blood.

"Please, oh Gideon..."

He groaned deeply as Illy's kiss both stung and soothed his mouth, the blood welling up between the two of them, the sweet, luscious taste of the copper spilling onto his own tongue. How long had it been since someone had made him bleed? It felt like forever. His tongue, stained dark red, licked at her own, shared its sweetness. He withdrew the caress of his fingers and drew her foward, unable to wait any longer, his fingers spread across the round curves of her hips, each fingertip denting her velvet skin. He waited, though, under her, every muscle trembling tautly as he willed himself into stillness. Glacial blue eyes opened and gazed up at her, pleading.

It was as if she was possessed as she watched him pull from her to beg her with his eyes. And in a manner of speaking, she was possessed. Her own blue gaze met his unwaveringly, the sound of lapping water and the scent of roses surrounding her. She stared at him for once without question marks in her pupils, and after a long moment of savoring his hands at her hips, of savoring that need which flickered between them like electricity in the bath, she reached down and gingerly touched the length of him. Teeth caught her own lip as she watched his expression, and when she could restrain herself no more, she shifted so that she might center him against her seeking flesh. A half second of hesitation was all that she could allow herself before she eased down again, returning to his lap now an extension of his body. Droplets of water wove pathways down her back, and the sensation of being filled with him was augmented by the cool lick of air at her damp flesh. She leaned against him, hips to hips, and lowered her forehead to his shoulder, her groan throaty and low.

The sigh that escaped him as her fingers found the length of him, caught in his throat as it tightened. His lips parted but no sound came, his head rocking backward against the lip of the tub. Generous lips curled into a smile of pure bliss however when at last, at long last Illy slid herself down upon him. He growled like a beast and pushed upwards against her with his own hips, even as his hands bore her down until he could burry himself in her no further. He lent foward and licked at her damp skin, flicked his tongue over one pale, perfect nipple before drawing it between his lips and sucking softly. His hands stroked her like a cat, long sweeps of warm, wet fingers over her back and sides, caressing the soft curve of her stomach. He released her nipple only to lavish attention upon it's mate, only this time the sharp ivory of his fang peirced the tender flesh and he licked lustfully at the rosy droplets.

Gideon's driving into her stole the first cry from Illy, the pitch of her voice cracking at its end, and her vision blurred as if she had swallowed far too much wine. The burst of passion from him was, however, far more intoxicating than any fermented fruit she had laid upon her tongue. Her head fell back, tangled and steamed-damp strands of sanguine drizzling her shoulders as her throat was exposed to him. As he stroked her breasts and belly, she felt herself pressing even further against him at their joining, her body engulfing him so completely that their pelvic bones met and threatened to bruise against each other. When his teeth found the bud at her breast, she cried out again and lavished in the divine pleasure he took from her in flesh and in blood. She trembled against him, felt herself slip into some dreamstate wherein they might always be locked together by mouth and by sex, with him feasting upon her as if she were sacrament and he were faithful patron. The explosion of pleasure between her thighs gripped him wholly and she briefly wondered if she might die, just then, like a flame doused in lusty breath.

He snarled softly as her silken walls suddenly gripped him with a force that threatened to drive him mad with pleasure. Gideon shifted under her and slid his arms around her until he could move her, guide her in a slow but forceful movement, rocking her slowly back and then against himself again. He smiled up at her and licked at her mouth, sucking on her lower lip before he dropped his head and burried his face in her throat. Mouth, lips, tongue... all grazed her skin ever lower until at last he sank the needles of his fangs into the lush curve of one breast and would not give up his hold. The blood poured into his mouth and he swallowed it greedily as he had done that first night, bringing the rapture, that release that eclipsed any orgasm down upon her again. He kept them moving, kept thrusting deeply, smoothly into her, reveling in their joining, in the insaitable hunger he harbored for her body, one that the having only intensified.

The first night he had taken her blood, she saw stars. Those familiar, dazzling things now reappeared behind her eyelids, and she crooned to him as he drank from her and moved inside of her at once. The rocking and the cradling wrapped her in decadence more animal and lustful than Herod's lecherous observation of his daughter's dance. It was appropriate that Gideon's teeth drew liquid from her over her heart, and surely through this piercing he would discover the very depth of her gift to him: this perfect, bare, unvarnished love that eclipsed even the devotion which guided the sun to always chase the moon 'round the earth. Her fingers moved against the back of his neck as he drank from her, fingertips tugging gently at his hair.

The muscles of his throat worked and he swallowed each thick, satiating mouthful, the pleasure of it burning its way down to explode within his belly like the release nature now denied him. Hungry cells devoured the liquid ice, and the love he wittnessed within her in this bond awed and cowed him. Gradually he released his bite and drew back, moaning softly as he simply held Illy to him and let all the overwhelming, delicious sensations die slowly within himself.

Gideon unwound his arms from around her slowly and reached up to take her face in his hands, drawing her down to kiss her reverantly, worshipfully. He mumured words against the meeting of their mouths.

"Oh, Illy... you'd make angels cry."

Smiling against him, the water heating her skin, she placed featherlight kisses at his lips and jaw and nuzzled her forehead to his, glowing even despite the paling of her flesh after his indulgence. Her fingers pressed curiously to the space at the center of his collarbone, and she whispered to him in return, her voice a sultry, syrupy rhythm that only brushed the words when her breath was not enough to form them.

"Only because they would envy that I may be here, held in the arms of some treasure they can never know."

He laughed softly, the tone of it warm, pleasure dripping from his low voice as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck.

"No, love... it would be me they envy. You are more perfect than the pearl on that ring."

He reached for her hand and held it up, admiring the way the twin orbs glowed against her skin, one pure white, the other pearl dark as the abyss, the wet diamonds that sourrounded them sparkling like minature stars caught in their orbit.

Gideon rounded the corner and headed up the stairs, his pace slowing as he entered the dimly lit hallway. The twin rows of doors posed a problem, each one shut on a different patron. He strolled along slowly, watching each number slip past.

Malachi had stalked up the stairs, hastily thrown the door to his room open and was half undressed before he reached in to turn on the shower. His boots were at the door, his shirt thrown over a chair and his jeans undone.

?Biggest damned mistake I've made in a long time.?

He cursed and called himself ten kinds of an idiot.

And there was room Seventeen, with its door conveniently half-open, someone's haste having sent it swinging back open instead of closed. The trail of sawdust-coated clothing on the floor was another clue. Gideon smiled to himself as he shoved the door open silently and stepped inside, turning the knob with infinite slowness until he could shut the door behind him soundlessly. He walked into the room stepping over the discarded clothes and boots as he moved towards the bathroom, where the hiss of the shower did little to drown out Malachi's curses. He stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame, crossing his arms. His smile could have put the Cheshire cat to shame.

?Oh? And what mistake would that be??

Malachi did arrogant well but he wasn't one to lose his temper and he'd never made a comment like he had about Everett without proper provocation. He'd kicked his jeans off and just finished adjusting the temperature of the shower when Gideon's voice cut through his own mumblings. He purposed to look unalarmed and unphased. Standing there in nothing but his boxerbriefs his mouth drawing into a thin line. He turned to face the man in the doorway.

?Which one are you looking for? There's a plethora, I assure you.?

The corners of his mouth curled further upwards, if that was possible and he arched a brow as he looked Malachi over unabshedly. Apparently leather tooling was damn good physical work.

?Why don't you start at the top of the list and work your way down. I'll let you know when you get to the important ones.?

?I know how important you fashion yourself to be, Gideon. However, I'm obviously in the middle of something and as per your earlier remarks you're in full agreement that this shower is needed.?

He wasn't angry anymore, it took much out of him. However, there was also no trace of humor in his voice.

His expression took on a more conciliatory look and he shifted from his lean in the doorway to step forward into the bathroom, his arms still crossed.

?I'm cruel to you, aren't I? I shouldn't say such things... but you have a wonderful look to you when you're set upon.?

?Is that an attempt at charm? It doesn't suit you.?

With that said he finished undressing and stepped unabashedly into the shower, pulling the door firmly shut behind him. It was obviously not an invitation.

? And I make my own bed. And I suppose it's letter writing to Everett after I'm done here. It wasn't aimed at him you know - on your obvious attraction to him and your distaste in the ordinary, yes.?

?Perhaps.? Gideon canted his head to one side, studying the man almost in detachment.

?I don't mean half the things I say, and the other half is usually lies. And you needn't write a thing to Everett. He wasn't there to hear you.?

Gideon couldn't help but smile at that last line, though the ruefulness of it was hidden from Malachi by the shower door.

?Is it that obvious??

?True?

Malachi let the water wash away the grim, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he let the water stream down onto his face.

?However there were a notable number of infamous mouths present in the room. I'm not naive enough to think for a second that Everett won't hear of it the moment he steps into the Common Room downstairs.?

?Either that or you'll have to admit to my uncanny powers of perception.? In answer to his question.

A glance around the bathroom and he knocked the toilet seat and lid down to take a seat, grabbing a towel from off of the rack and picking absently at the small fuzzies that lined it.

?It'll be forgotten, trust me. They'll hold it against you but won't breathe a word of it to him. It's how things seem to work in this little macrocosm.?

?It's said none the less and I'll deal with it as it comes.?

Having satisfied himself that all traces of work were gone, he held his hand out for the de-fuzzed towel.

?And, not for the first time, I'm seriously wondering at my decision to set up shop here, both literally and figuratively.? And without thinking he'd just kept talking, as if he and Gideon were lifelong friends.

Gideon handed off the towel and let his hands dangle down between his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

?And why is that? Surely the other displaced British pats haven't been giving you as much of a hard time as I have.?

?As if that were somehow possible.? His voice muffled as he towel-dried his hair. ?There just doesn't seem to be a market for me here.?

Which sounded ridiculous depending on how you took it. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower.

Gideon glanced up and caught his lower lip between his teeth. If Malachi looked tempting with his clothes on, then damp and naked to the waist was more than even a saint could take. He rose and gave the other male a half-smile.

?I'm fairly sure there's a huge market for you here. I can't speak for your wares...?

He gave a half shrug. The pun was just begging to be made. He stepped forward, his expression sobering as he reached up and closed his hand gently round the curve of the man's throat again, this time gentle. His thumb stroked the hint of a bruise that his fingertips had begun to leave behind. Dark brows drew together.

?You'll find your place.?

One eyebrow arched slightly, he glanced from Gideon's hand to his face. He didn't make to move, yet he was unreadable. There was tensing of his posture, no shouted feeling of being cornered.

?Like you've found yours? It seems tenuous at best on your good days.?

He did move then, walking past him into the sitting are of his room. He uncapped the whiskey decanter and sloshed a goodly amount of the brown-gold liquor into two glasses.

?Drink??

?I have my niche. Even us devils have our place in the world. If only to make the saints and angles shine brighter by comparison.?

His hand lingered in empty air for a second before his fingers clenched and he let it fall back by his side again. A hot flair of anger roiled through him briefly, cooled almost instantly by the ice of patience and humility. He followed to the doorframe and took up his lean again.

?No, but you go ahead.?

He did, taking a long drink and reveling in it for the briefest of moments.

?I think it's entirely possible, that you and I, play the villain a little too well. It doesn't leave much room for anything else.?

Gideon laughed softly at that.

?I'm afraid, Malachi, that I've worn the suit so long now it's become skin. It's still just a mask upon you I think.?

His gaze was intimate as he watched the other, the flesh of his hands itching to touch. Each stray drop of water that rolled down the curve of a well-toned shoulder or over the plain of his flat, hard stomach was a silent tormentor. He chewed slowly on his lower lip. and lifted a shoulder in a graceful shrug.

?What does it matter though what we are or pretend to be??
?In the grand scheme of things? Nothing I suppose.?

He finished off his drink, snagged a pair of jeans out of the pile of unfolded laundry and tugged them on.

?I'm not expecting to live forever though - mayhaps I might do better while I can.?

?Well. I guess that makes you one of the lucky ones.? He mumbled and left the doorway to pick his way across the room towards the windows. Anywhere to look to take the focus off Malachi. It wasn't that effective. He braced his hands against the chill of the window ledge and watched the patrons come and go outside, moving through the lamplights like dancers through spotlights on a stage.

?That's an unusual perspective...especially coming from you.? He settled into a chair by the writing desk. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he took the glass he'd poured for Gideon and drank.

Gideon just smiled bitterly over his shoulder before he rose from his lean and crossed to the desk. Bending slightly he ran the fingers of his hand back through Mal's long, damp blonde hair before gathering the slippery strands in his fist. He pulled gently, drawing the other man's head back, and leaned down slowly. The tip of his tongue touched the cupid bow of Malachi's soft upper lip first, before his mouth closed over it. It was strangely demanding and yielding at the same time... but he kept the kiss brief, sucking only once before he pulled back and grinned grimly down at the other man, his fingers tightening slightly in their grip of his hair, just in case.

?You don't know the first thing about me, mate.?

He genuinely was at a loss for words and yet he smoothly brought his glass between them and finished his drink.

?I've never pretended to. I think the fault of preconceived notions falls more heavily on you than it does on me. Obviously...?

He set the glass aside and pushed himself up from the chair, forcing Gideon to move backward and allow him room to draw himself up to his full height.

He let the set blonde strands slip through his fingers and stepped backwards, watching Malachi rise, his expression a strangely pleasant taunting, like a bully looking for a fight to be had, or a penitent watching his punishment come due. The other male had a few good inches on him, and he had to lift his chin the slightest bit to keep his eye contact.

Malachi reached past him and pulled a clean shirt randomly from a hanger in the wardrobe. He arched a brow in question at Gideon's sudden silence as he started on the bottom button and worked his way upward.

The line of his icy gaze hardened slightly, the press of his mouth tightening just a touch.

?Obviously. Or perhaps you just have so little idea of what it is you want that it's impossible for others to give it to you.?

He shrugged and pushed past Malachi, not bothering to be gentle about it.

?Cruelty or kindness... it makes no difference to me if it makes none to you.? He moved for the door, drawing a cigarette out of the inner breast pocket of his coat.

Malachi exhaled and shook his head.

?There's truth in that I suppose. But guess what? Pot, you?re black.?

He took the cigarette from Gideon's fingers and made for the balcony. Lighting it from the candle on the nightstand he inhaled and stepped into the frigid night air. He was barefoot, with wet hair and obviously begging to catch a cold. He paid no attention to any of it just watched the smoke curl and fade as it streamed from his mouth.

Gideon paused at the door and gave Malachi a look of sheer incredulity.

?Quite wrong you are, Kettle. I know what it is I want?. He let the other take his cigarette and followed a few steps behind, watching Mal enjoy the grey, fragrant poison of the tiny white stick. ?And I don't hesitate to take it.?

Malachi smirked and glanced at him sideways.

?There was never any doubt - the trouble, I think, with you Sir Pot, is that you haven't the faintest idea what to do with it once you've taken it. And then all interest is lost and off you go for the next toy.?

Gideon reached forward and caught the man's wrist, drawing the cigarette, still between Malachi's fingers, to his own lips, taking a slow draw upon it. Pale eyes flicked upwards at the barb. and he released his wrist to lean back to exhale.

?How would you know, Kettle? You've met only two of my discarded toys, one of which you treated no differently then I did myself.?

?Not at all true...she went her own way - the fact that I wasn't heart broken isn't a valid indication. And as for how I know...I've met you before, Pot and the regime hasn't changed - it merely has a more masculine face.?

Cryptic he supposed and not making as much sense as he'd like but it'd do for now.

Gideon arched a brow in curiosity at that.

?Oh I see... you think I'm no different than some nameless woman who had the pleasure of breaking your soft heart.? He leaned back against the wall opposite Malachi.

?What makes you think I'd do the same??

?Your every action shouts it Gideon - what of the woman from the Inn the other night - were you not orchestrating to do that very thing??

He inhaled and offered the cigarette back to him holding it as some sort of laughable peace offering.

?Charlotte?? He laughed softly and glanced out across the balcony. ?No I was only speaking to her.?

He reached out and accepted the cigarette, took a deep draw upon it and flicked the ash off the end before handing it back.

?I'm afraid she's just not my type.?

?She's too sweet for you and nothing's there to keep you guessing.?

He flicked the cigarette out of habit oblivious to the fact that there was no ash at it's end.

?And we're full circle to Everett.?

?You think Everett is exactly like Charlotte?? He asked quietly. Everett was a sensitive subject, one Malachi had approached with not enough finesse the last time. Despite an apology he was still wary. He watched his companion silently before he laughed softly and shifted in his lean, moving his weight from one foot to the other.

?If you think Everett is a poor match for me you should meet Illiana...?

?Not at all? He replied quickly for fear of further misunderstanding in regard to Everett. ?I was referring to his sweetness of nature and his countenance and I wonder if you had him, how in the world would you manage to hold on? Or would you try??

It wasn't the game that they played. An honest question with no judgment or accusation. The cigarette was dead and probably had been for a while. He tossed the butt into an old coffee can that served as an ashtray.

Gideon drew his gaze back up to meet Malachi's, all humor gone from their crystalline depths.

?I don't want Everett. He's far too good for me and I know it. I may be an egotistical asshole... but I'm no fool. I care about him, for him... I envy him. But I can't have him... even if I wanted to.?

He smiled, half embarrassed, half rueful. and ran a hand back through his hair.

?And that, Pot, is the most honest and genuine thing you've ever said in my company. Perhaps you deserve more credit...?

Everett moved down the stairs, feeling and looking slightly better tonight, having written a little bit, though he is not without that dash of disarray. He ought to trade mark it. With a leisurely gate, he moves behind the bar to put on a kettle of tea. Though the weather slowly warms, he still finds the nights up in room two-oh to be a bit on the chilly side.

A little wet from the rain, Erin pushed her way in the back door. She hung her bags by the door, coat soon after and stood there. She was waiting? in hopes that a certain person would come in after. Such a naughty girl.

Everett hummed something to himself as he fuddles about back there, making a big teabag, drumming up some milk and honey. He would make enough for many. Folks are always drinking tea here, which was to be expected so long as there was a chill in the air.

A survey of the bar that was it, Erin wasn't waiting anymore, and she was headed over. An easy step as she made her way to the bar, looking for a tender, though it was early in the evening.

When Everett moved to take the singing kettle from the heat, he is assaulted by a little stream of steam. His lenses fog, and with a sigh he pauses to remove them and polish them with the appropriate hanky. He mutters something about the folly of myopic men, but it isn't all that loud.

Erin brushed by Everett, a light touch to his shoulder as a hello and she gets herself a bottle of wine. Erin, the wine, and her pride, all make their way through the bar without a word and take up a booth.

A touch. Ev slid his specs back into place. He watched Erin, her wine, and her pride walk off, and he just shrugs, then. There were women who needed following and there were women who did not. No woman was constantly classifiable in either category, but Everett is willing to bet that if she's not talking enough to spout a hello, that the last thing she wants is the company of a talker. His attention shifts back to his tea making.

Erin uncorked the wine and pulled the curtain closed on her booth, pulling up her feet. She would be hard to find, really, but that was the point. A long pull from the bottle, head leaned against the side of the booth. After a long moment, she took a small leather book from her bag and opened it to write.

A sopping mess, Gideon rolled backwards into the inn with Malachi, a solid shove to his chest making his footsteps stagger for a moment. He was laughing, though, the last jab at Cass having improved his spirits considerably. He gave Malachi's coat lapels a brief grab before turning about to face the inn. He was a wet mess, no doubt, leaving puddles on the floor under him.

Malachi too was soaked by the time he stepped inside. He got maybe a step in at best before being bowled over by Gideon. He slipped out of his wet peacoat and tossed it on a hook near the door. He needed a towel and a drink. He needed the drink more than the towel so he picked his way to the bar.

Gideon peeled off blazer and hoodie and hung them by the door alongside Malachi's coat, leaving him in a white t-shirt soaked to transparency, his jeans only slightly damp, thankfully. His skin seemed pale, oddly pale with chill, and he forewent the bar to head directly towards the fireplace and its warmth.

[Cassie was several steps behind the two men, leather jacket slung over one arm, a red Frederick's bag in her other hand. If they were wet, she was downright soaked to the bone. Clothing stuck her, wet curls clung to her face. However, her t-shirt was black. Sorry guys. Her own coat was hung up by the door as well, but she kept her bag. It had her blaster in it, and more importantly, her new lingerie.

Not entirely oblivious, Everett saw his friend and that other fellow step through the door, followed by the lavender vixen. Ev was pleased that he missed getting stuck in the rain. He finishes his cup of tea, stirring up the milk and honey as those bespectacled eyes fall on the nearest of the party, currently being Malachi. A single nod. Cordial.

Yes they were all soaked, Malachi?s own oxford clung to him wherever it chose. He smiled doggedly at Everett.

?You managed to beat the rain I see...?

Cassie loved rain. She had spent extra moments in it, and she was grinning like a fool. She skittered towards the bar, her sneakers squishing with each step.

?Everett!?

Everett better move fast, because the vixen was currently launching herself at him for a rather exuberant hug.

"Lucky me."

He is a deer in the headlights, another hapless victim. He barely has time to set his tea out of the way, lest both poet and vixen be scalded.

Malachi looked and didn't see Erin, eyebrow raised slightly he looked back to Everett.

?Haven't seen Erin have you? She was only two steps ahead of us...?

Over by the fireplace Gideon stripped off the shirt and wrung it out upon the hearthstones where the water that dripped off of it sizzled against the heat. He donned the damp shirt again, this time a little less see-through but still clinging to him in odd places, plastered against the definition of his flat stomach, and the curves of well muscled shoulder blades. He wiped his face roughly with his hands. He turned back around at Cassie's obnoxious squeal and watched her attack poor Everett with her sopping wet self. Typically inconsiderate. He crossed slowly to the bar and took up residence beside Malachi, watching the scene silently.

With a long, satisfied sigh, Everett downed about half of the cup of hot tea and sits curled around it at the bar, fingers on porcelain, eyes distant. Thinking of yesterdays, a horribly excellent pasttime. Without great success in his sketchbook, he remains just a bit off. Not to mention that this has been a terrible stretch for him and sleep.

Gideon plucked the damp shirt away from his chest and watched Everett go all foggy-eyed over the rim of his teacup. He arched a brow.

?Penny for your thoughts??

Everett gave a dry, dismissive smile to Gideon.

"Gah. They are hardly worth a whole penny."

The night before had been strange, but it had been a private matter, not one he would discuss. It did bring out some dormant things, though. Truth.

"In all seriousness, nothing of present consequence. I wish there were a rhyme for orange. In fact, I do wish there were three."

Gideon? s pale eyes watched Malachi's departure with something akin to bitterness.

?Everett...have you ever met someone you just could not figure out? Someone who you didn't know what they wanted from you, and just could not get a straight answer out of??

Everett?s answer was utterly serious, then.

"Do you speak of one woman in particular or all women in general?" A blink then, considering as he hunches over his teacup. "Yes, by the way, I have."

Gideon?s gaze flicked back to Everett, wide with suprise that melted quickly into warm humor. He rested his elbow on the bar and his cheek upon his fist as he watched his friend consider his question.

?I didn't mean a woman, but alright. What did you do about it??

Was Gid asking Everett for advice? Good heavens. He raised both brows and shrugged.

"Most often, I am wont to do nothing at all. I let it pass. Either it reveals itself, which is usually the case, or it ceases to matter." Patience: Everett's tactic of choice.

?I see.?

Patience was usually something Gideon had in spades, one virtue he actually possessed. But as it was his patience at the moment was stretched thinner than a spider's silk, and he had no more of it to go around. Both elbows on the bar now he raked fingers back through his hair and rested his face in his hands momentarily.

Everett effected a long grin then, mirth and jest evident.

"Penny for your thoughts, then?" Another long draw from the teacup, which cooled too quickly for his liking. Everett propped both elbows on the bar and regards the damp man beside him.

?I think...I'm losing my goddamned mind, Everett.? He said lifting his head to give the other a brief attempt at a smile.

"Gideon..." A slow wrinkle of his brow and he turned to the gent, folding his hands together as he spoke. That face was so earnest, the lines indicative of the kindest sort of care.

"You really mustn't do that." Eyebrows raise to a slow arc and rest there, a look of horror painted on boyish features. "I shall be alone if you do, and that would be very nearly tragic."

Gideon?s dark brows drew together of a look of genuine surprise at Everett's touching plea. He wanted very, very badly to reach out and take the younger man by the face and kiss him. And the urge was part of what was driving him mad. He gave his friend a soft smile, the kind of smile most probably thought he was incapable of offering. He reached out and put a hand on Everett's shoulder.

?I wouldn't leave you, Ev.?

"Thank god."

Finally the jest, a good natured grin and a shake of his head. Oblivious, obtuse Ogden. No telling for how long this would continue.

"They should eat me alive, and leave nothing but these unfashionable rags behind. I shudder to think how the letter to my poor mother would read."

He gestured as though he were penning it himself, the elocutionist in him breaking out for a moment with the even tones of carefully worded speech. "Dear Missus Ogden, of Warwick... We deeply regret to inform you that we have unexpectedly, though wholly, destroyed your third son.
Enclosed are his garments and his books. Terribly sorry."

Both hands spread in a helpless gesture for a moment, and he lifts his teacup in salute to the Captain. "It is a letter no mother ought read, I should think." One more long sip and then tea is gone.

Gideon nearly doubled over in laughter at that, hastily wiping away the blood tears that eeked out of the corners of his eyes with the heel of his hand before Everett might see them and become alarmed.

?Ah god! It would be a terrible shame.? His fits of laughter faded to a chuckle and he shook his head. ?No, Everett...I think they would rejoice in my demise and you would live like a king forever more.?

A playful nudge of Gideon's arm, and a shake of his head. "Nay, not a king, but a fool, a melancholy fool with no man to guide me from folly. Indeed, I would be little more than a puppet on a string without the reason of a friend's counsel to keep me from madness."

He leans back and runs a hand through his hair before slipping from the stool.

"Tea?" He wants a bit more and heads over that way.
?I'd love some.?

In truth Everett could have offered him Hemlock juice and he would have taken the poison gleefully from his hand and thanked him for it with love. He was dying inside a little with each of those boyish smiles and slightly bookish but endearing turns of phrase. But the closer they grew as partners in crime the more Everett seemed to value his friendship. He couldn't bring himself to think of the horror that would register itself behind those thick-rimmed glasses if he were to behave how he wished. He'd be betraying their friendship, and Everett's kindness. Where was Illy when he needed her? She'd been away too long.


?I do!? A continuation from whatever it was that they'd been talking about, as Cass followed Malachi inside, the scent of far too much whiskey following in their wake.

?No you don't...where would you keep it? And it'd be soggy from the rain.? Malachi made a show of being sober or pretending to be.

Everett poured tea into his own cup, then finds a clean mug for Gideon.

"How do you take it?" As he asks, he doctors his own. Milk, honey, stir. He enjoys the luxury of both without guilt, here.

?No I don't mean I have it here with me! I mean it's at my house.? A bit of a giggle, and Cass moved to walk beside him, and bump him ever so slightly with her hip.

?Oh god, none of that.? Malachi stumbled at the bump. ?And shhh lord today yer being loud.?

Cassandra laughed and grabbed at his arm, trying to right his balance for him.

?Loud? I'm not that loud. Not right now, anyway.?

?Honey and a splash of whiskey please.? Gideon said absently, glancing towards the re-entrance of Malachi and Cass.

?You're always loud and almost as frequently trashed, Cass.? He observed from his seat at the bar. Nothing but the truth.

?And you're a nasty sod who can't let a girl enjoy a moment of humor.? Nothing but the truth either in Cassie?s reply.

"Done." Everett fixed it up to order and places it in front of Gideon before settling back in his seat. A small frown at that, and he decides it is in his best interest to perhaps divert things in some more pleasant direction. He should not like to be present for so many nasty barbs. Innocents get caught in the crossfire, you know.

Oh God she really was loud and who was she talking to? Oh, Malachi?s bloodshot eyes raised to see Gideon and his shoulders raised in an unintelligible mixture of chuckle,snicker and snort. ?He brings the very best out in people...?

?What, you mean you actually have a come back of your own this go around? Perhaps drunk is better on you then sober, Cass. At least it seems you can think for yourself then, rather then resorting to your pretty mynah bird imitations.?

Yes, this was not going well at all. Gideon gave Malachi a small smile, dripping with humor as the man grinned at all four Gideon?s he was most likely seeing at the moment.

A sigh, and Cass turned to face Gideon.

?Whatever the hell I did to piss you off, I'm sorry, okay? Can you leave me alone to enjoy my evening now? Because that's what I'm trying to do.?

Malachi raised a finger as if somehow that would lend his point extra validity.

?And Evrit, I was insulting him.? A slow jerkish nod at Gideon, ?Not you.? There was that finger again. ?Promise...?

Everett had thought to say something gentle, but that little bit of stubborn kicked in. Despite poetic tendencies, Everett is still an Ogden man. He hopped right of the stool and moved down the way to the lovely and distracting creature down the way. A smile, happy thoughts as he traipses past Viki and with tea in hand, settles Storm-adjacent.

"I am certainly well, and glad to see a friend. How are you?" A sip, and he perches awkwardly, his whole body somewhat centered over his tea, judging by line of his hunch there. Everett had decided to pointedly ignore the nonsense and move along to greener pastures, to the benefit of all. Probably.

Gideon winced at Malachi's drunken admission and shut his mouth. Everett would have never known if it were for that bumbling drunken moment right there. He watched the girls try to hustle him away.

Cassie was still standing and facing Gideon, her hands on her hips now, stance slightly confrontational.

Gideon watched the one person who had made the night bearable move away pointedly, and turned a cold glare on Cass, his voice lowered as he left his stool. He took the mug of tea and moves towards the fireplace dejectedly.

?Fuck off, won't you please??

Malachi waved off the water Erin was attempting to offer him and pushed back from the table?stumbling just slightly. The finger was out again.

?I'm for the loo and am capable of doing what I do there without help. Thanks.?

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly,
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show you when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the Fly, "to ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove that warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please take a slice?"
"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature," said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say;
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again;
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly.
then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are as dull as lead."

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, -
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
Thinking only of her crested head - poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er heed;
Unto an evil counsellor close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.

"Thank you," he muttered as the wine was refilled. It was a rather delicious glass, he liked the chill of it, the sweet sting of it. Curiosity at the statement, which was clearly a lead into another topic. Thank goodness. He did not wish to speak of that odd moment in the dark too much, or the constant in fighting between just about everyone.

"Well, sir, no time like the present." One of those boyish, good natured smiles fell into place, matching the curious arc of his brow between long sips of the delightful wine.

"Yes." He could not help but effect a small, almost bittersweet smile at that line, and shifted his cool gaze to watch Everett carefully, his features arranged quiet seriously.

"I have come to the decision to set up a grant for you... a permanent fund for the specific purpose of publishing your works. All and any of them. And should you not use up the money, which I doubt you will because it is a considerable sum... it will be dispersed to your children, should you have any."

He took a long, slow draw upon the cigarette between his fingers and watched Everett intently, a half smile tugging the one corner of his mouth.

Cue the look of utter confusion. It knotted the brow rather heavily as behind the spectacles, a cornucopia of conflicting emotions tumbled out and rolled around, knocking awkwardly into one another. Words came slowly, like the long absent spring.

"I am certainly not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Gideon, though I must point out that unless you have been sneaking into my room when I am not there, I do not believe you have read a single thing I have written." A little bit hopeless.

At that Gideon's smile broke into all its embarrassed glory and he ran a hand back through his hair in that uncomfortable gesture that was his habit.

"Hope and belief in something that one has not seen. It is the definition of faith, is it not?" Glacial blues rose to meet Everett's soft browns. "If I have faith in anyone, Everett, it is you."

"Indeed," Another false sip of wine, "It is the only thing I have faith in."


It was simply that the prospect of publishing was both loved and feared and now right directly in front of him. He needed another drink. A swallow of the liquid courage (too bad he had not chosen the scotch), then Everett spoke again.
"I hardly feel worthy of such a gift, sir."

Did he speak of the money, or did he speak of the faith? A shrug. Though the man dreamed of greatness, he also had a firm belief in his own mediocrity. The proof was in the pudding.

"Indeed," Another false sip of wine, "It is the only thing I have faith in."

It was an intimidating offer made by an intimidating man in an intimidating palace of a home. Everett's response was quite logical.

"I am unsure of what I am to say, or to do." Funny, his own hand reached up to scratch near the back of his neck as that lip tucked itself between his teeth again. "Thank you, obviously, though..."

A tentative gaze up over the top of his lenses, making Gideon a dim blur.

"Insufficient beyond belief." Gulp. He downed the rest of the wine.

Gideon laughed softly.

"Everett... You are far more deserving of my money then I ever was or shall be. You have a gift, a talent and a dream. Three things no money could buy me."

He rose and left his wine on the table by the chair, the butt of his cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. Slow steps took him towards the great windowpanes as his hands slipped into his pockets. It was heart breaking, this truth, but carried it inside him long enough now. It wanted out and there was no room for it among his other secrets and lies. He stood at a distance, gazing out at the city below, crawling with others like ants on a brilliant log.

"I do envy you Everett." The words were soft and carried such saddness in them.

His tone mirrored the melancholy lilt of his companion's.

"There is a great irony in that, Gideon, for I am envious of you." He felt cold, and appropriately tucked his arms about himself, hands disappearing into the crook of his elbows. A rueful smile graced his lips.

"Is not that strange?"

"It is, for if you knew me you wouldn't envy a second in my skin." He turned and glanced over at Everett before looking back out the window.

"I don't think that you recognize the power you hold between those inkstained fingers of yours when you wield that pen. You brush the very cloak of immortality, Everett, you put your soul and heart and mind upon a page...and others read it and they know you as if you sat beside them. Your words will live on long after you've gone, and your voice will speak to others when even your progeny have forgotten your name. It is the closest any of the human race could come to life everlasting... and still enjoy the solace and rest of Death."

He pressed his forehead to the window and felt the chill seep through, his hands spread out against the glass like a spider's web. Gideon turned his face and smiled ruefully at his companion, blood tears rimming his blue eyes, threatening to overspill their dams.

"I can think of no one else who deserves such a thing more."

It bothered him that Gideon did not seem to think he was known. He knew he was missing pieces, but he believed had a decent impression, at least. His words gradually began to fly at a faster clip, the passion that fueled that pen night after night slowly becoming evident. Less time to think on them, to consider their implications, to edit them. His eyes were trained, at first, on the bit of wine pooled at the bottom of his empty glass.

"What good is such a cloak if it only serves to make one smaller? Colder? What good are all my little words if I have nothing to say, and if I am destined to have only them? They are of precious little comfort to this wretched, ruined heart. I would give them away to live an easy life of confidence, to have the love of a good woman, to know that someone would always care to read them."

The blood had rushed to his face in the fury of the idea of it all, the futility of ink on paper, the clositered life he felt destined to lead. In his mind, he would go through life liked by many and loved by none. A terrible existence for a man of such quiet, desperate passion. At last he looked over to Gideon, and found the thrumming of his heart against his ribcage painful.

He turned from the windows and crossed the space of the penthouse slowly as he listened, to retrieve the bottle of wine from the kitchen and carry it over to where Everett sat. He picked up the empty glass and filled it once more, setting the near-empty bottle down on the table beside the glass. The bitterness, the regret in Everett's voice pained him far greater than any drama in his own life had ever. Excrutiating it was to look down at his friend and not speak his heart to him...more and more it became a thing Gideon could not bear. He would keep the color of Everett's eyes when all the world had forgotten his name... and yet he could not breathe this, he dared not to.

He moved as if in a dream, stepping closer to Everett's chair. He saw his hands reach out and draw the other's glasses up, saw his fingers cup that smooth plane of the other's cheek. He was on his knees but did not know it, his hands cradling Everett's face, thumbs tender in their trace of the soft lobe of his ear. He could hear the hard hammer of his heart, feel it echo in his brain and feel his own still heart aching to respond in kind, to echo its call. He drew Everett towards him and closed his mouth over his over-abused lower lip. The kiss was slow, soft and lingering, the caress of a cool tongue against warm flesh, a gentle suckling on one lip and then the other...tenderness in the extreme. He drew away at last, breathless, unable to meet Everett's eyes, ashamed of his own weakness and knowing full well he had shattered trust and friendship alike. He swallowed, hard, and forced down his emotions as his hands slide from their caress of the other male's face.

"Everett... I'm sorry... I..." What words were enough? None. Nothing could save him now.

Everett knew how to kiss, he had not been completely ignored in Warick. To be confronted with a situation like this, though, made a man forget a great number of the things that he knew. He was still, painfully still. At least Gideon had caused him to forget what he had been blathering on about. New information came in floods, muddying the active brain, sending the speech centers into something resembling a tailspin. It took a moment to right himself, and he drew a pair of inky fingers to his lips, as though to challenge and verify reality. To his great credit (and in keeping with the character of the fellow), he did not rage, nor flee. He merely sat and watched Gideon, until the first coherent thought spilled right out of his mouth, he became aware he was thinking it even as his ears heard it.

"You--- you are cold, Gideon." More abuse to the lip and he frowned, leaning foward a bit, the next thought seemed more appropriate, regardless of whether or not it was. "I am confused."

Gideon glanced up at Everett in confusion. Had he broken the poor man? He'd expected flight, rage, in the very least a solid fist to the face. He blinked up at the handsome face that gazed down at him, each expression a mirror image of the other's confusion. His mind grasped for straws and landed upon the first thing at hand.

"You can have both, Everett. Your writing and your other wishes."

Lame as a shot duck. He could still taste Everett on his mouth and it made him stupid, shy and stumbling. It was far better then he had imagined.

"I can't...I can't explain myself to you. I'm sorry."

Penance, confession. Sinner and Saint. He felt he'd break under the weight of that soft brown stare, under the love and lust that weighed upon his shoulders heavier than Atlas' burden.

[Gideon thinking of Everett, and Everett thinking of Gideon. More to the point, Everett thinking of... stutter. A flutter of a blink.

"Il--l--lly? Does she---?"

Know you kiss men? Approve? Care? It was only just now starting to trouble the poet that he had not reacted with any of the rage- flight-fist trinity that might be common to man who is certain he likes women. A sinking feeling in his stomach. The spending all day tomorrow in prayer feeling.

He had to laugh softly at that. Of course Everett would be so considerate.

"Yes, she knows. No, she does not care. She knows my heart and how I am. She knew my last lover." It was difficult to admit, but true. He remained knelt before Everett, still half in shock.

?Oh."

Well, at least the puzzle pieces of two nights ago began to fall into place. Do two half in shocks make a whole in shock. With another sudden flush, and a horrified press of fingers to those lips, recently trespassed upon, his eyes widened. The grant wasn't about this was it? He would hardly think such a thing of Gideon, but he also did not think Gideon was going to...

"No!"

He responded before he could stop himself. He could hear Everett's thoughts as loud and clear as if he spoke them, and the idea that Everett might think that the gift he'd given was out of lust was more than he could bear.

"I just... I want you to have my gift because I respect you...and envy what gift you have.... I'm sorry Everett."

He rose and took two steps backwards.

"I'll understand...if you hate me, but I do care for you."

Pursed lips were released, and he frowned in Gideon's direction, though it was likely a product of the entire situation, including his rather ambiguous feelings on the subject. His voice was quiet, and all once he shook his head and shrugged a little, blinking rapidly... He was ready to apologize to Gideon for making the man so bloody uncomfortable, never mind that he had, more or less, brought it on himself.

"I-- You--" Pause, reset, gulp. Sigh. "I could not hate you." Some would call those famous last words. As long as Gideon didn't think it a dare, they might end up alright.

"I care for you- I am just-- This is--" Awkward. Hellish. An isolated incident? A learning experience? An unexplored country? Who knew? Not Everett Ogden. "I am at a terrible loss for words." Though still, he was really bloody calm. He happily remembered that he had a recently refilled glass of wine an with a long breath, he raised it to his lips and took a very long sip.

It was shock, surely. Once Everett had gotten home and had time to think the fact that his friend had just kissed him like a lover would sink in no doubt, and this neutrality would fade into anger, betrayal, and then fester to hatred. Gideon was so sure of it, he had prepared himself so thoroughly for it that he could fathom no other rational. He put a hand to his face and groaned softly before he turned away, raking fingers back through dark hair, sending it on end. His feet carried him back to the window pane and he lent against it, his head hitting it with a dull thud.

"You don't have to stay for my sake, Everett. Go if you want."

"I do not know what I want."

Fair truth, and he took another sip of wine, considering all manner of things. He stood and moved over to the window, leaving the wine, his heart just bleeding for the poor fellow. He kept his arms crossed, knotted together like the knot in his brow.

"That had never happened before." Who else would he have to talk to? He'd rather kill himself than have this particular discussion with any one of his girls.

Gideon laughed softly, a note of unhinged desperation creeping into the sound of it, the kind of laughing one did before one cried. He turned around and pressed his back to the window, watching Everett broken heartedly.

"Am I so terrible? So loathsome a thing? I wish I could keep myself from touching you Everett. I'm afraid my fingers would soil you."

"You are a man, Gideon, and so am I."

That made it something of an obstacle, in Everett's mind. Third glass hazy, not ready to flee, not wanting to leave his friend in such a state.

"I had thought to loathe you, that first night I saw the quarrel with Erin. She asked me to be civil. And I find that I like you. I crave your company, you are a good friend to me, a boon companion." A passionate man. A man who knew how to live, looking after the man who only knew how to write.

"I know nothing else." A defeated shrug, then.

Gideon moved away from the window and towards Everett. He knew what Gideon had wanted him to know, nothing more or less. And now he wished he could spill his secrets to this man, this mortal, more than he'd ever wanted to before. He drew close and cupped his hand round the curve of Everett's neck, fingers gentle, thumb nestling a soft caress behind the fold of his ear.

"I half wish you might have, Ev. Then I wouldn't care for you this way. You are everything I am not. Everything I would want to be. I can't lie to you... I can't barely keep one secret from you. And I don't want to hurt you."

He drew nearer and rested his forehead again against Everett's, swallowing hard once more before he moved again, sought another kiss, this one shyer, more chaste. A light brush of lips, his fingers spreading up the nape of Everett's neck and into the thick of his soft hair.

The proximity caused an accelerando in the ribcage, and as Gideon held him in so tender a fashion and leaned in, a mildly tipsy, inherently confused, exceptionally emotional Everett Ogden, gently, chastely, returned the kiss. Inky hands have come to rest lightly against the front of Gideon's shirt, bent arms between them, a barrier, a safety net. Taking a moment to actually have this genuinely terrifying experience, holding his breath all the while. He thought his heart might just beat hard enough to burst in his chest. Terror.

God and it broke Gideon inside, broke him worse than Thalon leaving, broke him harder than the loss of his humanity, and broke him crueler than anything Vincent had ever done to him...the return of that simple, soft kiss. If Everett felt terror, Gideon felt pain. Magnificent and radiant in its scope. He withdrew only a hair's breadth and drew a soft, slow breath, icy blue eyes opening to gaze at Everett in quiet gratitude. The fingers of his hand curled gently in the other's unruly hair and gave it the lightest of tugs.

Everett half expected some serious wrath of god business to rain down on him. Lightning. Pillars of salt. Plague of frogs. No suck luck. He opened his eyes, and the sad look on Gideon twisted his own lips into a mirrored smile. The kiss had not been all that different from kissing a woman, but it had just brought her to the forefront, she for whom he broke his own heart. Honeyed eyes and a laugh like a brook. What a pair.

Gideon shouldered his way into the inn, lighting a cigarette as he went, the flashing glow of his lighter behind cupper hands throwing handsome features into stark illumination for one breif second before he drew the cigarette away and let a slow stream of smoke slide from between his lips as he strolled in.

Sascha adopted the Inn as her temporary home, really having little intention of staying after she'd done what she was sent to do. She wasn't quite sure that she was even going to do that. She chafed against authority and the leash Eve had her on made her positively viscious. She opted for casual tonight: Embroidered leather pants that sat low on her hips, a wide belt with a curious silver buckle, italian leather boots and a white tank. She adored making an entrance but now was not the time.

Gideon made his way towards the bar, cutting a jagged line through the evening's gathering crowd. He was clad in black pants with an even blacker pinstripe to them and a matching sportscoat, his oxford a dark, saturated sanguine shade that made the pale, pale blue of his eyes stand out even more. The tie at his throat was black silk, its knot pinned with a single, flawless black pearl. He looked perfect and polished tonight. Claiming a seat at the bar he slouched back mindlessly, enjoying the taste of the tobacco in his cigarette as he watched the evening's herd clambor for drinks and conversation.

Erin brushed past Gideon, smiling as she passed. A hand run over one shoulder in greeting and took up a lean at the bar, taptaptap to get Antonio or Kina's attention.


Sascha didn't feel at all like being proper tonight and ordered an extremely unladylike pint of ale. She'd clipped her hair into a disheveled pile at that back of her head, stray wisps floated about her neck and face giving her a false appearance of whimsy.

Cassie made her grand entrance through the front door. Which actually wasn't all that grand. She just kind of sauntered in, hands in the pockets of her jeans. Lavender curls were piled up and held to her head with those chopsticks she'd taken to wearing, and her blaster was on her hip, not quite covered by the jacket. She frowned just a bit as she noticed Gideon, but smoothed it away and continued on towards the bar, sidling up beside Erin.

?Hey.? And a smile for Antonio as well.

"Can you get me the bottle of pinot noir there, Toni?" Erin pointed to her favorite bottle. "And a glass?" A kind smile for her friend. "Thanks."

Gideon gave Erin an absent smile and watched her lean against the bar. She very nearly glowed. Sebastian being gone was good for her, perhaps the best thing that could happen for her. He chewed thoughtlessly on a manicured thumbnail as the smoke from his cigarette wafted overhead, weathing him in a soft of sinister halo. Glacial eyes narrowed as Cassie fetched up beside Erin, giving him that dull frown of hers. He was in no mood.

If Sascha had recognized Gideon she gave no outward sign but it was fortuitous that her other London acquaintance had chosen to take residence at his side. She pushed off the bar, glass in hand and "aimlessly" made her way to where they were standing.

Erin?s wine was poured into the glass and she turned to see Sascha approaching. She inwardly grimaced, something about being friendly not agreeing with her, but she outwardly smiled. She was in too good a mood to dampen it. IT wasn't that Sebastian's departure had brightened her... it was that sex did.

Cassandra followed Erin's gaze to Sascha, head canting to the side.

?She was the woman at the table before the Nexus dumped me in a wedding gown, right??

?Ahh Erin. I'd act surprised to see you here but as this seems to be one of the few places in town to be seen socially, we'll have to pretend surprise, astonishment and good fortune hmm??

It was much of a stretch to pretend any of those things as she was quite the adept at affecting whatever demeanor fit the moment.

?Nice to see you again.? She'd purposefully left out the formalities that had hindered them when they'd lived in London.

"Mmhmm" Erin mumbled to Cassie just as Sascha approached.

"And you, Sascha. Have you met my cousin Cassie?" A tilt of her head, a bit of a smile and a step aside to reveal the lavender vixen.

?I haven't had the pleasure.? Sascha?s lips curled up into a smile as she greeted the other woman. She winked, just slightly and extended her hand.

?Enchanted I'm quite sure.?

?I don't believe we have.? Cass eyed Sascha with a small bit of confusion. They spoke as if they knew each other for longer than just a few nights. She did smile though, and give her hand a firm shake.

?Pleasure to meet you.?

"Sascha's and my mother were friends. We spent a lot of our childhoods terrorizing the same people. It's a wonder we ended up here together." A smile offered to Sash and then to Cassie. She leans over the bar for another glass and pours some of the Pinot Noir for Sascha.

"Here, join us." The glass is offered.

?What Erin is too sweet to say is that we were the resident hellraisers in boarding school. I'm afraid I'm quite the bad influence.? She released Cass's hand and brought her glass to her lips for a drink.

?Oh! Well, it's certainly nice to meet someone who knew Erin before she landed here.? A chuckle. ?I can see her raising hell at boarding school, certainly.?

Nodding and grinning, Cass brought her water to her lips for a sip.

?Ahh, I've defected from prim and proper.? Sascha lifted up her ale in emphasis. ?It's no wonder I couldn't avoid scandal back at home.?

Erin laughed and nodded.

"I'm just a wino. Prim and proper certainly isn't part of it. Trust me." A wink.

"Oh, Cassie, you have no idea. I almost got kicked out of school like... what? Two.. three times? " The question directed at Sascha.

If Gideon thought Cassie's appearance on the scene was ill fortune, boy was Gideon in for a shock. He nearly choked on the last inhalation of his cigarette as a familiar face cropped up in the midst of the two girls. Coughing, he leaned forward to grind out the butt end of the cigarette as he stared pointedly at the three.

"What the hell is she doing here?" A soft grumble to himself as his relatively cheerful expression darkened slowly.

Cassandra was laughing at Erin, but she didn't miss the choking cough. She turned a bit, a brow arched to eye Gideon for a few moments. She noted the expression change, and simply turned back to her companions with a shrug. Too bad he didn't choke and die.

?Something like that. And if they could see us now? I'd tell them to stuff their rules and their etiquette.?

Sascha?s hearing was remarkably astute, unnaturally so and she arched a brow as she glanced over Erin's shoulder.

?Well hello Gideon, amazing coincidence, this. Don't you think?? Her lips were pressed into a wicked smirk.

There was nothing for it. He relinquished his seat slowly and elbowed his way towards the small hen party, the mask of the charming smile slipping over his face, though his sharp eyes failed for once to follow.

"Hullo Ladies. And Cass."

He gave Sascha a broad, cold smile as he reached out to take her hand.

"Sash. It's been too long. How are you doing? You're the last face I expected to see here."

"You know Sascha, too?"

Erin?s brow rose and her face flushed a little. Erin had never realized she had been that close to Gideon on earth. It was a bit shocking.

Sascha?s smile was near frigid and yet her eyes danced as she watched him make nice in front of his "friends."

?And here yours was the only face I expected to see.?

"Of course I do. Her parents were nearly as wealthy as my own. And titled, if I recall. Quite the feat. Sascha and I used to run in much the same circles."

He gave her knuckles the brush of a kiss and dropped them as if he's rather have been holding live coals. One dark brow arched.

"Oh? And here I thought myself forgotten."

"If your parents knew her parents and my parents knew her parents.... this really is a small, small world." Erin shook her head in amazement, sipping long from the glass.

It was likely that Cassie's aunt and uncle had known, or at least known of, all of their parents as well, but she didn't feel the urge to add that in. So she simply sat quietly and listened to the reunion and reminiscing.

"Well Erin, England is a small island, isn't it?" He remarked, giving her a sly smile with only a hint of sarcasm. Just back in her good graces it wouldn't do to topple the house of cards with only its foundation laid.

?Hardly forgotten Gideon. In fact everyone is wondering how you are and what exactly it is that you're up to.? Sascha smiled at Erin.

?Nice to be allowed the privilege of choosing our own company these days hmm? As opposed to being forced into supposed friendships because of our wealth, title and status.?

Erin laughed merrily, nodding a little. Another sip of her wine as she watched the pair.

"I always forget." She was glowing, leaning on the bar. "Well, Sash, I do have to say... you, Becky and Anna were the best friends a girl could have. Even if you were all filthy rich boarding school brats." A wink.

?Yes well it's all still true, of me at least, I'm sad to say. Though on occasion I attempt to be well behaved. I find that I've no desire to return to any of that? Sascha returned, in reference to her and Erin's upbringing. ?I'll leave it to the ones who enjoy it and they can have their fill.?

Gideon?s smile in return for Sascha was taut. He'd bet they were wondering exactly what it was he was up to, bloody pack of wolves. It had been too much to hope that he'd be forgotten, marooned here for the rest of his days. Home he'd missed. Family he did not. His anger burned hotter than a branding iron and in his ire his gaze landed upon Cass.

"What, no hangers on tonight, peacock? No wet shirt for us all either? You must be slipping."

?It would appear so, wouldn't it Gideon?? Her voice crisp, cool, the same as the gaze Cass pinned on him, almost unblinkingly.

?Go back to your reminiscing. I'm content to listen.? Those blue-greys narrowing a bit.

Gideon ignored Cassie's reply for the most part, paying it mind would have implied he actually cared what came out of her mouth.

Sascha?s cheeks hollowed as she drew one side of her lower lip into her mouth. She loved that he was trying so very hard to be civil - she knew were they alone all pretense and civility would be out the proverbial window. Sad really that he was taking it out on Erin's cousin. She nibbled on her lip. Her turn would come soon enough, of that she was certain.

Gideon?s pale gaze flicked to Sascha and he lifted his chin in a prattish tilt.

"I might be mistaken, but doesn't a title imply obligation, Sash? You've a feifdom to run somewhere that's sorely missing it's lady."

Gideon's words made Erin flinch. Her cheeks reddened and her eyes went dull. She sipped at her wine long and hard, trying to disappear into the floor.

Sascha snorted and shrugged a bare shoulder.

?It's being run quite efficiently in my absence and I've no intention of throwing a kink into the wheels of productivity any time soon. They're perfectly content not to have me there mucking about and pretending as if I care. I'm content and rarely trouble myself thinking about it. I'm certainly not losing sleep.?

Erin moved closer to Cass as she kept up her drinking. It was amazing how fast Gideon had ruined her mood.

Cassandra kept quiet, chewing on her bottom lip to keep from making a smart ass remark, and smiled at Erin, though it was almost more a grimace than a smile. She sipped at her water, glancing about the vicinity.

"Taking a cue from the royal family then? How very noble of you."

The word noble a double entendre in this case. It was enough. He gave Cassie and Erin the most convincingly charming grin he could and took Sascha by the elbow, cold fingers pressing hard into equally cold and flawless flesh.

"If you'll both excuse us? Sash and I have a lot of catching up to do." And without waiting for a reply of by-your-leave he steered Sascha away from the other women ungently, moving her through the crowd all the way to the enormous double doors of the Great Hall. He shoved one door open and guided Sascha inside, stepping after her and kicking the heavy oak shut behind them both.


?There is no excuse for you Gideon.? Cass called after him oh so sweetly, even smiling brightly.

Sascha was glad she hadn't set her glass down or she would've been incredibly put out. She let Gideon manhandle her out of sheer curiosity and nothing more.

?Missed me terribly have you Gid? I realize that the pickings are slim in your charming retirement spot but I've no intention of going to bed with you.? Her tone was like ice and while she smiled, her entire demeanor seemed to shift into something utterly predatorial.

He?d been no more fortunate the next evening. Sascha, bearing Erin along behind her like a tug boat in the wake of an ocean liner, had cornered him as he sat by the hearth in the tavern. They?d gathered a group, the pull of them like the gravity of a small sun, drawing in Everett and Cass until Gideon felt sure that soon everyone he knew would join them all by the hearth to witness his discomfort in the presence of his coven-fellow. Everett, ever the polite, sensitive one had sensed the latent tension in the air and excused himself first? with Erin hot on his heels. Left alone with the two women he least wanted to share company with in all of Rhy?din, Gideon also made his escape in short time. He?d been eager to speak to Everett? but loathe to let Sascha know the extent of his friendship with the man. He?d snuck out through he great hall, hoping to throw her off the scent.

Gideon knew the back way up the small, cramped emergency staircase that led upstairs to the inn's rooms from within the great hall, and it was to this he made his escape, climbing up into the hallway. He made his way down the long corridor and paused. Erin's door open and the sound of her voice and Everett's together in low conversation. He moved silently to Everett's door and with little trouble picked the lock with his own key to a room at the inn. He shut the door behind himself silently and moved across the darkened room towards the windows and the little table there beneath them. He pulled out a chair and took a seat to wait.

A little melancholy, but calm at least, Everett left Erin?s room and moved down to the safety of room two oh to stick his key in the lock. He frowned. The door was unlocked. God, he had been so forgetful. It was amazing he had buttoned that smart shirt up correctly. With a sigh, he put the key into his pocket and opened the door to his room.

"Foolish, silly, absent-minded..." Mutter mutter.

"Everett..." His voice was quiet, to soften any alarm at his sitting there in the dark, waiting like a thief, and yet the way he said the name still held that bittersweet intonation it did when he'd spoke it the other night.

Everett gave a little start, but it quickly faded. He leaned on the door and it clicked shut behind him. He turned the lock, and placed a hand over his heart.

"Godsteeth." A deep breath and a little chuckle. "Gideon..."

He smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry Ev. I heard you and Erin talking...I didn't want to interrupt."

Everett?s heart was still beating against his ribcage rather hard. Another deep breath did little to quell it, but he spoke up nonetheless, voicing his worry.

"Gideon, are you quite well? I did not like the way that woman..." Anything, really. He didn't bother to finish the sentence.

He rose from his seat and crossed the room, reaching past Everett before he flicked on the lamp, his hand returning to cradle the other's face, his palm cupped round the curve of his jaw, thumb fitting neatly into that soft depression just before the ear. Gideon's glacial blue gaze was serious as he held Everett's soft brown eyes.

"Everett, listen to me. Stay away from that woman, please. She is dangerous. She's nothing but lies and trouble. Please promise me. Swear to me you will stay clear of her. Yes?" He gave him a gentle shake, his other hand resting on Everett's upper arm.

Everett did not say a word, but his eyes got very big at the words spewed in his direction, and he nodded, most gravely. Dangerous. Stay away. He could do that, happily. Besides, his dance card was quite full enough as it was. The very last thing he needed was another woman to look after.

"Thank you." Gideon sighed, appeased for the moment. He paused for a second, drawing just an inch closer before he hesitated and let Everett go, his hands falling away as he took a step back, then another, and turned to pace back to the leaded windowpanes, his hands shoving into the back pockets of his jeans.

It was a long beat before he found the words. In that moment, he correctly identified the source of his earlier melancholy. Envy. Perhaps a flash of it blazed briefly though those brown eyes as he spoke.

"You know her well, then."

"Know her well enough to hate every breath she draws." There was no end to the bitterness in his voice. "She...ran in the same circles as I did back home. She also knows Erin form their childhood together... both titled heiresses, they went to the same schools. She's a predator, Everett, and a dangerous one."

Everett finally leaned off of the door, and put the little embroidered pillow on the arm chair in the corner by the window. This required getting close to Gideon and then stepping back away again.

"She sounds dreadful." She seemed dreadful. "I dislike the way she looked at you, very much so."

That brow of his wrinkled up, that man was still confused.

Gideon glanced over his shoulder, watching Everett drawn near and then away again, and offering him a taut, grateful little smile as he slowly turned around to face his friend once more.

"She hates me possibly more than I do her, for her own reasons. She'd probably do anything to hurt me if she could."

"What happened to make you hate one another so very much?"

Both hands slipped into a pocket of his trousers, and with a slow blink, he regarded the lines of Gideon's face with great care.

Gideon crossed both arms slowly over his chest, the leather of his jacket giving a satisfying creak as he did so. Both shoulders lifted evenly.

"I can't really say, Everett. Just...politics I guess. In London everyone is trying their damnedest to be the next highest one on the rung of the social ladder."

It was half truths and full out lies, but he could in no way let Everett know the real secret behind the contempt they held for each other.

A rueful smile for Gideon.

"It was easier in the country. I never had to think about social circles all that much."

He moved away at last to pour himself a drink. He had recently bought a new bottle of old scotch. It would fit the bill nicely.

"Drink?" He had already pulled one of the proper glasses from the shelf when he asked, it was just a matter of pulling the second.

He really didn't feel up to the farce tonight, but Everett's hospitality was warm and comforting. He nodded with a grateful smile and drew out the chair by the table again to take a seat.

"Everett...about the other night...?" How to end that sentence? He grasped at straws as it hung there in the air between them.

Everett brought everything to the table and sat down, a little sigh at the change of subject.

"I have read this play. This is the part where you tell me to forget everything, and that you were not quite yourself, and you are so terribly sorry and that I need not worry about such madness, such is wont to occur beneath such a sick little sliver of a moon."

He opened the bottle, the rueful smile still boyish despite the weary quality to the lines of his face.
Eyebrows lifted to Gideon.

"Say when, will you?" And he set a glass before his compatriot and tipped the bottle gently.

Gideon laughed softly and ran a hand over his face, resting his elbow on the table as he scrubbed wearily at his eyes.

"No, no... I wouldn't... well, I'm done lying to you about that, Ev." He watched the bottom of the glass fill to two finger's depth. "When. Thank you."

With a nod, he set that before Gideon, and found the choice of words interesting, but wrote it off to his unusual obsession with words and the combination of them. His own glass was filled more generously, and Ev took a very long sip before he set it on the clean surface of the table.

"I am listening." His gaze was so steady, as though that since he understood the possibilities, he could face the truth boldly.

"Ah..." Long pause, helped along by the false gulp of a bit of whiskey. "I just...wanted to know if... you were alright."

Not what he wanted to ask at all, the coward. Clearly Everett was fine, still in possession of his faculties and wit. He drowned his blue gaze in the fragrant amber liquid before him, cowed.

"This is very good scotch." Lame, so lame.

"About that." Those two words spoken very quietly, as though they were just coming into focus. Louder, this one was obviously the reply. "I think I am. I mean really, Gideon, what other choice would I have but to carry on, to be well?"

It was not an option to hide, to lay down and die. Everett Ogden simply had to carry on, that was the Ogden way.

"And you, my friend?"

After he posed the question, he took another good long sip of his scotch. Ev was rather beleaguered by everything. The knowledge of it sat heavy upon him, particularly in concert with the other facts that went hand in hand with all of that. Things he had seen. Things he had heard. And the fact of the way Gid looked in that moment.

Gideon glanced up, giving Everett a mollified smile from under dark brows and black lashes that no man deserved to have.

"I know that, Ev." He replied quietly, toying with the scotch glass with both hands. "I am... I don't know."

And he didn't. He was on edge, half hoping his overture would be accepted, returned and half frightened they would not. And since running into Sascha last night the entire axis of his world had shifted. No longer was he the brat prince, using the town as his playground. He was the hunted, the exile, the prisoner again, and everything, everyone he loved in danger.

Another sip and the glass had been emptied. He would feel it before too long. Already, the tension in the air helped to loosen his tongue. He'd say just about anything to make it easier to breathe.

"Really, should it be so difficult for us to just... talk?" What was really the difference? He poured a second glass and took another long sip, more frustrated than pained at this point.

"Tonight, Erin was my sane and rational friend." An entertained quirk of the brow paired with a curl of his lip. "Is not that strange? I find more often she is half out of her wit, poor thing."

He could not help but laugh at that, and the laughter had a life of its own. Erin sane and rational? The laughter bubbled up within until he had his face in both hands and was quite literally guffawing. It subsided slowly and he let his hands drop to smile up at Everett, pale eyes narrowed and twinkling.

"You poor man. Left to seek rationality and sanity from Erin Dunbridge? Oh Everett I have been failing you. I'm sorry!" He lifted up his glass at that an took a small sip, wincing at the fire of it as it scorched his mouth. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Chin up, sir."

That was all. His friend Gideon was a passionate creature. He did not know him to be quiet, brooding, with long pained looks and short on words. He preferred the fire, the pluck, the sheer audacity of the man. It suited him better, and Everett found it infinitely easier to take comfort near him in such a fashion.

"As you wish then, mate." He gave Everett a genuine and brilliant smile, his first in days. "Have you been writing then?"

He nodded towards Everett's uncharacteristically mussed writing desk.

"Your muse finally broken through?"

Everett nodded as he glanced over to the desk. All manner of things were over the surface that day. A few sonnets, a stab at a villanelle or two, free verse, pages of notes and rhymes. Yes, the man had quite busy. If he had not bathed so recently, he would probably only smell of sweat and ink. Thank heaven for soap.

"For the time being. She will leave me again soon, of that I am utterly aware. I shall stumble again into something that entices her." A sigh. No telling when.

"Fickle mistress." He commented and rose from the table to approach the desk and its papers. He reached down for one but paused, recalling the anxiety and angst on Everett's face the last time he'd done such a thing. He glanced back to his friend.

"...may I?"

A slow nod, and the face reverted to a rather tense, colorless state. To his credit, he stayed put, but had another very long sip of his scotch. He certainly could not watch, so he busied himself with the view out the window.

He sifted through the papers and picked up a page only half full... the scrip considerably neater on this than others, a half finished draft. He scanned it, his reading slowing as he was swept into the sonnet. He read it twice, three times then set it down gently and exhaled.

?You've...such a talent Everett. You see things so clearly.?

He wanted to protest loudly. He was his own worst critic. Worse yet, Gid was looking at a draft. Instead, he minded his manners and very shyly glanced towards the man at the desk.

"Thank you." Quiet words, swallowed down and chased away by more of the fantastic scotch.

"Will you let me read more sometime?" He asked gently, still glancing at the papers on the desk before leaving them at last, sinking down on the corner of the bed. It was a small irony that the thing was neatly made, while its owner drifted through life almost always bearing a keen resemblance to a very unmade bed.

"I ought to, no?"

A little chuckle at himself and he moved over, an attempt to be brave. He pulled a thin journal from one corner of the desk. and presented it to Gideon. The single word only just made it out, sans stutter.

"Here." Newest completed works. Inspired by this place, by this madness.

"These, at least, are whole." There were few, but they were carefully made.

Gideon couldn't have been more shocked if Everett had slugged him. He exhaled a soft, silent breath of surprised laughter and reached out tentatively to take the book. He flipped it open to a page and gazed down, his fingertips stroking the handwriting on the vellum as intimately as they'd touch skin. He glanced up and handed the open book back to Everett.

"Will you read it to me? I'd like to hear it in your own voice." The request was gentle, nervous. It was a great thing to ask, he knew.

But my penmanship is so lovely! That might have served as good rebuttal. Alas it was not what he said. He was just relieved to be talking about anything aside from awkward confusing feelings. A little stutter, at first.

"V--very well." He reached for the book, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Which one?

"The one on the page it's open to is fine." He suggested with an amused smile. Everett's nervousness was endearing, his self-consciousness making Gideon forget his own.

Everett looked down, wet his lips with a flash of tongue first, then clearing his throat. It took a moment for him to speak, he wanted to will the stutter right out of him. d-d-d-d-d-d-diana just doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

Everett took his time, careful with each word. They belonged to him. The last line came to a neat a cadence, a decrescendo both in sentiment and accordingly, in volume. "....some threads together never should be tied." Everett did not look up, rather, he just closed the book and set it on the desk. He was a little pale, it was exhausting and terrifying to display your heart, on any level. Everett did not stomach it well. He turned and moved to the table keeping his back to Gideon as he finished his second glass of scotch, grateful for the significant buzz of the first. The second might cause him to get drunk enough to silence his muse and allow him to sleep.

Gideon waited patiently, and was rewarded. He rose and moved after Everett, pausing just behind him to lift up the bottle of scotch and pour his friend a third, if smaller glass, this one just a shot, once he put the glass down again. He slid his hand over Everett's shoulder, his grip pinching lightly, reassuringly as he rested his chin on the opposite shoulder, smiling broadly, proud as a brother.

"Fantastic, Ev. Bloody brilliant. Don't be so frightened, god. I'm scared you're going to collapse!"

He gave him another gentle shake before letting him go and stepped back slightly.

"Thank you, Ev. That was a gift fine enough to repay that fund Illy and I have set up."

Maybe it was because he did not (usually) write about flowers and trees and skylines and children. Everything that came from his pen, though observational, was of a deeply intimate and personal nature. If he ever turned that pen on himself, his work would probably transcend anything he could imagine, though that thought was more intense that that with which he was prepared to deal. He took the third drink down and set the glass upside down on the table. No more. Everett turned to face Gideon at last. A lame, quiet explanation.

"I cannot help the way I feel about my words."

Cassie had wandered into the Great Hall a little earlier to seek some peace and quiet. She was just feeling a little bit overwhelmed, and she had an upset stomach to boot. So she'd found a couch near the hearth and lain out on it, enjoying the quiet and the warmth until she'd managed to fall into a light sleep.

Malachi had a cup of coffee in his hands, yawning slightly he rolled his neck and looked sideways at Erin. He gave her a lazy half smile and pushed the door leading into the Hall, holding it open with his shoulder, allowing her to pass.

Erin hadn't showered so much in her life. Hair wet, again. It was pulled into those usual pigtails, neater, though, because hair is much harder to be messy when wet. Erin was dressed for Sunday. A faded green dress that had seen better days. She passed through the door smiling over her shoulder. She had tea.

?I think we're getting antisocial.?

?It's called sobriety - well convenient sobriety at least.? He followed her in, allowing the door to close with a thud in their wake.

?Aw, thanks, that's what this weird feeling in my head is?? A roll of her eyes as she moved further into the room.

The thud and voices didn't wake her yet, but she shifted on the couch, mumbling a little in her sleep as lips pulled into a frown for a moment before her features smoothed back out.

?Have any honey or shaving cream?? He whispered slyly at seeing Cass asleep on the couch.

?Why would I have shaving cream?? She gave him a nudge to his ribs, smiling over at Cass now too.

?It can be used extracurricularly?. He shrugged, ?I didn't want to put it past your eccentricity.?

Erin laughed a little, trying to keep it quiet.

?You really think quite highly of me.? A nod to the door that led to the inn.

?Really want honey?? An almost devilish grin.

Cass would kill them both! She did look so peaceful at times when she slept, and this was one of those times after that frown had smoothed away. One arm was hanging over the side of the couch, fingers just barely brushing the floor.

Erin slid from his side and back through the door, closing it rather quietly behind her. Erin knew the inn pretty well, and the bar better(she did work there!) so it wasn't long before she was back with a thing of honey. The type she didn't like, thankyouverymuch and pressed it into his hand.

? I'll have nothing to do with this.?

?Oh and you're definitely my accomplice.? He crept closer to the couch and the sleeping Cass.

?Nope.?

Shake of the head, leaning on another chair as she watched him.

?I am an innocent bystander. I have no idea what is it you are doing with that honey.? Pause, quiet gasp. ?In fact, where on earth did you get it??
One of the large glass doors on the side of the hall clicked open and he stepped inside. He'd thought to make a quiet entrance into the inn... but it seemed there was more fun going on in here. He smiled silently as he shoved hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and strolled towards the small gathering, a brow lifting in interest as he watched Malachi approach Cass' sleeping form.

"Careful mate...she wears more weapons on her then she does underclothes."

Malachi flipped the top off the squeezable honey and glanced up at Gideon.

?Which makes it all the more fun eh??

Erin gave a roll of her eyes at Gideon, smirk still there as she watches from her lean.

?You two are cruel.?

That was her opening! One hand shot out to curl about the wrist holding the honey, and she'd give it a good yank, her grip iron. She'd shift so that she wouldn't get squished under him, and slip off of the couch, yanking his arm up around his back and press him into the couch if he didn't manage to wiggle free.

?The hell were you going to do with that??

?She doesn't usually wear underclothes does she? So that's really not saying a whole lot. Oof? As she twisted his arm he laughed, ?uhm paint by numbers??

Erin jumped back at the sudden movement, and it started her laughter, hands going to tighten a lose wet pigtail. She leaned back against the chair she had been leaning on, a hand wrapped around her midsection.

couldn't help but chuckle as Cass lived up to her reputation...well...one of them. He hid his smile behind the cup of one hand across his lower face and moved forward, strolling over to where Cass held Chi prisoner.

"Come on Cass. I'm sure you've heard the old line about Honey catching more flies than vinegar. Malachi was just trying to help you out."

A swat to the back of his head, though it wasn't hard enough to really hurt.

?I do so wear underclothes!? Fingers reaching to snatch the honey, conveniently open. ?Think I'll do a little paint by number myself.?

?Oh, come on now guys....? Erin was sidestepping out of the way. ?No need for any sticky casualties, huh?? Sweet smile. inch, inch, inch.

Cass brandished the honey at Gideon, fingers tightening, threatening to squeeze honey at him!

?Perhaps you should examine your own manner and consider that statement.?

Erin was going to get it too!

"Ah."

He in turn caught Cassie's wrists and drew them back behind her, breaking her grip on Chi. His fingers were like iron, but she'd felt his grip before...she knew. He squeezed slowly, grinding delicate wrist bones together.

"Now, now Cass."

?Good I only just got out of the shower.? Malachi winked and uncharacteristically stuck his tongue out at Cass. ?Thank you Gideon.?

?Guys.... come on.? Erin was not amused. Her lips were pursed and she took a step towards Gideon and Cassie before she stopped.

Gideon gave Chi a priceless smile and held Cass captive before him, facing outwards.


Cassandra jerked her wrists even though she knew they wouldn't come loose. No wince at the pain, but she did drop the honey bottle. That was okay. She lifted a foot and stomped backwards, seeking his feet as her target.

And an easy step out of the way of her foot.

"Tsk. Come on, now peacock. Play nice, yes?"

?Gideon. Let her go.? Erin was getting angry. That happened quickly, if you knew. He would know. ?We were just playing.?

?Let me go and I'll show you just how nice I can play.? Jerking at her wrists again. May as well try. While she considered her other options. Those options getting increasingly violent in her head.

It was a delicious Sunday and unlike most, she had no regrets from the night before. In fact she thought very little about it. She slipped into the hall quite obviously seeking a quite spot of her own. Today was casual; airy linen pants that seemed to hang from her hips, a drawstring of the same material the only thing keeping them secured. Her shirt was cream silk, only buttoned to just above the navel, the rest left open to catch the breeze. Her hair was fixed, half up and half down and she was unabashedly barefoot. She had a leather-bound book in her hands and wore a pair of designer tortoiseshell reading glasses ? she looked at ease, comfortable and vulnerably human. She glanced up as she entered and laughed.

?Stage fighting or should I be concerned??

"I don't know...I think if I let her go now she'd try to kill me." His gaze flicked to Sash and her sashaying entrance onto the little scene. "Sash, come over here and calm Cass down won't you? You've a way with the wild ones."

It was difficult, but Cass didn't growl.

?If you don't let me go, I might kill you.? Her voice tight, controlled. She'd given up jerking on her wrists because she was just causing herself useless pain. Another stomp, the heel of her foot trying to find the top of his.

?God damn it, Gideon.? Erin was pissed, her hands were little fists at her sides, but she didn't move.

?Stop being a condescending ass for one minute of your life, please?? She was frustrated, mostly, her day was going well, and suddenly it wasn't.

Sascha grinned, a small dimple forming at the corner of her mouth.

?Let her go then. I doubt very much she's into being tied down.? She winked at Cass.

Malachi looked over at Erin in question and then to Sascha and back to Gideon and his captive.

?It's all fun and games until the lioness is released. Ease off Gid - bad idea on my part. I'll take the blame.? He shrugged and really didn't care if they were angry with him. He just wanted to sit and enjoy his coffee which was rapidly getting cold.

"Calm down, Erin." He gave her a bemused and condescending look, as if she were a child over reacting. Another smooth step out of the way of Cassie's foot. "Oh she's more into it then she let's on. Come on over and give her a kiss Sash. I promise she's gentle as a lamb."

?Let. Me. Go.? Low, her voice almost a growl now.

Sascha crossed the cold floor in a glide and smiled unerringly at Gideon.

?Tis a small price to pay for freedom, hmm??

She winked at Cass and leaned in to brush the lightest of kisses across her mouth. Her gaze flickered back to Gideon.

?Done and paid in full - let her go.?

He was doing more than pissing her off now, he was goading her on. Chi got a thankful look, saying just what she felt. Had it been any other person Gid had pinned, Erin may have just left, but that didn't seem pertinent at the moment, so she just dropped herself into a chair with a long somewhat labored sigh.

Gideon released Cassie's hands with Sascha's light kiss, and took two large and cautious steps waaaay back, holding his hands up before him in defense, laughing the entire time.

Sascha understood the joke while at the same time sympathizing with the gathered that didn't. For them life was short and every moment counted. For Gideon, for Sascha it was an eternity of repetition and anything done to divert was worth the price it exacted.

Cass was still for the kiss. Quiet, even. It didn't bother her much except that Gideon had manipulated the situation for it. As soon as she was released, she took back those two large steps, legs nearly as long as his eating up the distance, hands balled up, and swung a fist towards his jaw. Cassie could put her fist through the door of a car. It might break every bone in her hand, but she could do it. And a lot of that strength was throw into that punch.

Gideon?s head snapped towards the side, hard...and stayed there, laughter silenced for a second. His jaw flexed slowly, eyes narrowing in pain. He spat, black blood splattering the beautiful parquet wood floor, a string of it clinging to his chin... and then he laughed again softly, turning his head slowly back towards Cass, pale eyes taunting, dangerous.

When Cass threw the punch, Erin put down her tea, stood up and cast a look over her shoulder at Chi. A somewhat pained expression. She was not one for fights. She was tired of her friends always being at each other's throats. It was all so toxic lately... She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, hung her head, and headed for the door that led to the outside.

?Find me when you're all fucking sane again.? Mutter, mumble, mutter.

Cassandra didn't stop with that punch. Her other hand had balled up, and she was stepping forward and into him, flinging another punch towards his stomach. There was nothing controlled or refined in her movements, just raw anger. She'd had enough of his using her as a punching bag. So now she was going to make him her punching bag.

?Cass?? Sascha laid a gentle hand on the flailing woman's arm. ?Enough hmm? I think the point has been made.?

?Fantastic? Malachi didn't know what his options were really. What he did know was that his coffee was fucking cold. And his face was an open book.

?It was goddamned honey - that's all. Jesus it's a fucking asylum when we're all in the same room.?

But that was about all he got out before the nexus snatched him away.

Gideon took the hit to the stomach and barely flinched, before he reached out to grab hold of her arms and bring her to stillness, pinning her close to him, face to bloody, bruised face.

"Easy. Easy." He smiled down at the enraged vixen. "Had that coming, did I?"

Cassandra paid the hand on her shoulder no mind. She was ready to go on and try to kill him with her bare hands, but he'd gotten hold of her once again. Cassie kept trying to fight against the grip, trying to bring her hands up between them to shove at his chest.

?Had that and more! I will not tolerate your abuse! I won't!? There were actually tears swimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Sssh. Ok. Alright."

The tears were a bit much for him. Anger he could take, snark he loved...but a crying woman he could not. He kept his grip on her but it was not rough, just strong enough to keep her from getting loose and decking him again. He relinquished though and wrapped both arms around her, pinning her against him in a hug, one hand at the back of her head.

"Ok, Cass, ok. It's ok."

Sascha stepped back and in time made her way to the wet bar. She poured a rather stiff drink and stood in mild amusement. She drank and settled her shoulder against the mantle, absently tugging at her bottom lip.

There was something going on that was more than just her being tired of his insults. Her struggles hadn't ceased, but they had become less and less as she began to tire.

?I won't! I do not have to anymore! No more?? A shuddering breath wracked through her body as eyes closed, trying to keep those cursed tears from falling. She finally gave over and just leaned against him. Not reciprocating the hug, but not trying to kill him anymore, for the moment.

?I won't??

Erin had counted to ten. She'd fought back the tears. And then she'd gotten over not being followed. So she pushed back into the room. Blinkblinkblink. Yeah, it was time for a drink. She headed to the wet bar, pouring a drink for herself and taking up a lean a somewhat safe distance from Sascha.

"Alright. Look, I'm sorry." So what if he only half meant it? He'd enjoyed tormenting her...he wasn't enjoying this. He stroked her hair lightly.

"You got me... mad." Jealous actually, but who was keeping score?

"I just let it get out of hand. I'll stop, alright? It's ok."

His fingers found their way under the soft strands of her hair to rub soothingly against her scalp. He let his cheek, the good one, rest against the top of her head.

It was hard not to relax when getting a scalp massage, and Cassie was no different in that regard. A quiet sniffle as she sagged into him a little further. Her energy as well as her strength seemed to have been sapped. It was something she'd consider later. The barest of nods, more easily felt than seen, but she was afraid to speak. Afraid a sob would come out instead. This was confusing. Cassie got angry, yes, but rarely did she lose control and cry, or even threaten to cry.

And it was then Sascha realized Gideon wasn't at all the same as he was in London. He'd grown a conscience, apparently and while still his arrogant self he actually seemed to care. She didn't remember the last time she really cared about anything and thus the entire situation became an anomaly - a puzzle to be figured out.

Erin was watching. Thinking. Cassie wasn?t' Cassie. Bottom lip taken in her mouth as she started thinking about a few things. That was something to puzzle on.... she sipped from the short glass filled with whiskey and looked over the room. Chi was gone. A mental note made to find him later.

Gideon brushed a kiss across her forehead and released the hug somewhat so that he could cup her face in his hands. God it hurt to talk, hurt to smile, or even move his face. The girl had a helluva arm on her that was for bloody sure. He forced a smile nonetheless.

"Ah Cass, don't cry now..." Thumbs strokes her cheekbones. "I'm an arse, alright? And you got me back fair and square. I'll shut up, ok?"

A few had managed to spill over, and she was blinking rapidly to ensure that the rest didn't follow. She swallowed, and nodded a bit, teeth grabbing her lower lip between them and abusing it for a few moments before she finally did speak, her voice a hoarse whisper.

?I did not mean to cry??

And now an apology she would've sworn it a farce if it weren't for Cass's apparent anguish and the lack of any subterfuge in Gideon's eyes, posture and aura. Sascha squinted rolling around all possible scenarios in her mind.

Gideon laughed softly and brushed the tears away for her. "Well if it'll make you feel better you can hit me again... just not in the face this time, yes? I'm too pretty for that.

The urge to get Cass a cocktail was pushed down. Erin wasn't sure why, but she got her a bottle of water instead. It was that something wasn't sitting right with her. Perhaps it would hit Cassie, too, the water instead of Erin's typical tequila offering. But she held the bottle, and headed to the pair, standing far enough away to not interrupt, but close enough to allow her cousin to claim her if she wished.

That drew a smile and a small laugh from her, despite herself.

?I will think on it. Your face will be pretty again, though. Perhaps I'll abstain from hitting you again. For now.?

Another little smile, before she caught Erin's appearance. The water was accepted gratefully, though not opened yet.

?Thank you.?

Gideon glanced up at Erin's approach and released his grasp on Cassie, whilst giving Erin a grim smile, pale eyes teasing lightly.

"Hell I'm out numbered now... if all three of you are carrying daggers and a man named Brutus shows up I'm screwed."

Not outnumbered for long as that nexus arm reached out and snatched Sascha away.

Erin raised her hands.

?I'm just the moderator.? Said softly.stepping back again. ?And I'm not armed this morning. It was supposed to be peaceful...?

A half smile and a bit of a shrug. It was supposed to be a time when she could finally actually talk to Chi rather than shove him on a bed, or against a wall, or be shoved onto a...you get the point.

Cassie was too wrapped up in current events to wonder why Erin had gotten her water. Cassie liked water. She was opening it up and taking a sip at that moment even.

?Don't worry. If I decide to kill you, I'd probably do it by myself.? Perhaps not a reassuring statement, but the teasing lilt to her voice might be.

"Oh well good. I'd hate to be known as the bloke who was harangued to death by a group of ladies. Though I suppose there are worse ways to go."

Sascha had disappeared...thankfully. He stepped past Cassie and Erin and strolled nonchalantly outside into the garden, pausing to spit and spit again until two teeth hit the pavement. He groaned and put a hand to his throbbing jaw, cracking is gently. The motion sending a nauseating wave of pain straight through him like a bolt of lightening.

Erin turned to watch Gideon for a long moment, taking her lip back into her mouth.

?Wow...? Muttered to herself. She turned in a small circle, she wanted to help him too, but she wasn't sure what to get him. Another bottle of water grabbed and she told Cassie to take a seat before peeking her head out the door.

?Hey, got you one too.? Really softly, that.

Cassandra glanced at Erin, looking a little embarrassed as Gideon headed out, and she obeyed, retaking her seat on the couch that she'd been napping on. She rubbed at the knuckles of her right hand some, frowning. She'd split them open on his face, and they were aching now as well. Or at least, she was finally noticing the ache.

"Mmn. Fanks." He reached out and took the water, unscrewed the top and took a glug, swishing it round his mouth and spitting again onto the flagstones, the bloody water dark.

?You okay, hun?? She stepped out the rest of the way. ?Want me to take a look at it? That could really smart...?

Erin knew what she believed, and she knew what she saw. Neither fit the other, so she shrugged it off.

?You deserved something, but not teeth.? She was looking for his teeth on the pavement, thinking about what she had learned about how to save them.

"No.. no. It's awight. I'll be fwine" He gave her an attempt at a smile that turned out more of a grimace. "Just leave the teef. It's ok."

?I can get you a coach... You really should clean your mouth out.. and put the teeth in milk...?

She was worried, it was clear on her face, shifting from foot to foot. A look over her shoulder at where Cass was sitting. Another worry.

?Is your stomach okay? She could have really hurt you... perhaps you should...? And she trailed off and took a step back realizing she suddenly seemed a little nuts.

Cassandra was fidgeting on the couch, sipping her water periodically and examining her knuckles, the little bit of blood that still oozed slowly. She might have cracked or even broken a knuckle on his face. Faces weren't exactly soft pillows for a fist.

Gideon gave Erin a look... that exasperated male look.

"Weally. I'm fwine. I'm just...gonna head home an get some ice." He handed her back the bottle of water and gave her another grimacing smile. A few hours and he'd be right as rain and with no way to explain it. God bless the magical healers that worked in the city. He could show up the next night looking perfect and attribute it to one of them.

The look she gave him was one of knowing. He could read it, she knew he could. But she wouldn't say a word. She had promised herself that this would be something they both knew the other knew and pretended they didn?t. She looked at the water, the blood on the bottle.

?You should keep this. Don't want blood around, never know what's in it.? Said softly. A pointed acceptance. ?Be careful on your walk.?

Gideon returned Erin's look with one of confusion. Play the fool to the T. He shook his head in befuddlement and took the bottle to turn it over and let it splash on the flagstones. If she wanted to confront him as Cassie had with her suspicions then she had better be more forthright about it. As it was he was in no condition to have an argument about it now. He shoved the empty bottle back into her hands and struck off for the maze of alleyways.

"Fanks."

Ah, but she wasn't confronting him. She was way more subtle than that.

?Don't forget to take the teeth.? If he did, she'd go and get them later. Not things to leave hanging about. And she pushed back into the hall to look after her cousin. A shake of her head as she heads to the bar for ice.

Gideon grumbled something unintelligable and scooped the broken enamel up off the walk on his way past, shoving them into his pocket.