?Is he asleep??

?Asleep! No! Look at the fool. He?s passed out again.?

Welverin heard the men?s voices as if from a distance and wanted very badly to take exception to what they were saying. He was not asleep or passed out. He could understand every word that was being said. His eyes were just closed, that?s all . . . and damned hard to open too. It was hardly worth the effort.

?For the life of me, I don?t know why the Captain puts up with his sorry arse. Some mage he is.?

?Maybe she has a weak spot for lost puppies or losers.?

?If she does, it?s the first sign of it she?s shown since I?ve joined this crew.?

A loser? Him? How could they say that? Wasn?t he now an Infiltrator? One of the most feared mages and assassins of the Xarann Cabal?

Struggling to focus his mind, Welverin became aware that he was sitting on the deck. Well, sitting slumped over, the side of his head resting on something hard . . . presumably a crate. There was a puddle of something cold and sticky under his ear. He fervently hoped it was spilled whiskey and not vomit.

?Well, I guess we will just have to carry him down to his cabin again. Come on give me a hand.?

?Wouldn?t it be easier to just throw his sorry arse overboard??

?The Captain would skin us alive. Just come on and help me . . . grab his legs.?

Welverin gathered himself to surge to his feet and voice his protest. He whispered a string of arcane words, an incantation, in some dead and forgotten language. His hands glowed softly as crackling energy started to pulse through his veins . . .

He sat up in his bed with a start, experiencing the crystal clarity of awareness and thought that sometimes occurs when one wakes from a heavily drunken state and the inevitable hangover.

?Vith uns?aa.? His lips parted to curse softly in his native tongue. Sleeping! He had been asleep! After three days of forcing himself to stay awake he had been stupid enough to start drinking!

Every muscle in his body tensed. He hurriedly scanned the cabin, dreading what or whom he would find.

Nothing. He was alone in the room . . . his cabin . . . the cramped quarters that had become his home aboard The Cry of the Executioner, the pirate brigantine under the command of Captain Moria Thales, on which he had served as a battle mage for a little more than half the last decade.

He hadn?t just been drinking. He was drunk. Not for the first time, either, he realized as his mind brought up numerous repetitions of this scene for his review. The countless excuses he had hidden behind in the past were swept aside by the merciless hand of self-contempt. This was becoming a habit . . . much more the reality of his existence than the stoic self-image he tried to cling to.

Hugging himself in his misery, Welverin tried to use this temporary clarity of thought to examine his position.

What had he become?

Welverin shook his head. He had no one to blame but himself. His own personal downfall had been started by a specific action. It had started when he made the decision to walk out on his family. It began that day when he decided to blatantly abandon his sworn oath to Corwyn. He had convinced himself that he didn?t need anyone. He didn?t need Blood House Onyx and he sure as hell didn?t need Belial. There it was, that lie he had told himself over and over again. The lie he had convinced himself was truth.

He hadn?t just fallen from favor with the Bloods, he was actually held in contempt by its members. He saw enough evidence of that in the slight encounter with his former family just last night at the local inn. The Cry of the Executioner had recently taken up port at the Docks in Rhy?Din.
At one time, the Bloods would have given their life for him without question, but now he was nothing more than a pitiful barfly in their eyes . . . a nuisance to be swatted away. He had done this solely to himself.

Less certain of himself or his destiny than ever, he eased himself up from the bed. He swooned slightly as his bare feet touched down on the floor boards of his cabin. It felt as if his head would simply explode. In some twisted way, that might be the resolution he needed to rid himself of this torment. He took a few steps across the cramped room.

Matters needed to be settled once and for all. He was now conscious that he had embarked on a course of action by no means at one with the original conception of the way he wished to live his life. He must begin to put his past behind him. He must begin to live his life again. For the sake of his own peace of mind, it was finally time to say goodbye, but even in this he will find himself thwarted.

And now there was no turning back at all. He sat at his desk, cluttered with books on a myriad of subjects but most were of the arcane. He rummaged through the mess, finally finding a sheet of vellum, tucked in a worn leather bound tome. He spread the vellum carefully out before him and soon put quill to ink. Was there ever a point where he might have turned off this road of despair, damnation and destruction? Or had he been doomed since before his birth? Was he doomed to live his years to know little less but sadness and struggle, loneliness and remorse?

He started to pen a letter.

__________________________________________________ ___________

Dearest Belial,

As I sit here writing this letter, I am hoping it finds you well. Nothing more would please me than knowing you have found peace and contentment in this world. Understanding my past has not always been easy. I have never been one to express my shame. I have had to learn over the course of the years that accepting responsibility for my actions was the only key to my survival. It is to my knowledge that in order to survive and become self-aware in this world one has to understand the course of their actions.

As I write this letter, I must admit my heart is heavy with guilt, shame and uncertainty. I have never truly connected with the pain I have caused you and your family, until now. I know and understand that I may be the last soul you wish to hear from at this point in time, but I really wanted to take this opportunity to express my deepest and most sincere apologies. I do not want to allow another day to pass without trying to express to you and the rest of the Bloods the remorse and regret that overtakes my heart and invades my thoughts each and every day. I acknowledge the fact that the mere utterance of words can nor will ever take back what has transpired between us. As time progresses, I can only ask the Fates, that you truly accept and acknowledge my words and my sincerity. Please know that you will always be in my heart. Even though I have returned to Rhy?Din, please know I have not come back with the intention of causing you anymore pain. Rest assured, knowing the fact that I will keep far from you and your family.

Still water and sweet laughter,

~Welv

__________________________________________________________

After long moments and a heavy heart, Welverin finished the letter. He folded the vellum carefully and sealed it with wax.

The drow's azure gaze narrowed slightly as he looked to the shadowed corner of his cabin. His lips parted slightly as the more familiar cruel fa?ade overtook the features of his face. From the base of his throat the arcane words, slipped from his lips with ease.

?A spiorad? an tsaoil, ?istig? liom! D?ighig? an fear seo! D?ighig? go luaithreach ?!?

The stench of sulfur instantly filled the cabin as something moved in the shadows.

?Come out little one. I have a task of significant importance for you this day.?

Covered in scales, the small shadow imp reluctantly heeded his master?s calling. Pointed teeth dripped with some sort of foul ichor as the demon moved closer to the drow.

?Take this letter to the West Side. Find Blood House Onyx. Deliver it to the hand of Belial only. Do you understand??

The small demon hissed in defiance but soon snatched the letter up with a razor-sharp clawed hand.

?Fail me creature and I will be binding my newest tome with your skin.?

Though visibly agitated, the imp was soon on its way to complete the menial task.

Welverin stood slowly from his desk, and stared out the port-side window of his cabin. He was not certain what the day would bring.

It was definitely morning, the damned dove cooing just outside the port-side window of his cabin assured him of that. He pictured himself strangling the bird, as he lay in his bed. Welverin had that kind of headache that made stronger men swear off alcohol all together. Internal pressure seemed to be prying the bones of his skull apart. In addition, his throat felt like it had been treated with sand, and his stomach gave the impression that it was tumbling in his abdomen. Nevertheless, he was no longer so badly baffled by his talk with Rena during the duels last evening. He had left the duels agitated, uncertain.

Rena and Welverin had been close friends before he had left Rhy?Din so many winters ago. Upon his return to the city he had hoped their friendship would be renewed and possibly their reunion would lead them to something much more.

After leaving the duels and Rena behind, the drinking had started in the Red Dragon Inn. He was only there briefly, but that short span of time unfortunately was long enough to allow him to run into someone who knew of his past. She was definitely acquainted with his former family, the Bloods, of that he was sure of. The drow was far from being in a social mood and their short conversation was quite cold on his part. If he thought about it long enough, he might have realized he was on the borderline of being rude. The drinking continued upon his late night return to his cabin aboard, The Cry of the Executioner.

What had he hoped to accomplish? The drow wasn?t sure. He had only been back in the city a few days but he had convinced himself during his fourth or fifth glass of absinthe, that Rena didn?t feel the same way. So the question he was left with?the question on which too much absinthe nor a night thick with bad dreams shed any particular light?was the one that had him wondering what he would do on his current path. What was he going to do about Rena? Was she only being polite? What was he going to do about the Bloods? Had Belial received his letter? Nothing. He told himself. He was a fool to think he needed anyone or anything. He had told his former family goodbye and as for Rena, she seemed content on their current course of small talk.

Since he was hung over, his duties aboard the pirate brigantine seemed far from important at the moment. In fact, he had told the captain just the previous morning that he may be leaving the crew and staying in Rhy?Din. On the other hand, the idea of going back to sea didn?t feel as absurd to him in this current state.

He groaned more to persuade himself that he was alive because it somehow managed to relieve the pain. He eased out of bed weakly . . . out of the knotted mess that his dreams had made of the sheets. He struggled into a robe, and moved toward the small table at the corner of the room, where a water pitcher rested atop. Directly from the pitcher, he deliberately drank as much water as his stomach could bear. In his condition, the light from the port-side window made it hard to focus. Simply walking across the room to the table, was as painful as beating his head against a stone wall . . . not to mention the constant cooing of that damned bird. Nevertheless he persevered because he was determined not to step foot out of cabin for hours.

As he set the pitcher of water back down on the table, a sudden knock on his cabin door announced he had a visitor.

Vith uns?aa, he thought. Just what he needed.

He didn?t trust his voice so he carefully moved to the door and slid open the bolt. As he flung open the door, the sudden onslaught of bright light made his hand rise to his face on impulse, an attempt to shield his eyes from the glare. One of the crew stood outside. Welverin had been a member of this crew for over six years and not once had he ever bothered to find out the man?s name. As he lowered his hand, he found his voice, with a tone as sharp as cut glass. ?What??

?I hope I am not disturbing you,? the pirated began at once, all the time smirking. ?. . . but the Captain wants to see you.? The sailor?s smirk turned slowly into a smile as he noticed the drow's condition. ?Are you alright drow? You look a little sick.?

The drow was less than amused. ?You can tell that harpy of a woman I am busy.? Before the sailor could even voice a protest, the drow slammed the door, the sound threatening to split his head.

?They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were tempted, they were put to death with the sword; they went about in sheepskins, in goatskins, being destitute, afflicted, ill-treated.?
(Hebrews 11:37)



Crack!

Another slash of Moria?s cruel whip tore into the drow?s flesh without mercy. Welverin buried his chin into his chest as his back arched violently. He gritted his teeth and concentrated his will on not breaking down. He was determined not to make a sound and remain completely still. He was failing . . . With each blow his skin softened. The pain was unbearable and grew to the point that his whole back felt like it had been set ablaze. He wouldn?t scream out . . . he refused to give the bitch that satisfaction.

Crack!

The searing pain was to the point where he might vomit. There was a ripping sensation as his flesh was nearly torn from his bones. His rigid form jutted forward from the jarring strike. He tightened the muscles in his abdomen as he clenched his fists, causing the iron shackles that were binding his arms to bite into the soft flesh of his wrists. Only one person would leave this day with their dignity intact, he tried to convince himself that it would be him.

Crack!

Crack!

Crack!

The next three blows came in quick succession. The first two slashed deep into his shoulder blades, first the left then the right. The third tore the tender flesh at his lower back. Once again his muscles screamed out in agony, his back arching almost unnaturally. He didn?t realize his body could generate and tolerate such pain. His body began to shake uncontrollably. Strips of obsidian colored skin peeled off Welverin?s back and a torrent of blood flowed with them as they fell to the deck joining them into the sickening mess of blood, gore and torn flesh on the wooden planks.

Crack!

His will failed as the next violent strike from Moria?s bullwhip bit deep, flaying open muscle to the bone. His lips parted as his rigid frame gave way. The anguished scream tore from his throat and echoed into the air, causing a handful of seagulls resting on the cross-section of the main mast to take flight in a sudden panic. His muscles would not support him any longer and he collapsed upon the deck, being held aloft solely by the chains at his wrists. His eyes where watering from the sheer pain. His breathing came forth from his lips in sharp, shallow rasps.

?No more . . .? he pleaded. His tone was desperate and almost inaudible.

?Now?that wasn?t so hard was it darlin?? Ye don brought this on ye?self. We will be breakin? ye . . . just ye wait and see.? Moria laughed as she wound the whip up slowly. ?Bring his sorry arse down!? She barked to a few members of her crew who been watching and cheering her on. ?Take him to the necromancer!?

Welverin?s eyes darted open, and began to focus in the dim light of the ship?s cabin that served as his home. He quickly realized he was in his bed. His sleep had been plagued with nightmares of his past once again. As he sat up slowly untwisting himself from the tangle of his itchy sheets, his whole body was trembling. He silently wondered when this horror would end.

((The following posts are based on live play. Enjoy! :) ))

Yvette wasn't happy about her chore. If she had her druthers she would prefer to keep Bel safe from any potential threat including that Drow. But Bel had insisted. So there Yvette was. Out roaming the Dockside looking for a ship that she didn't know the name of, while hoping to find a Drow among the rabble of seafarers.

Had she a token of his, a lock of hair, a sliver of nail, or even some flecks of skin, she would have been able to scry for him. She had only the image Bel had mentally given her and the bits and pieces she was able to lift from his letter to her lady. The letter had given Yvette little to work with. Mostly she got flashes of a demonic critter who had need for glue - or so the blood soaked paper whispered. The rest were that of a ship, the heavy smell of salt on the air and the stench of too much liquor. What she had been able to glean was what had brought her to the Docks. Yvette walked down the rows of piers, scanning each ship, searching the faces of those on the ships' decks or surrounding the piers, seeking any sign of the Drow.

One of the seamen took notice of the lady in yellow and lewdly eyed her up and down. With a slight twitch of fingers Yvette sent his attentions drifting elsewhere. A rare smile alit upon the smooth brown perfection of her face as she enjoyed the moment. Then back to her duties.

At long last she caught a tidbit of conversation that might prove useful in her locating the Drow. But then again, they could be talking about any drow. Nevertheless, she paused to eavesdrop.

"The capn' be lookin fer the Drow." A cackle of pleasure.

"The capn' says if'n he don't wise up she'll kick his arse into next month." The nearly toothless seaman leered a grin at his friend.

"He lef' agin tonigh' oft drinkin' no doubt." Came the amused response. "When is he nae a drinkin'?"

The other man shrugged and laughed.

Yvette slipped past them unnoticed her feet carrying her towards the seedy bars found along the Docks and deeper in the WestEnd. She assumed he'd choose places nearest the ship. But hours passed and Yvette had found nothing. She had entered every bar along the Dockside and as many of them in the WestEnd she could find. Not only did she not find him but everyone she asked had nothing to offer her as well. None had seemed to see him or hear of him. Yvette once again found herself standing in front of the ship where she'd overheard the earlier conversation. Hoping against hope that the Drow would eventually show up and it would be the Drow she was looking for.

?Sooner rather than later,? she thought as she called the shadows close to cloak her, ?the deeper the night the darker the monsters that lurked.?

Yvette spied the Drow, who seemed intent on moving right past her. She stepped out of the shadow she'd conjured for herself and into his path directly. Dressed in a simple bright yellow gown with turban to match wrapped elegantly about her head. She was an image straight out of the Civil War era of the World, somehow transplanted to Rhy'Din and standing only a few feet from him.

"Excuse me, are you Welverin? The one acquainted with the lady Belial of Hades Dawn and the Bloods of Onyx?" Golden eyes taking him in and her expression was none too approving.

Was he hearing another voice? Yes...It was another calling for his attention, by some unknown being that was intent on tormenting him in his dreams. The drow's slow stumble came to stop before the woman. He lifted his head, his solemn gaze meeting hers. There was only silence for a moment as he stared at what he thought to be an apparition. He slowly lifted one finger to his lips.

"Shhhh. I am afraid you are early. I have yet to sleep this evening."

"Might I ask, sir" the emphasis on 'sir' was somewhat biting as she outright ignored his silly ramblings. Certainly the Drow was downright drunk. Yvette had to wonder if this was a new trait or Bel had somehow forgotten to mention it. "When was the last time ya bathed and washed yer hair?" Yvette had a strong southern Louisiana accent, reminiscent of the late 1800's. "I was to bring ya to the lady, but ya may wish to..." The mulatto took another look up and down him. "Freshen up a tad afore we go." It wasn't a question.

He was obviously distracted just then, as he stared at his right boot. "I am ready now." He crouched down slowly, fidgeting with the straps on the boot. Trying to keep his balance he pulled off the boot, but the movement caused him to careen backwards suddenly. Down he went, his arse hitting the cobblestones with a thud. He managed to land sitting upright and he shook the boot violently. "As soon as I get this damn thing out of my shoe."

Yvette's hands rested on her hips as she stared down at the drunken drow on the ground. She shook her head vigorously side to side a few times while she 'tsked' in outright disapproval. "No, no, no, this won't do, at all yar in no shape to go anywhere. Ya need a bath and some fresh clothes." She bends over taking the boot away from him to shake out whatever it was that had been causing him issue. "Now do ya have a room in one of the inns or boardin' houses? Missy Bel ain't been well, ya can't be bringin' sickness her way. We gots to get ya cleaned up afore I will take ya to her." She bent down and went about trying to help him put his boot back on.

An accomplished smirk rested on his features as a small stone came rolling out of the worn leather boot and bounced off the cobblestones. "You found it." The smirk slowly disappeared as it was replaced with utter annoyance. "You are going to torment me until I take this bath. If that is what it takes to make you leave me be, then so be it.? He snatched the boot from her hand, and eased up to his feet weakly. He held the boot in one hand as he started to ascend the ramp.

Yvette shook her head and reached out to stop him in his steps. "No, Mister, ya be comin' with me. I will see to ya. Then I will take ya to Missy Bel."

The Oak and Ash had once been located on the dockside front but DCH had taken possession of the property and then the Speakeasy had unexpectedly blown up, leveling the place. The new location was a few blocks up from Bel and Sun's WestEnd appointments. It hadn't yet been opened to the public, but family was allowed and there were a few in residences that still called the place home. Everick was among them. He was a bit short and very stout. Everick was not human but an Imp. Conjured by some black mage years ago and set adrift when the man died without warning. Everick was one of the many stray souls Bel had taken in over the years. And now he took grand care of the O&A as well as overseeing the care of Tral, the sentient bar turned constructed humanoid.

It was Everick that greeted the carriage as it came to a stop outside the new O&A. Yvette, unaware of Welv's state of mind but very aware of his current condition, disembarked from the carriage first. Everick then helped her get Welverin up and down the short steps. They didn't speak aloud but worked oddly in unison. Yvette allowed Everick to take the weight of the drow upon himself and lead Welv inside. She followed close on their heels, Welv?s stray boot still in hand.

'Another tormentor to join the fray', Welv glared at Everick through his narrowed azure gaze. "I can walk by myself, thank you very much.? He attempted to shrug the man away, but stopped as he noticed his foot. Where in the Nine Hells was his boot?

Welv solemn look on his face was soon being replaced with one of anger. "What is this all about?"

"Easy there fella" Everick said as he let go of Welverin. "We just didn't wan' ya to break yer neck getting outta the carriage, right."

Yvette gave a disdainful snort. "Mister Welverin, we must get ya upstairs where we have a warm bath all ready for ya in a nice comfortable room with a large bed. Ya will enjoy it I promise!"

This had to be some sort of hallucination brought on by the absinthe Welv had been indulging in all evening. How did this woman know his name? He looked between the odd pair slowly. He was in no mood to put up a struggle.

"I don't know what your game is, but you win. Take me to this warm bed so that I might put this dream behind me.? Welv looked down at his bare foot once again. He was going to miss that boot, he thought absently. The pair were one of his favorites.

Yvette, still holding his boot but low to her side, nodded to Everick to take Welv up to his room and then handed the boot over to him. "An' don' forget this. I am sure he be wantin' it later. Did ya send fer some clothes?"

Everick shook his head. "Dinn't know his size. He's a big?un. So now I know what to ask fer." They were talking about Welv as if he almost wasn't there. Everick looked up at the Drow. "Can ya follow me up the stairs, or ya need a hand?" A furrowing of his brow as he waited on the drow to respond.

Tral gave Yvette a contrite apologetic look. He really wasn?t fast enough to stop the Drow from grabbing the packet.

If Welv was going to be subjected to this twisted dream, he might as well get it over with. He didn't answer Everick as he followed the man into the room. So far everything they promised was there, but he was waiting for the real nightmare to begin.

Yvette stared at Welverin with wide surprised eyes. "Tis nothing more than a bit of potassium and cortisol, to ease yer inevitable hangover, Mister Welverin, but if'n ya prefer to have yer head a poundin' an' yer tummy roilin' then please, do not take it."

Yvette rolled her eyes at the obviously upset and angry Drow. "What bee got loose in yar bonnet, Mister Welverin?! Ya be actin' like a man possessed. Now ya best behave an' take yer bath and then after a bit of drink to bed with ye! I want ya to be ready to meet with the Missy Bel on the morrow, hear?! I won't be takin' any back talk from ya!"

Welv wasn't hearing any of that. "If you are to torment me with promises of Belial, it will be tonight! One way or the other I promise you that."

He didn't wait for a retort before slamming the door.

"Ya want to see Missy Bel, Mister Welverin? Yeah? Then ya best take a bath. Ya ain't seein' her like that!" Yvette yelled at the closed door. "In case ya didn't know Ya Smell!!!" Yvette frowned darkly and turned about to storm back down the stairs. She was not enjoying this task in the least.

A bottle of whiskey materialized on the side table near the steaming tub. If Welv chose to take the bath the bottle would be in easy reach. Otherwise he would have to go around the bathtub to reach said bottle. Yes, it was an intentionally strategic placement, a lure so to speak.

Say Something
Song by A Great Big World

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble & fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere I would've followed you (Ooh-oh)
Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something...

Belial stood outside the door as a frown moved over beatific features. Silence... He had to know she was here... didn't he?

Everything Yvette had just told her was alarming to say the least. The way Yvette described Welv wasn't the way Bel recalled him to be... well? Ever. She lifted a delicate hand to knock once more. She could no longer rely on her preternatural senses; somehow when imprisoned by Howe and Aunty M she'd lost everything... save her life. Last time she'd seen Welv he was no longer tainted by the Vampire... but who knew!? A lot of time had passed and there was that woman? What had her name been? Did she really want to remember that now? With or without it, certainly he should be able to hear her knocking?

The brief hesitation that caused her to pause with her hand in mid air finally passed and she brought it to the wood of the door anew. This time the knock was firm and loud.

"Welv? Are you in there?" Her voice sounded strong and confident even to her own ears, but she certainly didn't feel that way.

As Welv eased his head back upward from below the surface, sliding back slowly into a sitting position. He took a slow breath as the drumming seemed to subside somewhat. He heard the knock and he looked slowly to the door. It was her voice. He knew tormentors would not let him have this moment. He exhaled slowly as he looked to the door. He might as well face what ever they had in store. His voice was solemn as he answered. "I am here. Come in."

Belial pushed open the door and slipped inside the room with the same grace she'd always had, outwardly nothing appeared to have changed. She was dressed simply tonight, in a black tank top of cotton and fitted worn out jeans. No Blood colors flying but she wore her pin upon a silver chain hung about her neck. Green eyes found him in the bath and she couldn't stop the smile that curved slowly over full, red lips. She hadn?t realized until that moment how much she?d really missed him.

"Ah? Would you like me to wait outside? Give you a moment to dress?" Her tone light, almost teasing as the smile turned somewhat wicked and playful. Old behaviors died hard. Her mind was a jumble of contradictions. She knew staying here staring at him could lead places they shouldn't go. Rumors had reached her... she was well aware he was attempting to move on. But she couldn't pull her gaze away from him. Her green eyes seemed to have a will of their own and they remained pinned on the Drow in the bath.

Hair silver-white hung damply around his face obscuring azure eyes. It draped over his broad shoulders like a lion's mane. His face looked haggard, the lines etched harsh upon ebon skin - too little sleep far too much stress... And far from immortal. Bel could feel her heart breaking as she gazed at him. She wanted to rush to him, to find a way to ease the pain she saw. But she couldn't. It was no longer her right.

Welv reached for a towel as he rose from the tub, bringing it around his waist. His back was to the door as he stood, steam drifting from his skin. There had to be more than a dozen scars across his back on his once unmarred skin. He turned slowly as he lifted a hand to push the wet hair from his face. He took a careful step from the tub.

He refused to meet her gaze and he closed his eyes preparing himself for the worst. He wouldn't allow himself to believe that she was really here.

She had to be another hallucination brought on by the absinthe. This couldn't be real. The Fates were bringing him back to memories he did not wish to feel. She couldn?t be here.

Green eyes narrowed spying the scars. Bel had to keep herself from gasping aloud. His beautiful skin had been horribly marred by deep jagged scars that told a painful tale all their own. What could have possibly happened to cause them? The horror of the sight cut into her as deeply as those wounds had him. More than one thing had changed and she didn't need to be herself to note it. A frown settled on delicate features, a subconscious step towards him before she remembered herself and stopped. His note was a goodbye. She was the intruder here, she reminded herself silently. Luckily he wasn't looking at the time.

She felt agitation rising. She had never felt this oddly out of place before, awkward and not quite knowing what to do. It was no longer her right to be concerned... But she wanted more than anything to touch him. Her hands moved down her thighs as fingers curled, an attempt to still that forbidden desire, but it didn?t work.

"I... don't know what to say, Welv." Her voice betrayed her emotion and that made her angry at herself. "I got your... um? Gory letter..." She let her words trail to silence, her internal struggle was becoming overwhelming. She had no idea how to behave, what to say or how to react... she was like a fish out of water, and Belial found she really didn't like it.

We are, we are,
We are timeless, timeless.
Everything we have, we have,
Everything oh my god.
You are, you are,
The only thing that makes me feel like,
I can live forever, forever.
with you, my love.
- Airborne Toxic Event, "Timeless"

Bel had worried that Welv might have taken back the Gangrel Blood? Marisse had been sniffing around last time Welv had been in Rhy?Din and Bel had the unpleasant adventure of meeting her. She seemed determined in reclaiming the Drow as part of her brood. When Welv had disappeared after one of their more heated arguments, Bel had assumed it was possible he?d run off with Marisse and Zan.

Bel also believed he?d take one look at her and see she was no longer the same. She had nearly convinced herself that he didn?t want to see her, that she no longer mattered to him. She had heard the rumors of him and another woman. She didn?t want to believe he?d moved on, but the note and then the rumors? She?d begun to suspect that forcing this meeting might prove to be a terrible mistake? at least as far as she and her heart were concerned.

Now, however, she didn?t know what to think.

This was not the Welv she had known for so many years. No, something dark and foreboding had settled over him. Something so heavy it was visible to the naked eye, its burden upon him bowed his body under its sinister weight.

As Welv stepped away from her and asked her to sit she nodded. She was still reeling from shock and trying to adjust as quickly as possible. Nothing was as she had imagined. She looked over the room and chose a chair near the fireplace. She?d seen his glance toward the bed, but she didn?t trust herself to behave and stay respectable. The mere idea he?d reject her stung deep, she?d rather not encourage going there just yet. Green eyes couldn't stay away from him however. She couldn't help that she was staring. It was so good to see him... terrible such thoughts when everything was so upside down and they felt... so distant.

Given the chance for closer inspection she could see the scars on his back were not new, they were healed but poorly so, as if they?d been left untreated. They were perhaps a few years old, but they ran very deep. Bel felt a heightening of that alarm she?d been feeling ever since Luc had handed her that bloody letter. She wanted to grill him with a thousand questions as to how his back had gotten this way and why??? But something stilled her tongue and instead she remained quiet, simply watching him. She had no rights here? she had to remind herself of this because otherwise she?d most certainly forget.

A bit more collected Welv turned to face her, moving toward the chair. He didn't want to talk. He didn't know where to begin or how to explain. He lowered himself to the floor, half turned to face her. He looked up to her slowly, studying every curve of her face. She had never seen him so tired, his eyes never so emotionally weary. He simply laid his cheek against her lap and closed his eyes.

Bel rested her hand on his head and stroked his hair gently, lovingly. She wished he would explain, but the look in those beloved azure depths told of a pain that ran far deeper than she could have imagined. Perhaps what he needed now was silence? Silence and calm acceptance. She was simply grateful that she could touch him. Tears trickled along her cheeks as she stared down at him. She had missed him fiercely although she wouldn't have admitted it to herself at least not until this moment. To see him like this terrified her but it also strengthened her resolve. She would do whatever it takes to help him get through this, no matter what IT was.

Wild fires a while past
You made something burn
Time alone, is it time enough
For the lessons learned?

What happened to us?

Are you safe & sound?
Will it make you feel better if I'm around?
Are you safe & sound?
Will it make you feel better if I'm around?

Start again, starting where
On who?s side?
All I know in your ash & soil
I see bitter ground

Can we begin?
Will you let me in?

Are you safe & sound?
Will it make you feel better if I'm around?
Are you safe & sound?
Will it make you feel better if I'm around?
- Rie Sinclair, "Safe and Sound"

Bel sat up slowly, having slept in her clothes she found they had gotten twisted and were proving far from comfortable. Adjusting her shirt then tugging here and there to straighten her jeans she watched Welv as he continued his study of her. The way he was looking at her was as if he thought she might vanish any moment.

She dropped a somewhat awkward chuckle at his comment, her expression baffled. His voice was too low for her to read his tone, barely above a whisper. She couldn?t tell if he were pleased or upset. He had every right to question her. His letter had been rather self-explanatory and then there were the rumors of another woman. So why had she come, really? She had to be upfront with herself at least if not with him outright.

But she already knew why she was here? She came because she had sensed something terribly wrong with him and couldn?t turn blindly away. She may no longer have such rights where he was concerned, but her heart didn?t care, no matter what her head might tell it. Bel couldn?t deny her disquiet. She had to make sure he was okay... She really hadn?t stopped and considered any further than that. Well? Until now.

"I thought the why I am here would be obvious. I am here because I am concerned about you, Welv...? Not even a beat or a pause before she continued. ?Here, as you put it, is the O&A. Yes, it is a bit different then the last time you saw it. We were..." How should she put it? "?forced to change location, so it may not be as familiar as it once was.? Yes, that sounded good, mundane, and rather less dangerous, he would not likely ask for more of an explanation at this time. ?But the furniture is the same, and Tral still tends the bar... Well? Now he's in a more human shape at times and, I must confess, much more useful." Bel was babbling and she knew it. She felt embarrassed and as if she?d somehow overstepped. Time to get to the point? A slight pause as Bel eyed him buying her a moment to rebuild her flagging self-confidence.

"About... Your letter... Ah? Covered in animal blood?" Another pause as that green gaze searched his face. He looked so tired, so wary. He looked as if he carried the heft of a terrible burden upon him and there was no one to trust. Every lingering look she gave him merely added to her growing alarm. "And those scars... I need to know what's going on with you Welv? I want to help, if I can..." Yet even as the words fell out of her mouth, she had to wonder; how much help could she really be to anyone in her current situation.

Again the echo of words "careful what you wish for..." haunted. She realized it was all part of the puzzle, her puzzle, if only she could gather all the right pieces and put all the clues together she could figure it out? ?Now is not the time?, she chided silently. She pushed those thoughts aside, as important as they were, they did not compare to what seemed to be going on with Welv. He could see how her thoughts had derailed by the dance of various expressions over beatific features all of which ended with sincere concern in pleading green eyes.

It took every ounce of Welv?s being, every bit of his will, to keep himself seated in that chair. He wanted to rush to her and pull her into a tight embrace, never letting go. He needed her so much, but he refused to tell himself such over the years. He had lied to himself, convincing himself he was better off in his solitude. A brow arched beneath the veil of locks, hiding his eyes at the mention of the animal blood on the letter. He would have to have a ...talk... with Neqa'el. He leaned up slowly, and lifted a hand to brush the annoying strands of hair from his face.

"Things are fine Belial." He lied still whispering. "There is no need to concern yourself for my well being. I apologize about the state of the letter" He paused briefly to secure the walls of his mind in place. "I am only back for a fortnight. I will be leaving soon. I am sorry we had to meet like this. My intent was to leave you and the Bloods be."

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea
I'll sail the world to find you
If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see
I'll be the light to guide you

We find out what we're made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me like 1, 2, 3
I'll be there
And I know when I need it
I can count on you like 4, 3, 2
And you'll be there
'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah

If you're tossin' and you're turnin'
And you just can't fall asleep
I'll sing a song beside you
And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me
Every day I will remind you

We find out what we're made of
When we are called to help our friends in need

You can count on me like 1, 2, 3
I'll be there
And I know when I need it
I can count on you like 4, 3, 2
And you'll be there
'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah

You'll always have my shoulder when you cry
I'll never let go, never say goodbye
You know...

You can count on me like 1, 2, 3
I'll be there
And I know when I need it
I can count on you like 4, 3, 2
And you'll be there
'Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah

You can count on me 'cause I can count on you
- Bruno Mars, "Count On Me"

Welv's pain sliced through her as if it were her own. She felt the sting of tears building but knew if they both fell apart he would certainly walk out that door. She could nearly hear the script he'd run inside his head - how it was his fault and he was causing her pain all over again.

She stared at his back a small hand reaching out towards him. But she didn't move any closer. He was like a wild animal and she feared he?d shy away should she get too near.

"We have never really tried to be just friends, Welv. But I have great faith that both of us can do anything we put our minds to... don't you?"

After receiving his bloody letter and sending Yvette to find him, tidbits of rumors began to filter back about Welv and another woman by the name of Rena. Bel had been sent images of Rena, she who was all white and lightness, incredibly blonde and beautiful. She was new, while Bel was? what was Bel? The tainted past? A brutal reminder of loss and regret? Belial was the complete opposite of Rena to be sure; dark, small and rather brooding. Rena dueled while Bel went to battle. Two very different lives. Rena was safe, while Bel offered danger far more often then not. Perhaps he was in love with this Rena? Maybe he wanted a quiet life? A life without consequence where each day was much the same as the last? Bel couldn't fault him.

It didn?t change anything, however. She still cared what happened to Welv. She may not like him with Rena, she may have the nasty taste of jealousy lingering in her mouth, but she could overcome even herself if it meant she could help Welv. Above everything else she still loved him and wanted the best for him. That was something she had accepted a long time ago would never truly change.

"Let me help you, Welv. You know you can trust me! We will always be family, if nothing else!"

Welv?s heart was pounding in his chest. He felt as if it would burst right through his ribcage and fall to the wooden planks that made up the floor. His head shook slightly at her words. He lifted one obsidian hand to push away the wetness at his cheeks and took a slow breath, an attempt to calm the onslaught of emotions her presence caused. Her words spoke truth. They had never been simply friends? how could she ever be his friend? From their first meeting, she had stolen his heart. No matter how hard he tried and lied to himself, from that day he knew he would always be hers. He knew he should just walk away... he knew she would be upset but he tired to convince himself that she would be better off without him in her life. He turned to face her.

They had just reunited and already he was causing her pain. He could see the stress in her features the uncertainty in her eyes. He couldn't stop himself and he lifted a hand to gently caress her cheek before even realizing what he was doing; a moth drawn to the inevitable flame.

"I have always loved you Belial, more than you may ever know but?" He leaned in to place a gentle kiss to her lips, perhaps he just wanted to savor that feeling one last time. His eyes closed as he took what pleasure he could from that familiar taste, his own still salty from the tears.

Bel didn't pull away from Welv. Her petite hands lifted to cup his face in warmth as she leaned closer in to him. She wanted the kiss as badly as he did. But she also knew if they jumped back into this when both were in such desperate situations it would likely be the undoing of them... yet again. Besides, the little voice in her head continued to whisper the name ?Rena? over and over again. Belial didn?t owe allegiance to this Rena; she didn?t know her from Eve. But Bel didn?t wish to hurt the woman, or wreck whatever she and Welv might share.

From the beginning their timing had always been bad. When Bel had met Welv he was with Sabrae, a friend and a colleague of sorts. ?With? wasn?t the right way to put it really. He served Sabi and Sabi allowed him to. There might have been a shared lust, but Bel never looked that closely. No, she didn?t want to. She couldn't resist Welv. She'd felt drawn to him from that very first moment and although she cared about Sabi, she wanted Welv more. Enemies and events had conspired against them, ripping them apart time and time again. And still... every time he'd stepped back into her life she'd willingly tossed aside everything to embrace him anew.

No, this time she wanted more than a few stolen moments with Welv. If she was to be human and short-lived, then she wanted that life to be spent with him.

She let the kiss linger because she would not deny them this moment. Then her hands fell to his chest and she gently pushed away. Those green eyes stared into azure depths as if seeking something she'd lost so long ago.

"Welv..." Bel began in a soft whisper. "If this is to work, you have to stay... I can't bear to be with you knowing you are going to walk away again. And this time? We need to take things slowly. I am not who..." Bel paused briefly as teeth nipped her lower lip and worried at it momentarily. "I am changed. You need to realize, I am not what I once was... and I may never be again... You have no idea what's been going on since last you left." She took in a deep breath before continuing. ?And there is the matter of? Rena??

In the morning when I wake
And the sun is coming through,
Oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness,
And you fill my head with you.

Shall I write it in a letter?
Shall I try to get it down?
Oh, you fill my head with pieces
Of a song I can't get out.

Can I be close to you?

Can I take it to a morning
Where the fields are painted gold
And the trees are filled with memories
Of the feelings never told?

When the evening pulls the sun down,
And the day is almost through,
Oh, the whole world it is sleeping,
But my world is you.

Can I be close to you?
- The Paper Kites, ?Bloom?


It was a well established fact that the Bloods had eyes all over Rhy?Din. The only places free of their scrutiny were the dueling areas. Bel had learned of Welv?s interest in the woman mere hours after she?d been given his bloody letter. It hadn?t taken much? a payoff to a few good spies, several Bloods skimming through image orbs searching for a specific face from all the locations monitored by the House. The information gathered was then handed over to the ebon-curled Leader of the House. Belial hadn?t known what to think, but from the images and the reports filtering in, she could assume Welv and the woman were courting. How far it had gone, or how deep the feelings ran? well, that was what Bel had been trying to discern. Otherwise her paranoia would have continued to fill in the many blanks with the worst case scenarios. Welv?s admission that it wasn?t anything more than a mere flirtation reassured her. That was one concern reconciled. She felt relieved over the other woman...

But Bel could tell that something was nevertheless deeply wrong with Welv. She felt it when their gazes locked.

As he pulled away she had to fight off the urge to stop him. Yet perhaps she shouldn't? Being human had its price, and this may be one of hers. She gave a slight shake of her head.

"No, no, do not worry! I am recovering quite nicely from the warehouse incident. I can't say the same for two of our Bloods. They unfortunately didn't survive the..." A hint of guilt tinged her tone, "My rescue." A frown settled on beatific features as those green eyes slid down to the floor. The thought of others dying because of her did not sit well with Bel. She would have done everything in her power to undo what happened, if only she could. That green gaze slipped back to Welv.

"Look, I don't intend to make your situation worse by forcing myself or my problems on you, Welv. Do not worry. But I do have resources and friends who have not been compromised that could potentially aid you in your situation? If you owe money to this ship you are bound to depart on, I could help with that personally? If there is another issue, you have only to tell me and I might be able to lend help there too? And if I can?t help, I might know someone who can??

Welv reached out to take her hand lightly, tracing his thumb over the back of her skin. Only his will stopped him from scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. He wanted to forget the outside world, if but only for a brief moment. He needed to feel alive once again. He never seemed to have a care in the world when he was lost in Belial's embrace. He pushed the image reluctantly from his mind and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. He had to chuckle at her words.

"Me owe money? Come now Bel, I think you know me better than that. If I was worried about some lender's enforcers, don't you think that lender would be lying dead in some back alley, their throat nicely slit?" He smirked slightly. "No? it is not money."

A method of distraction, he lifted his free hand to trace a gentle line with a finger tip from the base of her cheek, downward along her neck across her collar bone. His touch in the past had always seemed to still her inquiries, at least briefly. He never knew the meaning of the word ?slow?.

"You need not worry yourself with me." He lied again. "I have it all under control."

His touch was like fire on her skin. She felt her body yielding to it. It would be so easy to grab hold of him and drag him to the bed. It is only a few feet away after all? Bel's thoughts began to cloud with desire and for a brief moment she nearly let the impulses take over. It would be so easy? too easy. But something about what he'd said stopped her.

Yes, if it was something as mundane as money he would have easily taken care of it. Welv was not a shy boy, nor would he have allowed anyone to place him in an unwanted position lightly. Welv was Alpha, even when he served Sabi he was still alpha. It was a strange relationship the pair of them had shared. Welv was many things, but a white hat wasn?t one of them. He knew the path of evil as well as she did.

They had to have something major to hold over him... Bel scowled and the near moment of passion fell behind her. Green eyes narrowed on the Drow.

"You are right of course... It would have to be something... really major..." Bel stepped away from his touch otherwise she would most assuredly fail in keeping her train of thought. Welv was the only one that could do that to her and she knew it wasn?t beneath him to exploit it. "If you had it all under control, darling, you wouldn't be drinking yourself into a stupor every night..." Her tone a hint sharper as his evasiveness had begun to wear thin.

"Is it someone else you are trying to save and worry you can't? Or is it something..." She began to piece things together. Something was wrong with him... she knew it... it wasn't someone else; it had something to do with Welv directly. "No... That?s not it... this has to do with you... something about you? is off I can feel it. Might as well tell me because I won't let you leave until you do..." Her tone firm although in truth she no longer had the power to back up her threat. She believed he still didn't know that yet and she certainly wasn't going to tell him.

A gentle sigh passed over Welv?s lips. He was quickly remembering just how stubborn this woman could be. If something found itself into her mind, she wouldn't let it rest until the situation was fully explored. She may have stepped from his touch, but with a mere footstep, he was there once again in her personal space. He placed a hand to the fabric of the tank top covering the side of her waist. His hand slowly moved downward and a fingertip hooked into the edge of her jeans at her waist-line. He gave the fabric a gentle tug, a slight pull to urge her a bit closer.

"Do you really want to talk about this now? I assure you I can make our morning reunion much more interesting.? He tugged at the fabric again. "Did I mention how good it was to see you? I've missed you Belial." He was very much trying to cause her to lose her train of thought, and forget the line of questioning.

Bel leaned into him with a low husky chuckle. "Ah, yes, this feels familiar and as much as I would enjoy saying ?yes?, it would solve nothing. In a few days, maybe weeks," How long had he said he had before he was to leave again? She was finding it hard to think... "You?ll be gone. And, maybe, just maybe that would be for the best?" She heard it as it came out of her mouth. A surprised expression as she hadn't actually meant to say that out loud. "But that isn't enough for me anymore Welv. The next time you chose to wander back to Rhy'Din I may not be here!"

Years passed between the times they've had together. And in the past it was understood and accepted between them. He was Drow long of life and she... she was once Fallen, but she'd quit that job. It hadn't stopped her from being un-aging. She didn't have to worry about how much time she had left or how she planned to spend it. Now... all that has changed. She frowned and tried to tug free from him.

"You don't understand..." She took in a deep breath. "I may be this way forever now... I might not be able to change it. And next time you decide to come looking, it may be too late. So instead of trying to distract me, maybe you should let me help you find a way for you to stay?"

Everything she said was oh-so-vague. It explained nothing and gave him little to work with. If Welv looked close he would note no marked change to speak of; whatever Bel was going on about was left somewhat of a mystery. Only one small clue stood as testament ? the bond they shared. So far she?d not seemed to be connecting to him through it.