Underneath the Concrete Sky [C]

[Sascha Stark]

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[atrb=background,http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i319/sketchedesigns/saschabg.png] The world below seemed somehow so dismal and drawn - ever since his encounter with Eris and shortly thereafter the tussle with a Virus, Casey and his unexpected kiss...the world was somehow different. There was no brilliance, no new sparkle to the world without wither of them to show such things. Eris, with her violence - yet a sorrow so deep no man could match it. Something Sascha intended to fix - certainly he would do his best - if he ever found her again. Which was not likely - he'd found out she was a Carna woman, and a higher ranked one at that. It would make visiting her next to impossible - he knew from experience and a few fading scars that the Carna did not take well to anthros who fed on them while they slept. Or anthros at all for that matter. In truth, it was surprising that she hadn't tried more fervently to slaughter him, though the shallow scratches that had pretty much healed up of their own accord still did prove she was a true Carna...which in truth frightened him a little. She hadn't even said thank you for saving her from falling, and from the Keeper. He still had the knife wounds from the savage attack, not caring to remember how violent he'd gotten. his knuckles were still bruised - not to mention his nose was running and he kept sneezing. Stupid Virus. Oh, well. At least he'd gotten some recompense out of the whole thing. And he intended to get more, he thought with a determined furrow of his brow and a burst of speed as he flew through the air, massive black wings supporting his weight with ease. Flying had grown easier and easier with time, and now he seemed well adapted to soaring through the heavens, hand skimming the soft vapor of the clouds, riding the thermals as he sped toward the Carna territory, intent on finding Eris. The girl who had captured his heart with her startling likeness to his late fiancée. Oh, what he would do to hold her in his arms again, flesh pressed against flesh, lips against lips; but there seemed no end to the nightmarish lengths reality would go to to prove that he was truly and irrevocably alone. He landed on the docks, unsure of where to start looking for her - but he figured this would be the best place, since it was relatively close to where the Carna seemed to move in great numbers, based on his observations and feedings. "Eris," he hummed under his breath, pale green eyes searching the aged wooden docks, wings wrapped around the front, extended finger-like tips hooked together so it seemed as if he wore some eccentric leather cloak - both in attempts to downplay his obvious mutations and keep out the cold. The shirt the Keeper's had sewn on to him had been shredded by various encounters with unsavories. With a sigh, he discarded those thoughts and wandered through the Carna, eyes peeled and body tensed for any danger. Or Eris. He was, however, slightly unsure if he was prepared to face either. - - - - - half recycled...DON'T JUDGE I'M SAVING THE PLANET K.

[Eris]

REMEMBER THAT ALL ALONE IS WHERE I BELONG

Perched up in her favorite tree where she had once sworn she would die, her golden eyes stalked the docks - her home - with such accuracy that it was not missed the second Sascha landed. She growled out of habit, a common reaction, but still her eyes lit up with a youth so foreign now to her that she seemed bereft of love and hope. But there it was - the rosey tint to her cheeks as she silently slide down the tree, crouching on the earth below with wild, copper hair touseled about and lips pressed together thoughtfully. Excited to see him in her own comfortable land not under the stage of threat, her heart beat faster than it did when she ran top speed as a cheetah. The thrill caused her heart to falter twice and she clenched her hands in fists tight with a pained hiss. How she craved to relax in the arms of another...to let them take control. Too difficult she found it to take care of herself when she often wondered why she even should...Everytime her muscles failed and she fell with a gasp, she wanted someone to be there to catch her. Instead, she suffered alone, sometimes for hours on the cold earth shivering.

And at the same time, when she saw Sascha's face she also saw someone she could take care of, protect and dedicate herself too. Certainly she'd always craved it, but so many things were in the way of her connecting with anyone on a higher level. She heard him state her name though quietly, and as she stood out of her crouch and prowled down to the docks to greet him. She stayed concealed in the grasses, her attire matching the surroundings though the smudges of dirt on her face helped. "...." She'd forgotten his name. There was little she remembered from that night aside from seeing a gaurdian angel with that perfect face.
With in a swift, single second, she pulled off her signiture move and pounced from her hiding place, swinging her leg out and tripping him. In the next moment, she had him pinned as her prey.

"Hello, stranger." She purred, eyes glowing childishly with that old, toothy grin she'd once shared with Crash a very long time ago. Still, she had that frightening Carna edge to her that made a viewer wonder whether or not he was to be her prey or if this was just play. With her, it could go either way very quickly. "You owe me big time, love." A pet name she'd adopted from Manic, her master. Several layers of history buried itself in every little thing she did. "Interupting a Carna's fight like that is very disrespectful. I had everything under control. And even if I did not - you had no right to soil our honor." As one of the last with true pride in her ring, she intended to hold on to every ounce of tradition since day one. "Silly, silly." Her small hands dug into his chest like little claws, inconsiderate of what old wounds he may have there.

"But I am sure we can find a way for you to repay me, can we not?" Her shoulders shook subtly with a series of soft giggles, a fiend of sorts looking like that of an angel herself in the sunlight, her perfect fascade.

[Sascha Stark]

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[atrb=background,http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i319/sketchedesigns/saschabg.png] His nerves were getting the best of him as he scoured the surprisingly barren territory. At least from his position, he couldn't sense anyone coming. Which made him all the more nervous. Usually, he came to the docks under the cover of night, where he often went completely unnoticed by the Carnafolk. There were patches of grass growing from the woodwork, and he could hear the groan of the worn and aged wood beneath his footsteps and the soft lap of the briny water beneath. He was caught up in the surprisingly peaceful place the Carna had in their bloody grasp, and let out a strangled cry when a small foot cropped up beneath him as if from nowhere and sent him sprawling on his back. Winded and seeing stars he felt a slight weight pressed on top of him, and his arms instinctively flew to protect his face from whatever attack or beating might ensue. But all he felt was nails digging into his chest, and he realized the reason he couldn't see anything is because his eyes were squeezed shut in terror - he felt if you couldn't see what was coming it was less terrifying, if only...slightly. Well. Maybe it was worse. He opened one eye and peeked at whomever had so easily tackled him to the ground and his heart both rose and sank as he stared into the beautiful, golden eyes of Eris. Sank, because she could weigh no more than 90 pounds and she'd managed to take down in half a second, probably less. But he felt a mix of trepidation and elation - simply speaking he was intimidated but irrevocably head over heels for the small, dark beauty currently pressed close against him. "Hello, stranger." His eyes flashed in confusion. She did not know him? "I am Sascha! Not...strangerman." He tugged lightly at her curls, fascinated with her likeness to Ecaterina. But she seemed perfection in itself - a different perfection than Ecaterina, but a perfection nonetheless. He was enraptured in her beauty, so deliciously fragile to the touch as he skimmed a hand lightly across her face daringly, his other hand resting keenly on her small, sloping shoulder. He was surprised at the warmth that spread between them, her stomach pressed against his, her smudged face so close yet teasingly just out of reach. He hadn't felt like this for another since her, and found himself lost in her simplistic, feral beauty that was edged with a look only pain could bring - and only one who'd experienced as such could truly see. He wanted nothing more than to hold her close, to banish the agony he could see in the depths of her eyes. Or, really, thought he saw. Perhaps he was imagining it, but he felt strongly that he could see past the facade she put up. But he didn't doubt that there was a darkness in her, a coldness. He could feel it int he way she dug her nails into his flesh, and demanded that he owed her, when he'd been the one to save her. Twice, even. But he didn't make the connection that she wanted recompense for that, as her slur of English made little sense to him. "Interupting a Carna's fight like that is very disrespectful. I had everything under control. And even if I did not - you had no right to soil our honor." He said nothing to that, only stared wide-eyed back in confusion. "But I am sure we can find a way for you to repay me, can we not?" Though he only understood about half of what she said, the tone in her purring voice spoke loud and clear. Or so he thought. He laughed nervously at what he thought she might be suggesting, thoroughly embarrassed. He was never good at this game flirting stuff, especially not with a language barrier. He was experienced enough, but the men and women he'd slept with didn't play games, and it had been a shameful experience for the most part where he found himself groveling for some scrap of food, locked in the dark room of his childhood home. Like some...fairytale princess, waiting to be rescued. Except it had worked out all wrong and he was shipped from one prison to the next and currently pinned under a mischievous, attractive and overtly violent woman whom he didn't know whether to fear or to love. He chuckled nervously again at her giggles, twining a finger around one of her chocolate brown curls. "Ye-esss?" He hadn't the slightest idea as to what he was doing. ( UNEXPECTEDLY LONG and LOL SASCHA FAIL )

[Eris]

BEG MY BROKEN HEART TO BEAT

I am Sascha! Not strangerman. "Sascha..." Her thoughtful voice flowed, smooth like honey and yet it held the perfect pitch of bells. Every bit of her the Devil designed himself to attrack another to darkness. But the fallen angel within struggled to break free in the genuine love glowing through her big, fawn eyes. She flinched sensitively when he placed his hand on her shoulder gently, slightly turning her head but already visualizing the two cresent-shaped scares deeply embedded there. She let it go and met his gaze again, leaning forward when he touched her face lightly, shutting her eyes for a moment, dark lashes falling on rosey cheeks. Opening her eyes, she watched him with a certain fondness created from whatever it was she could remember, admiring him with all the determination to make him her own. "Sascha, Sascha..." She purred. Ye-esss? Her eyebrows nearly quirked in an insecure, school-girl manner, but she caught herself and replaced it with that false confidence that got her through every act she pulled on these men. And there it was -- she'd already grouped him with the rest. These men. She shook her head. He was different, gentle, shy, and nervous. She could not see the sick desire she knew every man held. Perhaps, yes, he wanted her as she wanted him, but it was not out of greed for beauty, or so she'd like to tell herself. Different, yes, as she'd not yet had one flashback of Lucifer.

Her hands stopped clawing, trying out the gentleness he used on her. She could be like that, right? She could be good, for him? Good enough? Her head tilted at the different tactic, eyes wide and curious like a child's, pouty lips and glittering glances hard to hate. She ran a hand through his short hair - it was a different feel, but soft anyway. She placed her other hand on his lips. "Shhh." She grinned, replacing her hand over his mouth with her lips, warm and soft...and gentle. But her brows furrowed in resistance, pained to be so gentle as her kisses grew more passionate and soon hungry. She tried to hold back being who she was, but it was not long before her teeth dug into his lower lip, drawing little blood but enough to put the taste in their mouths. Hands gripped feverishly at his shirt, but she held back just taking it off completely and preoccupied herself with his face. The warmth between them grew and her heart beat faster and faster yet until she pulled back abruptly, pain shooting through her limbs, warning her to settle down a little. She stiffened up, face flushed, and grit her teeth, the suffering clearly in her glassy, welling up eyes. Of course, she would be fine. Damned as child, she would forever walk this Hell in every pain imaginable but never be killed from it. She'd tried death on several occassions. No such chance.

As soon as her muscles relaxed, she was back at it as if nothing had happened at all, her face regaining color in time. For now, he was giving her control that probably wasn't a good idea on her own territory on top. Knowing this well, she pulled back for awhile, teasingly, pinning his shoulders down. She was just out of reach, a little smirk on her playful face. It was a simple, tricky tactic to teach him the control he could have, but he would have to fight for that. "Hmmm, love?" She mumbled almost inaudibly, keeping her words simple, sending most of what she needed to get across with expressions. And there that expression was, one eyebrow raised tauntingly, waiting to see if he would grasp the reigns she surprisingly allowed him the chance to have....for now.

[Sascha Stark]

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[atrb=background,http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i319/sketchedesigns/saschabg.png] As her lips met his, his eyes drifted shut, his arms snaring around her thin body and pulling her instinctively close, a low moan escaping from his lips as she broke away for a moment. His brows furrowed as her lips crashed down on his again, but this time with a surprising hunger - a delicious ferocity that left him seeing stars. But he kept pace with her demands, fire lighting in the pit of his stomach, twining his hand in her hair, nails digging slightly into her back. He didn't stop to think that they were relatively outside, in the open, for any unwary Carna to see. He didn't care at the moment, though - not with her lips pressed against his. Well pressed wasn't really the right word - she more seemed to be tearing at him with a wild savagery that piqued his curiosity. His head swam with heady delight, but it was cut short when her teeth sank into his bottom lip and he felt the salty, coppery tang of blood on his tongue. His nails gripped sharply into her back, eyes snapping open, pupils dilating till the pale green iris was just a thin, pale rim amongst the sea of black. His body went rigid as she pulled away; he failed to see the pain in her eyes, or the shallow, rapid breaths as she tried to smother the pain radiating from her chest, surging through her limbs. All he felt was the insatiable hunger rise in his stomach as he licked at the shallow wound on his lip, a subtle tremble working itself into his hands that were still latched onto her waist. Her pain ebbed, but his hunger did not - he was driven by a bloodlust so powerful he couldn't deny it - not this time. It had been weeks since he'd had human blood, the once source Keeper's had fed him for nearly a year. It was a thing he craved the most, the only blood that truly satisfied that inhuman hunger. He was nothing more than a parasite, and he knew it - but there was no controlling the urge to dig his fangs into her flesh and drink her blood. Her teasing drove him mad, and he gripped her shoulders suddenly and pulled her down, crushing her small, frail body to his own, one hand gripping the back of her neck. Holding her immobile against him he rose to a sitting position and much like their first meeting he twined his hand in her hair and tugged her head to the side slightly, just enough to expose the soft, supple flesh of her neck. He kissed her jaw, some semblance of the true man he was showing through, a soft, tender gesture that for a moment left him confused as to what he was doing. But her scent overwhelmed him and in a moments time he sank his long, thin fangs into the tender flesh of her neck, tearing two perfect circles in her pale skin. Blood welled from around the wound and he affixed his mouth to the wound, draining her of her sweet, succulent blood like the good little parasite the Keepers had made him. ( x.o )

[Eris]

BEG MY BROKEN HEART TO BEAT

She did not notice as he grew rigid, just revelled over how she loved the way he cooperated. His taste, his sounds, everything...Everything was perfect. He was perfect. That soft rumbling purr in her chest dwindled and died, and though she was pleased he took control, her petite bodice did not take kindly to his force, his weight pinning her so tight that she lost complete control. Such full control failed as his own as she certainly struggled beneath him to regain it, but something was off. Her beautiful gaurdian angel, this gorgeous man that she wanted as her own, started seeming a little lacking of perfection as he took his turn and played puppeteer with her very nightmares. You struggle but deep inside you know there's nothing you can do about this. Oh, how we were the perfect duet. Shame you tried to go against your master, my love. Her mind flashed back and forth till her little hands struggled to claw at him, her reach useless with her shoulders pinned. You're false strength is a pigment of your imagination that I created. Face it. I taught you everything you know. With out me, you are nothing. Before me, you are nothing. Turn on me, and I will prove how very worthless you are. Her mind flashed again. She dispised it, faught her whole life against it and here this fiend kneeled over her to remind her that...that it was true. Luc was right. He was always right... No, no, no. Frozen, she felt him kiss her jaw, almost calmed as he did so, remembering him as her hero, as her soul mate. She thought again - he is mine. He will be mine - forever.

Her back arched uselessly, muscles tightening as he dug his fangs with in her neck. She writhed uselessly, as useless as she was before, the strength of a male overpowering to her slight form. "Manic!" She cried mindlessly, her heart straining and struggling, blood leaving her system swiftly. Her struggles grew weaker, her heart beat fainter and faltering, missing beats and then repeating a strained thu-thug. "Manic, Manic, love, help me." No. She would not be seen weak in the eyes of her beloved Lord. Her golden eyes shot open, not even aware they'd shut. She slipped her small legs between his and lifted them, wrapping them tight around his waist and flipping them completely. Mid-flip, she'd grabbed her knife and shoved it roughly to his throat, yanking her neck viciously away from his bite, causing it to open more than necessary and bleed profusely. She replaced her fears with anger and the taste for revenge. "I'm better than you!" She snarled, almost a scream, taking the handled end of the knife and smacking it against his head, then returning the blade threateningly to his throat. I'm stronger than you!" She pressed it enough to make him bleed but not to wound him greatly. "And you will die for your sins." Her eyes were distant. She wasn't talking to him, but her rage grew and grew, blinding her from anything else.

'You know what your problem is, right?' He circled her like a lion and it's prey. By now, she was crumpled by a chair in the center of the room on the floor, clutching the seat from the earth with one desperate hand, bloodied and bruised but still she spit at him from her spot. He chuckled light-heartedly, spinning his hair carelessly on one finger. 'Your temper. Do I believe you could really finish me? Perhaps. But that temper...I start to wonder if you'd have the true strength to restrain yourself.' Sascha slowly came back in her view and her eyes softened, though she couldn't tell if it was for her flashback, her emotions, or her blood loss. "You deserve to die. Every one deserves to die." She could remember saying those exact words to Crash. "But to walk this place forever...now that, my dear, is true punishment." She dug the knife into his chest, slicing a perfect 'E' straight through his shirt and skin, deep enough to remind him two weeks from now of his actions, and a scar to remind him forever. "Silly man." She giggled softly, in a manner her first master would have, peeling herself off of him with a deviant glare. "There is a reason the Keepers have kept me alive serving here for so long. Don't make me prove it." She hissed, and though she felt spent and half-dead, she felt she could still kill him on a dime if necessary. Still, she gave him a timid glance, knowing she'd just ruined whatever possible 'thing' they could have had together.

Her fears always devoured her in the end, leaving the weak who could not handle her to flee. Did she blame them? Nah. There was only one who could just barely handle her in this place...and he was more of a freak than herself.

[Sascha Stark]

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[atrb=background,http://i75.photobucket.com/albums/i319/sketchedesigns/saschabg.png] As quickly as the madness had swooped upon him and taken control, it was gone - her attempts to get free succeeded, though his hands will still gripping her fiercely even as the knife dug into the flesh of his neck. He could feel the blood welling at it's edge and he swallowed against the rising fear in his throat -it, like the hunger, threatened to overwhelm him. Sascha could taste the bile that rose as he stared into the eyes of the woman he'd foolishly began to love. She was not Ecaterina. She was no angel. Not even a fallen angel - no. She was...she was terrifying. Blood stained fangs stabbed into the cool air as he cried out as the hilt of her blade made contact with his temple. More blood. Blood. The conflicting rivalry between the hunger and disgust over the life-giving source left him in a hazy tumult of confusion and terror, her slurr and slew of words hissed and spat seemed to skewer him even more than the knife against his throat. He had to get out of here - he never should have come. To think he could change someone. Perhaps everyone was right - some people weren't worth it. Some people would never change. No. No. No. He refused to believe it. Even if the woman perched atop him had a knife to his neck. He deserved this, for what he'd done. For what he was. He deserved to be killed. Pale green eyes watered at the realization that what his father had drilled into his skull from his very first breath had been true. He was a pathetic creature who deserved nothing better than death in it's purest form. He was a demon, to be sent back to hell. "You deserve to die. Every one deserves to die." And she, she was...she was to be the death of him. He knew it. Sascha started to say something, to beg for his life like the pathetic creature he was - but his words tore into a scream as he blade dug into his chest, dragging slowly and cruelly along as she carved her name into his skin. to him it seemed as if she were trying to carve her way to his heart - he couldn't help but think that even though this scar would fade, the wounds she'd dug up and freshly marked with her knife would stay forever. "Eris," he whispered, deep voice trembling with fear. "Please." Begging for his life - he alwasy begged. Always. There never seemed anything he could do to help himself. And he accepted this, and always had. But suddenly, a pervading light sought to penetrate the darkest thoughts - and he saw his face. Casey. The one person besides Ecaterina to ever make his life worth living. And suddenly, as Casey's face surfaced in his mind, a determination set his jaw and tightened his fists. He looked into Eris' eyes and frowned deeply at what he saw there. But he made his move then and grabbed Eris' hand, the one holding the knife, and wrenched it backward away from his neck. He grunted against her struggles, but wouldn't release his grip as his other hand came up and shoved roughly into her chest so that he managed to shove her off. In the few seconds of distraction he would have he scrambled to his feet and took off down the docks at full tilt. He cast a look over his shoulder to the crumbled form of Eris, his step faltering as he thought, perhaps he should go back and help her. But in that instant his mind was made for him as he reached the end of the long, wooden dock, his wings snapping open at the last instant as he leapt from the edge and took off into the air, scarcely able to look back. The pain of her wound had already begun to ebb as his healing took effect - and soon there would be nothing left to remind him of their meeting. :c

[Eris]

BEG MY BROKEN HEART TO BEAT

She cried out against his rough shove to her chest, landing in a mess on the earth, reconsidering sparing his life. She growled and pushed up, trying to sit up, arms shaking, frail and unstable, until she hit the earth again. He was gone. Eyes dared not to glance because she already knew he was no different than any other insignificant, over-bearing, manipulative male. Nails clawed mercillessly at the dirt, breathing rapid, trying to catch her breath from the shove but it would not come to her. Soft whines escaped her lips, hardly audible between the gasps, though her struggles grew weaker till she just lay there shivering. Physical pain never bothered her. Always in the mind such a figment soared and she soared higher, uneffected by such a thing. A drop of rain splashed against the side of her face, the rain coming down now, reflecting the state of her mind in a way that she found herself too weak to express. Sascha did himself a favor by running, she promised herself, and he would be better off. Still, she could not find herself to forgive him, though somewhere with in whatever sanity she had left she knew it was not his fault. He could not help himself...just as she could not help herself. She could feel it now - the rain - or could she? It poured down as though the sky had been holding it all this time only now to release it all. Soaked to immobillity, she, unlike Sascha, begged the gods for death.

The snow raced down. His serpentine gaze followed her even in the darkness, the closet shelter a gas-station. The town fell silent, aware of their demons in a quarrel yet again, manifesting the unhappiness of it's people in both of them. She lost sight of him, his sick laughter haunting, tossing her head from side to side, breath coming up in clouds, light blue lips pouty. 'Come out, coward.' She hissed, a threatening sound of her animal. She spun around once more, jumping at the sight of him a hair away, heart sinking with dread at the feel of his hands wandering at the small of her back, yanking her close. She snarled and struggled, though as always his grip proved to be the one inescapable and inhumanely strong. 'Haven't you missed me, my love?' In the next second, he was gone, perched on a gas tank with a lit match, ready to blow the entire place. Eyes wide and breathless, she morphed into her snake form, slithering quickly though the defeaning sound of the blow send her flying and frightened into the outside wall of the gas-station. A ring of fire burned in every direction...the deadly flame reflecting in her big eyes.

She coughed uncontrollably, crying and gasping in between. Though her vision blurred she could see the blood she coughed, the placement of his bite not thoughtful or planned. With the strike of lightning across the sky of this Hell...the light reflecting in her big eyes. The visions ebbed and blurred in her mind, once thought gone...but they never would be. And finally, it was all gone. Black, thoughtless, dreamless.

[Manic]

[bg=030203][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true] He came across her body quite suddenly - though perhaps not unexpectedly. All he saw was a heap cloth, snow, and flesh and by the lingering scent in the air he knew it had to be her. Eris. Head cocked to the side he advanced upon her still form half burrowed in the snow, pondering. Her neck was drenched in blood, a stark contrast against the snow - one he'd always liked. It had snowed before in Greece - just once. But he'd always liked how it felt - how it looked. And now Eris lay in a soft shroud, seeming all the more beautiful. The rain began trickling then, and he cast a glance skyward - it would soon turn to sleet, judging by the billowing clouds Manic stood over her thoughtfully, nudging her limp body softly with his steel-toed boot. It would no doubt have a bite to it, but in her current pathetic state she didn't react. This girl (for she reminded him so much of a little girl) had a talent for dying, apparently. He sighed and kneeled beside her when she didn't stir and pressed his fingers to the oozing wound on her neck - he knew she was alive purely by the fact that the blood still trickled at a regular pulse. Shaking his head rather disapprovingly, Manic drew from one of his many pockets a few long pieces of cloth - surprisingly clean for the Menagerie - and he found it almost a shame to waste a bandage on her distractingly mortal mortality. But he'd learned from day one to carry something to wrap wounds in, and he'd had his fair share of experiences going without. "Oh, Eris." He said and surprisingly gentle, went about his work of clearing her hair away from the wound and taking one of the cloths to wipe away the excess blood and dirt that had gotten in. He frowned at the amount of blood she seemed to have lost. There wasn't much spilled on the snow around her, but she seemed unnaturally weak for her usual endurance. Manic sighed, snapping out of his reverie and affixing the bandage around her neck and tying it tight enough to restrict the blood flow, with enough give for her to breathe. He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and wrapped it around her, breath coming out in puffs as the rain continued to fall. With that he scooped her fragile body up, touched by some semblance of her weakness - she was so like Leila in that moment, as her head fell against his chest, he could hardly breathe. It was like she'd come back to life in his arms, at his touch. Manic swallowed against the memories and the faint trace of happiness, whatever semblance he'd ever felt that threatened to overtake him. Conscious of the rain and her shivering body, he tucked the collar of his coat closer around her and held her close against his chest, ducking his head to see through the rain, that as he had predicted, had progressed into sleet and threatened to blind him. "Absolute madness," He hissed to himself, trudging off through the steadily growing storm. ________________________________________ ooc; I'm so out of it with Manic :c but but shall we move thread to Sewertown?