Break

"Had I known you were with him, I would have warned you..."

He shifted, just as uncomfortable as I was, keeping us back to back and at least with /some/ support other than the slimy, wet walls, and the rain slipping in from cracks and crevices above us. I merely hummed a soft response, not very interested in what he had to say /now./

"My apologies..."

Abduction

So bright.

Everything was so, so bright. 

Flames danced and curled within their casings, brilliant and radiant, illuminating the entire expanse of the great hall we had just been led into. 

Of course, only to be greeted by whom I could only assume to be the presiding 'noble' over the place. Either a king, a prince, an heir of some sort, or some gaudy rich boy who built himself a palace and declared himself king over it and the surrounding area. Surprisingly enough, the latter was a lot more common than one would expect. 

Naturally, he ignores me, goes straight for Merc, and only casts a sideways glance at Maelo and Casian. 

It's nothing but routine for me. 

What you don't know can't hurt you...

I see things
I see... I see scenarios
I see my best friend, struck by a dark, shadowy car, I see that friend covered in blood
I see myself, and for a moment out in the field walking home, it's as if I'm not actually there
It's as if
As if I'm standing in a dark, cellar room
Cold sweat dripping onto my toes
I can feel the hilt of a knife in my fingers
I've stopped walking.
I'm quivering.
I see it so vividly, layered just behind... Above... Below... I don't know but it's there.
Is almost as real as the grass under my shoes.
The voice is real, the sense of powerlessness is real, the command comes, and the scene dissipates quietly, leaving the cold of a knife buried in my chest just a sensation that wears away, a sensation I must put a hand over to prove its not real.
It's just a dream
A nightmare
A terror sent to grip me in the daylight

Perhaps, were I not so imaginative, I would not see these demonic visions.
Perhaps, had I nipped my creative streak in the bud early on, I wouldn't have seen my newest friend in a garish car accident at the crosswalk, and never seen the blood dripping down their face, stuck in their car.

It's always the ones I care about, too.
If I care, even the slightest inkling of care...
It latches onto it.
I see the floor collapsing under us, sending us flying towards rows and rows of hard plastic and cushion seats that would surely snap our necks at the bottom.

They can't see it, but I do, and I'm desperately pushing that image awa
But the more I touch it, the more it mutates
and suddenly the world is a horrific masterpiece of shadows and death.


No one else sees what I see when my mind touches the abyss.
They don't know.
And that, that is the good thing.
They'll never know, and likely won't experience what I saw.
There wasn't ever a moment when their blood stained the pavement
Nor ever a moment when I begged them to live, trying so hard but failing so hard, walking, and then stopping, in the middle of that field.
They won't ever know.

And that won't hurt them at all.

Blackbird

Light filtered through the water, illuminating her hair, the wisps of rose red flushed bright as the light touched them, suspended and swaying gently as they were in the soft underwater current.

She had sat like this for quite some time, her eyes glazed over, fixated upon the aquarium ceiling far above, with circles for lights and the occasional sprout of hanging moss, reaching and straining to reach the water down below, where she resided, shining fiery scales and fins alike, gills functioning perfectly, like clockwork, her body a machine to give her life under the surface.
This place, however, could not compare to the world beyond it.
No matter how beautiful it was kept, it's islets made for camping on, the deep water colony she was a part of down below her...
It wasn't quite home.
It wasn't freedom.

It wasn't the wide expanse of territory the seas or even a lake could offer...
Even if the man who had built it was kind, nursing each colony member to full health before introducing them to the group.

She was his favorite.
Claire, he called her, Claire like the piano song he played over a small speaker, always accompanying him, where he calmed her and kept her from panicking with each gentle touch, unwraveling the fishing net and wires from her, the bleeding scars being terrifying for her, especially as the ocean left her abandoned on the beach after high tide.
His favorite, the Scarlet beauty... The scarred beauty.
One of few who refused to do as most siren would do.
Manipulate her appearance. Trick some unsuspecting mortal into believing she was a beautiful maiden injured and needing assistance.
Refusing to lure someone to draw life force and strength from.
She was done. Dead.

And then he was there.
Compassionate, Merciful... Unlike any humanoid creature she had encountered, approaching unafraid, with hands outstretched and open, not hiding anything.
No weapons, no spears or machetes to cut her up with...
Just bare hands and a pocketknife.
And later, a similar looking... Brother appeared, his hair a startling black when compared to her savior's sunny blonde.

Time proved to be on her side, as did these two boys.
They took care of her, waiting for her injuries to heal before letting her graduate from a small body of water to her own little ecosystem to recover with, small fish flitting about her nervously, a budding reef her companion, and she took care of it well, just as those brothers took care of her.

It was a long while before she spoke back to them, their words ignored until she wished to communicate, And that was only months ago.
Since then she had grown accustomed to her new home, however small it and it's community was.
And by now, when she heard the soft whistling that accompanied the blonde's arrival, she floated eagerly to the surface for even a brief moment of conversation upon the edge of a miniature pier, her arms folded under her chin as she greeted him, just as old times, by playfully calling for him.
"Is that the blackbird I hear, singing his heart away once again? Best not to get those wings of yours wet, though do come to take a drink and stay awhile..."

Blood-Drunk

"Sweetheart, slow down, would you?"

Moonlight streamed through the mists, the crack of snapping twigs and rustling of brush echoing through the air, a leap and staggered breaths for a brief moment before the beat of footsteps returned to an equal pace, until the final moments, where the crash of leaves and a shrill shriek slid into the air.

He had caught her. Finally. The running had been rough on him, and scratches oozed blood and his breath came heavily, rough, but not nearly as fast and strained as hers.
Her struggle lasted mere seconds, seconds before he had her pinned down, sweat and blood mixing as he examined his catch.
Young, yes, but capable of safely yielding enough for him to thrive...
He wasn't hungry enough to drain her... Not yet.
He would have been, had his hunt lasted another few days...

He looked away from her terrified face, a face that clearly showed what she /thought/ was about to happen... Which wasn't.
His thumb caressed her wrist, seeking, his pupils widening with hunger as his sharp nail caught, and the smell of fresh blood filled the air, untainted by dirt, untainted by sweat...
His other hand pressed against her chest, keeping her pinned while he brought her wrist forward, cradling it to his lips as he let the sweet, sweet serenade of blood drip down his throat, all before he sunk his teeth deep, letting the serenade cascade, drowning him as her feeble cries for help became naught but a mere distraction. Fading away, and further away...

Until he was lost in the bliss of it all, the mess and glorious flavor...
Until her cries quieted, and the blood flow slower, stemmed, drying...
He withdrew, letting her hand fall as he stood, licking his lips and fingers clean, his fine dress now ruined, no longer good for formalities...
But no one would see him come back, alongside change...
Neither would they notice the absence of this fair young lady, whom he'd seduced and led away, away into the forest.
Carrying her now was the easiest part, her limp form almost weightless in his strengthened form, the run back to the palace so simple, just... A breeze in the wind.
And climbing the walls, to his guest room balcony...
Well.
That was simply... Cake.

It was where he took care to bandage her wound well, alongside slip into clean garments, washing himself clean of the remainder of the blood, his desire sated easily for now.
In a few days time, perhaps not as much, but... He'd had enough to sustain himself as he was now.

Slipping her back into her room was easy enough, and sleep came easily once he returned to his resting place, the stupor clouding his mind, the effects slipping deep into his limbs, blood-drunk.