Those in White Hoods (Nyx, and anybody else who wants to joi

Gabriel watched the beast move, as if it was naught but creeping darkness. Gabriel could sympathise with the creature, it was one of the night, as he was, and it was a friend of the darkness, although Gabriel had a deep bond with the shadows, this creature had a much stronger one. Gabriel wondered in a split second, a moment, one might say, that the beast may only be here, to keep it self a live, it did not seem to be doing harm, but that book, something about that book, made it fear for itself, and it would silence the target.

She wriggled a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. He had been staring at her for some time now, his eyes clouded in deep thoughts. The girl wondered about what he was thinking, she guessed he was estimating her. Assuming that his stare made an attempt at peering into her soul. A small memory of dark, scorching eyes flashed through her mind for a second. Ilena tried not to think about that other stranger; he had made an enormous impact on her already, she didn’t want to get all weird again. Though, Ilena had to admit, she was very curious to know where he had traveled to. Even more did she want to know who he was; the man, who had saved her life and demanded nothing in exchange.

Her eyes focused again, ears intensively tried to pick up every word he said as he whispered from where he sat at the entrance opening. Well, that question was quite simple to answer; everything. Ilena wanted to know all of what was going on. Her eyes narrowed when she gazed back at his form. “Who are you? Why are you here?”, she started, pondering what to ask next, “and, more importantly, why would someone I don’t know protect me?” She seriously wondered why he would do that. What kind of reason, maybe reasons, would a person need to go protect someone he didn’t know?

Skill watch as dies started to lead a shadow, he assumed was the monster, to the left out of his range of vision. He stared out into the night as moment by moment his mind churned the words in his mind as he tried and force his hart to once again be subject to it’s master to allow ambiguity to rain once more with every passing moment this struggle was being one like an empire giving it’s final crouching blow to an up rising.

It started with in the moment that he ansured the girl’s first question “I am Skill”. Then in the next moment the battle started to go badly the rebels attack suddenly, when victory had been near and the emotion fully grabbed him and flooded thru out his heart to his soul for a moment. This moment happen in the middle of the next ansure. ”I am here…………because I was sent to protect you” in the next moment the battle turned in his favor as the rebellion was beat into submission by pure force of will it died down to a small emberk but no matter how hard he tried the ember would not die.And skill greatly feared that the ember was gust waiting to rise once again to life like a phoenix out of the ashes. The next moment he ansured the question in his normal dry, raspy, hoarse voice “and I am going to protect you because dies told me to”

Directly overhead hung the moon, like the leering eye of some witch who watched with eager joy the monstrous things that transpired in her bubbling cauldron as it came to a boil. It's light settled on everything, that pale bluish white glow that made the world seem almost as if it were covered in water. It was through this light that the dark, black mass followed the book, for it was not the being holding the small leather-bound novel that caused even an atom of interest to spring up in the child-like mind that governed the shifting, glistening creature. No, it longed instead for the pages, ancient sheets of parchment that called to it with a mournful cry that it could only return. If one has ever heard the sound of a whale's song, they will begin to understand the piteous strains of ethereal music that the now small, humanoid beast emitted into the night. The sound echoed and reverberated all around, like the sound of dreams calling to one another...

In contrast, the creature, the vampire which held the book moved with complete silence. Not the sound of his feet touching the rooftops, nor the swish of his long coat as it floated into the air behind, nor even the sound of ragged breathing, which would have been present were any other being to attempt the exertions that he made, allowed the air to tremble. If the atmosphere truly had been turned to water then he was, perhaps, some swift and silent fish luring its prey into waiting jaws of steel that were all too prepared to clamp shut. And the bait, a small book, clutched firmly in that claw-like grasp. Not a single page fluttered, so tightly was it held, and yet with all the delicacy of a butterfly grasping a leaf which it hangs onto for dear life. Having reached the final rooftop, he looked back for the first time, casting backwards a short glance that was accompanied by the smallest of smiles. One might have said that a light of triumph could be seen to gleam in those black eyes, or perhaps it was a reflection of the moon. After all, was he not still being chased by a giant beast which could have only had birth in the greatest of nightmares?

Lightly, Diaes descended to the ground, a single leap carrying him to the street which laid before the church's open door. It was a wide street, cobbled unevenly, the stones having shifted over time so that they no longer lied against one another with the snugness which they used to possess. The lamps, powered as they were by electricity, threw their yellow light all around so that no shadow was able to rest about the entrance to that sacred place. Yet, the darkness seemed to cling to the clothes of that creature, that child of the night, as though it were unwilling to let him go, or at least that it was determined not to allow him to face the light alone. Rapid steps brought him towards the orifice of the building which laid unbarred. Skill rested there, his attention turned inward. The man had been badly injured that day, but the vampire's own concentrations were equally turned away from his partner.

The black being had followed. It stood now, perched atop that last building, staring downwards into the broad roadway. It remained just beyond the reach of the lights, so that it assumed its larger more intimidating form. Thus, looming, the beast watched, like an animal who has come to the end of a hunt, every movement that the Nosferatu made. When finally its quarry had come to a halt within a couple steps of the church, the monstrosity waited a moment more before slowly drifting down to lay its now human sized foot upon the cobblestones. In the previous sentence, the word drifted is used to describe the specific motion that caused the ink-dark, shape-shifting creature that has before been visualized in greater detail; however, this action shall perhaps been seen in a better light if further analyzed. In appearance, the movement was akin to a shadow, being stretched by the light. One long leg became extended by this distortion until it touched the ground and was proceeded, slowly and gracefully, by the rest of the figure. In summation, the woman-like form that now stood at the edge of the lighted pathway seemed to have merely stepped down out of a carriage onto the road where her body now took up its temporary residence.

Skill, eh. And then there was that Diaes.. Ilena didn’t really know what to think about it, whether she should feel happy being protected even though she did not know why and neither who desired her safety; or, should she be worried, even frightened? After all, what kind of stranger would order something like this? Even more so, what sort of reason would a stranger need to protect someone? She tried not to think of all the terrible possibilities. A sudden very Mary Sue-like feeling crept up her spine; the last twenty-four hours she had been saved many times already. Bizarre. Maybe it was one of those rare days when everything seems to work out for the good. Or something like that. The grip on her sword unconsciously tightened at the unexpected visitor as Skill subdued the little enemy. In a short lapse of time he seemed to have more or less defeated the stubborn opponent, a rebel; though apparently he basically refused to be killed. Because of his stance and gaze she hadn’t dared to ‘help’ him. Not that she could fight anyway, but it is the gesture that counts, no?

“There are bandages and medical stuff in the back”, she told him concerned, although none of it could be detected in her voice. That she presented him the opportunity to heal on itself was an indicator of worry. He didn’t look that well to be honest, not at all. When Gabriel had tried to heal her, she had somewhere in her dazed state noticed all sorts of medical equipment laying there. This was rather logical, of course, seeing as he hunts vampires. Though she doubted he got severely wounded that much.. Naturally, he just ‘puts’ himself back together, but she wondered if he ever had experienced a situation that wasn’t easy to deal with. What she had found even more remarkable was how the weak man after his death, it stayed a very odd event to ponder about, had become such a beautiful and terrible being. Ilena didn’t think she could ever forget those burning eyes. Those eyes, that seemed to pry inside her very soul. “And Skill”, she frowningly asked the most expected question of all, altough a small hint of nervousness hid in her voice at the uncertainty of using the man's name, “could you tell me who that Diaes guy is?” She was very curious, it was a name she had never heard before. Diaes.. It was one of those names that had a certain sound, a certain ring that seemed to repeat itself in your head, on your lips. Not caring if you even wanted to keep hearing those same syllables over and over again.

The white haired vampire that once stood upon the derelict building, was now no where to be seen. The lights within the churh suddenly died, the energy they gave off extinguished. The door swung shut, and two, flickering red lights appeared on the far wall. The lights moved, in a swaying motion, as they seemed to get bigger, as the moved closer. The lights flashed back on, if for only a second, and gave a very quick illuminate view of the lights, they were receptive organs, that created images using the light, but the only light in the church, were the two, most commonly known as, eyes.
Some more, lighter objects appeared below the eyes, they were grinning, the teeth glistened in the unnatural light created by the creatures eyes. The fanged teeth were covered over by only slightly red chunks of flesh, as they weaved in and out, "Diaes, is familiar to you, Ilena. He is one of the only vampires to which you have had the misfortune of meeting." The lights flickered again, as they started to come back on, revealing the creature in the room, to be the same white haired vampire, which had so reluctantly left the holy building.

Skill continued to stair out into the night seeking to see if he could detect any thing that he would be required to “protect” the girl from. Blood had begun to pool where he sat and drip down the front steeps. He listened to her words with out ever turning around. He heard her offer of help he considered it for only a moment, but no not in this place, he would not receive any help even vicarisly from that “punk” a word which he stated underneath his breath.

Then came the next moment where in he heard a question he had never expected to hear. (That’s wired) he thought not the question, but the fact he did not expect it. It was a logical question to ask. Maybe it was the way Dieas had commanded him with such vigor that he had assumed a deeper connection; in fact maybe there was one but only on his side (interesting) he thought.

Skill voice became hard as he spoke, “He’s a monster like all vampires, he’ll do anything to get what he wants.” Skill then surprised him self with the next word’s to come out of his mouth thowe when he said them he sowed no emotion.” A word of warning if you travel with a vampire you will either be destroyed by the darkness that naturally finds them” he hesitated for a moment and then finished sentence “you’ll allow there darkness to consume your heart” if the girl had been a bull to see his eye’s there would have been a far off look in them the look someone get’s when there remembering there past. Unlike most people thowe when this happened his voice did not drop off at the end of his sentence.

In the next instant Diaes was there standing in the light of the church and then there stood the beast it morphed from it’s incorporeal state to that of a woman.(what the heck is he doing) he wondered for a second then the moment of inspiration hit like a spark hitting gasoline and the flames of anger sprung up inside skill as he shouted out to his boss. “You son off a *****, tell me what your planning next time” and then in the next moment he laughed with all of his injures it hurt so much, but he couldn’t stop himself. The irony of what he had just said combined what he just relised.

But the laughter was soon cut short as he saw the kin killer run inside the building and he new what was next but he couldn’t stop it. CRRRUNNNCh the sound echoed thru the building as the door slammed shoot on his left feamer bone shattering it completely. This pain unlike when he had fallen before did not fade. The pain forced him to do two things out of his own volition first he bit down on his lip so hard that he bit right thure it forcing his mouth to fill with blood. Secondly it caused him to shed a single tear because of the shear pian of it. There where few injures that could now cause him to react like this.

Skill choose to burn the pain up in anger. first he spue out such a string of profanity that it would force a sailor to blush in shame of it all. And then with his good lag he kicked the doors open. And stair in wonder at what had taken place at those few moment’s.

In the moment before the door had been so abruptly closed, Skill might have seen an interesting sight. Facing each other across the street, those two figures, those beings of darkness stood and appeared to merely converse in their own odd manner. While the vampire seemed to speak, he was turned away from the church, and no sound of what he might have been communicating made its way into the building. In reply, the woman, whose form blended so perfectly with the shadows that acted as her shroud, didn't move, but in front of her strands of black thread like the elaborate writing which could be found upon an illuminated manuscript hung upon the air which had become like the medium that they would normally rest upon. So it would seem that the two conversed without sound or conventional language. However, the discourse was cut off from view when the door slammed shut under the force of Gabriel's will. Yet, when the entrance was again opened to stare out upon the scene, an end had come to the previous state of things. Now, the black form watched with great intent and what might be helplessness as one of the pale hands brought forth the book and held it so that it sat open in the palm of that Nosferatu. Before him, upon the sheet, laid several lines, the only words to be found in the tome.

Diaes' hand waved and arced through the air above the parchment as though it was wielding one of those inky machinations so commonly used to immortalize the words produced by the human mind and tongue that is so vulgarly fashioned as a pen. Upon the pages so yellow and worn, however, is where the miracle transpired as the dark symbols crept across the page to join those already there. It was as the last marking seeped into place that the solid black creature rather suddenly melted once again into a puddle.

On this occasion, like the last, it approached the book and the being which held the precious artifact, but, unlike the last time, its target did not retreat. Audaciously, the vampire stood and watched as the black, watery form crept across the space between them, and thence flowed up his leg, over his torso, down his arm, and onto the pages for which it had so longed. Soon, the once blank surfaces were now so thoroughly saturated as to be completely black and quite wet looking, all, that is, except for the page upon which the words remained as the child of the night had placed them moments ago.

With what might have been a self-satisfied smile, Diaes closed the book and, slipping it into the prodigious folds of his coat, began to turn, but, as he did so, his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated. Blood... For whatever reason, he had not, before now, appeared to notice, but suddenly and horrifyingly, the revelation came...

When the rage takes a vampire, a true wampyr, a Nosferatu, it is a thing which even the gods of the old world should fear. Though the earth may tremble and shake away the parasites which rest upon its surface, fires burn all life to the ground, and the waters of the deep engulf the lands of this world, none can compare to that ferocity which neither heaven nor hell will fathom. Yet, in his eyes was that divine light so beautifully and terribly mixed with the fiery hunger of the netherworld.

He lunged forward. A growl like that of a wolf escaping his lungs and ripped through the air with a burst as he did so, as if even it feared to remain in the path of its own creator. The claws on his hands had never seemed sharper, the pointed teeth never gleamed brighter, the wild eyes never raged so fiercely as they did in that moment, or so it would seem. A single leap hurtled him bodily over Skill and left him bounding into the church. As that child of the night, that demon in human form, landed, there was a rather sudden transformation. At the exact moment in which Diaes had passed over his comrade, the man had once again become whole. Even the former special agent's clothing had returned to a state of repair, and the hairs upon his head appeared freshly combed as he himself might have set them himself were he given the chance. The vampire, too, seemed to have undergone as simple a removal from affliction as had his partner, but it would not have taken a quick eye to notice that all the blood which had just been staining the door frame and steps had apparently vanished, and that the left hand was no longer pale as it had been before but was instead soaked in crimson. A coating that ran up the length of his arm as it disappeared into his sleeve.

Slowly, he raised to his mouth that appendage in the same way he might raise a glass of wine, but no toast was offered as his lips parted, the teeth pulled away, a jagged, ivory portcullis opening to allow the tongue passage into the light. Tentatively, the sensory organ of taste reached out to touch so delicately the life bestowing liquid. Eyes closed in near ecstasy, the creature, the man ran his tongue along the length of his hand, from the base of his palm to the tip of his index finger. There he lingered for a moment, reluctant to separate himself from the soul substance upon this earth capable of providing sustenance to his body. Like a connoisseur slowly sipping at a rare vintage, at once enraptured by its beauty and sorrowful in the knowledge that it will too quickly cease to be, did Diaes proceed to slowly clean away Skill's blood from his hand. Beauty and barbarism, so perfectly at one, did, in that moment, find a home in the image of this man standing just within the door of that holy place, a shadow cast upon the air, a fallen angel once again so close to heaven, a beautiful beast surrounded at once by light and shadow.

The white haired one, Gabriel, he was called. An ironic name for a creature such as he, a vampire, an avatar of the gods of death. Gabriel, a name used several times in the book that provided basic instructions before leaving earth, more commonly know by the christians as the Bible. The vampire watched the other of his species, his kin almost, even if they had no relation, consume the life giving substance. The red muscle, that resided within the oral cavity of the body, moved to cover the vampires fangs in one movement. Gabriel shook his head, placing his hand on a nearby surface.
"I must leave, i shall return momenterily..." Gabriel announced, as he stumbled into a different room. He opened a large container, similar to a fridge. It contained bottles of the crimson liquid, the same used to sustain life in living creatures, and to give such life to the dead. The live giving substance was stored in several pack like containers, similar to those used in Hospitals. The white haired Nosferatu could not restrain himself. He ripped the top of a pack open with his fangs, using his tongue to catch the blood as it exploded from the opening. He downed it as fast as gravity would allow, tossing the pack into a nearby bin. Gabriel returned to his original posture, he had gone almost a week without human blood, and he had snapped, watching Diaes drink. Gabriel closed the container, and returned to his companions.

Her eyes rolled annoyed at Skill’s warning, a small inaudible sigh strengthening the impolite gesture. Seriously, she understood vampires were dangerous, lethal creatures and all that; but come on, ‘allowing darkness to consume your heart’? Ridiculous. Almost sounded like a bad story to scare off difficult children who want to wreak havoc and stubbornly refuse to sleep. Still that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in the other thing, about the Diaes guy, he had said. He hadn’t revealed much, only that what could be considered to be the obvious. There were a lot of people in the world who certainly were determined enough to do whatever it takes to obtain exactly what they want; vampires probably weren’t exceptions. And Ilena gathered they looked rather human. Or at least the few she had encountered did. Well, frightening were Gabriel, and even more that other one, with ease. Then why wasn’t she cowering, scared to death, in a dark corner somewhere in this holy building? Why didn’t she run away? She had seen how Gabriel killed vampires by ripping their throats, hence decapitating them with his teeth, and she witnessed how an exceedingly strong vampire simply returned from Death. On top of that had that last one more or less saved her life. An eventful day, indeed…

Her reflexes were too slow; not unexpected from a mere human. Ilena would have done anything to avoid seeing what happened now. The door already had rammed open, letting the holy vamp in and crushing Skill’s leg in the process before she could quickly turn her eyes away. Blood splattered everywhere and the horrible, sickening sound of shattering bone echoed through the church and her ears as it splintered into tiny fractions. Pieces stuck upward, showing their pointy ends as they pierced through his now terribly hurt skin and flesh. An enormous wave of nausea mercilessly hit her, upsetting her stomach as it had never done before. Not good. The girl stumbled a few steps back, carelessly letting the sword slip out of her hand’s grasp and fall with a clattering sound on the stone floor, as she frantically moved the hand to cover her mouth. Sweat beads appeared on her brow, she barely withstood the highly unwanted urge to vomit. ‘Please, don’t vomit. I don’t want to. Please, don’t…’ She desperately pleaded herself. Trying to calm, the human backed off to a nearby cold wall. Her hand tightened its iron grip on her mouth as she almost gagged again, her frame supported with the other arm that futilely tried to grab flat stone. Absolute disgust was written on her face. And to her “sheer” amusement a pounding headache decided to spread its reign inside her skull. Fantastic.

Barely did she hear what Gabriel had said, though even in her sickly terror his words faintly made their way towards her mind. All vampires she had met until now, that she knew off, were murdered by the hunter. No more than two left. Her eyes widened in realization, only to narrow down again in suspicion. It didn’t make any sense. Why would he order someone to protect her? Was he afraid she would idiotically spoil the gift he had so freely bestowed upon her? A slight growl rippled from her throat. Trying to find the reason only succeeded in changing her mood from more or less normal to real chagrin, because she could not find a logical one. She obviously did not want to think about him, seeing as she already felt miserable right now without receiving the extra help from one vampire’s seemingly, Ilena did not believe he was the kind of person that did things without reason, irrational acts.

She quickly glanced towards Skill, which was a very bad idea. A new, though smaller, attack of nausea assaulted her stomach once more at the sight of the extremely painful wound. Then it was gone. Of course, being who she was and having ‘her kind’ of luck, a certain vampire had suddenly raged through the large entrance and leapt over the man. He seemed to have been fully healed. The blurry figure stopped, crimson drops falling off his hand. It was him. She intensely watched those perfect features, although even more was she staring at the dark eyes that she knew to be able to contain a fire, more scorching than perhaps the very depths of Hell. The view of him, Diaes, so hungrily lapping up the warm blood that covered his hand stunned her. Only now did she realize how.. Beastly vampires actually were. So mesmerized was she, by the open display of his nature, that the girl had hardly noticed Gabriel’s sudden absence until he returned. Things were fastly getting more and more complicated. A mix of anger and annoyance at not understanding the situation reached her mind. “Now”, she started heatedly from the pityful place at the wall, her weak voice gaining strength, “could someone, please, tell me what the hell is going on here?!”. She irately watched each of the three men.

To be healed by arcane meathead’s is to only feel the void inside ones self. It is to only feel the darkness of your hart it is to feel the dark void which we all create to draw into it the pain of the hart. Become o so real and swallow up the body’s pain until it is simply not there. There is no wham glow of love and joy which pushes out the pain as when healed by holly means. This is a healing that god him self call’s a sin. And the receiver of this dark curing is the one that feel’s the shame of it. There is peace or strength found only the appseance of pain. It is in every seans of the term a hallow heeling.

With this Felling of hollowness of pure emptiness that occupied skill as his newly healed body stood up. This is the darkness that Skill had spoke of before this is, the blackness he would do anything to protect this girl cringing in the corner still susceptible to the gore that the 3 men saw two with lust and one without a second tought. And he would try and save her from this because he had come to realized if he saved her, he would in some way save a part of him self. He had herd her sigh it was the response he would have given if some one had tried to tell him the something of that nature. He reseld in his mind as to what would cause him to do what he was a bought to ask her to do, and only one possibility came to him.

Skill walked over on his newly healed leg, the first step was almost tentive of the pain that the mind still expected before the law’s of natchur had been over ridden he slowly stooped and scooped up with his left hand, the gun he had tossed to the floor earlier. Each steep brought him closer to the bloodsucker.

When skill finally reached Dieas, he stood abreast to him took his right hand and placed it over Dieases shoulder’s and with a slightly malice grin on his face an said “Yes Plateaus old friend tell us exactly what the hell is going on here. Also if I could have some bullet’s and a pen and paper” he said turning his right had in a position of some one ready to reseave a something” I would greatly apreasheate it”. Skill new that this was a petty moment, of slight revenge was immature, and somewhat childish, but he didn’t care infact he allmost raveled in it, in only the way a friend can enjoy tourchering another friend.

With agonizing slowness, more agonizing to look at almost than even the pain of the one who acted out those very motions, the vampire separated himself again from the scarlet stream that flowed thickly down his arm. The appendage dropped like the pendulum of a broken clock to hang at his side, and for a moment there was a look about him of defeat, self-loathing, and dissatisfaction, emptiness. But like all moments do at some point or another pass away, a second's breadth stole that image and chose to show him somewhat composed as he turned his sad, dark eyes to look upon the man whom he had healed. The kind of minuscule smile that graced his facial features was of the manifestation so tortured and heartbroken that it could cause the person who saw it to feel their heart dissolve within them, as though it became sorrow itself and began flowing through their veins to bring an unwanted warmth and pain with its every beating.

"You deserve at least that, My Friend," melancholic would be a pitiful way to describe the voice which so smoothly and easily slithered from in between the thin, red lips. It was like music from a far off distance, music that rent at the listener's sanity with haunting strains like blood woven into a crimson tapestry before the eyes, so it assaulted the ears and the mind, a dark thing to be sure, and yet a sensation that was, once touched, forever longed for afterward. If it is possible that there exists anywhere a pain that was so sweet as to impress upon the one tasting it to desire only more even should it bring their very soul to death's door, it must have been distilled from the voice that spoke now to the man who called himself Skill.

Diaes reached up his own right hand and lightly gripped the shoulder of his partner. The icy quality of his skin could be felt even through the man's clothing, but instead of the death-like steel of the grip which the creature could have imposed should he have chose to do so, there was only a gentle squeeze. The temperature about them suddenly dropped by many degrees and a faint breeze seemed to carry the chill outward in what might have been described as an aura of hair-raising fear. It was as if even nature itself was horrified at the thing which it too witnessed defying the essence of that which it was.

"Put down your weapon, Anthony," the pale claw moved down from his shoulder and pointed the muzzle of Skill's gun towards the ground, "The time for battle is done now. We shall leave these in peace. Already, too much has happened this night which should not have." His eyes turned to the girl, a deep, black look overtaking his those midnight shaded pools as he fixed them upon her own. Black-lashed lids flashed down over the disturbing vision, and when once again they opened his gaze focused upon the only other human in the room again, and in a them was contained a purposeful look for Skill alone that spoke at once trust and perhaps even command. As he did so, the left hand, still slightly wet with blood proffered to his friend a small item which appeared to be a small notepad and with it a strangely shaped pen. "Do what you must," those words were somehow both comforting and those of a friend and threatening at once, but to whom the danger of the words was intended was as unclear as the actual presence of the being which spoke them.

Releasing his hold upon Skill, the Nosferatu turned towards that other being who named himself 'Holy Vampire'. The cold did not fade as he did so, but became more profound. It was not a frozen state of the air, but rather of the mind. The nerves told of cold, but it was that which proceeded from fears rather than that of the atmospheric temperature. His eyes narrowed slightly and any lines in the stone-like face were suddenly etched away to leave only sharp angles to cast shadows across that which was not already covered by a dark cloud of hair. Deeper yet were the eyes, eyes into whom all light seemed to drain as does the water rushing down into the depths of a cistern to meet the murk below. The delicate head cocked slowly to one side. He merely stood there, staring. Arms hang down to the sides, shoulders held high and straight, what could have been a question on the face. A drop of blood dripped off of the edge of his left hand's coat cuff. As it hit the floor it seemed to echo and as it splashed it was as if it bloomed into fire and then settled again into a tiny pool.

“Fine. Just great”, she muttered furiously through gritted teeth as she harshly clenched a fist in a pointless attempt to more or less let out her frustration. Her normally rather cold or curious eyes now turned into what could be named two raging sources of scorching inferno, although ‘extremely poisonous glare’ would be quite fitting too here. To put it simple; Ilena absolutely loathed to be kept in ignorance of something she desperately wanted to know. And this.. Occurrence, happened to be exactly one of those things. The fact that the object, or better, person, of her so evident frustration was simply standing there, gazing at her, certainly did not improve her mood. Like hell it didn’t. She was definitely not the most patient of all people, but a human can only take so much until the tolerance is gone. Currently, her tolerance had dashed merrily away. Obviously.

The girl started to turn her back towards the strangers, eyeing the entrance. Perhaps a wrong move; she let the path to a free attack open, actually almost invited an attack. Ilena could care less, at the moment the female was too consumed by frustration and anger that even if a bomb destroyed the church and whole town with all its inhabitants, she would still not waste as little as an instance on caring about it. With livid, heavy steps she began to tramp towards the entrance, which was the exit too at the same time. She didn’t even like churches in the first place. The so called holy buildings always gave her a creeping feeling. And then you still got those priests. Bloody child molesters, that’s what they were and did all day long with those schoolboys who came to receive, by force or not, salvation for their sins that were, most likely, not that bad anyway. Ilena hated them, those priests. There had been a time when she thought she could stay in the local church at night. She had quickly changed her mind when it became clear that she was not wanted there in any way; the man, whom she expected to be the priest, had shut the door right before her nose all the while yelling with a thundering voice that the filth of the street should not stain the House of God with its dirty hands. So much for trying to get a sleeping place at night.

But that was in the past; right now she had simply set her mind on walking outside and getting some fresh air. Ilena realized that if she did not get out of this stone place soon, she would explode. Which did not seem to be a good idea; with the vampires and, no doubt, well-fighting human, who knew what would happen then.

Gabriels head tilted to the left as he watched the young teenager storm for the exit. "Going somewhere, Ilena?" He asked, watching her stomp. He didn't move, but he was twitching, as if in an instant he would be at someones throat, ready to seperate it from their body with his teeth. Gabriel did not like the air that had taken HIS church by storm. The emotion that the tiny particles of gas carried with them, it filled his heart with such an emotion, one that could only be called resentment. "Human, Diaes. I ask why you came here tonight, why you led that thing here. You are pushing my sanity out of the window and off of a cliff..." Gabriel asked, still watching Ilena as she made her way to the exit.

Skill smirked at the last comment made by Gabriel, as he released him self from Dieas, walked to the door, left the building, and walked out side of the church with Ilena, not saying one word to either bloodsucker.

Once out side he turned so she could see him, and made a quite comedic gesture of fangs then pointed to his ear, with his hand flat and shook it back and forth and then shook his head side words this was all done to convey his desire for privisey.

After walking a few block’s to where they would be primarily out of the keen ear shot of the vampires, he started to speak in his low gravely voice wail they continued to walk. “This is what I know Dieas’ aquatint was having a problem in his library a few miles from here” as he said this moved his head in the general vicinity. “We got there” he continued “he said it was going to be a while, I asked if it was going to involve mostly magic, he said yes. I curdled up in an armchair and took a nap. Woke up he said it was time to go we left. Giant black ink monster chased us I threw Dieas in a lake for his safety, dulled with it awhile. It stated to get dark, and I followed the stream here hoping to find him after dark so he could take care of it and the rest you know. As he said these things’s he continued to make eye contact with the girl as she walked beside him.

Dark eyes narrowed to mere slits in the pale moon that was the face of that ageless vampiric being, twin crevices caused by still smoldering meteors. They were directed at another, an entity of a similarly dark nature to that of their owner. Perhaps it was anger or annoyance that there showed themselves or maybe it was some emotion that no word has managed to capture and wrap in its defining embrace. It was calm, and yet dangerous. Quietude was its form, and placidity encompassed the field and expanse of its host's body. The fingers of his right hand moved in a wave-like fashion, each touching its tip to that of the thumb in turn, starting from the smallest finger and working their way along the line only to begin again. It was as though he were playing some sort of soothing music on an unseen instrument which only he could hear.

He did not avert his glance either when the other spoke or when his own accomplice left. He made no sign, but it was obvious that he wished to speak, to convey some message to this other of his kind. Thin, red lips pulled viciously tight across a full set of teeth, honed to individual points. A breath, like that of a dying man's final sigh, escaped slowly from his mouth carrying with it the sent of the grave, a thing which had not been present yet about him. The air seemed to become uneasy in its proximity to his body. Beginning to attempt escape, it whirled about him in a fearful manner. Light seemed to fade, as though it had been attached to the sun yet it had been delayed by fascination with these strange events and only now was made to realize that it should follow its master. This was even that cast by electrical lamps, even the highly technologically advanced illumination devices employed by Gabriel held no power against that which stood there, a fully recognized emissary of Hell itself.

"Tell me," that melodic voice could have been a whisper or a shout, a scream even. It was so hard to tell. Elusive and with frantic power it tore through the barriers of reality, being at once more terrible and more beautiful than any sound emitted by those things of nature meant to walk upon this earth. "What do I owe to you?" it was such a peaceful way of putting the thought into its spoken manifestation, and yet the hearing of it was quite violent, as though it were in itself some kind of accusation. "What dept to you call me to repay with this information?" quite frankly, it was an intriguing question. It was thoughtful and forceful at once, and this time, it was deadly. For sure his tone and manner had become soft and friendly, set finally after that first rage of the storm. Yet, no smile sat on the features which had only moments before born happiness.

Another drop dislodged itself from the cuff of his left hand's sleeve and descended towards the ground. Imperceptible to a normal human's spectrum of knowledge and sensory perception, the drop slowed by perhaps a millisecond on its course and when it impacted the ground the splash which it created was far less expressed than it would have naturally been. Still, what a person with incredibly keen attention may have noticed was the minuscule flair of the nostrils or that infinitesimal twitch which crawled suddenly under the right eye of the Child of the Night. And what they would have feared most was that spasm which only lasted for the fraction of a moment in whence there was in the eyes of the vampire an explosion of unearthly fire as though reflected from some great depth. Of course, it was not the coming of the flames that would have been so alarming to any true hunter of the Nosferatu but the sudden suppression and the lack of strain upon he who would quell it, for this was strictly impossible for any vampire of such bearing and power. Blood was the call to them, the overpowering force, at once their greatest ally and enemy entwined. This beast had just exhibited the ability to defy his own nature.

Once outside she took a deep, calming breath and ran her hand through some of the blond tresses that had fallen before her eye. Why Skill walked with her outside too, she did not know and honestly, Ilena was rather very annoyed by it. These guys certainly had their own ‘special’ way of overexerting her nerves in record time. Her mouth twisted into a derisive sneer as her head turned towards the man. Who was right now doing a silly vampire impression?

Completely confused, the girl decided to just follow the man as he walked further. She listened intently when Skill started about Diaes. Ilena simply gazed back into his eyes; if this was going to turn in some sort of staring contest she would not back off. Though it kind of unsettled her that he just kept continuing the eye contact. Yet again another thing she wondered about. His 'story' was.. Interesting, so to say. That he even seemed to expect that she would believe this. She slightly tilted her head his way as she opened her mouth, “Wow, wow.. Look, if you’re trying to be funny; you aren’t. Hell, you claim that you threw him in a lake after some sort of inky monster of doom hunted you guys?! Seriously. First of all, how could someone like Diaes need something like ‘safety’. Isn’t he more or less immortal? So, nothing can happen to him, right.”, She huffed in a very teenager-like manner.

The moon stood high above the two, as they walked on the street’s of the town. Skill thought, a bought his word’s he was going to say, for a moment he broke his eye contact with Ilena “No im not being funny” his Voice took on a softer tone wall still being some what firm. “If I was you would be laughing” he said in a joking matter as they continued to stroll down the streets. “And as for the part a bought dying; it’s a b****. Plus it cut’s down on a lot of time when you have to wait for night to come back” he continued thinking over his word’s carefully “that’s what I do for Dieas I keep him alive during the day, and as to the creature I expected id throw him in kill it pull him out……..as you can see not every thing went according to plan” the last line left off with a sicker at the end

She slightly chuckled as he finished talking. “I guess you’re right”, a slight smile now lit up her face, most of her previous anger having disappeared. “Though I do hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble…”, the girl half-muttering said, “What I just don’t get is why he would send you to protect me while you should be doing that for him.” Ilena continued to simply walk next to him, not knowing where they went. She could imagine it must be very annoying; to die and wait until the next day arrives. It was such a strange thought again; she also wondered about what it must feel like, dying. Though she guessed she would know that sooner or later. A concerned gaze swept over her eyes; Ilena realized she’d have to do more than simply her best to survive all of this. As a human, she didn’t think she could make it. Well, at some point she’d make a terrible mistake that would ultimately cause her own death. In the worst case scenario of course. Yet, Skill seemed to be able to deal with all of this.. She quickly glanced his way. He seemed rather healthy still. Then the stomach-flipping image of not too long ago appeared before her eyes again. The girl breathed deeply, trying to make the returning nausea stop in its path of raging sickness. It more or less worked. Luckily. “Hey Skill”, she started pensively, “how do you do this? I mean.. I can imagine that ensuring Diaes’ health must be fairly difficult”, it was interesting, to say the least, how a human takes care of one as strong as said vampire.

As skill spoke his answer into the air, he smiled slightly and replied “how as in, what ability allows me do this" then another thought entered his mind "or how, as in why do I do it?” as he spoke the last line he cracked his neck subconsciously, the thought of why uncased him and he need to do something to do to distract his mind from the thought, lest he would dwell on it.

"Perhaps", she paused a bit, considering the amount of her raging curiosity, "both would be great, I think." She continued to walk there, next to him. It was quite enjoyable, making her remember past times when she used to simply wander around the city. Ilena actually kind of missed those yelling traders and the hateful face they made when she stole something. Talking about food; she was a bit hungry. And even the prostitutes were strangely absent here, although the girl was rather glad they weren't pushing themselves against her body right now. And home.. That filthy house probably shouldn't be given the honour of being called 'home', it was more of a place to stay so she wouldn't get herself in too much trouble, than anything else. Still, Ilena found herself trying to remember what it looked like. The old door, cracks in the wall and the moist that seemed to spread everywhere, though that one wasn't really a nice memory. As if some invisible cue had been given, her eyes suddenly seemed to snap out of the endless stare. She gazed at Skill again. What a strange man, or better, human taking care of a vampire. It almost seemed like a joke, Ilena really didn't know how he was able to keep up with all of it.

And nature itself would shun him for it. Folds of darkness wrapped about him like bolts of cloth again and again, obscuring the edges of his form. Slowly, he became less defined, as though the artist who had first put etched him upon the air had decided that the erasure and redrawing of his creation were necessary now. The eyes were held upon that other vampire for moments and moments only before with a lethargic speed, they sadly turned away. With them, the body and its garments made some sort of revolution, turning as if it meant to leave. Death-like that animated corpse seemed as the color about it faded, and even in this 'holy' place the darkness swallowed it. Yet there it was, as solid as any phantom or figment ever could be, as real as any half remembered occurrence or fleeting thought.

Raven colored hair flowed like a darkened, muddy stream down his back, almost meshing with his large coat lake a mane of fur. How bestial it did appear, this nightmare without figure or form. Vision swam and bucked around it like a maelstrom of thoughts suddenly sought to forever banish this dark muse from the corridors of the mind. Perhaps it was this place, rebelling against a thing that it did not want. Perhaps it was heaven, condemning a lost soul. Or perhaps it was a man, hiding from the truth. Whatever it was, it took him to the door. Like so many times before that night, he stopped before the door, and looked up at the barring wooden gates... They were heavy, immaculately created and ancient. They had seen many people, many actions, many days, these doors. A story was virtually written into their surfaces. One hand gently reached out to caress the smooth, old grain. The sharply pointed fingers ran down, tracing through what grooves were left, like rain traces the cracks and fissures in a building, like blood traces the gaping wound of a dying soldier.

The voice came from a different place, somewhere far away. It could only be heard as though it were spoken through some window, distorted by the glass which does separate two worlds. No longer did it hold any edge, hidden or obvious, only a thoughtful sort of reminiscence. "Do you know, Gabriel, Servant of god, that the only difference between the Light and the Darkness is a simple choice?" like echoes in a cave did each syllable drip wetly upon the ears, every one a cool drop of soothing peace, of death-like peace. And a choice was made. He left, simply stepping forward. Gone, the man was gone just like he had come, and with him he took so much, feelings, memories, but there were those words. The words stayed behind, as though he had forgotten to gather them up with all the other little tid-bits. Again and again they repeated themselves, until they weren't so much words as they were a thought. And the thought soon became no more than a piece of the immense puzzle that was thought itself, fitting into its place to be forgotten or remembered as the puzzle master chose. The rest, however, left with the one to whom they belonged, memory, impressions, everything that he had brought with him.

Perhaps nothing had been there at all. Maybe he really was a ghost that had returned to its rest now and taken with it its belongings. A pale light, that was it, that is what he was, a pale light shining in the midst of the night. Just one of many other lights but for the fact of his own... And now he was lost again amongst the shadows, diminished against the blackness. Death, perhaps, had taken him back. Surely it would have welcomed such a child of its back with open arms.

As Skill and Ilena walked onward, they approached a saddening sight. There lay upon the doorstep to one of the houses along the rode, a child, a young boy. He was curled up into a tight ball, presumably to keep in the warmth that his tattered clothing did not. No shoes protected his dirty feet, and his shirt and pants were no more than rags. His tussled brown hair was cast pale in the moonlight, and his skin looked as though it had already felt the touch of death. His eyes were squeezed closed, thin eyebrows drawn together and longish lashes pushed tightly, as though to ward off the cold and darkness that was without or perhaps that which had already seeped within. A small mouth with colorless lips quivered and even in sleep, little teeth chattered violently. Hands clenched, toes curled, the forehead wrinkled. He was a sad sight indeed. Another victim of the cycle of humanity that we call life. Some would say that fate had brought him low, others would blame he or his parents, still others would lay the fault upon God. Looking down, even the moon would weep for this child, because she knew that it was no fault of anyone. She knew the truest tragedy, that this boy was a victim for no reason at all. He simply was.

skill kept walking breathing deeply calculating on what his response would be, when he saw a child on the stoop of a house and stooped.

She was kind of pondering a bit further about ‘all this’; so many implausible things seemed to be happening at the same time, giving her an incredibly surrealistic feeling. As if it was some sort of strange dream. Ilena actually wouldn’t be surprised if she now woke up somewhere in the cold house, more or less curled up beneath those smelly moist covers, while water annoyingly dripped through the roof and made the unbelievably maddening sound water makes when it falls, completely shattering, not unlike breaking glass, against the floor. Drop after drop. The girl simply kept walking next to Skill, randomly glancing around, until he stopped at the sudden sight of a shivering boy that met them. The kid somewhat reminded her of herself when she was younger and didn’t have a place to stay. Pity was what she immediately felt for this poor boy, who gave the impression of being abandoned and forgotten by everyone. His whole shivering body more or less screamed at her to take him away from that cold, hard place. The human contemplatively bit her lower lip. She was more than simply certain that this boy absolutely did not deserve something like this. Not one single kid does. Clear blue eyes narrowed; this sort of thing made her very angry. The cruelty of people never ceased to amaze her. It truly did astonish her... In the utter dreadful way, that is. Her mind was set; in an act of sheer impulsiveness Ilena determinedly paced to his smaller form that lay so quivering on the stone doorstep. A concerned frown washed over her features as she carefully kneeled down his side and bent over him, closing the distance. He didn’t look well in the least, though, what could you expect? Her hand clenched before she stretched her arm towards his brown-haired head. Ilena froze; what she was doing didn’t make any sense. However, whatever wavering thoughts the girl might have been thinking that moment, her hand still hesitantly proceeded to advance nearer. Then Ilena tenderly stroked his cheek, repressing the reflex to pull back once the overwhelming cold touched her skin. A ghostly smile left its impression on her lips. “Hello?” she quietly whispered.

Slowly, the delicate eyelashes fluttered and large, wide eyes stared up in a way not unlike a small dog that, though beaten, still places its trust in the very human who would mistreat him. The eyes, though, what a disconcerting color they were. Even in that dark place, they seemed almost to glow, amber. It was not like a dog indeed, but more like an owl when once thought, and perhaps it was in that moon-like face that two glowing orbs sat with the intent of finding out prey.

The small form was still shaking and at first a look of fear crossed the young visage when he opened his eyes, but it quickly faded as the vision focused on Ilena. One might say that it even brightened. Struggling awkwardly, the boy untangled himself and began to get up. "You're here," the voice was so light and high and innocent, "I'm quite sorry, but it is time to go... Skill!"

Little dirty feet had been placed firmly on the ground. Tiny, emaciated limbs were shakily holding up that small frame. And how minuscule he did appear. The way the light cast shadows on him and his clothing, despite being torn, was a bit too large. Once again those burning amber eyes turned to gaze upon Ilena's face. Sunlight almost seemed to poor out of them and bath her in warmth, even in the cold night.

That cute little look that some young people wear when they have come to a crossroads passed onto the face, his brow scrunching up, and his lips forming a contemplative sort of pout. "But we can't very well leave you here, now can we," the question sounded rhetorical but was still directed at the girl, "If we go, you will simply look for more. Very well then." That high pitched voice seemed so instructive, so commanding, so absurd as it echoed down the empty street. "For your safety's sake, I cannot take you with us, but caution tells me I cannot leave without you," one of the tiny, pale, cold hands stretched out towards her, an offering, "Will you do something for me... Ilena?"