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Baby Steps

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Little Miss Zynnful
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 17 Sep 2013
Posts: 130
See this user's pet
Jobs: Apprentice Apothecary, Gardener
Can Be Found: In her greenhouse.
1451.88 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 11:17 am    Post subject: Baby Steps Reply with quote

The alleyways was quiet, almost eerily so. Nothing stirred, the wind was still, not even the rats seemed to scamper here. Litter and trash strewn across the cobbles laid where it was, mixing and mingling with the disgusting layer of grime that always seemed to cover the alleyways of Rhy’din. The warlock found herself at the mouth of the alley, the short cut that her and her mother had taken last Father’s day, hoping to cut time, and not be late to dinner with Rinn and Terry. Instead both of them found their death, lurking in the seemingly harmless man that had passed.

Irrational fear kept her from moving forward. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to be here, so why was she? She avoided this area like the plague normally, because it was too much to deal with, too painful. The memory of stumbling around blindly, fingers slick with so much of her own blood, while she tried to locate her mother by her dying gasps, came unbidden. Tears welled, before a sob broke free. It had been too much. Blindsided, thanks to thinking they were safe. She had let her guard down, and because of that, she had failed. Failed in protecting her mother, herself, failed in the pain she had brought to everyone else that had stayed behind.

Suddenly there was a shove from behind that sent her tumbling forward, landing in a sprawl of limbs and unhappy noises. She rolled, and moved to get back to her feet, while cat’s eyes searched frantically, looking for the source of the shove. There was no one there. Confusion bloomed across her features, tugged her brows down in a frown as she rose to her feet, and  straightened. When she turned back around to look at the rest of the alley, there was a limp form lying on the ground, thin, with wavy dark hair, and she was certain that if she could see those eyes, that they would be green. Blood pooled beneath her, but the woman laid still, there was no rise and fall of her chest, no sign of life. She was dead.

“No. Nononoooo.” The words were moaned, before she stepped forward in stumbling hurried steps to the woman’s side. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the still warm blood that angrily stained her clothes, and clung to her skin.

From out of nowhere, laughter echoed through the alleyway, bouncing off walls, creating a cacophony that rang in her ears. Soon enough there was a figure that stepped from the shadows, with luminous yellow eyes that were fixed on her. The form Beleth had taken that fateful and horrid father’s day.  The smirk that curled across his lips was cruel, the glint in his eyes even crueler. Unsettled the warlock scrambled back to her feet and turned to face him.

“Oh, yes little witch. She’s dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. There was never anything that you could do about this, or stopping it. It was always going to come down to this, you being motherless and alone, losing the people you care about the most. I took them both from you, little witch, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I took them, but ultimately both of their deaths are on your shoulders.”


“Yes.” The demon stalked his way closer to her, before he jabbed a finger into her chest with enough force to push her back a step. “Boil it down. In the beginning, Imogen and Terry came after me to do what? Protect you and Merrideth. But the man wouldn’t have pushed so damn hard had you not been in the picture. Imogen would not have so readily agreed, had a child not been in danger, the bleeding heart she was. It was all because of you that it even happened. You are why Terry ended up possessed, why most of his life had been robbed from him. You are why Imogen died that night in the alley of New York. You are why poor Merrideth lived a life of fear and terror that continued even after she got away from me. You. You are why you listened to her dying gasps in this exact alleyway.“

“I was just a child. I didn’t- I couldn’t-” The warlock struggled with her words, unbidden tears poured down her cheeks. She was helpless against his words. They echoed the dark thoughts that hummed in the back of her subconsciousness, pounded them into her brain and left her with no counter argument.

“You are at fault, the root of the problem.” He stepped closer, pressed his hand to her chest, and leaned in close enough for the stench of death and decay to be near overwhelming. “You. You will never forget that it is all because of you. All your pain and suffering had been yours, and you can not escape that.” There’s a malicious glee that spreads across his face. “The best part of it all? You didn’t even get the pleasure of destroying me, of defeating me for once and all. That little bit of revenge that makes all of your suffering hurt just a little less.”

Her features twisted into something angry as he spoke. They grew angrier and angrier before finally…. “Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP.” The last was shouted with a growl before she pressed her own hands against his chest and gave a savage push. He stumbled, but kept his footing, a grin tugged at his features.

“Get as mad as you want. It still will not change a damned thing, little witch. You are alone. Your brother won’t admit it, but he harbors bitter feelings towards you. How couldn’t he? It’s because of you that he was possessed, because of you that his heart was damaged, and he almost died.”

“Stop.” The word was almost whimpered. Everything she had beat herself up over, everything was being thrown up in her face, and she just wanted it to stop. That’s all she wanted. Without warning, she took another step forward.

“It is your fault that he no longer has a mother, that he had to mourn her loss, along with yours. If only you had been stronger. Faster. More observant. If only you haven’t been so stupid or careless. If only you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your damned self.”

“STOP IT.” The word was roared, before she lunged forward. His hands caught her, and he smirked, even as she lashed out, beat her fists against his chest in frustration, and shouted over and over for him to stop, to leave her be to no avail. He let her pound and hit and scream until finally, she collapsed to the ground in a heap, what ever drive to fight gone and replaced instead with great heaving sobs.

Then…. Then he was gone, and she was alone, just has he said she was…. At least for a few moments. Without warning there was another sound, this one low, keening, filled with sorrow that echoed the alleyway. When she finally managed to pull herself together enough to look up, Gothrak’s hulking form was kneeling before her. His glamour was gone, leaving spiraling horns that curled from his forehead, red skin, red eyes, wings that slumped with his sorrow. Trails of red rolled down his cheeks, dribbled from his chin.

“G-Gothrak.” She stammered his name, before she pushed herself up so that she was mirroring his position, kneeling, although her hands were on her thighs. Her eyes danced up and down his form, lingering the longest on his face, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks. It took everything within her to not surge forward, and throw herself at the demon, to wrap him in her embrace and try to comfort him.

His head lifted and those bloody eyes of his fell on her, full of pain and grief, nothing but raw emotion. There’s a soft distressed mewl given. “You died on me.” The words come as a gruff rumble, the look on his face close to helplessness.

The demon had always struggled with emotions, she couldn’t even…. begin to imagine how her death… feeling her fade through the connection that they shared felt like. Finally, another sob escaped her, “I didn’t want to. I tried… I tried so hard not to. I fought so hard to stay alive.” A fresh wave a pain rolled over the warlock, and she curled in a little on herself. “I’m so sorry Gothrak. I was so stupid. With Xehr, with the fight, with everything. I should have apologized. You should have been with us. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

The demon made another horribly pathetic noise as she spoke, before his bloodied eyes sought hers out. “I lost myself when I lost you. Felt you die, and then you were gone, and I was lost. So lost without you.”

“I’m so sorry.” They felt like empty words that would do nothing. They offered no comfort or solace to the grieving demon before her. Regret weighed heavy on her heart, dragging it deeper into the despair it had been spiraling into. What words could she offer? What comfort could she possibly be to those she had hurt so much?

“Not as much as I am.” The demon murmured this mournfully, before finally, the warlock moved, worked her way up to her feet. Then silent, she stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him, held him him close, face against her chest. “I wish I could change everything. I wish I could take it back.” The words are murmured softly, before her eyes flutter shut, and she curls around him, almost protectively….

March 4th - Early Morning - 4:16 AM

And she wakes, reaching for the ghost of the demon that is no longer there. Her hands find nothing but sheets and pillows, and tears dampen her eyes and cheeks. The Gothrak she knows now, does not sleep with her unless she asks, and most nights she just lets him be. Mind heavy with dreams, and body exhausted with sleep, she groped around for her bedside lamp till she found it, and felt around long enough to switch it on. There’s a soft grunt against the light, before she rolls to sit up, and snatches a cigarette from the nightstand.

It lights in a beat of its own accord, and she draws heavily. Of course Beleth would haunt her dreams. He always had, and probably always will. And even in her dreams…. his words seemed to resonate deeply with everything she felt. On nights like these, she was alone, left with her thoughts and dreams till the nearly consumed her.

Truly and completely alone.

"Zynnara, I have come to the conclusion you are made of trouble."
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Little Miss Zynnful
Young Wyrm
Young Wyrm

Joined: 17 Sep 2013
Posts: 130
See this user's pet
Jobs: Apprentice Apothecary, Gardener
Can Be Found: In her greenhouse.
1451.88 Silver Crowns


PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2017 12:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

((Many thanks to Sain!))

Sain settled himself on the wall and started eating the falaffle he'd bought from a kindly old street vendor down the block. He was dressed as always in his jacket and sword, the pistol slung under his shoulder hidden away and his belt as ever laden with pouches. Good old jeans and sneakers paired with a tee completed the casual look. In his hand the coned confection was covered in whip cream and cherries. Perhaps a sprinkle here and there.

Life as of late had been treating the warlock well enough, which meant that she was happy. For the most part. Tonight was one of those nights where she had taken a step back from her greenhouse, and plotting various things, and set out to wander. She set out with her purse slung over her shoulder, and a bounce in her step. By the time she had found herself in the beating hum of the marketplace, she had a lit joint tucked between her fingers, smoldering away.

He kicked his feet a little as he looked down from the wall at the marketplace. It was starting to close up as the night callers started hawking their wares. Sain, as clumsy as ever, rocked himself back and forth as he leaned forward just a little too much to lick some of the whipped cream from his falaffle... and found himself tumbling from the wall... Unfortunately it wasn't clear beneath him. Lucky it wasn't a long fall, an 8ft wall was still a fall though. Hopefully he didn't hurt whoever he landed on...

Zynn caught the sound of something overhead, but before she had the chance to actually look up, something, or rather someone, collided with her, and sent her to the ground. There was a yelp of surprise, and a streak of hot-blooded curses that escaped her. The joint was lost somewhere, still smoldering, but her attention was on the jerkface that decided she would make a good landing pad. There was a soft growl that follows her twisting and trying to roll him off of her.

His falaffle... it was between his chest and whatever he'd landed on. He began apologizing profusely as he started wiping the whipped cream and cherries and sprinkles from his shirt and looked up at the angry cursing one he'd landed on. "I'm so sorry are you okay.... oh." He stopped himself before he finished the sentence but it ended with something starting with s and ending with t. "Um...." His eyes looked her over... Hopefully he hadn't gotten her too messy.

Oh. She was also covered in whipped cream and cherries and other sweet things. Had the situation been different, she probably wouldn't have minded... but she just wanted a walk tonight. Once she was out from under him, and he'd spoken, those cat's eyes of hers snapped up to him, and narrowed a touch. "You." It's said softly. It's been a long while since she'd encountered the man, and something about her seemed a touch more.... haunted than the last time. She made a face. "Still listening to your stupid sword? Did it tell you to uh, drop in on me?" She's grinning as she speaks, her tone more teasing than malicious.

He spoke, but the problem was no sound came out so he sort of ended up sitting there mouthing like a fish for a few seconds. Finally he found his voice. "I fell." He said bluntly. Man, he was smooth. He sort of staggered to his feet and looked down at the sidewalk. "No... I..." Would he ever get over the history they had? Probably not. Sain was an intrinsically bashful person and Zynn seemed to be what might be described as uniquely suited to torment him. "I... stopped all that." Hadn't they gone over all that before? Was she still holding a grudge? He couldn't blame her if she was. He'd tried to kill her after all.

Cat's eyes watched him as he flounders like a fish for words. It was amusing to watch, and absently she was grateful that he had fell on her. Entertainment. Especially since it seemed like he still had not forgotten about the various... things he had seen from some of the things of hers he had touched. Soon enough, she's grinning from ear to ear, not unlike the cat who had consumed the canary. "I dunno. It's been awhile since I've seen you last. Lots has happened for me. I know sometimes people can't make up their minds. Say one thing, do the opposite the next day kinda thing. If it's any help, I still haven't caused a bunch of deaths." Just... one. But she wouldn't elaborate. Not now anyways.

He nodded, finding his voice and still staring at his feet. The woman was covered in whipped cream for gods sakes. He snuck a glance up, getting to her chest before he blushed and looked back down quickly. "I found the sword to be unreasonable. My own behavior was no better, best described as abhorrent. So I sealed the blade." He tried to banish the images in his head, but psychometry was a permanent thing, he would never be able to forget those images. "Are you hurt?" He asked, looking her over wasn't going to help any at all.

Oh, she didn't miss that blush that crept across his face. In fact, it curled her lips into a smirk, even though she abstained from further teasing. "Abhorrent is one word. I could list a few others, but I won't. The past is the past, you realized you were being a ****head, and obviously, you have worked to change your ways." She wiggled her fingers at him, before she shrugged. "Nah. Not hurt in any obvious ways. I'll probably hate myself in the morning though." This is mused simply. And she was stoned currently, so pain was far from her mind at the moment.

He furrowed his brow and tried to look at the wall before turning his gaze to her face. Avoiding as much as he could of her body. "Are you unwell?" He asked as concern crossed his face. "Perhaps I could help? It would be the least I could do after falling onto you." He moved his hands over his shirt, telekinetically pulling the falaffel off his shirt. Such a waste. It was very good. He threw the food into the nearest can, then realized what would likely be asked of him in the immediate future and blushed crimson at the thought.

"No. No, I'm fine. I'm not unwell." She shook her head, and maybe the denial came a touch too quickly than it should have. "I just meant I'll probably had a bunch of parts of me that ache in the morning. Like normal, but normally not from someone falling on me." A wolfish grin followed, and hinted at just why she would be sore. She figured if she made him turn red enough, he wouldn't pursue the topic of her being unwell. "I think though, at the least you owe me a new shirt." This is said simply, before gesturing oh so casually to the mess of whipped cream down the front of her.

He narrowed his eyes at her and was about to push a little harder when she gestured at the whipped cream and the crimson somehow deepened. He forced himself to focus and his hand glowed a soft yellow. "Um, may I?" He pointed at the mess.

Distract and deflect. It was pretty easy to do, especially when one was such a horrible liar.. She knew she had accomplished putting off more questioning at least for a little bit when his cheeks darkened and instead, he asked for permission to do something... She squinted for two seconds at him. "So long as it doesn't result in something blowing up."

Nodding, he reached forward and hovered his hand about an inch from her shirt. As his hand passed over her shirt, the mess slowly dragged itself from the cloth. But she may feel something a little different as well, a warmth spreading from where his hand slid above her body. The blush became darker as he got higher but eventually the warmth would blossom in her chest. Her head might clear a bit, and soreness might even fade away.

She watched the separation of mess from her shirt with mild fascination. Being able to do that would come in handy rather well. As for the warmth that blossomed, first under the glow of his hand, then finally, that settled in her chest, brought a faint flush of pink to her cheeks, and a soft happy rumble in the back of her throat, especially with the fading of the soreness from her bumps and bruises. "Neat ability. Ever consider becoming a drycleaner?" This was mused simply, her brows arching upwards a touch.

He shook his head. "No, I learned it to remove blood from my clothes." He didn't elaborate. "I also applied a modicum of auric healing. It isn't much, but it should help some." He sighed. "I.... I've been trying to do good." he said softly. "Not very good at it, but I can do this much at least."

"Ah." Simply. Removing blood from his clothes didn't need much elaboration for her, given what she knew about him and what he used to do. "Well. I don't feel like a body fell on me anymore, so that's a bonus." She paused, before shifting just enough to nudge him with her hip. "You're doing fine from what I can tell. But I can promise you it's not so black and white. Good and bad, light and dark. There's grey in there just as much as the others." She considered him for a second, trying to think on how to elaborate. "Even the smallest act can make all the difference, yeah?"

He nodded. "The smallest act." The thought made him smile, before the weight of the sword at his shoulder reminded him the smallest act would never overcome his past actions. A sigh escaped him and he looked up at Zynn, holding her gaze for the first time. His eyes glowed slightly with the remnants of the auric power he'd used. "You are what changed me. You know that?" He said bluntly. The blush was gone from his face as he looked into her eyes. "It's because of you."

Just as the smallest act could change things for the better, it could change them for the worst as well. It was a double edged sword that she was too familiar with. As he brought his gaze up to her eyes, she held it, acid green met glowing brown hues, while his words made her head tilt just a little to the side. "I didn't mean to, yeah? I mean, it's a good thing cuz you're not trying to kill me anymore, but truth be told, not dying was my main goal." And it worked... at least with him. The dying part had come later on, at someone else's hands, but alas, not something she wished to elaborate. "I think the you that doesn't listen to a sword is a much better you, yeah?"

"Regardless of your motivations. I am that better me, because of you. I would like to repay you somehow." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You cannot hide everything from everyone. And... if I may, I try to be observant. Zynn, what is it?" He said with as much confidence as he could muster. It was draining as those images began to push back into his head and her eyes flickered between what he was seeing and the eyes in his head.

"You don't have to." The response was almost immediate. She didn't like people thinking they they owed her something because she did something for them. That was just how she had always been, never much for being selfish. Though, when he asked what it was, she didn't break eye contact, but those fingers of hers moved, seeking something to fiddle with, before they found the hem of her shirt. She felt almost like a child being questioned by a parent. "What is what?" It came simply, feigned innocence on just what he was talking about.

Without thinking he grabbed her fidgeting hands. They glowed softly, the warmth spreading from his fingertips and a sense of peace accompanying it. "Whatever you're thinking about that you don't want to tell me." He said flatly. He could push into her head, read her mind and take the information. But he'd sworn he would never do that again. "Tell me." He said softly.

Her first reaction was to jerk and pull back, and probably drive a knee towards sensitive bits. But he wasn't some stranger, and she was certain he wouldn't hurt her, so she let him, her gaze moving to dance between his face and their hands. What ever tension had been lining her shoulders seemed to melt away with the sense of peace that settled over her, but despite that, he'd be able to feel the faint tremble of her fingers in his. Her teeth caught her lower lip and worried it for a spanse of several moments, before she spoke, voice soft. "Sain. A lot has happened since the last time I saw you." The breath she pulled in was slow. "One of those things bein' that I died. I came back too, obviously, but stuff like that. It takes a toll on the body. It's not without consequences." Her brows drew down, her features tugged into a look that was more perplexed than anything else.

He sucked in a breath as she admitted she'd died. Despite his new outlook, living after dying was... well it was in his upbringing necromancy. The darkest form of magic. With some effort, he pushed it down and forced himself to put thoughts of that out of his mind. He tightened his grip on her trembling fingers comfortingly. "Then... let me help?" He wasn't positive he could. But he had an idea, maybe he could help her at least a little. His mind returned to where her fingers were in his hands and he thought her hands were nice, like a gardener's hands... soft but... He shook his head and blushed a little. "Please Zynn... I know much has happened. But I may be able to do some small thing." He said quietly.

Then let me help. The words were such a different response than what she had been greeted with already. Almost everyone who knew had been sorry in some way, and the fact that those words weren't the first out of his mouth was probably a point for him. Her eyes settled on their hands finally, when his grip tightened. Her hands may be soft, but they seemed to forever be stained with the brown of soil, and the green of fresh cut plants. She wasn't sure if he could help, but given all the dead ends with doctors, magical and not, she figured the least she could do was give it a try. "My hands shake. Sometimes picking things up is difficult, and I drop ****. I see shadows of things not there in my vision, while other times it goes completely black, leaving me in darkness. I figure it has something to do with my body sitting for a month, before I made it to Taneth's forest to be healed. If you can do something, find something to fix that the doctors missed, by all means. If not, it's okay, yeah?" She pauses, and the smile on her face when she looks up at him is sad. "I know I'm broken, and sometimes you can't always fix the broken things."

Sain smiled. "Okay." He said simply. He looked around at the now nearly empty market. In a moment he dragged her along with him to the end of the wall, finding the opening to the little garden on the other side. Good, it was deserted. "You are not broken." he said as he pulled her through the doorway. "You are lost." He stopped and released her hand as he began to disarm himself. Then came the jacket, and then the shirt. He looked over at her. "I... I'm sorry about this but I am going to need you to..." He looked down at the ground and mumbled something that could have been 'disrobe' or 'elope' or any number of other permutations of syllables.

She let him pull her along, out of the dying throngs of people that inhabited the the marketplace, and to the quiet little garden. Being the plant lover she was, she paused long enough to glance around and appreciate the plants there. When he spoke of her being lost instead of broken, her attention strayed a little longer. When it came back to him, the emotions on her face were unreadable. "Lost. Maybe. It's hard to tell." This was murmured, as her eyes watched as he started stripping things. Well, she wouldn't deny that he was attractive, face along with the rest of him. His words made her arch a brow. "Everything? Or just my shirt?" Her ears were sharp, and she could take a wild guess at his mumbling.

He blushed a bit harder. "It would be easier if everything. But only the shirt is necessary." He said quietly. As he spoke, he sat down in the grass cross legged and facing away from her so he could focus and try to respect her modesty. He placed his hands together and began chanting in his head. To her, a look of intense concentration would give way to his entire body beginning to glow a soft golden light. It shifted here and there, hues across the rainbow slipping out like tiny solar flares. He didn't notice himself, but he began to float about an inch off the ground.

That was all she needed from him. The warlock wasn't shy when it came down to being naked in front of others, as she was for the most part, comfortable in her own skin. While he whirled around and sat, fiddling fingers moved to slide her purse over her head, then to catch the hem of her shirt, and tug it up over her head. Seconds later, the bra followed. Partially because he said everything would be easier, and partially because she knew that it would turn him nearly as red as a tomato. Not that he would actually notice because he'd probably be too busy looking at everything but her, but there was a plethora of scars, bullet wounds, one from him, stab wounds, a thick surgical scar that ran down the middle of her torso, from the bottom of the ribcage to just above the belly button. "Now what?"

"Come lay down." When he spoke, his voice seemed to echo inside her head. He patted the ground in front of him. "Put your head here." As he patted, where his hands touched the ground, the grass grew and a few wildflowers sprouted from the soil to bloom in full within seconds. "Then relax... breathe in and count to 5, then breath out and count to 5. Slowly, and repeat. I won't hurt you, but this may feel strange." He too seemed to be breathing in the same rhythm. Should she be looking closely she would also see battle scars across his body, but most faded to faint white lines, as if they were decades or more old.

"Alright." This is murmured softly, before she started moving to join him. Her eyes lingered on the wildflowers that sprouted and bloomed where she was supposed to lay her head. It was a shame to crush them, but she did, dropping first to sit down before him, and from there to lay down with her back up, showing the line of the moon's phases along her spine, along with the rest of a savagely tribal tattoo that covered most of the rest of her back, with her head on the flowers that had bloomed. She crossed her arms, and rested her stomach. Once she was settled, she took a deep breath, then focused on keeping to the 5 seconds in, and 5 out. It didn't take long for her to find the rhythm and stick to it.

It seemed like his breathing automatically synced with hers, or maybe she matched his without knowing. But as he breathed out, his hands found the crown of her head and his glow began to spread to her. From there, she would feel that sense of peace flow through her, the scent of rainfall, and flowing water reaching her as she breathed in. The glow spread downwards, to her neck. There she smelled the scent of wood and earth. As it continued down her back, the scents of ozone in a thunderstorm, ash in a forest fire, the faint musk of wildlife, further and further it would drive into her mind and body a feeling of life she had likely never known. When it reached the base of her spine, it changed subtly. There she smelled death. If she did not recoil, she might feel a connection to something there, like she should reach for it within herself. His voice, calm and reassuring, echoed in her mind and in her ears. "Do not be afraid... This is part of you. Do not deny it."

She was content to be quiet, simply letting everything wash over her with every breath she drew in. The peace, the tranquil scents that came with with each different part of her that his hands drifted over. It wasn't until his hands reached the base of her spine, and the scent of death washed over her, that she tensed, a sense of unease crawled over her. All she wanted to do was forget it. Dying was something that she wanted to forget, not embrace. Soon the content look on her face drifted to something displeased, and a soft whine came from the back of her throat. "I don't want to." Reliving the moment was terrifying, and she didn't want to any more than she already did at night in her nightmares.

"I know. But this is part of you, a part crying for you, alone in the dark... you are not dead. This part of you is alive and well, it reaches for you, begging to be found. Do not deny it..." He spoke soothingly, his aura getting stronger as her displeasure increased. He did his best to help her calm herself as his hands moved in slow small circles across her back, radiating to and from that one place at the base of her spine. "You are safe.. You are alive. Seek now to be whole." He continued massaging her back, as his hands moved over her spine the scents of life and nature again reassuringly flooded her senses before he led her again to that one place. Encouraging her to push past it.

"I.. I don't..." She trailed off slowly, and unbidden, and unknown to her, there were tears that wet her lashes. Her breathing caught, she tensed under his fingers when he started massaging. Slowly, she started to relax, coaxed by his voice, by the warmth and peace that hummed from his hands, and her breathing evened out. Safe, alive, whole. The words seemed to echo in her head, just as his actual words did. She had to push past it, accept it, as much as she wanted to deny and avoid. "I don't know how." But even as she spoke, she was starting to focus on that area, the wash of death that came with it.

She would find the more she focused on it, the less the scent of death would smell of decay... it would slip from rot, and then move to the smell of fertile earth, of soft wood, of dry riverbeds cracking under the sun suddenly awash with rainfall. The scents would swirl together into the balance of life that would feel instinctively... right. His voice continued to soothe her. "You do not need to know how. You are doing it." he smiled, the warmth of it blossoming within her as his aura began to tease her own from her body. His aura would slowly recede, pulling her own to the fore so she could continue the process on her own power. He simply supported her, guided her process, and calmed the fear. "Good... good..." His hands continued to massage her back, up her neck and then back down to the base of her spine.

The scent started to change, less of the cloying scent of death and decay to the more familiar scent of rich dark earth, of woods and fresh rains. It was comforting, and she wanted more, that sense of peace it whispered of. And then suddenly, everything just kind of seemed to feel right. There was no more fear that circled as she embraced her death, accepted that it had happened, and every terrifying thing that transpired. Her mother's dying breath, the terrifying blur of vision, the pain, the blood that wouldn't stop. It lingered, and with a breath, she let it go. It happened, it was in the past, and there was nothing that she could do to change it. She accepted it.

He felt her complete herself. Just as the last of his aura pulled away from her, letting her find her own peace instead of relying on his influence. He smiled and kept massaging her back, but now it was just a comforting hand, an anchoring touch. Nothing more. He knew about the tears that fell, and he would let her cry as she needed. But she needed no more from him, and there was nothing more he could give her. So in silence, he waited, and let her move when she was ready. His own aura faded away as well. His body settling to the earth and his voice fading from her mind. Now, the lost part of her was returned. How she handled that, what became of her and what she made of it was up to Zynn. She could very well reject it by morning... or not. He hoped she would keep this memory of acceptance and not deny part of herself anymore.

Her tears didn't stop, but they weren't bitter, but relieved, the tears that come with a finality, a sense of peace that had been long missing. Of feeling whole, after feeling so broken for so long. She laid there for a good deal of time, and let her tears fall until they finally subsided like the fear that had plagued her. Finally, she sniffled, and started to push herself up so that she was sitting instead of laying down. A hand came up to swipe at the wet trails on her face, while she was silent for even longer, unsure of exactly what to say.... before finally, "Thank you." The words were genuine, suffused with all of the residual warmth that still lingered within her.

He smiled back before he looked away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He cleared his throat... "I didn't do much. Just let you sense something you normally couldn't. You did the hard part." he shrugged. He was glad it worked. Some didn't have the strength to accept themselves. "So um..." He picked up his jacket and held it out to her. She was an intensely beautiful woman, and Sain was an intensely bashful man. He didn't stand a chance if she didn't cover up in some fashion or another.

"But you let me accept something that I've been denying... for well... almost a year now. It's haunted my dreams, my memories and waking moments." This is murmured softly, as as her attention lingered on him. The offer of his jacket reminded her of the chill that ghosted her skin and prickled it with goosebumps, how she was topless. A couple seconds later, she reached out to take the jacket, and shrugged it on without hesitation. "I appreciate it. I really do, Sain." A hand came up to dive into her messy inky black locks. "I'm glad I was able to help you change."

He chanced a look back at her, now sufficiently modest, he nodded until her last sentence. She... thanked him. She was glad he'd changed. It hurt a little... in a good way. He looked down at his hands and nodded, at a loss for words. He'd done something good right? He was more than a hunter tonight. It was his turn for tears to fall unbidden and unbeknownst to him. He nodded again and took a deep breath. "Me too." He said quietly.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected for her words to leave him without them. She watched, quiet as tears well in his eyes and spilled over. Silent, and without much thought, she reached out to brush the tears from his face, the touch of her fingertips light. "I don't doubt for a moment, Sain, that sometimes people are put in your life for a reason, yeah?" She drew her hand away, and let it fall back into her lap. "I'm learning... that the past is the past. You can't change it. But the future? That's all open to us. Any split decision can change that, and you can always strive to do better."

He was startled at the touch, reaching up and finding tears and immediately wiping them away. Shame crossed his face before he managed to lock the expression and emotion down. The hunter in him rebelled at such a thing. But she was right. He could always strive to be more than just what he was. He cleared his throat and stood up as he looked around for her clothes. "Um, here. You'll probably be wanting these." He motioned and the clothing found its way to his hands telekinetically. He held it out to her as well as a free hand to help her to her feet. Zynn. A warlock who had survived his blade. He smiled down at her, and vowed he would never hurt her. Not ever again.

She caught the shame, however brief it had been, it had still been there. And she understood, because she had lived that same shame, tied in with the embarrassment of letting your guard down. But instead of bringing it to light, she let him have it to lock away like it hadn't been there, because sometimes, that was what was needed. Then he was on his feet, and offering both his hands, and her clothes. She reached out for the former first, and pulled herself to her feet, before she collected the latter. She pulled her bra free first, and with all the practice that most women had, swiftly donned it without taking his jacket from her shoulders. Then she shrugged out of the jacket, and offered it back to him. "Friends, yeah? I mean, you did get to see me half naked. Tends to put someone in that category for me." As she spoke, she worked her shirt back on over her head, the offered out a hand.

He nodded and took her hand. Avoiding looking at her for the most part until he was sure she was fully clothed. "Of course. I would like nothing more." He said with a smile. He'd made a friend. That was good. Probably his first real one. At least one who wasn't addicted to his blood, or using him for his abilities. "You..." He stopped himself before he said something stupid. His healing abilities made his scars heal within a matter of years. But he'd seen hers, and he'd seen the one he gave her. "Yeah... friends."

He spoke of liking nothing more than to be friends, and the smile that worked its way across her lips and into her eyes was brilliant. Sure, some would call her naive, or reckless for trusting and offering friendship to someone that had tried to kill her at one point, but she would simply argue that people could change, and deserved a second chance. "Good." Her hand gave his a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I find that I am in need of them more than I realized." Simply spoken, before she let go of his hand, and in turn would try to tug him into a hug, should he be willing.

It surprised him, but he stepped closer. It was immediately clear the concept of a hug was unfamiliar to him, as if she hugged him he would awkwardly attempt to return the gesture. Such was not in hunter training. He stood there mostly, his arms awkwardly encircling the small of her back and holding her in a half hug and half near lovers embrace/unsure where to put his hands. For some reason, the images in his head immediately returned and he flushed crimson. He would have to get over that. Somehow.

The hug was awkward, but in time, and with enough of them, he would eventually get the hang of hugs and all the other parts that came with friendship. Having someone to lean on, an ear to listen, and simple companionship. She let the hug linger for a moment, an awkward entanglement of limbs and uncertainties, before she finally pulled away, and glanced up at him. The blush she spotted simply made her grin, and she nudged him. "Yo. You got anywhere you planned on being any time soon? Cuz if not, I could totally go for some food. Maybe pizza and wings." As she spoke, her fingers dove into her pockets to collect the soft leather pouch she always carried. From it, she pulled free something slim and hand rolled, tucked it between her lips. "My treat."

He looked back out of the doorway to the now likely deserted marketplace. "I'm... I'm afraid so. I was waiting on someone, but I probably missed them. It's likely I should go and find them sooner rather than later. But perhaps a... ah, raincheck?" He looked back with a smile as he forced the images in his head back down. His current job would probably not last long if he couldn't even do simple tasks like this one. "BIlls to pay and whatnot." he shrugged.

"Ah." She snorts softly. "Sorry I interrupted your waiting, but a raincheck works for me. Plus, bill paying is rather important." She moved to collect her purse from the ground, and slung it over her shoulder. Then she proceeded to start digging through it until she produced a marker and a scrap of paper. As she scribbled something on it, the joint tucked between her lips sparked to life on its own accord. The scent was herbal and heady. "Here. I dunno if you have a phone or not, but here's my phone number. Call me when you're ready to make good with the raincheck. Or if you gotta talk, or anything like that, yeah? I pretty sure I won't be busy when you call. I've got a rather uneventful and slow life as of late. Kinda nice, truth be told."

He smiled and took the paper. He didn't have a phone, but it was on his list of things to get. "Understood. Have a good night Zynn." He said as he turned and began to pick back up his own clothing and such. After rearming himself, he jumped back up onto the wall and after a quick look down at her he was up onto the rooftops and into the night in search of the cat he'd been paid to find.

"Zynnara, I have come to the conclusion you are made of trouble."
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