Days of Grace

When Ethan returned, the days that followed were quiet. It mattered not that fractions continued to fight or that people continued to follow up vendetta against each other nightly. Ethan quickly proved uninterested in much conversation or company beyond Brit. As for Brit, she found his nearness comforting and they did not leave their resting place for days. Nothing was hurried. The first evening, Brit woke to Ethan slowly dragging a single fingernail across her skin as if he were examining it for the very first time. Nothing was said beyond the exchanged greeting. With the slowness of someone who has eternity to spend, he watched her skin’s reaction until nearly sunrise when he gathered her to him and sank his fangs deep into her neck. He drank in miniscule amounts of blood as he held her tightly and only licked the wounds closed before falling into his daytime slumber.

The following morning, Brit returned from her shower to food that had been brought for her. Ethan combed out her vanilla-scented hair that had started to dry, and had gifted her with a pair of boots with small heels and new dress that matched his suit. He seemed to find amusement in watching her clip-clomp around the perimeter of the room clinging to the wall to stay mobile. The corset of the dress was quickly laced by him and she spent the remainder of the evening chattering to him while brushing out his hair. Like the night before, he showed no interest or indication of leaving their resting place despite the sirens that screamed in the streets for most of the night. Prior to resting, he gathered her to him and held her tightly as he fell into his sunrise slumber.

Ethan woke alone the third day, but quickly found Brit dancing in the studio with Larissa, Merma, and a neko named Brianna. He watched quietly and turned down Brit’s invitation to join in. When he turned down her request to dance with her alone, she wrapped up her dance lesson with the others and left. After ensuring she ate properly, he returned to their resting place, and then they danced slowly and quietly until dawn. Like the first night, he drank small drops of her blood before licking the wounds closed, and she became keenly aware of the metallic salty taste on his lips when he kissed her good morrow. She slept to the song “As the World Falls Down” playing in her dreams.

The fourth, fifth and sixth nights were more of the same. Brit had quickly fallen into habit of sleeping when he did, and she did not stray far upon waking. The nights were filled with quiet togetherness that seemed to reaffirm the reality that both were indeed there with one another. Both enjoyed their nearly week-long unspoken celebration of recognition that each knew keenly how close they were to losing the other. Though others had invited them to return to see changes in the library, this was their time which was needed to come to terms with the past few weeks.

It was not until after the seventh night that Ethan willingly left their resting place. They found themselves in the Haven. Despite the large crowd, Brit’s only focus was on Ethan and his nearness. Leading her to the corner, Ethan’s usual reserve disappeared as he pulled her into his lap and kissed her openly. One kiss turned in to many with each being deeper than the last. The electric circus of the dancing crowd mingled with the bold kisses was dizzying to Brit. This time, the bite was deep and demanding. She could feel the fangs puncture through the thick walls of vein and hear the pull of blood from her body. Her heart raced giving a rush of adrenalin to flavor her blood in a way that he had always found pleasing. The music pounded and the crowd responded oblivious to the couple in the corner. To her, it was as if they were still alone in their resting spot, and the intoxicating sensation she experienced had nothing to do with the fact he drained her to the point her pulse was thready.

Believe in Yourself

Pride is the mother of all sins. It’s the thin line between righteousness and self-righteous, the excessive belief in one’s own abilities that interferes with the individual’s recognition of the greatness of God. It’s been called the sin from which all others arise. Pride is also known as Vanity. The punishment for Pride in Hell will be that the offender will be broken on the wheel. So knowing this, explain why that, even today, some well-meaning teacher is saying, “Believe in yourself.” So much for learning from history.

{The following is from a roleplay involving many. I pulled heavily from the logs. Thanks to those of you who participated.}

Brit did not remember how long she sat in the room with her hand on Ethan. She was lost. Selene and Steve heard her silence and came. Brit’s numbness continued and told them, “No one has energy for so much rage.” Steve told her that there was much work to be done, and that she would have to journey with him and be brave. Time passed. Intruders where two went and one, Brid, stayed. Lorne was there, and Selene and Steve were back. More came. First Merma, then Nikita, and then Gweneth. Others came to the door but were kept from entering by Kishi. Despite personal differences, all were there to support. To assist. Taking Steve’s offered hand, Brit saw the line from Ethan beyond the walls. Like a mother bundling her child in a sweater, Nikita had her hold her necklace before following the line with Steve.

As they reached into Ethan’s mind, they encountered an elaborate labyrinth leading up to a central location. The edges seemed to reach in to the sky in a post-apocalyptic setting. Devils were flying about as angels dived down from the heavens. One central gate made of skulls lead to the start of the labyrinth. Steven told Brit to call to Ethan. She called out, but there was no response. He encouraged her to follow. Far in a distance, she could hear the mingled voices of those left in the room behind. The gate started to grow, but they passed through it. Brit later would not remember how, but she remembered clearly how Steve kept cursed when they both saw the path behind them crumble to lava.

Beyond the gate, there were three entrances. One guarded by an angel. One by a devil and one by a small shape with its back turned to them. More songs in the back calming even though terrifying sounds seemed to mingle within them. Nikita whispered for Brit to choose and Steve touched the doors. Brit touched the small figure gently. The angel and devil did not move, but the small shape turned. It was a blind, little girl dressed in tatters of a court gown. Wind started to blow as she asked, “What do you want?” A tiara laid nearby. Brit whispered, “Ethan. I want him to come home. Where is he?” The girl smirked and turned away from Brit and Steve saying, “He’s not talking to me. Again. That self-righteous bastard. He will rot in this abyss forever like I had to.” Then she asked them, “Want to see?” Both nodded to the girl who pointed down the path. Brit and Steve started in the direction she indicated after Brit wiped the tiara clean and placed it on the girl’s head.

Once they crossed into the labyrinth, the wind stopped. Steve and Brit found themselves in the middle of a battle. Warriors with scimitars and horned figures were commanding troops. Those fighting were slaughtering without thought of mercy. Steve recognized the area to be Constantinople with its wall around the city. On the other side of the city wall, a pillar of light can be seen. And part of the wall seemed to be missing though no one but Steve and Brit noticed. Steve cautioned Brit to not attract attention. She covered her ears and closed her eyes feeling herself falter slightly. Steve grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the wall. Singing increased and they found themselves in the city with the wall solid behind them. The shouts and cries from the battle raging seemed to grow louder too.

Cries of defeat can be heard throughout the city. Chaos and gloom surround the beautiful walls. Some are shouting that they cannot save or protect the helpless anymore. That everything is lost and no one is safe. General panic runs through the city and directly in front of Steve and Brit a warrior dressed in elite armor crosses himself three times and whispers, “I failed.” With that, the paladin falls on his own sword condemning himself for eternity as punishment for his shortcomings. Brit was terrified they were too late, but Steve noticed the light behind the fallen warrior. He told her, “Hurry. Soon we will be in big trouble.” Both rushed toward the pillar. Songs, sad, sweet and beautiful, could be heard louder.

It was then that they saw him. Ethan, looking younger than she remembered and not at all pale, was hovering in the pillar of light dressed like a priest of the city. The sounds of battle grew distant and the chanting of a chorus of religious songs seemed to come out of the Hagia Sophia. Brit touched the pillar which was only light. She clasped his hands and whispered, “Ethan….come home.” His eyes opened and he hovered a bit lower. His physical form opened his eyes as he did when looking to Brit. “Princess.” He looked to Steve for a moment before returning his attention to her. “I failed you.”

She held his hands tightly. “No,” she whispered. Blinking slowly, she started to process thoughts again remembering Nikita’s words. “Only if you give up, Ethan.” Her lip started to tremble as she struggled to find the words to explain to him. “Only if you do not come home. Beloveds do not hurt each other. It will only hurt if you do not come home. You promised.” He did not respond.

The paladin appeared to one side without his helmet. It was Ethan a few years older. Much like he looked prior to her burning. Then the vision of him as he had been on his quest for revenge covered in rage and hate. Ethan replied serenely, “But he fell. And you were left unprotected. He should not have left you that way.”

Brit looked at the paladin Ethan and the blood-thirsting Ethan. Then back to the version that spoke. Her hands never let go of his. “Ethan.” Her voice was soft. “You only failed yourself. It mattered not to me. I do not remember and you can only fail me now. You promised! You said beloveds do not hurt each other.” She continued to watch him ignoring the warrior or the blood-thirster. She could not sense Steve though she knew he was there.

Lorne focused calming energies in the room, and Selene watched over all. Steve spoke in a soft voice, “Ethan. Remember your job is not done. You made a promise and the preacher brought your beloved so that you can see what its worth. So come, you lost soul, and take the place you should never have left.” He looked to Brit adding, “The one right beside her.”

Ethan watched for a long moment. Songs, chants, and battle sounds mingled. After looking to the paladin and then to his blood-raged self, he closed his eyes whispering. His arms stretched to his sides. She found herself pulled against him because she would not release his hands. The other two figures disappeared. Keeping Brit near, he offered a hand to Steve.

Brit and Steve found themselves in the room surrounded by all who were helping. Ethan’s hair turned black again and his skin started to turn pale again. Working quickly, Nikita cut Brit’s wrist and she dribbled blood again on his lips. The orbs, not meant to pull anyone from torpor, were placed near so Ethan could see them, and the dagger was moved from his chest. Gweneth held her vial containing her Sire’s blood and readied to open her own vein if necessary. Selene tended to Steve and the chorus of Merma, Lorne, and Brid grew louder. Meanwhile, Kishi continued to keep others out of the room.

As the blood trickled into Ethan, his eyelids moved rapidly and fangs appeared in his mouth. A feral growl could be heard coming from his chest. Nikita quickly pushed Brit behind her and placed herself between Ethan and Brit. Lorne pulled Brit on back toward him and Merma, while Nikita ensured Ethan would find the vials. He drained them quickly but then sinks his fangs into Nikita’s throat. Merma moved between Ethan and Brit as the room watched Ethan drink from Nikita. Steve whispered to Ethan to encourage him to calm his inner beast. Ethan seemed to grow more sentient as he looked round the room. Nikita’s eyes looked to Ethan’s. A flash of purple that seemed to glow. “Convince me, Ethan. Convince me you can be near her without danger or you will not be allowed to move off that wall. I made a promise.”

Regaining composure, Ethan gave each person a nod of acknowledgement. To Nikita, he replied, “I was gone and now I’m back.” Pausing, he stood tilting his head to the side as he often does. “I’m her beloved…beloveds do not hurt each other, Nikita.” And with that, Nikita let him near again. The songs ended….and appreciation was given to all…with humble thanks and shelving pride for that moment.

A Pint of Blood

Brit wasn’t exactly sure what happened, but she saw the end result. Ethan laying in a tank of blood motionless and aged to such an extreme that she might not have recognized him less for the clothing. Her mind could not process, but instincts screamed that she needed him out of the blood he was in. The blood smelled stale and old to her. It took time to figure out how to open the tank and a bit longer to drain it. She poured the blood off of the fire escape and watched it sink into the sand below, but Ethan was still covered in dank maroon liquid. She worked silently to remove his boots and, using his dagger, she cut the bloody clothing from him. The blood covered her hands. On the tank lid, she wrote “bi*l*vd” and then rinsed both him and the tank down with cool, clean water.

As she dried both the corpse-like aged body and the tank, she sensed a presence almost familiar to her. Her eyes widened as she looked to the tank, but it was not him. Turning, she saw Gweneth, Ethan’s chylder. Turning back to him, she said, “Ethan, Gweneth is here to see you.” Watching the body in the tank, she nodded and lisped, “Ethan is not feeling so well, Gweneth. He apologizes for not standing.” Brit’s hand touched his hair as the withered figure continued to age. Gweneth said nothing for a long while and simply stared at the figure within. Her Sire was dying. Brit babbled trying to explain, but nothing made sense, and Gweneth was overcome with feelings she could only describe as sorrow as she helped Brit cover the body with a clean sheet. Gweneth whispered, “Brit, I’m here now, with you. You are not alone.”

Silence hung over the room. Both looking down at the figure and time passed. Slowly, the body continued its journey toward dust. Brit’s voice sounded like a broken child, “What do we do? It is not like before?” Her mind remembered Ethan when he went in to torpor the previous summer. He was beautiful then looking much like a museum relic lying dormant in the hiding place she had found. “Brit,” Gweneth said, “Ethan needs blood. Good blood. He will need some of yours and mine. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Ethan’s dagger was still in her hand, but Brit did not trust herself to use it. So she used the point on the charm of her necklace to pierce her skin and dribbled drops of blood on Ethan’s lips. The droplets splattered like crimson tears and were absorbed. Twisting the point, she kept her blood flowing though slowly until a soft clot formed. Then Gweneth used a fingernail allowing a slow steady stream to dribble onto his lips and again, the blood was absorbed.

Another presence could be felt. Seeing Nikita, Brit explained Ethan was aging and confessed she knew not what to do. Nikita’s anger was masked by the cold stare and monotone voice. “Giving up, huh,” she said to Ethan. No response. Nikita watched as Brit and Gweneth drizzled blood and watched as it was absorbed. “I know what he needs. Bridgette, focus on me. I can save your beloved, but he may hate me. You have to decide.” Caressing Ethan’s hair, she tried to focus again. No thoughts. Brit was numb, but replied, “If he gives up, it is his choice. Ethan said that he would find me again in my next life.” She paused and continued, “He has to decide whether to stay with us…with me…or go.”

More came and some had to go. Gweneth had to rest. Lorne and Merma came. Voices around. Offering suggestions. Offering comfort. But Brit was numb and exhausted, and started to feel overwhelmed. Her necklace started to glow as she heard voices. All well-meaning. Then, a bright light and she found herself on the floor of their resting spot, with Ethan still in front of her. She looked about not understanding. Carefully she watched him. His body did not seem to age anymore at that moment. Laying a blush furry rug down, she moves him gently by rolling him one way, and then the other so he is on the rug. She replaces the sheet around him. He looked so old and frail. Sitting near his head, she combed his hair like she did when he was in torpor before. Looking at the necklace, she carefully pierced her wrist and again dripped blood splatters onto his lips. Tiny drops. So very small. Hours passed and she dribbled tiny bits of blood and watched it absorb only to open a new spot when soft clots would prevent from more blood to fall.

Another drop. Another dribble and all she could wonder was whether he would uphold his promise to her. “If you go,” she lisped, “then I wish to go with you. I do not wish to be here without you.” There were no tears for she hurt too much for tears to fall. “I do not remember being burned Ethan. It matters not and is not real to me, but I shall never forget the pain I feel right now…and you promised that Beloveds never hurt each other.” It was the last thing she said. No sleep. She dribbled blood on his lisp wordlessly for the rest of the night. Twelve hours later, she saw more wrinkles. More evidence he was aging toward dust. It was only then, she kissed his lips as used both hands and sank his dagger into his heart just as he had done when he needed to sleep.

Valentine Vantages

It has been said before that the higher the vantage point, the more beautiful the view. The city was especially beautiful due to the light filtering through the ever-present, sepia-colored, atmospheric haze. Candles flickered on the linen-covered table that was set with pristine goblets of cut lead crystal and pure white bone china. “The Hearts Asks Pleasure First” played by an unseen pianist somewhere near. The music drifted loud enough to block out the sounds of the street below, but not so loud to become the focus. Though outside, the orb created by the light of the candles made the area seem a room to itself.

To prepare for the evening, she had selected a sanguine-colored dress with an empire waist and intricate embroidery along the bodice and hem. It had been purchased in Venice along with the vanilla-scented soap. Prior to the trip, Denny had pressed her to take a credit card which she used to purchase the perfume she also wore. Upon her arrival to the rooftop, Ethan looked her over moving in circles and observed her from all angles. He gave her an approving smile and ran a finger over the necklace he had gifted her with some weeks before. He kissed her neck softly. Circling again, his lips brushed over her forehead and cheek before he pulled back to look her over once more up and down. He said, “You are beautiful, Brit” before placing a lingering kiss on her lips.

He directed her to the table that was set for two but, rather than sit her across from him, he closed the sunbrella so they could view the sky and invited her to sit with him. A single waiter tended to the table. Brit focused on Ethan’s obvious comfort in such a formal setting rather than the waiter’s ill-fitting clothing or unnatural way of speaking which made him sound like he was reciting a poem from school. The waiter poured champagne into crystal flutes tipped with silver. Ethan admired the color while Brit sipped ladylike and listened to him talk about the holiday, which he said was somewhat new, and that he understood its meaning in the modern world. His fingers caressed in time with the next song, “The Chairman’s Waltz.” He told her that while this night was as good as any other by his system, they did have something to celebrate, and that it was a good excuse to have her looking like a princess.”

He had selected the menu had been carefully and each course was brought up for two. He pretended to join her in eating the meal, rather like a game, which delighted her as he usually just talked or stayed with her while she ate. His fingers idly caressed her as he observed her reactions to each dish. The soup was a tomato-based soup laced with basil. The lobster and crab salad was gifted with an approving MMM that was much louder than fine dining would consider proper. Music continued as “Love Remembered” played. His hand caressed her while he reminisced about wines that he enjoyed back when he drank such things. The dessert was a chocolate cake with a molten chocolate core covered by scoops of chocolate ice cream and topped with rich, chocolate syrup and whipped chocolate mousse. Death by Chocolate.

As she danced with him on the roof top over looking the city, she remembered the first time she saw him, the first time they danced, the first time she woke up with him, and of the time when he came for her in the library. The pianist played Satie’s Gymnopedie and Gnossienne, and she felt slightly dizzy swaying in time to his lead. Between the two songs, he took her left hand, spread her fingers, and slide a ring on her finger. It was hard for her not to lose focus to shine of the ring or the swirling drop of vitae that moved within it. He told her that rings had many meanings, but this ring was a part of him to be kept by her. He said that she was a part of him as was her blood mingling with his and kept him returning every night to be hers, and the ring would claim her as his.

Securing the ring on her finger, he told her many things. He called her his princess and told her that she was the only one worthy of being called such in this town or any other. She remembered him speaking of real princesses he had known long ago. His words regarding princesses were edged with contempt. It was a Valentine’s Day that she would remember all of her life. Brit knew that she was not a real princess. It never occurred to her to ask Ethan whether his vantage point was too high, or whether he really observed her close and without filters using the same criteria that he had damned all other princesses before her.

Missing Ethan

“I miss you, Ethan.” It was nearly sunset, and the room was quiet less for the dripping sound in the sink located in the corner of the room where they rested together. His body and hair had been cleaned of blood and drying matter. She had worked for hours to remove the soaked-in bloodstains on his hands and fingernails. Now, she simply sat and watched him rest. He did not look especially restful nor did he give any indication that he was aware of her nearness. She thought of the previous summer nights that she had watched over him while he rested for several weeks without waking. He called it ‘torpor’ and asked her to watch over him while he rested by it was so that he could endure.

She remembered him resting then. He was dressed in armor and looked so pristine that he seemed to look more like a museum relic. Daily, she checked in on him and ensured that he was safe. While brushing his hair and wiping dust off his skin, she had much opportunity to simply observe him. From that time, she had often wondered if he could sense her nearness. For hours, she practiced her reading skills. Brit’s lips would move slowly as she deciphered words silently before reading them out loud to him.

By the first month, curiosity won out and she moved his lips to observe his fangs. At that time, she found purpose in caring for him and ensuring he was safe. At that time, he was simply her friend who had asked for a favor and then rewarded the favor by his silent patience to her curiosities. With a small smile, she glanced to his eyes and mischievously peeked at his fangs. The smile faded while she drug her fingers lightly over his cheek and realized that, tonight, he was not going to wake like he did before.

Before, she had pulled a dagger from his chest and he bound forward. He drained three orbs filled with crimson vitae before seeing her. Before he rested, he had told her not to remain when the dagger was removed, but she stayed anyway. Seeing her, he turned from her saying, “Go..you are not safe here.” But she did not go nor did she feel frightened. And though she had been fearful of the concept of being bitten, she offered her wrist to him and he had accepted. The others who had come to find her and were near seemed very far away at that moment. Brit wondered why she had never thought of it before.

She continued to play with his hair and remembered how he looked to her when he woke from torpor. Wild and unfocused. Much like he looked now, only there are no crimson orbs to help him be calm again. Missing her pretty pale man, Brit felt weary and slipped to the sink to wash her face. Turning to grab a towel, she touched him standing near and now awake. He silently gave her the triad of kisses. Soft and quiet. Though there were no words, he sat holding her and he did not leave. She felt encouraged and decided to give him more time before she sought Gweneth in hopes that his chylder would know how to help. His silence seemed calmer tonight, and he stayed near. Though she did not know if he really heard her, she optimistically whispered, “I miss you, Ethan.”

The Redeemer

He found Brit in the ballroom of the warehouse where she had been spending more than part of her days. Always restless and often alone, she was prancing and twirling to music even as gunfire and screaming raged in the streets below. Upon glimpsing him, she stopped dancing and walked to him greeting him warmly. He placed a triad of kisses on her before gathering her close. There were no words. She had come to expect the quiet. Since his change in appearance, he spoke less each day. Tonight, he spoke not at all, but clasped her to him tightly and stroked her hair. The act of repeatedly pulling his bloodied fingers through her soft strands seemed to have a calming effect.

While holding her, he started to rock her slowly even though his motion did not match the music. He said nothing, and so she waited. Time passed: Minutes. When nothing was said in an hour, she lisped, “I’m not afraid, Ethan.” He paused mid-rock at the sound of her voice. Encouraged, she continued, “Vlad said…that I should not be afraid.” He did not move for a moment, but his eyes watched toward the sounds of gunfire that occasionally hit the bricks of the building. Brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers, she said softly, “Vlad said that fear is only for those who have no redeemer.” He didn’t move and continued to watch the wall in the direction of gunfire. She felt herself pulled in tighter as he wrapped both arms around her. She could feel the tension in him and tried to see if he could hear her. “I don’t remember any of it,” she started. His hold on her tensed more.

His reaction made her feel that he could indeed hear, but she also understood that the fact that she had only been burned when others suffered so much more mattered little if at all to him. Wrapping both arms around his neck, she pulled his head down slightly so she could see his eyes. Her mossy green eyes held his gaze and she recited in a hushed voice, “A redeemer…is someone or something that can rescue you from things that make you afraid.” No response, but he continued to watch her. When she nibbled her lip and processed trying to think what to do or say, he started to rock her against him again. The motion was slow and methodical. She nuzzled against him ignoring the hard, encrusted debris on his clothing.

Brit took comfort in his nearness and his holding her so protectively. She looked at her arm and saw no marks there. Struggling with the placement of events, she mused over what people had told her. She remembered being alone in the library and woke in the Voodoo Shop with Ethan and Niki near. Later, she found that Pieter and Lorne had brought her to the shop, and that one watched while the other healed the burns. Remembering none of that, she sighed and pressed her face against Ethan’s chest. It was all so very confusing to her. Vlad’s words, “And those who did it were burned back,” echoed in her memory, but she said nothing. She felt secure and safe in the arms of the one who extracted revenge. Brit was not comfortable with revenge and was even less so when it involved events that she had no recollection.

The shouts, screams, and sounds of bullets continued. More time passed. Sometimes, he touched her hair or pressed her against him as he silently held her. She missed her beloved with his ready smile, and grey eyes. The night was growing lighter. Pulling on her jacket to leave with him to their resting spot, she kissed him lightly. Quoting Vlad, she lisped, “Everyone gets a chance to be a redeemer.” Blinking, she measures each word carefully as if they might help him if they were said perfectly, “The world only crumbles if we allow it.” He pulled her close to him and walked her home.

Crimson Crosses

She was waiting when he returned to their resting place. The cross painted in crimson on his forehead and the blood on his lips caused most who saw him to back away. Those that did not move then usually moved when they saw his eyes. Dark, angry red eyes that seemed to swirl the vitae coursing through him. At times, he moved faster than she could really see, but she was always keenly aware of his location. He was at the door and then behind her and then, but a moment later, laying as if sleeping. His eyes did not close though. Brit laid against him not shying from the bit of wetness that pulled away crimson on her fingertips. She processed feeling the harder patches of his clothing and realized that it was dried blood and matter that had soaked and dried in the cloth and in his hair.

Slipping from him, she got a basin of water and started with his hair. Only the sound of trickling water that sponged matter until it loosened enough to be carefully cleaned off of him. She worked without a sound and slowly less she disturb him. The water in the basin had to be changed time and time again. Brit didn’t pull away from the small flecks of matter she encountered. She noticed his hair was streaked and colored abnormally even after it was clean. It took her a long time to remove his clothing. She found that it felt different and she put it in a bucket of water to soak before she worked to loosen debris of wounded and dead beings from him. She washed him clean even trying to find the retractable talons. Hours later, the basin had been rinsed many times, and his nails and skin were clean and no longer smelled of dried blood.

His clothing was another matter. The fabric was old but there was something about it that disturbed her. She spot cleaned it…to the best she could. She did not wish to use the machine less she leave it and the clothing be taken. Or just being caught out alone. It was nearly sundown when she finished with the clothing and boots. Using the small sink in the room, she bathed and pressed her clean body against his just holding him tightly. Her fingers trailed through his hair while she felt his closeness and watched him in the small light of their single source which allowed her to see. Fingers caressed him over and over circling over his chest and arms. She traced lines along his throat and mused his words saying she had been burned.

She whispered, “I remember nothing…and I am fine because you are near.” She pulled herself closer to him hand held her self tightly against him. As the sun set, Brit wondered if she could do anything to help him let go of the beast within that had taken him down the path he was on. When she woke, he was gone again.