Having returned to dust.

[Asila]

As he watched Serena's gaze fall and her smile shrink until it better expressed sorrow than amusement, his all-consuming rage began to ebb. And with the progression of her faltering subdued words, now empty of confidence and filled with shame, it left him entirely. He had done this to her. Through his anger and harsh words he had dragged her down one step at a time, to that low level that he felt no human had any right to rise above. Not when they had caused so much damage to all things they had crossed over their millenia of existence. Yet he didn't feel gratified. For even as she stood there, finally cowed by his ferocity, she proved him wrong. She did not lash out against him in anger. She did not turn away in fear. She did not look down on him in disgust and disdain. She only bore the words with which he had burdened her with humility and...compassion.

The eternal fire in his eyes vanished, leaving them as empty and distant as the rubies they resembled. With a troubled sigh, he approached and took the small volume from the girl and placed it in the gap that it had so lately in inhabited. Then he turned back to her,and spoke. "The centuries have taught me to hate so that I would not be destroyed. For I could have no weaknesses if I adopted none. And thoughts of good will, however small, are daggers that can only be turned against one such as I. Such is the path I have chosen, and there is no turning back now. My future, like my past, is irrevocable."

He paced forward, placed his hand between Serena's shoulder blades, and gently guided her from the room with that light, distant touch. "You, however, are not as I am. There is a strength in you that will brave the very same forces that I and all others I have known could not escape. By some transcendent virtue housed within your mortal frame, you are an anomaly. As such, you will be safe here and spared from trouble such as you have endured tonight at my hands." Each word was slow and careful, weighted, and by the time they came to an end the girl and the dragon were in the hallway that was lined by doors to guest rooms, including the one that Serena had left. He pointed to one that was indiscernible from the rest. "This is the restroom," he said in a still voice that would seem to have a peculiar hollow sound to Serena, who had only heard him use it while infused with some emotion, expressed or restrained. "and your room is to the left. May sleep come to you quickly when you choose to seek it and may your dreams be kind."

This last was a very old expression whose origin he could no longer remember, but he used it now, because he felt she had earned at least that small kindness after all she had been through. Once the last words fell from his lips, he turned and strode away, drifting through one corridor and then another until he reestablished his purpose here. His mission could not change.

[Seven]

As a small child, she'd fallen off of a horse in a pony ride, leaving some permanent damage. His gentle touch didn't hurt, but her back had became sensitive, causing a minor shiver to run up her spine. She said nothing though, only silently moving along as he had directed her, listening curiously to what he now had to say, but keeping her gaze straight ahead. It didn't take her long to realize he no longer sounded angry, as he was before. If anything, he seemed to be trying to explain himself to her! Go figure; as a hostage and a human (as she now knew he disfavored the race as whole), she wasn't sure why he'd bother. But the thought left her mind, be replaced gratitude, happy to know he didn't despise her. However, the latter half of his speech took her by surprise. He seemed to be complementing her spirit, her virtue. Only then did she turn slightly to look at him, the curious look now on her face. He was promising her saftey--safety of all things! Not that that was bad of course...just.... immensely confusing.

It was hard to come up with something to say after all that, he pretty much left her speechless. That, and as soon as he had finished what he had to say, as soon as he wished her good rest, he turned and walked away. She stared after him, for a moment frozen, before she suddenly remembered her manners. "Good night," she called after him in a modest voice. She could feel herself smiling a little bit again as she turned away, entering the bathroom, and then later, the bedroom.

She lay awake with her eyes open for a few moments before trying to fall asleep. It would be silly, after all, to allow worries to keep her up all night, considering she'd need the rest. But there were a lot of events that passed this day, and thus a lot of thoughts she had about them. Malevolos, for one, took up a great deal of her thoughts. She couldn't figure him out--she could only wonder about the significance of his words and what he was trying to accomplish. She rolled to her side. It didn't matter right now, weariness was beginning to overcome her. Her eyes closed. She silently began to think of all she was grateful for, and how lucky she had been today, all things considered. It didn't take much longer for the girl to fall asleep.

[Asila]

Once he left Serena behind, her timid good night seeming to chase him down the hallway, he just continued to pace. In and out of every empty, dust-veiled room whose eternal silence seemed to weigh on him, through each seldom used corridor, past the parlor that had never sheltered anyone who was neither enemy or hostage. Every crevice of this house was burdened by the weight of ages, and every one was empty. The house itself seemed to be mocking him with the very truth he had so firmly denied. That everything he had sacrificed, every battle he had fought, all of the odds he had denied and triumphed over, brought him nothing. Nothing save this unbearable emptiness and the hatred of the very race that he was trying to help!

He was moving into the damaged main hallway with it's grand staircase and temporary ice doors. Suddenly infuriated by this reminder that the beings he tried to help rewarded him in a fashion such as this, he snarled low in his throat and flung his hand outward, toward the doors that were themselves a mockery, ice that had replaced what was real now that it had been damaged beyond repair. He twisted his entire entire body into the motion and his power followed the violent movement, racing up through his legs, gathering strength in his torso, and blasting outward down his arm and through his hand. The false door exploded outward with no sound save the musical, glass-like tinkle of shattering ice. The candles and gas-lamps that still burned extinguished. The dragon was angry, sick of the light, and no longer concerned about squandering his depleted stores of energy. His fury had him laboring under the delusion that he had plenty to spare.

He stalked outside, to stand beneath the open sky where he instinctively felt less smothered. But perhaps not quickly enough, for certain words the girl had spoken seemed to follow him. The ones that he had least wanted to hear. Is there really even a difference in the end? If a person could speak to the stars, the moon, and all other heavenly bodies, and held up a butterfly and a spider, and asked these celestial bodies 'What is the difference?' do you suppose they could see what tiny, insignificant creatures were being held up, and if they could, would they be able to distinguish them as anything more than a tiny speck of dust? It was a foolish fancy! Even alone, he could change the fate of the world. Over the centuries, his power had only grown, his wisdom increased. The creatures of this planet would one day discover just how great a force he was, they would cower before his ruthlessness. He would not be denied. And if the unthinking stars could not recognize for the hand of fate that he was, what did it matter? Not at all, when he'd have shown so many others exactly who it was they should have spent their petty lives fearing. When he had finally been acknowledged by his kin for his accomplishments and given a place of honor amongst them. The disconnected opinions of the feeble lights in the sky would make no difference then!

Turning, he walked abruptly into the house, satisfied with his conclusion. Or perhaps he wasn't as at peace in mind as he had first thought when he re-entered the imposing building, because dawn found him in the library with a familiar small volume in his hands and the pages fallen open to reveal the ballad he knew so well, yet only now had begun to see beyond the crisply printed words.

[Seven]

Serena's dreams could not fight off the morning light that filtered into her room hour after hour, eventually waking her at around nine A.M. She felt rested, despite the fact that she had only slept few a few hours, because the bed had been so comfortable and she had awoken of her own accord rather than to a noisy alarm. There was no need to rush though, as she suspected that Malevolos was busy with whatever he was planning and probably thought she would not stir for at least another couple of hours. She felt she needn't bother him so early, she did not want to make him sick of her so soon, considering she might be staying in his home for a while. Instead she opted to sit up in bed without leaving it, her eyes drifting to the past the glass pane windows, out to the open fields she had traversed just a day ago. The scenery looked so lovely illuminated by the sun's rays. For a second she imagined herself back beside the tree where she had first taken sight of the Thornfield Mansion. Except she was having difficulty imagining the Gothic architecture of the dark structure during the day; it would seem out of place, like a fairy tale amongst geography books, it wouldn't fit. She laughed to herself a little, good humor returning to her. The memories of Frost and Yugo only vaguely haunted her now, serving their purpose as a warning. No, she couldn't follow Frost's advice and try to leave. There was a window, but such an action would be futile and self-defeating, especially now that Malevolos, through his mysterious words, proclaimed she might be safe in his home.

Serena finally slipped out of bed, though as soon as her body felt the chilled air, she had second thoughts about leaving the warm sheets. Her feet touched the ground--too late, she was already up. The vague impression of a dream still bouncing around her thoughts. A good dream, a dream that something wonderful was coming. But the fleeting scraps of coherency of it had left her the minute she had left bed, leaving only the vague but sweet impression. She frowned, realizing she couldn't remember it any longer, and tried to scramble her mind to recall it, but with no success. It was gone, and all she could do was sigh carelessly and bid another sweet memory adieu.

But enough of her dillydallying. She knew she had to face the music eventually, and while her carefree thoughts served as a sweet distraction, they would not stop the inevitable. She stood before the window, peering out into the day, much as Malevolos had done the night before. She had to get her thoughts in order; perhaps through communication, she could negotiate some terms with him, or at least learn what rules she must abide by during her stay here. She thought of her mother and Pan, and knew both of them must be worried sick. There was nothing she could do to contact Pan and let her know she was alright, but perhaps with permission, Malevolos would allow her to write and send a note to her mother explaining her cell phone had been stolen, which is why should could not contact her, and to not worry. It was a long shot, but she had to keep some hopes about her.

"Well...I ought to freshen up..." she said to no one in particular, stepping away from the window. She silently left her room, making her way back to the bathroom Malevolos had shown her the night before. She grinned a little at the memory. How much time she had wasted searching the many hallways fruitlessly, when the bathroom in all reality had been so close by! She stepped in, noting her ragged clothes. She grimaced. "Sometimes I wish I had the power of foresight. Even if I would be unable to change my fate, it would have been nice to know to bring enough clothes for a short vacation." Her grimace changed to a grin, as she silently laughed. She turned the faucets, letting the stream of water fall onto her hands. She sighed, wondering how hygienic it is to wear the same ratty clothes for several days at a time. She closed her eyes, something in her stomach churned. Something felt different, but she couldn't place it. Her eyes opened.

A sudden shrill scream echoed through the house and then was silenced liked death.

[Asila]

As the day brightened, Malevolos had abandoned his post in the library in favor of a darker, windowless bedroom. The touch of the light had reminded him that the past hours had taken their toll, and he felt significantly weaker. So alone in the dark, where dust motes drifted through the air unseen, he had dozed, beginning the long process of regaining his strength that, under ideal circumstances, would only come to fruition with the return of the night.

But it was a mere two hours later that Serena's scream woke him, and when his conscious thoughts returned to him they seemed to tint the world red with their rage. The dragon stormed out of the room, casting his cloak aside as he went and allowing his form to shift into dimensions more natural to him and better adapted to fighting. Great leathery wings erupted from his back, through the gashes in his shirt that had been torn by the proceeding transformation of hours ago, slender horns, smooth and sharp, pierced the skin over his temples. His features became more angular, his teeth sharper, and the pupils of his eyes became slitted like those of a snake. Raven had gone too far this time, and he meant to have the vampire regret entering his home and harming his charge when he had made it clear that such behavior would not be allowed. Perhaps carving the message into his flesh with a fire-heated blade would be enough to prevent this behavior from recurring in the future.

With this thought, Malevolos threw open the girl's door, but of course she wasn't in the bedroom. Guessing that she had met her stroke of ill luck in the bathroom, he threw this door open even more violently than he had the first, so that it struck the wall loudly and left it's imprint in the plaster. Catching sight of Serena, he seethed into the room the way a hoarding dragon will claw it's way free of it's cave if threatened,...and just barely stopped himself from lunging in for the kill. The ferocious snarl that had erupted from his throat when he charged through the doorway faltered and died.

Raven was not the opponent he was facing now.

[Seven]

((Yay! Now I get to contradict a little of what you say! *ehem* I'm glad I wasn't cowering behind the door or something...otherwise I'd be dead right now! XD))

Entering the bathroom is not as Malevolos would have imagined it be. There is no visible intruder, but there is something terribly wrong. Somehow, there was no such stench outside the door, but passing through the door was like passing through a barrier. Now that he was inside, sights and smells overwhelmed him---that of blood that shallowly covered the floor and the mangled body parts of several people tacked onto the walls and thrown carelessly about--even the faucet spurted out a thick, dirty colored stream that one might suspect to be muck and freshly ground, bloodied meat.

The bathroom that Malevolos had entered could hardly feel like his own in such an array; it seemed more plausible that he had entered a separate dimension where ages had past, time ruining the ornate lavatory, and evil spirits and psychopaths haunting the area, for in this macabre scene, even the walls seemed to breathe! Yes, the sight before him could have easily been identifiable with a well done, modern horror movie set, and one might lead themselves to believe that had it not been the unbearable smell of death and the thickness of the shallow layer of blood their feet waded through. There was still no clue to who the perpetrator might be, or how he might of accomplished such a thing, except for a single note written in same trend of the rest of the bathroom: In blood on the mirror. And all that it had was a single fraction, "1/13." But as if this were an eye-opening moment, it would then become clear whose the mangled bodies belonged too. The vague smells of the other members of the 13's blood now aroused, a broken arm of Raven's, Yuki's hair clogging the bathtub's drain, and most gruesome of the sights, Reaper's head piked and displayed as proudly as a trophy.

And before it all was the young girl, petrified and haunted herself, clothes smeared with blood. She was visibly shaking, her eyes sad and bewildered and terrified. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came. It seemed she didn't even register Malevolos's new and fearsome form, or perhaps it was that any sight less horrifying than the one around them was welcome. But in either case it didn't matter, for she ran to him and clung to his chest desperately like a lost child, or a person holding onto life and sanity itself, which may have very well been the case.

((Ok! Here's the request I was eluding to last night! If it's not too much of a bother, don't let him pull away in your next post, just keep him there....unless you feel that such a thing would be out of character for him. I do have a small thing plotted, but I can always work around it and change it up if I have to. ;D))

[Asila]

((*laughs* Lucky you! As for contradicting what I said, I'm just glad that I stopped when I did and left my post pretty open-ended. Now that last line can just be read metaphorically instead of literally. Because he isn't facing Raven. *tries to pretend she is so incredibly clever even though she knows perfectly well that she was only one sentence away from botching it entirely*))

The scene was so unlike the one the dragon had expected that he nearly stepped back, and he wasn't one to cower at the sight of blood. No matter how much of it there was. Fortunately he did not embarrass himself in such a way and remained where he stood, even though his spine had become rigid and every muscle seemed to lock in place. That predatory fluidity that had accompanied him into the room had fled in a heart beat. This mess, with all of it's implied sadism and spectacles of gore, was...disconcerting.

And then Serena had rushed forward, coming to him for protection and comfort. Perhaps he was the least terrifying thing in this room of horrors, but this was still not the reaction he would have expected from her. His eyes widened in surprise, and some small part of him that had failed to become as cynical as the rest remembered what it was to feel concerned for, and protective of, another living being. It was for this reason that his arms, however stiff, encircled her back, gentle in their uncertainty, as though this embrace was capable of damaging him as well as her. And his wings rustled forward, so that they curved around them even as his arms curved around her. And, all the while, he stared at the message on the mirror and felt cold. He was the only one left, and he didn't even know what he was up against.

[Seven]

((Awwwwww---can I comment on how immensely cute that was? I probably shouldn't though, as I'm sure you already know and realize it. But hold...I need to get it out of my system. AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! *huggles*))

The girl seemed to tense for a second before relaxing, her forehead lightly pressing against his chest. The lights flicker for a brief moment. For a second, something seems different about her, more lovely. There was nothing different about her at all, nothing whatsoever, yet the feeling was unshakable. Perhaps it was only a matter of relativity--that the gruesome, sadistic sight made the air around her seem lighter and more graceful. Her dark hair seemed shiner in the dimming light...her cold fingers spread across the skin of his bare chest...

That's when he'd realized, the little minx somehow undid all the buttons of his shirt, leaving his chest exposed, hence the skin on skin sensation. This in itself is an anomaly, since doing a tedious task like undoing buttons of a shirt, and doing it so swiftly and unnoticeably would take all the skill of a thief or conjurer, a person able in slight of hand, which probably wasn't the case with the girl. In fact, the girl was quite tightly pressed up against him at this point, in a way that suggested something other than fear. Her head was still tilted down, so he couldn't see her face exactly, but her fingers continued to move lightly like an experienced lover.
"Won't you...comfort me?" she asked in that soft voice.


((Hahah! Now I get to play the "mess with Asila's head" game!))

[Asila]

Serena seemed to melt into his arms, pulling the embrace beyond it's comforting role and altering the situation, transforming it into a state of intimacy that seemed worlds away from the tentative comforting gesture that it had evolved from. Feeling Serena's cold hands against his chilled skin, he looked away from the blood-smeared message, and when his gaze found her he forgot it was there. When she, this beautiful and enchanting girl, now so sensual, radiant, was held captive in his arms, how could anything else matter?

He bowed his head over hers, pulled her closer, and softly spoke her name. "Serena..." He had meant it to be a warning, to remind her exactly whose embrace she now found herself in, but his voice, while pained and as uncertain as his embrace had first been, betrayed him with it's lustful rumble. He closed his eyes and tried to summon all of his inner strength to him. Something about this wasn't right. But that conviction just didn't seem as important as it should have, so slowly he surrendered his restraint. Raising one arm so that he could run his hand through her sleek dark hair, he gave in to the desire to partake in something...more...

[Seven]

((*grins manically* And now *ehem* I get to crush your dreams.))

The girl made a soft noise of contentment, a purr in its own way. She seemed to enjoy the way he called her name, and wasn't unresponsive to his subtle, yet intimate actions. But she wasn't on the defense, just enjoying the caresses, she took action herself. Her fingers creeping further and further away from where they originally parted the shirt, her slick long fingernails unintentionally tracing just half a second behind. In a sudden, feisty move, her hands grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled them further away to reveal more.

But there was still something wrong. Something undeniably wrong. Something unplaceable. That is, until she suddenly looked up at him, grinning, as she always was. But the smile was not her own, it was dark and vicious. Her eyes were not her own, they were wild and cruel. This was not Serena.

((*giggles in tone somewhere between immature and evil* Did you really think I'd be that easy?))

[Asila]

((NOOOO! MY POOR BABY! *sobs over poor, broken-hearted Molly* ;D ))

Malevolos was hopelessly caught up in the spell she had woven over him, so much so that the intuitive thought that had warned him something was not right had faded from his conscious thoughts just as completely as thoughts of the message had. As her hands roamed further down his chest, pausing to expose the pale skin of his abdomen, the brush of her nails thrilling through him with that sharp, tingling sensation that was more reminiscent of ice than it was of fire, that rumble that had first appeared in his voice began to build in his chest. His desire flamed to life, causing his eyes to darken and condemning every lingering thought still concerned with worldly affairs or past traumas to the fate his intuitive mistrust had already met.

Yet, as it seemed all good things must for him, this moments lapse from the usual dark, numbed fury that defined his existence came to a sudden and horrifying close. That grin, those eyes...if that grin had fostered his first fleeting doubt, that cruel gaze immediately fanned it into a sense of horror so strong that it seemed to rob him of all feeling with it's devastating chill. With his hand still entangled in the imposter's hair, he viscously cast it from him. The groan that had been building in his chest emerged as a low, outraged snarl and his wings fanned outward until they braced against the walls of the relatively small room, but just now he was beyond words. It seemed that, when confronted by this terrible deception, his thoughts themselves were reluctant to return.

[Seven]

((Think of it this way: Yah! More DRAMA!!! ....*sighs, cant believe she lost her chance at Molly for good rping...*))

There was something almost sadistically gleeful in the girl's look as he shoves her away, as if something were unbearably funny or an obvious joke that the dragon was missing. The girl all but laughed at him, stumbling clumsily as he pushed her away. It was more than just than a little tease though, it was downright mockery. The girl, who had seemingly carressed him, had also drawn a small circle around the left side of his chest--a target zone around the heart. It seemed to suggest she could have destroyed him and all his ambitions within seconds.

But the silent and malicious laughter in her eyes lasted only a second longer as she pulled herself up straight again. When she fully recovered, the darkness disappeared and was replaced with a strange blank look. He couldn't know it, but the very same girl's heart was racing, her feelings only those of confusion, dizziness, and bewilderment. And then fear, for she saw the dark state Malevolos was in.

[Asila]

((I hate you. But in a good way. Yet I'm afraid Serena might never be able to redeem herself after this one. Unless Daemon owns up to it, all hope is lost. And even then...well, this is one blow that our cherished villain may never quite overcome. *sighs sadly* I feel bad for him. But yeah, this does make for some good, intense, dramatic role-playing!))

Something about the malignant look of glee in the human's eyes had him turning his attention to his chest. Shocked and outraged, he brought his hand to the marked skin, brushing his fingers across it in a quick, impatient gesture, as though he couldn't believe it was real. But it was. Oh, but it was! That siren had had his very heart at her fingertips, and he had actually leaned into her deadly caress!

Feeling the cruel claws of humiliation sink deep into his mind, he turned back to the human that he had so foolishly underestimated, his eyes now smoldering pits of flame as everything that was demon in him took advantage of this pain, the resulting weakness, and the scalding power of his hatred. Throughout his many long years he had considered himself more a member of the noble dragon race than a minion of Hell, but now he was clearly born of this last. "What have you done?" He said in a chilled voice that seemed to rip through the air between them like daggers. "What did you mean to do to me?!!!" And if the walls had seemed to breathe before, then with that injured, angry demand for an answer they seemed to bow inward, closing in upon the enraged demon's quarry.

[Seven]

((*grins wildely* I love you honey!
Ahh, poor me! I must be a sado-masochist: I love to torture myself. ;D Hehehe...but torturing Molly is fun too! *takes a deep breath* And now I get to introduce the explanation of everything that's just happened!))

Serena's eyes widened, terrified, unsure of anything anymore. She had no voice to speak, nothing to say to him when she herself would have liked an explanation. She cringed away while his anger seemed to leap forward in passion. She stepped back, fear wrought her being, and in her clumsiness and terror, she slipped, falling into the blood. She had reached out for a second, but this too had only did more damage than good--her hand brushed pass the top of the shadow spike that held Reaper's head, and she cut a fairly deep gash into her left hand. Her blood mixed with the rest, but the pain was of little notice to her. From Malevolos's angry eyes alone, she felt the world was going to collapse on her. She felt as though death was inevitable; she was going to die, and she didn't even know why.

All she knew was this: She had entered a perfectly normal bathroom and somehow end up in this horrible one. She screamed, and yet as quickly as she had done that, some feeling, or presence had taken her over. In a way, it was a perfectly analytical one. It told her, "Why scream? What good shall that do?" and as if this suggestion were command enough, she obediently obeyed, ceasing and falling silent, but frozen to her spot. She had still been afraid, so afraid she could not move, not until he came. He was a relief to see, he was more than just a relief...

She couldn't know it, but perhaps that unrecognizable presence had manipulated that tiny little feeling as she ran to him. For suddenly, Serena did not feel that she was in any danger anymore, or that she was even in reality. Obviously, she would not do such foolish things in reality, and obviously her dark-minded captor would not respond to such silly, trivial fleeting fantasies. So that's what it must have been, a dream. For the whole ordeal seemed very dreamlike, and something about her body had felt light and strange, like the sensations one has when they dream in lucidity. And all the while, the presence continued to suggest, yet in it's own way control. Perhaps such thoughts had lay undisturbed in the back of her subconscious, but the presence brought them forward, and the presence egged her on, and in a way, the presence took her actions for her, so that she did them without doing them.

And she all the while, continued her actions blissfully unaware, just like a dreamer without control of their dream. But she could not know that her body was the one to mockingly draw target zones around his heart, or that her smile had been so wicked---to her she only caressed, and smiled as she normally did. Yes, the presence had enabled her, given her the means to so swiftly undo the shirt buttons, but in her naive state, it also took advantage of her body when she was unaware. Yes, it was possession, but not in the terms one would imagine, but then again the beast that hid within her mind felt no need to use such blatantly obvious and head-spinning tactics, not when he could be artful in his evils. Strong suggestions that flowed with the nature of the girl rather than blatant commands that worked against her spirit--that was the art. It was so subtle and weak that she could have easily thrown it off at any point...that is, if she could have realized that it was there to begin with. But she could not until it was too late, and Malevolos had seen her to be a treacherous siren, calling for his death or something just as bad. But to her, to her she had only just woken from a dream. Or rather, startled from a dream--her realization that threw off the possession was inexplainable and sudden anger. But of course, at that point, the presence no longer needed her body--if anything, he needed to be out of it, so he could properly enjoy watching the confused girl suffer at the hands of the distraught and betrayed feeling man.

Yes, somewhere in the room, unbeknown to the two, a shadow was grinning, and just barely holding back full throttle laughter.

[Asila]

Her silence only incensed him further, provoking his fury to such blistering power that he could no longer hold onto reason while enduring such agony. For a long moment he stood there, his indomitable anger smashing violently against his control. Because, despite it all, he was reluctant to give in. Not that she deserved even the slightest degree of mercy on his part, because, for this grievous offense, she didn't. He had killed frequently over smaller injustices than this. Yet he doubted, now. Her bewildered and frightened expression unnerved him. She hardly looked like the treacherous siren of only seconds ago. She looked-

But it seemed that thought was destined to be left unfinished, for all his fury and dark hatred had just shattered through his thin control. It ravaged every conscious thought; it threw every other emotion and impression upon a funeral pyre and set them ablaze, ensuring that there was nothing left to interfere once it had established it's harsh rule. Only his hatred remained intact, and it was through that merciless lens that he considered the situation now.

So he stared at her, his eyes burning so voraciously that they had begun to blacken the pale skin that came in contact with them. He looked as though the fire was consuming him from the inside out, which would be an insightful impression, for it was very near to the truth. His hatred, resentment, pain, and anger were burning him alive. He hated with every ounce of passion he possessed the way she looked at him, as though that offense she had leveled against him had never occurred. How dare she take this so lightly! How dare she mock him with such a blatant lack of remorse!

Unable to stand the insult of her silence any longer, he stalked forward, the blood that had flooded the floor rippling as he sliced through it. The force behind his braced wings actually cracked the tiles, and pieces of ceramic fell from the walls and disappeared beneath the surface of the slowly congealing blood with thick ker-plunks. Once he towered over the inferior human girl whose fatal error had been to wrong him, he lifted one rigid arm so that the entire appendage was pointed directly at her. Shadows seemed to flicker through the air like corrupted moths and gather around his hand, extending into a parody of a lance whose point rested at the girls throat. "Speak," He began darkly, his voice so resonant with the power of his fury that it seemed to echo off of the converging walls. "If you wish to live a moment longer, you will explain yourself."