so lie here with me and just forget the world. [p]

<span style='color:gray'>[ooc.] you're the closest to heaven that i'll ever be</span>

private for the jods-love. mild powerplay- hope that you don't mind. :o lyrics from "save me" by pearl jam. mia 9th, 81381.

<span style='color:gray'>[ic.] and i don't wanna go home right now</span>

Acid Strychnine jabbed at the radio-tuning button for about the fiftieth time.

gonna save you
not gonna lose you
feeling cocky and strong
can't let you go
too important to me

"Nothing good on," he muttered. He couldn't see the two-toned, cream and cobalt face of Uyel, his chauffeur, as he was keeping his eyes on the road, but he could certainly sense his disappointment, as well. "True," the khell said. "They've been airing some more Killswitch since the Medhysjytas expired, though." 'Yel immediately registered his mistake, and clasped a hand to his short, blue-whiskered muzzle. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Honestly-" 'Cid cut him off, cringing. He'd been a close friend of the singers, and was still a little emotionally damaged from their deaths. "It's okay, 'Yel." He sighed. "It's okay."

"No, no, really, I didn-"

"Stop here," he murred. Uyel rounded about to the front of the Rloa Kumiym while 'Senic pulled on his messenger bag and coat. Y'hote, one of the anubi guards sitting in front of him, stepped out of the limousine. Behind his jet-lensed glasses, he scanned the area for possible danger before opening the door. Acid stepped out and began to walk ahead, trajectory aimed straight for the restaurant. Y'hote shut the door with an audible click and began to follow behind- but Acid whorled about on one heel and stopped him. "I'll be fine." The black bodyguard expressed his concern by frowning, and was about to open his mouth before 'Cid motioned to his bag. The signal was unmistakable to the ink-colored arden: concealed within the shoulder-strung and steel-buckled sack was Aci's .22. As a former U.S.R. Twoupjym Laupaj, his employer was considerably formidable with a firearm. He pursed his lips, brows furrowing with worry.

too important to us
we'd be lost without you
baby, let yourself fall-
i'm right below you now.

Slender, lissome, graceful, 'Cid slipped through the front door, nodding to the usher. He was a regular. "Jatajbap," Aci purled. He followed the sleekly-furred arden.

and fuck me if i say something you don't wanna hear
and fuck if you only hear what you wanna hear
fuck me if i care-
but i'm not leaving here.

His calm was shattered when, unexpectedly, a polyphonic series of chimes rung out from his bag. He unbuckled the flap, still walking behind the employee, and dug around for a moment in the sack. The male's paw finally came to clutch a thin, metal cell phone- which he promptly ripped out, unflipped, and pressed to one of his metal-pierced, oversized, bat-like ears.

"Hai." Following behind the other, he entered a boldly-colored room, the doors flanked by a pair of burly, well-muscled guards. "Hai." The voice was unmistakable- it was Quiren, his assistant. "Sha thyf em Aurius fell ra ym sha 28sh." 'Senic grinned. "Ufatyna." No plans that week, thankfully.

His clothes were most certainly appropriate- the newest designs from Hearse.

Longcoat in dark gray plaid, over a cream cashmere turtleneck. In reality, the clothes were rendered in such seductive, state-of-the-art luxury as to be irresistible. Take that unutterably alluring aforementioned coat. From the runway, it had the power to make all but the strictest ascetic surrender to its siren call.

you helped me when i was down
i'll help when you're down
why are you hitting yourself?
c'mon, hit me instead.

Rigor and sensuality- the twin poles of the collection, as defined by the show notes- were represented by the layers of sober-toned cashmere and vicuna in which the masters of the universe would undoubtedly choose to face the world. The labelÂ’s technical mastery was such that his black trousers gleamed like satin. Subtle but showy, Hearse remained sui generis.

The gray and tangerine arden yawned quietly. He'd had a three-hour-long nap a little while ago, as he hadn't had a good night, but he was still a little tired, albeit cheerful- Aci was nearly impossible to get cranky or upset.

let's pick up your will
it's grown fat and lazy
i'm sympathetic as well
don't go on me now-

It was at some point during last night that the nightmares had really started up.

It was the first time in two weeks. The images and visions of his past life had strided through his head and scared the living shit out of him. The drugs never helped. He woke up multiple times, hardly able to breathe, hot tears streaming uncontrollably from his seething-blue eyes, filmed with dank sweat, the damp sheets twisted 'round his frame like kudzu.

-and i'm not living this life without you
and you're not leaving here without me
i don't wanna be without
my best friend
wake up to see you could have it all.

The porter halted, motioning to the table before them. 'Nic nodded as to let the employee know that he was actually paying attention- not just blabbing on ignorantly like almost every other patron in the establishment. Just as he was about to sit down, he scanned the room over for a moment.

Almost imperceptibly, the stalwart male's eyes widened.

Just before they went blank.

And what he saw, or who he saw, rather-

-he was getting dizzy.

"Hai, Quir?" He pressed the thin, three-millimeter-thick [that sounds strange, doesn't it?] cell's receiver closer to his mouth. "E huba sy dy. Leca, ut em, myf." He snapped it shut before slipping it back into his messenger bag. Aci turned back to the porter. "E'llÂ… ah, ra vema ym ni yfm, myf, shumc iyo baji nokh." He caught the yellow staring at the ribbons of pink scar that striped his collarbone, torso, and shoulder, meeting the other's eyes with a piercing, electric-sea gaze that rather unsettled him. The porter nodded curtly before turning away and gliding out of the room.

He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and ran a partially-fingered hand through his tri-colored hair; spread his legs a little for support so that he wouldn't fall.

'cause there is but you
and something within you
it's taken control
let's beat it, get up, let's goÂ…

And he stared.

For the female was a slender, petite creature of burnished amethyst and richly-spiced gold, a diabolical smirk adorning the loveliness of her features. The smirk was unnerving, possessive, confident, and Hearse found himself ensnared, just as he always had.

Her name was Koani Grader.

Shaken, disoriented, he approached quietly.

What was left of Aci's fingers gently brushed against her undamaged shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and his mangled right hand fell away from her.

"Â…Ani?" he whispered.

It suited her, the exotic nuances of those syllables spreading like spiced wine over the tongue. Trembling slightly, he grabbed a chair from the nearest unoccupied table, pulled it up to the one that his old friend was occupying, slipped off his bag and sat down. Now the sultry and spirited Koani appeared unto the foreground with all the graceful simplicity and strength of her presence.

Â…oh, you're in your own world
(let's see the whole world)
let's pick up your soul.

"It's me," he murred, trying to bring himself to say the name that he no longer held- one that he hadn't spoke in over a dozen years.

"Dyl- DylanÂ… Laizere," he stammered. He bit his lip out of nervousness. The electric-blue gaze that was Acid's undisputed trademark- now warm with happiness, cheer, and fervent friendship and respect- touched upon Koani' indigo-and-violet-painted form again and cautiously sought to meet the other's of rose and turquoise in silent understanding. "ButÂ… I- I changed my name. It's Acid, now. Arsenic Strychnine."

Then again, she'd probably already known that, with his face getting plastered on the television screen or front cover of top magazines every month.

and fuck me if i say something you don't wanna hear
and fuck me if you only hear the treble in your head
please help me
to help you
help yourselfÂ…

She looked even more beautiful than he'd remembered.

And then his bright, liquid-lightning eyes were drawn once again, irresistibly to 'Ani. The graceful manner in which she conducted herself nearly undid him, and he found that he could not turn his gaze away.

Â…help me help yourself
please want me to-

"I missed you," he said shakily.

-please let me
help you.

He looked down at the table, now rendered both vulnerable and embarrassed by his admission.

 

[ooc.] well i don't want the world to see me, 'cause i don't think that they'd understand

I understand if you fall asleep about a dozen times while reading this. I didn't think that I'd rambled on for so long. :o <table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>CODE </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'><other voice></td></tr></table>What time is it?<table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td>CODE </td></tr><tr><td id='CODE'></voice></td></tr></table> IT'S PARTY TIME! -dances-

[ic.] when everything's made to be broken, i just want you to know who i am

Time was its own.

It ran without stopping, without pausing or waiting for its loyal worshippers to catch up or pick up where they left off. If a mistake it was made, if a tragedy or glorified moment struck, it kept going. It stopped for no one- not even one whom regretted waiting for something that would never actually come back. Souls had put themselves on the line with every ounce of their heart and strength put into the loyalty of waiting for their goal. It was a glorified thing, for a very short time. After a while, such an action was considered not loyal, but merely as foolish and stupid.

The depths of realization had come forth as a tidal wave on unsuspecting vacationers at their beachfront home.

It struck with hurt and anguish and staggered back with the realization of the waste of precious time that would never return. Up to such a point it had snow-balled, moments wasted on the caged longings, suppressed, watered-down envy, shyness, and broken hopes dwelling within, only to be left rejected once more. Such had occurred for years, and after "The Incident", the feelings that were once so strong had to be extinguished; a heart that had felt so much feeling had to be sucked dry.

Thirty years, to be exact.

That was when he'd met Koani. He was fifteen; her a year his senior- and they were both being schooled at Janardan. Their dorms were right next to each other, on sub-floor zero, due to their respected parentage.

He was immediately bewitched by her.

They became best friends, but nothing more; not even benefriends. And when 'Senic was in times of distress, she'd be there for him. She was there for him when Uquell left him and had the abortion. Aci was a hundred-percent pro-rights, butÂ… she'd promised him.

She was there for him when Vecoarsae died of leukemia.

And she was there for him when they were shot.

Acid had always been embarrassed and bashful about relationships and sex- and as much as he'd have liked to tell her about how he was in love with her-

-he was afraid.

He was afraid of rejection. Afraid that she wouldn't see him as he saw her. And then, when she started going out with Saber, he bottled up those feelings inside himself- both his hidden infatuation with 'Ani, as well as the resentment that he felt for the two-toned thill's lover.

After The Incident, he'd thought that she was dead. Everyone had. He'd been forcibly removed from the U.S.R. due to his PTSD, and had duly changed his face and name. He was afraid of being recognized for his "heroic" deeds. Afraid that it would just trigger all the pain again. Thereafter, he returned to his previously abandoned aspirations of becoming a fashion designer.

And he did.

But the material things- the money, the clothes, the houses and mansions and condos and estates- did next to nothing for him. 'Cid tried to bury all previous thoughts and feelings related to Koani. Obviously, however, he wasn't really able to do this- because even after he married Rail, he still thought of her now and then. He swore to himself never to think of his deceased friend again in any way other than that which they had been in while she was alive.

And then, it happened.

Suddenly, all that he once had was lost. He'd been stripped of his dignity, his strength, his soul-

-and Rail.

He held the wounds of his life. He'd been little more than a husk, then; a casket for his lifeÂ’s failures. Even now, his bruised and scarred form was perhaps representative of his catastrophe-plagued life, or maybe his skewered soul.

He dreamed about the aqua-haired thill at night.

The gray and tangerine-painted male could shed another million tears, a million breaths, a million names; could speak another million lies, a million songs, a million rights, misdeeds, sins, fearsÂ… but if there was a single truth- a single light, a single thought, a single flame, illuminating the black murk of his mind-

-that single haunted memory of her face.

He'd been haunted by that idea that when he was alone and the clock read nine past eleven, when she showed no sign of calling him with a smile to comfort him hanging from her lips, he was alone. He was alone. He would light his candles for her, but he wouldn't hope.

Hope was empty and frail.

Or so he thought.

The appearance of his aqua-crowned goddess electrified Aci, sending fire searing through his blood and making his eyes to spark a brighter, more intense shine of ocean-hue. And yet he had not moved a muscle throughout this transformation, save for the smile that burned and bloomed across his face. There was simply... an essence that he seemed to glean from Koani's duo-luminary gaze. Something intangible that he felt from tip to tail and back again. Something wonderful, like the dawn of Christmas morn or the exaltation of an eagle's first flight.

It seemed inevitable for things to wind up in such a situation eventually.

No matter how sharp and definite his conviction, it was not by keeping in moral grounds that he defined himself by. Opinions and all of one's "political" views were great and all, but perhaps instinct and emotion could shatter any honest, heart-felt oath.

The male was maybe a bit too unconventional to be healthy. He'd ended up, unintentionally, in a rather violent sort of life. But his creed was karma- the same and worse had been fired at him threefold before his own wrongdoings, and he'd thrown them right back in the world's vicious, merciless face.

Maybe it was just now irony, or the way life itself worked, to simply beat any sort of hope out of its victims.

But feeling something this strong, this powerful, violated whatever "morals" he had even more. Superficial, yes, and that just seemed to twist his gut into a knot that would not be relieved. The bottled-up emotions of the past were now washing over and flooding him.

"Dylan!"

"'Ani!" he cried. Acer laughed in glee, bubbling up in emotional ecstasy from his throat.

And then it died, choked in his throat.

There she stood before him, her beautiful, beautiful eyes flashing with euphoria and exhilaration. Her warm, sweet breath washed over his mangled shoulder. Her grin shattered his final reserves and he felt himself go utterly, immediately weak. The flicker of his blue-plumed tail slowed, breached cessation, and 'Senic remained perfectly still as she held him, his own limbs wrapped tight around her, chin resting on her shoulder. He stood, speechless, motionless, breathless, as he caught his breath, parted maw closing with an almost inaudible click. He stood, his heart racing, his eyes half-closed, and her sweet ambrosia drew nearer to him. Unable to tell whether she was leaning or he falling, the tortured cool-gray he-luoko tautened his muscles; kept to his feet as best he could. He was unaware at the time that he was leaning forward as she was. That his eyes were full of... warmth.

“I... oh, Acid. Sorry. That's going to take some getting used to. By Fronima, I missed you as well!"

The laugh in her voice, her hot, spiced breath on his ear. The sea-blue eyes closed, and Arsenic barely managed to repress a blissful shudder. He feared that if she kept on so, he woul-

...oh,'Ani...

He drew a deep breath, exhaled softly in warm, hungry emotions he could not himself interpret, turned to gaze at her again...

...and she was gone from him.

His flesh itself burned with the touch that Koani had returned to him, the size of his body unable to match the ferocity of his loneliness. He sat once more.

As her gaze flickered like a whisper of aqua and rose flame over his form, he found himself warmed from within, and was again stirred with a feeling that he simply couldn't understand.

Her voice was that of an enchantress.

"You shouldn't be sorry just because you made a mistake on my name," he murr-chuckled. "please, Koani. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for."

“That's a rather poisonous name, too. I changed my... well, no. I guess my name was only reset to factory default. Heh. Really now, how have you been? I haven't talked to you since... since all hell broke loose. It feels like forever. So many things have happened, so much time, so many things I could ask you."

And Acer had no doubts, no misgivings, and no second thoughts about who the true leader of Ramath was and would ever be.

"For example, are you some sort of hallucination? Because this is... just, unbelievable."

Acid chortled again, his entire face bright with pure and unbridled joy.

"I'm pretty sure that I'm sitting right here," he laughed. "And I don't think that my meds have ever given me any trouble, so I doubt that either of us are hallucinating."

The stalwart luoko turned his gaze momentarily upwards, piercing, electric-blue eyes blazing unto the ceiling. The handsome lines of his face were etched for a second in a semi-stoicism that betrayed nothing of the happiness that was slowly devouring him from the inside out. The sense of a shift in movement brought Aci's gaze around, and he altered his position just in time to see the smile that blazed on her beautiful, beautiful face.

"You look even more beautiful than I remember," he purled, grinning. "That cut just looks fabulous on you- shows off those gorgeous legs of yours."

He turned a little, his gaze shifting to the window.

"Beautiful, eh?" he said. "And how have you been, my dear friend?"

And it was true- 'Ani, if not his best friend, was certainly his oldest living one.

On the vast open plains, dying grasses swayed in the cool, crisp wind that bellowed from the mountains, rushing down as if another type of flood all together, to ravage the land anew with a different kind of change. That of winter. In winter, the earth slumbered, resting until the warmth of spring and the waning sun would stir its energies back into some semblance of motion.

Winter was here, and winter was a dangerous time to be alone.

Deal with change as it comes– adapt, or die.

That lesson he knew well. It was a lesson he never forgot, either. He, a 'dragon who by all rights should be long dead, whom, by rights, should not even exist. Yet he did exist, and he would continue to exist, to fight, until the day his breath exited his lungs for the final time.

And he would see just what kind of pendragon he had become, for in one way or another, no matter how it ended, another chapter of the blue-eyed arden's future would be written, another change to adapt to would come. He intended to face whatever came with all the power, the stubbornness, and honor in his hurt, confused soul.

Nothing mattered but the moment.

Nothing mattered but the here and now.

Nothing mattered now but the present.

"If I recall correctly, it's been almost a year since your father died. I'm so sorry for your loss-"

Suddenly interrupted by a new presence, he turned as a waiter walked up besides them and questioned him on his choice of drink. "Ladies first," he purred, looking at and motioning to the two-toned female. "Unless, that is, 'Ani, you'd like to share what I'm having- otherwise, I'll just take the rest home." Acer shrugged, and looked back to the wealth-clad server. "Half a bottle of Cjod '297, please," he replied. The other arden nodded curtly, turned, and left.

Acid turned back to his poison-spined counterpart.

He looked upon her with his eyes shining, sending messages through posture and through the elated, incessant smile that spread itself now over his two-toned muzzle. You are beautiful, 'Ani, and you are great. And I say to you that I would follow you to whatever end. Not because I am biased, but because you are worthy of respect, worthy of all the good things this earth may yield. Have courage, my friend, because you are magnificent in your glory.

His hair was half-hiding his face, and a set of bright, sea-colored eyes. Across the right of these was a pale scar, which might have led to some of the cloudiness in that marred oculus.

By this carnage, by the scars that have tattooed my flesh, I have sworn to you my alliance, his eyes clearly told her.

Tilting his head, bangs moving and spilling over one eye to allow the scarred one to show, the arden spoke again.

“A lot has happened," he said in a half-whisper. His voice was hollow, painfully so. "a lot of pain; too many hardships."

His vision was slightly blurred in the paler lantern, and as soon as it kicked back into blurriness, his head returned to where it had been before. The tri-colored strands of his hair helped to hide the bad eye and keep his focus clear.

It was a handicap he didn't exactly want to dwell on.

The posh waiter had returned now with a bottle of champagne and a pair of fluted glasses. He poured the pale, fizzy drink into each of the glasses before placing them in front of the pair of luoko and departing. "Shumc iyo." The other arden turned and nodded quickly in response before walking off again.

Grinning, he lifted the pale wine to his lips and sipped. Cjod '297, as his favorite wine, practically defined Champenoise delicacy and finesse- luxuriously rich qualities of yeastiness- like freshly rising bread- minerals, vanilla, and floral fruit, all packaged in seamlessly smooth, lively, lingering sensations on the palate.

Refreshed, he thought back on her previous question on what had happened to him- and indeed, it gave him pause, though he took no offense, and thoughtfully, searchingly fixed his intense gaze upon her face. There was a faint hint of hesitation in his response, but the half-grin he offered her banished- hopefully- any inkling of apology.

"Please don't misunderstand, 'Ani- your question is not at all unwelcome. My answer- that of my recent history, that is- is simply... unrehearsed and untried." He faltered. She knew all of what had happened to him before Candrice- but not afterwards.

Not this.

The titian and stone arden bit his lip, struggling to dig up the scraps of his past in a composed manner.

AciÂ’s soul itself was marred from his recent tragedies, flinging him from one event in the past to the other until his mind yammered at itself to shut off and just go numb. No source of sleep could ever bring him refuge. No daydream could ease the pain of knowing that it was all his fault. Truthfully, he tried to solve his misfortunes by pure logic and karma, forming the theory that because he hurt others, he had committed himself to being hurt in return threescore. Though Koani was now practically showering him in joy, the male looked at it with a sheepish sense of failing his hero.

And for some reason, that thought hurt more than the others running rampant through his head.

Silently, he pledged a promise that he could honor Koani as she deserved to be. The he could recover and aid her in her life so long as she allowed him.

He brushed his fingers casually along one of her forearms to reassure her before continuing "After The Inci-" He paused, correcting himself. "-after the Rapine attacked, everything went wrong." He looked down for a moment at his crippled hand, then looked back at the female beside him.

'Ani- do you think my eyes are the eyes of a demon?

He was about to reveal things that he'd never told anyone else, and he understand what emotional danger he was putting himself in by doing so, butÂ… he wanted to tell her.

“I was at the base camp when the Rapine attacked. Me and a few others were running the evacuation, so by the time that it was over, almost everyone at the base was dead." A painful look tenderly laced his muzzle at the memory, and he finally moved his seething-ocean gaze to Koani, pricking his oversized, battish ears forward to catch the natural sound of her breathing. He was comfortable here and wanted someone to listen to him. Someone to learn of him. He was shaken by the force of his own willingness to share his past with one whom he hadn't seen in over a decade. Because of this confidence in her, he trailed his tongue ponderingly across one lip and then nodded to himself, indicating that he was going to continue.

“I was attacked by a Draconis. It hit me across my entire torso, my right eye, and hand- so I couldn't see, I couldn't move, and I couldn't grab anything to fight with."

He grimaced and stretched his shoulders by rolling them. Aci pulled down the collar of his shirt and the coat that topped it so that she could see the trio of inch-wide, four-foot-long, pink and ropy ribbons that striped his upper body from right shoulder to the same hip. His entire body tautened at the memory, and he fingered one of the bulging scars, fiber-like-textured in shiny pink and pale purple, with little dots marking the entry and exit points of every stitch. Letting his hands fall away, Acid pushed his bangs back on one side so that she could see the pale scar that ripped across his eye before letting the hair fall again. "They found me on the ground, bleeding to death, but they got me in a ship, fixed me up, and brought me back to Ramath. I was found quickly enough, of course, that I didn't die- but I'm partially... disfigured and disabled now." He sighed. "Anyhow, after I got back, I got two more stripes and was elevated to a higher rank. But, as well, I developed PTSD. It eventually grew to such an intensity that I was ordered to leave the USR. So I did." It was a little hard, unveiling the tale that had remained sealed in his mind for years now.

“I changed my name. I changed my face. I started Hearse, and… things were going well." Aci stared across the table at her. "I thought about you all the time- whether you were dead or not, whether the Rapine had you… I didn't think so, though- you've always been a fighter." He smiled at her. "I introduced a new style and became a millionaire. Then… I met Rail. We just… sort of met on a whim. She worked for a top-secret branch of the USR, and, well, we fell in love." He smiled faintly at the memory. "We were married. A little while afterwards, she became pregnant. But then, she had a miscarriage."

He shut his eyes painfully in a foreshadowing of newly-risen memories about to be shaken from the tomb.

"Seven years ago, she was on assignment in the Black Market. Rail and her partner were shot by a gang. He died; Rail was injured. She called the USR and me right away. But by the time that I got there, she'd been shot too many times." He choked on his words in emotional distress, struggling to hold back the tears. "I killed two of the gangsters, grabbed Rail, and made a run for it. I was shot in the shoulder while I was running back to the car with my back towards them, and I was shot in the shoulder. I woke up about two days later in the hospital to find that by the time that the USR got there, Rail was dead. They couldn't save her.

I couldn't save her, and... that guilt and remorse for myself has just haunted me ever since then." He sipped at the pale, sparkling wine before him to ease his sorrow-swollen throat.

The arden's eyes were partially glazed as he blinked and looked sadly at the snow-wept horizon outside of the window and beyond them. Both the lands and streets were vast and untamable. “After that, I decided that I'd just go back to looking the way that I really do, and, well, I got on with my life." He sighed. "It's lonely, though. I bought an estate here a few years back, so I stay there most of the time- unless I'm at one of my condos in Aurius or Watani. The material things, though… they don't do a lot for me." With a gaze that was perfectly serene, his lips curved into a smile, and he continued.

“But… good things have happened, too, 'Ani. I don't know if you remember, but I was going out with a Yki named Jaeyl before I joined the USR. Anyhow, it turns out that I fathered a child- my only one- with her, without either of us knowing about it. I mean, we always made sure of… everything-" His tailflame ignited hot pink in embarrassment. "-but… I guess that she didn't take her pill one night or something." Blushing a little, Acer stared at the table before lifting his orange-striped visage again. "His name is Requiem. Requiem Falahau- he just graduated from Dragonbach's five years ago." 'Quiem, as the lead singer, songwriter, and guitarist of Parallax- renowned as one of the greatest alternative-rock bands in the world- was certainly a musical genius. "Jaeyl found out that she was pregnant after we separated and I left for the USR. She took Req' back to her tribe, the Sompjufylv; raised him there 'til he was seven. He was so musically talented that he won a complete scholarship, and graduated early. And then, of course, he started Parallax." 'Cid grinned, obviously proud. "Jaeyl died six years ago. She'd told him who his father was, and then he had a parentage test- which tested positive. He came to me, and, well… now we're best friends. Just like father and son should be." His face, for a moment, was etched in regret. "I just wish that I'd been able to help raise him for a better chunk of his life, y'know?" Aci shrugged; took another sip of his champagne.

"So now, of course, I'm here."

A rueful quirk of a grin flitted over his face.

"And I'm glad to be."

 

Touch was a strange, joyful thing. Acid had never truly understood it, though. His lovers had touched him, and known him as he knew them, but there had been little more then a sexual touch and a desire driving them. The burning still lingering on his skin was far different, butÂ… sort of similar. Like knowing how to fire a gun when youÂ’ve never even held one before. Understanding came with instinct. Had he not known her like he did, or trusted her, he probably would not have allowed this. But he was a natural born killer, wasnÂ’t he? If he bit down on his knife hard enough heÂ’d taste the gun.

Taste it because it was in his blood.

He didnÂ’t really like it, and he probably never would, but oh baby, he was something fan-fucking-tastic.

A killer.

Maybe they were more alike then either knew. Both a two-sided coin between sanity and pain. Two personalities in one body. Except they never forgot that hurt. Never forgot the past. The one who had done the killing, or said all those things, or who had looked hard at someone and lied to their face. And that was what had to be done. As long as there was a shadow hanging above them, and as long as their conscious remained, they would fall apart and draw themselves together. If those around them could not- then so be it. Let them fall by the wayside, and let them stare in wonder. If they couldn't believe, accept, or understand, then they meant nothing. And this harsh reality was the one that they- or, at least, Acer- was living by. And so it had been, and so it would be. He had left behind what he had known and dove headfirst into the dark waters.

He did nothing at first, and then shut his eyes under the soft murr of her words. He had never heard another talk to him in a voice like hers. Not even Rail. He might have cried if he hadn't steeled himself. It was just a <u>sound</u> so deeply imbedded in his psyche that he could not escape it.

“I've been managing."

She spoke softly, and he exhaled in a soft sigh as the waiter left. "I hope that you have. It'sÂ… been hard, living like this." Acid's eyes darted towards the table before looking out the window again, grinning. "It is alive. It's just sleeping, dormant; waiting to be awoken again by the sun."

His eyes were focused on her for the most part as he spilled out his tale. 'Ani's ears were pricked forwards, aimed to catch any sound that might issue from his orange-striped maw.

“I'm glad you're here too. But your story, Dyl... er, Acid. It's just so unfortunate. Hurtful... it more ways than one. It's one thing for the rapine... but then to have pitfalls after that. You've got some severe fortitude, Acid. If there is someone running this existence, I think they're a rather cruel master. I think that the fact that you have a son is amazing though. Even if you've missed out on years of his life. You have the present and the future with him."

He nodded, smiling. "And I'm glad that you're here too, 'Ani. Life is hard, yeah- but you just have to pick yourself back up and get on your feet again. Ah. And you can call me Dylan. I don't mind- just for you, heh."

Just for her.

But it was her next batch of words that made him jerk. He did this slightly, and turned his face directly towards her, so that his head was parallel with hers. Of anything she might have said, that was the last thing he'd expected. But still, he said nothing. For how could he judge her? Not now- not like this. For a few seemingly ever-long moments, he remained silent, and simply sat there.

When he did speak, finally, his voice was so quiet it might have well been a whisper.

“To me, if there's really any one rule in life more powerful than any other- you do what you have to do." A ruling as firm as a gavel, but without the whip cracks of wood on wood. “We both tried," he sighed. "We both know that. But… I do think about that, a lot. Why me? Why did I survive, when all the rest of them didn't? Who decided that- the gods?" He snorted. "Ever since I left Candrice, I haven't believed in 'the gods'. Because- what fucking right did they have to decide who lived and who died? I don't know. Maybe if I'd done something different, maybe if I'd… maybe- maybe…"

Acer's words trailed off into silence, still calm as ever, and he closed his searing-blue eyes before opening them again.

"Maybe I could have saved them."

Blinking slowly, painfully, as a tattered shadow bows before the coming of day, ‘Senic sighed in resignation and looked at Koani.

The words that had whispered forth from 'Ani's blunted muzzle nearly shattered ‘Cid's resolve for the second time in less than an hour. No solace came from the black and brushed-silver audio-speaker's corner of the conversation... no, the quiet, jazz-esque music had reduced it to a straight line- the shortest distance between two points.

Sometimes, more distance was what Aci needed.

More fucking distance from his gods-damned fucking past.

But right now, perhaps for the first time, he felt like actually talking about it. And it didn't hurt. In fact, it actually made him feel better. He realized something, then- friends worked a lot better than shrinks. The duo-tinctured arden smiled at the thought.

And that was when he noticed the faint, half-hidden flare of pain in her eyes.

DonÂ’t waste away like you seem to be doing, dear. He may not have been around to see the signs before, but now he saw a warning in her body.

Because even if (in some dream-like, crazy situation) she had killed tonight, she had not been able to stop what had been done to her before.

And Acid did not have the ability to hold any more guilt then he already was.

 

[out of character.]
Sorry if this seems to get a littleÂ… uh, heavy. I'm in a lot of emotional pain right now. :/

[in character.]

Remembering how to remember.

It was perhaps the most torturous lesson that Acid had ever been schooled in, save for the vital teachings of pain endurance. Be it physical or emotional, heartbreak or bone-deep gashes, the stone-enamored one would be willing and able to withstand it. And now, against the onslaught of these memories, he mentally repeated his mantra to himself... again and again. Pain means I am alive. Only cowards seek death. I am not a coward. Steeling his mind and gritting his teeth imperceptibly as the echoes of old - now triggered by his friend's words - washed over him in a merciless onslaught, he turned his softly blazing gaze to the ground. And then, in a movement that was uncharacteristically violent for the arden, he seethed with a whispered snarl and slashed at the ground where his gaze had fallen with razor-sharp ebony foot-talons. Weakness. Turning his gaze back to the table, struggling with himself inwardly, he seemed poised and picturesque...

...an unholy and forsaken statue.

Sea-tinctured eyes flashing with grief and pain, ‘Senic stared still at the table, cooling down. Even in this, the tiny fissure that could one day be 'Cid’s breaking point, the male had enough sense and politeness to cut off the harsh edges of his anger.

Just enough.

"IÂ’m sorry."

The powerful he-luoko snapped his mouth shut with a tight click of achingly lethal fangs, his whisper still hanging in the air. "That should have never happened, 'Ani. I'm sorry. I don't know how or why that… thing… simply occurred. I don't get angry like that – I felt like… like that was someone else.

It's not like me."

He sighed.

Pain means I am alive. Only cowards seek death. I am not a coward.

Quietly, he tucked his memory away to brood about in earnest later on, and turned to his indigo-and-cobalt counterpart, seeming a lot better now.

A smile began to creep along the edges of his muzzle.

“Dyl, I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm suicidal."

The smile froze.

"You aren't," he stated quietly. He knew that either she was assuming that he thought so, or that she was joking, and in time - when the hurt was not so fresh in Aci's heart - perhaps he'd be able to joke along with her. But for the moment, there was something he needed to say. "You aren't suicidal, 'Ani," he said again, softer this time. "ThatÂ… that I know. You're too strong. It's cowards who seek death."

He continued listening.

“I only asked the question because it's a thought that has often crossed my mind. Maybe things could have unrolled differently. Maybe we could have saved them. I don't exactly... blame myself for Saber's death. There are times though when I do wish I had died alongside him. Call it poetic, or stupid. It would have been honourable. Granted, I think my life renewed here on Ramath in itself is honourable, but it isn't quite comparable to the death I could have – should have – had."

"Such is the life of a surviver," was all he said, finding solace in the cryptic speech that was his trademark.

"Regret is a heavy thing. Painful, indeed - but I try to avoid it as much as I can. I don't blame myself for our comrade's death, either, nor for Rail's, butÂ… you just have to think - what if I did something different? Would things have turned out better? It's sort of like that 'butterfly effect' theory, I guess. IÂ…" He bit his lip.

"I just guess that we'll never know."

More than once, the shadow-cloaked male found himself wondering just what his refound counterpart had left behind. Twice he opened his muzzle to ask. Twice he shut his muzzle under the pretense of a yawn. It wasn't his business to ask, was it? Of course not.

But now she was beginning to speak.

“Saber and I... hn. You know, there are 'dragons who think I bargained away his life to the rapine in order to keep my own? Disgusting. The two of us set out early that last morning on Candrice. We'd been running experiments on various aspects on the environment. Testing the quality of water in different spots, the connection to Fronima... simple, yet necessary things like that. The rapine showed up unexpectedly. We tried to make a retreat."

A brief dip of his muzzle acknowledged this, and though he longed to venture closer, he remained where he stood. His eyes flashed with a stricken helplessness - he wanted to go to her, comfort her, but this battle was hers to fight. I'm here when you need me, Koani, those pools of ocean said. But the currents of tenor lay dormant. Silent. Dylan offered nothing in the way of sound. What he offered was a steadfast, chivalrous listener.

“We were cut off, though. We had guns, but they didn't do a whole lot. Saber went down first. All that time he'd been trying to protect me. Then I went down."

The orange-painted arden watched as she lifted her finely-sculpted head and slid away her pale sweater. Such fluid movements, he now saw, probably cost the lovely female, but she betrayed no agitation. His eyes traced the visible part of the pink ribbon-flesh, and he inhaled a quick and sharp - albeit quiet - breath. Accordingly, Aci did not question her. It would have been nothing short of insult for him to coddle and question and nag and pity when she did not want it. Such foolishness was, of course, beneath her, besides.

"You aren't suicidal, my dear," he repeated. "And nor are you a cripple. To become crippled, one must possess stagnant resignation and a pity-seeking heart. You possess neither. You are all strength, 'Ani - beauty and grace and strength and determination. Having a physical hindrance does not make you crippled. And vice versa - those whose bodies are wholly sound are not exempt from being so."

“We sort of match, heh. Somehow I lived. I wasn't picked up by our people though. I was picked up by the rapine."

'Senic always gave reality recurrence enough to keep images clear –

- but then he'd realize: time just kep going on going on; that time was residual, like the last ice age's cool still in the rocks, averaged maybe with the cool of the age before. That not only was he not being held onto, but where else could time do so well without him - what, or when, rather, was his time, when so much time had been saved and stored in a vault of painful memories?

He had reached no conclusions, had erected no boundaries, shutting out and shutting in; separating inside from outside. He had drawn no lines: as manifold events of sand change the dune's shape that will not be the same shape tomorrow, so he was willing to go along. So he was willing to accept and give birth to his becoming thoughts, to stake off no beginnings or ends, and to establish no walls.

Acer inhaled deeply, and began to speak after she'd finished. "That's just disgusting," he hissed. His voice was calm and unmarred by negative emotion or bitterness, but his eyes flashed with a sort of soft, quiet remorse. "That they'd think that about you and Saber." The twin-hued arden shook his maned, horn-crowned skull. "You two loved each other. And there's not much that can break such as strong bond as true love." Dylan swallowed quietly, almost nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down before he finished off the last of his champagne. "Did youÂ… ever marry anyone after him?" he asked quietly.

He was afraid that he'd broken some sort of wall there that wasn't supposed to be touched; prodded, by accident, a soft spot.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. "That was dumb. I don't know why I asked that." 'Cid sat with his head hung a tiny bit, obviously a littlt ashamed of himself.

"It isn't any of my business."

There was a finality in 'Ani's words that had permitted Dyl to move - so long as he did so quietly. Rather than interrupt the thill's reverie with a touch or a word, he simply swallowed his hurt, raised his head, scooted nearer to the table – and her - and sent his sea-blue gaze striking out for hers.

And what she'd just said to him before, now coupled with realization, hit him like a slap to the face.

"KoaniÂ…?" Acer whispered, his eyes wide and pupils shrunken to pinpoints with shock.

"But… you – the rapine -" he stuttered, stammering and blundering over his own quiet words.

"Koani?" he repeated. "Are you okay?"

And his voice, he feared, was far more a blessing of the silence than its bane.

 

It was Koani's dignity - that shining, untarnished thread of steel within her - that Acer respected.

And it was perhaps because of her eternal dignity that, despite the stigma that brutality had left on her lithe frame, she was never without grace in his ocean-colored eyes. Others might look and see an injured thill, broken beyond repair and so useless in life. Others might look and see a cripple. An invalid. Not Arsenic. What the two-toned arden saw was a female whose strength was, thus far, unrivaled by any mortal. A 'dragon who would break her heart as well as her body for those she loved.

And he was honored - truly - to be among the few she considered friends.

The stone-furred he-luoko found himself waiting with bated breath for 'Ani's response, laser-blue eyes fixed calmly on her face, tail swaying restlessly like a pendulum in slow motion. In the past few years, he had learned to admit his loneliness to himself. To suffer its presence. But he had never learned to ask for company. Perhaps it was foolish pride that kept him from doing so, and perhaps not. Either way, this invitation - that clumsily offered friendship - was Aci's first. 'Ani's silent gesture of acceptance assuaged his bruised soul, and a smile flitted like a ghost over the aristocratic muzzle.

Though 'Ani was not at all made of precious china, she felt fragile to him, and he had no desire to startle or unsettle her in any way. To discomfit this otherworldly creature would tarnish the chivalry 'Senic revered.

"You honor me," he told her, muzzle parting. "by letting me be your friend, 'Ani."

And now he stopped, for she had begun to speak again.

“No."

In the silences between the words and the cadence that threaded amongst the lyrics of emotion and of memory, Aci forced himself to stay strong.

"Just as I had warned him in the beginning – I wound up hurting him. Maybe helping him a little too. I don't really know."

"I bet," he said, quietly, a stoical expression still tugging at his painfully beautiful face. "that you helped him, more than anything. Love… it heals, I'd think, more than anything – even if it is torn away from one." Acer shrugged, sighing a little painfully with blatant emotion.

I wish I could show you the silver lining, 'Ani.

The slate-washed arden slipped his uninjured hand into his shirt, pulling out a pair of steel dogtags. "I still keep these on me," he said. "They were Rail and – well, the old mine's- dogtags." He sighed again; starting chewing on his lower lip - causing an outer layer of skin to peel and the flesh beneath to bleed - before realizing that his bad habit was kicking in again. "See…" He paused, changing to a whisper and scooting his chair over until he was next to her. "I'm under the Fesmatt Gjysakseym Gjydjun. Dylan Laizere, supposedly, is dead. He died when Rail did – the USR was afraid that the gang would track down and kill me for taking two of their members."

He licked the now-coagulating crimson off his lip, and began to speak again. "I haven't kept exactly… chaste, either. People always wound up wanting me for the wrong reason – money, fame, my social status –" Acer sighed deeply. "- I never… I've never been able to find… well, true love again." He paused.

"If such a thing exists, that is."

He noted how tense she seemed when they'd touched upon the rapine.

Inwardly he cursed himself, berating the waterfall of emotion that should've been well frozen over. His muzzle parted, but the apology that should have emerged simply cowered and died in his throat.

Died before it was born.

Wordlessly, his muzzle spliced anew. There was no release of physical tension for him - he wouldn't allow himself such luxury. He simply stood, as still as a statue, denying himself the gesture that would have given him the barest measure of peace. He longed to clench his jaws until they ached, tense his muscles until they cramped. He allowed nothing of the kind.

Something within him argued. Something insisted that these things had to be said. That she had to hurt. To bleed out the poison before she could heal.

He flung his gaze away from her eyes for a moment, unaware as to whether the brief respite was for her benefit or for his own selfishness. He told himself he couldn't bear it. And forced himself to gaze upon her. To meet those glittering pink-flecked pools with his own gaze of flaming ocean.

"Koani."

He stopped; raised his skull to look at her beautiful, beautiful face again.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for what happened to you. ForÂ… everything. For stripping you of your tourniquet."

He bit his lip again before stopping himself.

"Let's notÂ… talk about the rapine if it makes you uncomfortable, okay? I'm your friend, 'Ani. Just tell me when you don't want to talk about something or whatever. I'm perfectly fine with it."

The umbra-painted luoko gave her a soft hug as best he could, taking care not to jar her shoulder, and drew away. Then he straightened again, shaking himself a little so that his hair fell over his scarred eye and his mane hung to one side.

Now Acid did smile, his features softening, and when he spoke again, his voice was filled with hope.

"Someday," he said. "Someday you'll chase the butterflies again, and neither the wind nor I will be able to catch you."

 

What a fucking mess life was.

Once again, there was a painstaking fallback he had resorted to. To mask any sign of the pained thoughts that ran amuck in his head, Acer, often, was a little stoical. He smiled softly, wondering if heÂ’d really just made a loop in time and ended back up at the very source that wasnÂ’t there anymore.

That was the problem.

‘Home’ wasn’t there anymore. This wasn’t… ‘home’. 'Home', though - 'Ani was, well, part of it. Of his childhood. Of his old life. The first stage to getting over a loss is anger. And it was all too familiar to him, it seemed. Koani wasn’t supposed to be a loss - he had only gotten attached.

Right?

Sake had warned him about getting attached.

He had warned him about a lot of things, and he was beginning to think that he should have just listened to his older brother. But he didnÂ’t live like that.

He lived on his own liberalist views and crackers.

Even if heÂ’d never tasted a real cracker in his life.

Life often seemed so simple. At times, it was a game to him; only a cruel game. It seemed to him that the same, now and then, applied to Koani. And so, as he savored every stab and whisper of pain to feel the elation in sharp relief, the arden tasted joy in the same manner - fervently and wantonly and so very acutely. Every fiber of his form was focused now upon the thrill and hurt of his friend, the warmth of love, and the pain and sorrow of "once upon a time" memories and "might have been" wishes of both of them. A gentle gaze, infinitely loving and sorrowful, was offered to his indigo and cobalt friend. The ocean-wept pools of silk-shining eyes lamented. And then his gaze was back upon Koani, the one who was strong enough to endure life's throes.

"Your parents –" He held back what he was about to say. Dyllie-acer had only met the elder Graders once or twice, and he had no right to say anything wrong about them. And besides, that had been a long time ago. "Their reaction… I can't imagine that. Them acting like that – and then, you're the one thinking, 'what did I do wrong?'" 'Senic shook his head. "That's plain creepy, though, that they left everything the same."

There was a server making rounds with h'orderves, and he deposited it on the table, nodding. Aci picked up one via toothpick between a long, wickedly-taloned pair of thumb and forefinger before slipping it into his mouth, laying the slender wooden stick on his napkin.

Mmm. Meat wrapped in pastry.

He listened on, chewing on his toothpick as she continued.

"Most people do underestimate them," he said, nodding.

"And that's our biggest mistake."

 

ooc.

*cheers* HOORAH!

ic.

True love lasted forever.

He knew that concept and embraced it as easily as he would one day embrace a funeral pyre. But with the coming of the new season, he had gained a new kind of perspective. If you truly loved someone, that love lasted forever. True love did not need to be kept alive and thriving. One could love in a quiet and distant fashion. His love for Koani had turned from a twisted and burning thing that slowly consumed his mind and soul, into a distant, alien numbness once heÂ’d thought her dead. It was as if his heart had been filled with novocaine.

But now, she was sitting right here besides him, and his mind and body and soul and heart were all beginning to catch flame and melt.

Koani Grader had always been his queen who ruled under a violet and aqua banner.

Ultimately, he had come to worship her. His time with her had been too short for his liking. But it had been eight years? Nine? Something very close to it, and it still hurt, because she had long seemed the only one to care. His heart and the undeniable survivorÂ’s instinct inside him would never, ever allow him to quit. No. He wondered, and he let her mind wander on how life could be so long and so meaningless, and so full of endings. Dylan would go out with a bang when that lonely day came. He imagined he would die alone. Since Rail, there hadnÂ’t been anyone that truly mattered in that way. He knew he could move on, but that opportunity would most likely not present itself.

Ever since he was 14, he had always thought of telling ‘Ani the way that he felt about her. True love. But damnit, he was so afraid of rejection. It was somewhat cowardly, in a sense, but what were the chances of anything happening? Besides, she’d probably run away or something if he told her. But maybe... maybe he just had to wait for the opportune moment.

He just hoped that it would present itself.

‘Senic waited until she was done speaking. “Unless they’ve been there, no one else can possibly imagine what we – or... more so, you - have seen." He had opened his mouth and replied right before the multi-hued thill began talking again.

Her last sentence hit him like a Mack truck.

It sent his mind bowling over and caused his heart to stop, his lungs to crumple to dust in acute shock, and his mouth to gape open wide, his lower jaw swinging loose before shutting with an audible click. He said the first thing that came to mind.

“It’s been seven years."

The past never stayed buried for long. Like voodoo grave robbers, things were dug up and brought back from the cold earth. And they were never settled fully because rumors and ideas and that little glimmer right behind the eyes was always somewhat apparent to those who knew what to look for. Acid had read somewhere that when an individual denied change, they would die. Maybe that was it, then. If you didnÂ’t change, you died. And so he was constantly evolving, like a living machine driven on paint and plaster and ink and cloth and dreams that had been turned dark. Maybe before, he would have sung of glory. Now, it was only of the film noir world that they lived in.

He calmed himself, his face half-blank in bewilderment.

“How – how do you know that, ‘Ani? That they have our coordinates?" A shiver ran down his spine.

His hands were now curled into fists and were shaking. Not with hurt. With hate and suppressed rage and anger, along with the guardianship and protection that he felt for his friend.

“If they come here – if they even try to touch you, I’ll fucking kill them for everything that they did to you."

And to me.

“I – um. ‘Ani... uh, do you want to go for a walk outside and talk about this?"

 

out of character.

Brackets indicate telepathy. :D

in character.

So really, there were no technical answers.

And maybe it was supposed to be that way. ‘Ani knew far more than he did on the rapine, and he trusted her instinct and knowledge on the otherworldly soul-suckers. Acer had gone through his life always changing and evolving, regardless of how he ended up. Sometimes it was better. Other times, it was worse. Fragile soundwaves moved with thought alone. High points countered with low, and so on and so forth went the cycle. The world could explode around them, and people could scream names and crucify him, but Acid would never give up what he had done. It hurt, and it cost a lot, but he needed it. The scars had to remain because without them, he was useless.

And he wanted to be more then that.

He had wanted to be extraordinary, but that fell through. What he really needed was contact. He needed someone else to be there. Because really, he had no one. Knowing this hurt even more then the scarring across his eye, or the pulsing aches where heÂ’d been injured by the rapine that would remain for the rest of his life.

Were they capable of changing the future? In another time, it very well would have been not. Little facts could just go away and never be seen again. So if they hid it, or denied it, then they could lead their children to believe anything they wanted. But Koani... she was different. She was an honest politician if there ever was one. She was extraordinary. She would save them all.

Love would save them all.

He got up and pulled on his trenchcoat as she rose, dragging a hand through his hair and following her out.

A terrible thing happened with people sometimes. When they gave up; when they lost faith. It was regression, it was transgression, and there was a bitter lack of immortality that stung the mouth like a slap. Dyl was only subconsciously aware half the time of what he felt, or why he did what he did, because he felt sometimes like someone else was controlling him. There was an absence of thinking and moments of black space and white light that never made sense later on, when he ended up kicking himself because he had done something stupid. He hated feeling stupid most of all.

He slithered out the door alongside the thill, coming to sit down on an outdoor-cushion-backed bench, beckoning his friend over and grinning at the contrast between her dark coat and her wear beneath. [I love it, ‘Ani. Really, I do.] He grinned like a lovesick teenager.

He drew his knees up to his chest and drew his coat tighter around him. “I hope you’re not cold," he murred.

It was beautiful out tonight.

Dylan stared up at the sky, his tri-toned hair falling into his face, pointing at a large, pink and sea-blue smear that tore the sky open and revealed itself to be a nebula.

“Es lyyct qots leca iyoj aiat," he said, smiling .

“Azkags shai’ja gjasseaj shum shus marolu."

 

Ready?

The moon crept on Ajita like fingertips on black velvet. Soft and sultry, reveling in the finery. Like a virgin boy fumbling with the buttons of his girlfriend's blouse, its approach was innocent and bumbling. The dark carried the instincts of a hundred generations, just as the moon carried the weight of a thousand journeys. The stars burnt out a hundred million miles away, leaving light scattered over the heavens above. The light reflected and refracted, rendering the pavement chaste and rime-glazed. It didn't fit the whispers and the wind that cool Dyo night. But like the girl and her fumbling boyfriend, eventually the innocence was broken.

Set?

A slender, gray-washed form unfolded to let its legs touch the pavement. The luoko was a beacon of shadow in the black, his turqoise-blue eyes reflecting the moonlight. Witch-light, he'd heard it called before. He turned to ‘Ani, smiling tenderly and snuggling into the collar of his trenchcoat. “Well," he began, shrugging. “I’ve only lived here five years. You can’t blame me if I get cold – I’m still not used to it." He laughed softly before turning to her again.

“E vyjdys sy utc iyo - hyf uja Cayson ump Myst?"

A simple question.

Go.

Altogether, there would be something. A simple action could result in a powerful repercussion. The same way a simple sentence could change a world. Because I never wanted children in the first place, was one of those phrases. The power in knowing you were unwanted could crush. To be hated, disliked, unloved – well, those were hurtful. But to not be wanted? That meant that your absence, your negation was desired. It was a painful kind of phrase. Dylan had heard it before from his parents. And oh, right now, one sentence had changed his world. He nodded, blushing softly at her response, his tailflame igniting in pink to match the coloring on his cheeks. He smiled softly.

“Does that mean that you don’t want any more compliments?" The ghost of a smile whispered over his face before his eyes closed. Dyllie turned to his friend to look at her again, her hands now tucked into her coat pockets and her frame casually postured against the bench-back.

Do you love?

He understood almost everything she said. She had a right to say those things. He had understood far before than when he saw the scars. She had the pink tissue across her shoulder and arm. He had the knotted ropes on his torso. But they meant the same thing, basically. Absolutely nothing. Everything.

Yes.

One thin hand - his right, scarred with memory and the mark of a dead rapine's symbol, played with one of the cold metal charms around his throat – a silvery dogtag. Rail's. It was his only material tie to the dead female. He exhaled, his breath shaking, and without regret or second thought, the male who had once been called Dylan Laizere pulled at the stamped rectangle until it snapped cleanly off the chain.

And true love...

Would Rail have forgiven him? She had loved him. He hoped that she would forgive him, wherever her soul was now – damn right, he did. It hurt to hold onto her memory. Acer swore that she was watching him sometimes. Because the whispery voice that resided in his head for a week after her death was so much hers it had made him hurt. Because her memory and her voice in his nightmares were a phantom. Plaguing and touching and sensations that weren't real inside of his dreams.

True love...

That was not what sheÂ’d been to him. Rail had been a good thill, and a kind thill. She was soft and sweet, and the nights had been cold and lonely before her. The ghostly fool had been in love with him.

Wait.

No. No, she hadnÂ’t ever loved him, because Rail had never really known him. She had never known his past, nor even his true name. She hadnÂ’t known Dylan. Not him. Not him, but an Acid that had never been, an Acid who had never seen his parents and brother die, an Acid had not been scarred and nearly killed by soul-suckers. An Acid who was not an Acid at all, but as white and holy and pure of a creature there could have ever been.

But oh, ‘Ani... that was a different kind of feeling altogether there.

That was true love.

One day, when his world faded away into black and he was done here, he would ride a holy pyre to her embrace. But for now, he was a fallen angel with a mission, and his breath fogged the air as he spoke words he was unaware of.

"And true love lasts forever."

 

You can never change who you are.

No matter where you go or what you do, you will always be the same. You can't just decide that you'd like to be something else. And even if you change your lifestyle, you'll still retain part of your previous self. It's in your flesh and blood, buried in the memories within your mind. There is no escaping who you are, and trying to do is usually a bad idea. It's amazing how much this can backfire, and it's usually good to know your risks in life. Dylan had known his when he'd "became" Arsenic.

Unfortunately, he simply hadn't cared most of the time.

With Rail, he'd found himself crying out in his sleep, waking up with his throat strangled with memory and his face stained with tears and a thousand broken dreams. She'd caught his Freudian slips of the tongue – she often had asked him who the hell "'Ani" was after he'd risen with the sun and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The subconscious was powerful enough that he'd whisper and whimper and purr her name in dreams. People would sometimes comment on his appearance – how they liked the new length or color of his hair, or that his sickle-like horns were bone-colored now, or that they liked those little orange undertones on his white muzzle. In reality, they were mistakes in his shapeshifting. The truth, painful as it might've been, was inevitable –

- there was no use in trying to run away from the past.

The tangerine-striped male fingered the dogtag in his right hand. He felt numb at the moment, really. Blank. That was how he looked. His eyes were half shut, his bangs half-in and half-out of his electric-blue eyes. And then, abruptly, he opened them, the sea-colored pools seething and boiling over. They burned. The burned like those little acid-blue neon LEDs arranged in words on the Vegas strip. She was gone. Rail – and this he swore to himself – would haunt him no longer.

When he heard his aqua-haired companion's words, he immediately comprehended that he'd said exactly what he shouldn't have. His cheeks and ears began to burn with heat, flushed over brightly, and his oversized, bat-like pinnae fanned back against his skull, red with embarrassment. His tail-tuft alighted, flaring a matching shade of flickering, crimson red and hot pink. Acer calmed himself before beginning to speak again. He unfolded one scarred-over hand, revealing the rectangular dogtag that glinted against his palm.

<span style='color:white'>"I had to do it,"</span> he murred, sighing. <span style='color:white'>"It was my only tie to her – material or otherwise – that was left. She – Rail… see, she never truly loved me. She loved the costume that I hid behind. The masquerading version of myself. She loved Acid. She loved an Acid that was nothing like me – one that had grown up in a rich, happy family from Aurius, and had never seen an ounce of pain or violence in his life."</span> He shook his bleach-ramhorned head. <span style='color:white'>"I was never good enough for her.

Our love was a lie."</span>

Dylan caught her looking at his horns, and the arden smiled softly before running one black-taloned finger along the polished, bone-white surface of his left spiral. <span style='color:white'>"No one in my family ever had them,"</span> he said. <span style='color:white'>"My mother – she always suspected that I was an illegitimate child or something. There was luoko blood in both of my parents, but the genes were recessive. They really came out in me, though. My siblings – I'm not sure if you remember any of them - some of them had shorter manes or horn-nubs, but nothing like me."</span>

He closed his eyes painfully.

<span style='color:white'>"My parents used to scream at me. Tell me that I was fucked-up and that I'd always be a failure because I was a poison child. A freak. They cursed the bad blood in my veins."</span> Dyllie opened his eyes again. <span style='color:white'>"I think that my father really did it because he was ashamed of himself. He had horn-nubs and spikes on his shoulders, along with a mane and unlighted tail, so I believe that both of my parents really wanted to use me as some sort of psychological scapegoat for my father's appearance."</span>

When he was a child, he could freaking feel the blade of guilt pierce him and scream out in his motherÂ’s voice. Just like your fucking father! Just like daddy! He would apologize and found only bitter coldness and beatings. And it had hurt that he couldn't do anything for his mother about the way he looked. It had hurt she didnÂ’t understand. But he had never blamed her.

A few nightbirds were out, but aside from the two 'dragons, there was no movement.

It was kind of poetic.