| ~♦~ Dark Intrigue ~♦~ |

Broken Wings...

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My eyes fluttered open as I awoke the next morning, resting limply on my back, in my bed. My head slouched to the side, and a thrill of terror shot through me. There she was, staring at me with her wide amber eyes in a ravishing portrait hanging up on the wall. Irène was fluid even in stillness. Even while dead. I cringed as I studied the complexity of her flawless face, as pale as the moon against her frame of dark, heavy cherry red hair, worn loose, with enticing matted curls. Her limbs were smooth and strong, and it was like her skin shone with some sort of sparkling lustre, but only subtly... Luminous as a pearl, as a whole... When she will never be whole, again.

I scrambled out of bed—still wearing my clothes. Whoa. I must’ve been pretty darn tired... But somehow, I couldn’t remember a thing from last night. Nothing after I ate the fancy spaghetti meal. Have the cooks prepared...? Nah. They wouldn’t let diner lying there for one of the interns... Like, me, specifically? How did they know...? The surveillance? Why would they watch the tapes? Unless the surveillance taping is practically live. People would actually stay up all night just watching the surveillance coverage? Well, in a fancy place like this, I’d guess... But why not put friggin’ lasers, or somthing? They could obviously afford it, no sweat... Anyway, I couldn’t come up with a logical reason, other than... Maybe Irène ditched it. God. Enough with her... My temples were throbbing just thinking about her.

I strode to the full-body mirror at the other side of my dorm. I looked like a mess. But something in my features reminded me of Irène; no, this couldn’t be me—it would have to be someone else—because all the while I studied and reacted, the face was totally composed. A carving of a goddess, showing nothing of the turmoil roiling inside me. I had just enough strength to stand there, unmoving, as I was charred alive by the pain. I heard ragged breaths, and they had to be mine. These I easily noted as my own—but on the outside of my room, I heard other breaths perfectly... More like, through the wall. As clear as a bell. Rocus’ breathing. And those clearly moved slowest, so I concentrated on them... They meant the most time passing. More even than a clock’s pendulum, those breaths pulled me toward the end of the anguish.

I exhaled a long puff of air. I looked exactly like I didn’t care that I had just killed the night before—This wasn’t like me. I should’ve been a wreck. But oh no, the only flaw in my reflection was my messy hair and my bloody, shredded clothes. I poked at the discoloration on my right forearm, watching it fade where I touched it and reappear. It throbbed like crazy. My teeth made a grinding sound and my stomach heaved. I hadn’t realized that my feet have indeed carried me out of the room until I was crouched over the toilet in the bathroom adjoining my dorm. When I was done, my mouth clean, the nausea now departed—just as fast as it came, too... I dragged myself back to my bed and lounged drowsily across it for an instant. Than I was rummaging through my suitcase for Pepto-Bismol. I grunted when I couldn’t find it. I was suddenly alarmed... ‘Sides, what else were you supposed to feel when you realized you’ve had food poisoning? It all made sense, now. My fingers seized the Pepto, but then it slipped out of my weak hold... Because I was on the floor, passed out.

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC: I'm so... terribly sorry for the huge reply.

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I rolled out of bed, colliding with the hard stone beneath me. I groaned in pain, tossing my head to shake my hair back into place. Adjusting my now dry v-neck t-shirt, I rose hesitantly to my feet. My limbs were still sore from earlier; like Bree said, I needed a gym membership pronto.

I paused for a split second, trying to listen in on what was going on in the room next to me. Of course, I could hear nothing but silence. I sometimes forgot that blood gave me not special powers, but merely a sick satisfaction much like a chocolate bar would give a dieter. However, I had faith that she was doing fine, and it wasn’t like I actually cared about it anyway. I would have time to check up on her later.

My feet made little to no sound as I exited my room and crept along the corridors of the mansion, studying the gothic decor around me as I searched for a landmark of some sort, something that reminded me of the pathway to the bathroom. My heart beat stuttered unevenly, as it was the only thing I heard at the present moment. My surroundings were all blanketed in an eerie silence. I didn’t know if it was real, or if it was because of my imagination. I half-expected Ms. McClinsey to spontaneously reappear in front of me, alive and ready to chop my head off with her magical witch powers. The thought of it made my stomach go queasy with a mixture of fear and disbelief. I have to push away these memories, I reminded myself, closing my eyes with a gasp as I leaned on the wall beside me. I have to tell myself it isn’t real. Because it’s not.

It wasn’t long before I eventually made my way to the bathroom, swinging open the door and strutting inside. After checking to see if anyone was around, I eased my shirt off of my shoulders, letting it tumble to the floor in a heap of black. Next, I undid my belt with a snapping motion, tossing it onto the pile of clothes. I disrobed the rest and glided into the shower stall, turning up the heat full blast. I let the steam seep into my skin, invigorating my senses. Running a hand through my soaking strands of ebony hair, I lathered it with a handful of the vanilla shampoo that was provided. I drenched myself in the shower gel, letting it run down my toned muscles as they rippled beneath the steadily streaming water. Gym membership? Ha! I thought bitterly with a hint of arrogance taking over, I may be unfit, but she hasn’t seen me shirtless.

The steam rolled off my skin, clouding the area like a sauna. I massaged my thighs with the soothing soap, sighing at how nice it felt to be clean. Although I was indeed a male, and spent most of my life living in grubby areas of town, I couldn’t stand feeling the slightest bit of dirt. I loved taking long showers when I was all sweaty from the night before; it was so revitalizing. I then rinsed myself off, letting the mist dance off of my burning body as I ran my black nails across my soapy flesh. Shaking the excess water from my hair, I stepped out of the stall and ran a towel all over my corpse, picking up the moisture that still clung to my abs. I moaned for fresh air in the thick steam that whirled around me as I wrapped the towel around my waist and gathered my clothes into a bundle. I had to lean down to keep the material from sliding off; that would be very naughty of me to let it fall.

I started back towards my room, stopping outside of Bree’s door. I thought that surely she’d be awake by now, yet I could hear nothing when I pressed my ear to the door. I wrapped the knuckles of my free hand against the door, yet no answer came. Shrugging, I swung it open, eyes widening when I saw her. She was passed out on the floor, next to a bottle of... Pepto-Bismol?

“Bree?” I called, striding over to her side. I knelt down, pressing my hand against her throat to feel her pulse. I licked my lips momentarily before shoving away all sensual thoughts of drinking the blazing blood that coursed through her veins. She seemed alive, and that was what mattered. I wondered why she was passed out. Pepto overdose? Fallen angels? Anything was possible.

“Wake up,” I muttered, shaking her shoulders roughly. Although I somewhat made an attempt to be gentle, it was only an attempt. I was certainly no doctor, and now that the hostess was dead, I had no one else to go to. I sat beside her anxiously, hoping she would awake.

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Broken Wings...

_*_

I felt someone rashly shaking me, without warning. I slowly unsealed my lids—perceiving Rocus kneeling at my side, and no longer agitating me. He looked worried, and as I feasted my eyes upon this solid evidence, I couldn’t help but want to laugh. He was Rocus, for Christ’s sake. He turned his nose up at me and held me in contempt. He was obviously the type that just didn’t grasp the concept of ‘keep your head high, but your nose at a friendly level’. Even though I wanted to laugh, the laugh wouldn’t come, just this thundering in my ears, breath catching like I’ve been smacked in the chest. Rocus was worried. And I was, too.

I sat up, and noticed that the window was open; I could see that clouds have gathered and the air sifting in felt thick with the possibility of a rare summer rain. That same cold air washed away the possibility of more nausea, instead of announcing it, as well. My hand still clamped over my mouth like I was about to blow. “I’m... S-so... I... The food... Th-the... Oh, no!” I moaned, nearly unintelligibly, into my palm.

My stomach roiled again, and I lied back down. I used to love doing this—seeing a go-to cup on the ground in the clearing of the woods behind my school, writing a few lines of heartfelt poetry on it, and then burying it under a mound of pine needles. Then I’d lie down on my back on the spongy forest floor—giving it all up to the enormity of the sky, or to the ceiling if the need arises indoors. I’d reach my hands out and press my fingers caressingly into the loamy soil, I’d start wondering about life. About how it would be if things were different, if I’d be happy with any of it, at all. I’d always realize that something scared me; I’d be happy, but in a mild kind of way, nothing demented about it. I’d be turtling along, like I always have turtled, huddled in my shell, safe and sound...

Because without courage, wisdom bears no fruit. Not only that, but courage has something transcended, once and for all it will overcome. Courage happens in spite of something; it happens in spite of separateness and alienation. Courage means that life is once again united with life, self is reconciled with self. Courage means accepting the abandoned one. Courage transforms fate into a meaningful vocation. It transforms guilt to trust and resolution. The word courage has something triumphant in it. And courage is always waiting in the wings of the warfare. Waiting. Waiting patiently. Not waiting to be used, but waiting to be found. Courage was indeed one heck of a word. But I didn’t need the courage to think that Rocus’ skin was the moist soil of the forest, I needed the courage to think that Rocus was the sky, itself. The sky, everywhere. Something then occurred to me... I removed my hand from my mouth; “Are you stalking me?” A smirk threatened at my lips, but was already heard in my voice before it even began to pull at my facial muscles. My fingers on the hand closest to him exerted steady force against his forearm; exactly like the damp ground.

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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I moved backwards with a startled leap, brushing myself off in attempt to look casual. The fact that I was in a towel didn't help much either, but it wasn't much like that mattered. Bree wouldn't notice, if I had any fraction of luck.

"Stalking you? Please," I snarled, flipping my hair indignantly. "I thought you knew me better than that, Bree. You're my victim, after all. I was just checking to see if I could sneak a little taste before you woke."

When the words left my mouth, I came to the realization that it did make me seem like a stalker. It was far better than the assumption that I actually cared about her, though. I would never be able to live that down. Rocus Van Alton didn't care about anyone. I did some point in the past, of course. But not now. Not ever again. And certainly not Bree.

"What happened, anyway?" I wondered aloud, eying Bree suspiciously. "Were you actually stupid enough to eat the food here? Why does that not surprise me..."

I rolled my eyes, debating whether or not to just walk out and leave her be. Yet, what would be the point of that? I could converse with the other interns here, but I didn't want to risk being seen by any of the staff. I was one of two prime suspects behind Ms. McClinsey's murder, after all. And who knew if she was dead, anyway? In a place like this, she probably miraculously rose from the dead. Absolutely anything was possible...

My gut wrenched violently when I thought of that, causing me to have to close my eyes for a moment and recollect myself. I couldn't afford to slip up like this. I had to forget everything that happened the night before, somehow. Drugs, a hit to the head, Alzheimer's... I'd take anything. I just wanted to forget about it all and flee back to the coven, but I knew too much already. For all I knew, Bree could turn into that monster again and kill me so that I don't say anything.

Dang, I screwed up this time...

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Broken Wings...

_*_

“I’m not stupid,” I responded briskly, sitting up. “And by the by, Rocus, if you were really trying to sneak a taste, you wouldn’t be trying to shake me out of unconsciousness to do so... Unless you really believe that I’m stupid enough as to let you drink it all up. Which I’m not. I suggest you back off.” I discarded my own suggestion to Rocus, and partly to myself, in favour of mentally stretching for an idea that floated just out of reach. Name-calling and fighting were beneath me, but killing wasn’t. It hasn’t even occurred, yet. Until now. But I just couldn’t open the subject further; and it felt like that fact might suffocate me. The barely-there idea fogged up and slipped right out of my mind. As if the very thought was impossible. “Or else—I don’t know, anymore. Or else I’d... I’d...” I heaved a sigh. “I’d get rid of you, somehow. Why don’t you just leave me alone, and make the job easier? And don’t you go thinking that I’m going to spend the rest of the internship biting back tears because of your absence. In fact, dying right now would be totally legit—I wouldn’t have to see you a while longer. At least you’d be gone. Anyway, you’ve got to stay out of my business if you don’t want to end up with stumps for limbs, Rocus. I can’t share anything with you... I’m not sure about the staff... But just don’t go looking for trouble.” Turning my head a fraction, I saw a shadowy form stretching across my floor from the open door of my dorm.


_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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"You wish death upon me, and then tell me to stay out of trouble?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. "Slightly contradictory, don't you think?"

A rough sigh sizzled from my lips as I turned my back to her solemnly. I scanned my brain, hunting through my cluttered thoughts for more to say. It seemed that Bree had done nothing but outwit me since the second we met. Well, other than that minor incident... But I didn't even want to remember it. Much like I didn't want to remember a lot of things, yet I knew the memory couldn't be erased. I did still feel the ghostly imprint of her lips on mine, even if it was such an insignificant event. Just luring her in for the kill, right? Yet, it seemed to stick in my mind much more than anything. Like the buzz of an obnoxious mosquito, or the lingering taste of honey- no, more like the bitter taste of grapefruit. It was just always there, much harder to forget than even the supernatural battle I had witnessed.

"Hmph," I murmured aloud, lost in the flood of my thoughts. Her naiveness then seems far more surreal than the fact that she turned into an angel/demon thing right before my eyes...

Regardless, I cleared my throat twice before returning back to earth. "I guess I should leave you be then," I told her smoothly, that hint of bitterness never failing to ruin my tone. "It seems you have a visitor, after all."

I gestured to the shadow in the doorway, although that was what kept me from leaving. Perhaps I really was paranoid, but I at least wanted to see who or what it was before I exited the room.

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Broken Wings...

_*_

Proceeding behind the shadow came a creature, sadly pitiful, but not mortal. I fleeted toward it within one sixtieth of a minute, and smacked it to the floor. I inched toward the door and kicked it shut with an ear-splitting thud. It’s skin was like cracking clay, and that skin was hanging off of black bones that oozed repulsive grime. It’s slits for eyes looked me over, as if burned by my holiness. “You don’t belong here,” I snarled ferociously. I closed my suddenly burning eyes and sucked in a dry breath that burned my throat, I couldn’t stop gulping at it like I was a dying fish. I licked my lips with my sandpaper tongue, I remembered killing this post-mortal, putting my blood in his IV drip. His body only living because of the loud, intense looking machines that were hooked up to him. Then remembered kissing his head and resisting the ritual and then just... dropping. My breath fell as I looked at the... newer presence. Instantly, I was tense and muscular, locked in place as I didn’t dare turn to look at Rocus, and withstood the urge, until imagined white wings poking out of my skin and hanging tensely in the air, unfolded. But nothing was happening. “We can’t coexist, we can’t!” I kept growling at the creature. “You’re not real! You are nothing but a Scheolian—The dead’s memories might lie within you but you are nothing. With no thoughts, no soul, no growth-spurt. A genetic dead end. A hypothetical organism.” I was quaking in anger. “Buzz off, already! I’m tired of you—All of you...” But then I realized that we weren’t the only ones in the room. “R—Rocus, don’t look at it. You’ll be rendered unnecessary memories from my past. This—” I gestured toward the new visitor. “Is a parasite. It must be exterminated. It’s from the Netherworld. I’ll explain later, just... You don’t want to know anything, O.K? Nothing. Don’t watch. Just...” I inhaled. “Don’t.”
I remembered who this used to be, who’s memory this creature represented—My brother’s. I thought I could help him... But I killed him, instead. I ground my teeth together, forehead creasing in frustration.

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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My gaze followed the creature with a mixture of awe and disgust. Despite Bree's warnings, I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I didn't necessarily want to know anything about it, or anything about its world at all, but there was something so mesmerizing about it... Besides, through my state of hypnosis, I could have sworn to have heard Bree mention something about memories of her past.

Oh, is that so? I thought, a mischievous grin creeping its way onto my face, despite my current bafflement. If it was true that this thing knew something about her, I wanted to take advantage of this situation. I was her designated stalker, after all. I wanted to know more about her.

I took a few steps forward, studying its features more closely. It was even more hideous close up. I couldn't even find a better adjective to describe it. It didn't posses the same dark beauty that Bree had when she transformed; it far more resembled a rotting corpse, than anything.

"Aw, it's not that bad, Bree," I chuckled to cover up my horror. "Let's keep it as a pet."

Although I was just saying that to tick her off, truthfully the being looked like it couldn't even make a mark on Bree. She was much more stronger than that, as much as it shamed me to admit even in my own thoughts. I didn't overpower her as much as I originally assumed. Standing next to her, and knowing what she was capable of... I've probably never felt this weak in my life. Of course, I couldn't let that show. I kept my chin held high at all times and my features hardened.

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Broken Wings...

_*_
A defining growl ripped through my clenched teeth. I loosened my jaw and specified in an acidic tone; “Rocus... Don’t you dare keep looking at this creature... Please... For my sake. I’ll lose it if you do—One of the worst moments of my past dwell within... this.” My breath hitched, and I choked off. I had to then swallow hard against the rising lump in my throat. I looked at Rocus’ eyes instead of the Scheolian’s two cuts that were supposed... no, used to be eyes... Now they were openings to buried memories—I wished he would look back. His eyes were nearly like black embers, to me. They freaked me out equally, just like Rocus as an individual did, but I’d rather hold them for eternity than shift my gaze back to the creature before us both.


_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC: Sorry... Had to eat supper... Plus I’m the slowest eater in my family. xD

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I flicked my eyes away from hers, unnerved by the locking of our gazes. Surely, whatever memories that resided within this creature couldn't have been that bad. Regardless, I sighed hoarsely and focused on the floor instead. The game I played with her just wasn't as fun when so simple, anyway. If I could uncover one of her worst memories just by looking into this creature's eyes, it would be like cheating. I wanted to find out from her... Not like this. I would at times manipulate people, sure. But one thing I didn't do was play dirty. Maybe some would consider manipulating to be just that, but I thought of it as merely exploiting the trust of others. Everyone had their weaknesses; it wasn't really that terrible to take advantage of that. Yet, I didn't necessarily want to mess with dark forces like this merely to get a glimpse into some girl's past. I wasn't the sharpest knife on the chandelier, but I wasn't that stupid.

"Fine, I won't look," I grumbled at last. I think what really got to me was her conniving usage of 'for my sake' in there. Throwing those words around as if she knew- no, thought I cared about her sake in the first place. With a grunt, I added, "but not for your sake. It's because I don't want to have anything to do with whatever's going on here... I didn't sign up for this. I just wanted some money for working here; was that so much to ask for?"

I shook my head, stepping back from the creature warily.

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Broken Wings...

_*_
“Good. Now I won’t have to eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” I smiled wryly, but I was still pretty high-strung. It’s not real, not real, it’s just not real! My eyes curtly flitted to the last spot I saw the haunting presence—And that spot was empty. There was just black goo for grounds that what just happened... Indeed, just happened. In the spur of the moment, the goop hoarded into a thin line on the floor. It slithered away as a viper, easily wedging itself under the door. Staring after it, my eyelids sagged drowsily as my face unhardened. “I told you to stay away.” I scolded, tossing a glance his way. “Why won’t you just stay away? You don’t know anything. You don’t know what just happened—But that’s just the beginning. That was nothing.”

My look turned critical. “Why did you stop by in a towel, anyway? Why do you always have to end up heeee’re like some sort of stealthily stalker-dude?” A chuckle sniffed out of my nose. “Seriously, man.”

I stalked past him and grabbed the Pepto, and let it drop in my suitcase. I used my foot to propel the suitcase into the far corner of my room, where our hostess’ portrait was. The suitcase slammed against the wall eerily. I folded my arms across my chest, lifted my chin up to meet Rocus’ eyes, and awaited an answer. “Don’t you ‘git it? You can’t come moseyin’ around whenever you feel like it.”

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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I folded my arms, not necessarily out of stubbornness, but more in an act of modesty, if I was even capable of such an emotion. It wasn't like I was intentionally exposing myself, if that was what she was thinking.

"If I recall correctly, this is the first time I've 'stalked you'. While wearing a towel, anyway..." I rambled on, tightening the material around my waist. "I guess I just wanted to pop in to see if you were alive. Is that really such an unbelievable thing? Considering the events of last night, anyway. Or what I can remember of it. Unless all that didn't happen, and you somehow managed to slip drugs into my drink... Even so, I've never had a hallucination that vivid in ages."

I studied the bottom of the door, nose wrinkled in both disgust and confusion. My eyes traced the intricate designs of the wood absentmindedly as I tried to imagine how such a thing had happened. Maybe it was drugs. As if Bree would do that, though. She was the one trying to get me off of smoking, after all. However, the reason behind that was still unknown to me. A lot of things were unknown to me. Except for the fact that I seemed to have developed yet another addiction... That was one thing I knew for certain.

"No... I'm imagining things. Just need another cigarette, probably," I told myself under my breath, not immediately realizing I had said it out loud. My eyes flicked up to Bree's in hopes she hadn't noticed me talking to myself. I covered it up with a cough, casually playing with the loose strings on my towel.

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Broken Wings...

_*_
“You’re being ridiculous, Rocus. Why would I drug you? And no, you don’t need a cigarette!” I always hated how my Texan accent suddenly became apparent the minute I raised my voice. And I got into these kind of raging hissy fits all the time. “You're slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter, aren’t ya? I mean—Don’t you get it? I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. The least you can do is save yourself—and save me all of this regret for trying to help you in the first place, when all I’m doing all the while is endangering you even more than some stupid cigar, than some moronic drugs!” My jaw locked and my brows furrowed. He couldn’t get anything, couldn’t he? I learned not to go and screw up anything when my life was still as normal as can be. Yeah, never go for a drive through a small Southern town at 100mph with the local sheriff's drunken 16-year-old son driving with you on his lap. I exhaled a long puff of air, face relaxing into a more composed mask, a natural concealment. “What’s so wrong with me, Rocus? I’ve been through pain, too. One pain I often feel you will never know because it’s caused by the absence of you. Because I feel like I risked your life for absolutely nothing. It’s my fault. It can’t be yours because you want nothing to do with me... But I can’t chase it all away like you can. Who do you turn to when the only person who can stop you from crying is the one who is making you cry, anyway? And what if all of the words that one person could possibly say, of tongue or pen, were just going to make you hurt some more? I’d have to say the saddest words would have to be those... that might have been. Because they haven’t been said. Will never be said. Won’t ever. It could have turned out otherwise, Rocus. But there you go, pouring lemon juice into my paper cuts. Go ahead—leave, don’t leave... Exist. You’re the only thing keeping me from being who I was... Who I thought I was. Who I thought we were.”


_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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I stared at her blankly, trying to keep my face composed. There she went again. I really hated her for saying things like this. At times, responding to her was harder than rocket science.

"Uh..." I began, searching for the right words. I wanted to be a coward and look away from her, mumbling off a sort of snide. Obviously, this wasn't the right time for that. The problem was that I kind of failed at expressing my emotions. Instead, I raised my gaze to be level with hers, trying to keep it polite and distant. However, I couldn't help but get lost in her sapphire eyes. It was like a magnet; it tempted me more than any drug. I leaned in a fraction of an inch, before pulling back again indecisively.

"You know, I think you've got this whole thing reversed," I sighed, focusing on our feet rather than her face. "You're not endangering me, alright? I'm a big boy. I can perfectly look out for myself."

I really shouldn't have been defensive. That wasn't at all the point of her speech, and I knew that better than anything. Yet, I couldn't think of anything else that I could say to console her without saying something emotional, or something that I'd instantly regret.

"I don't know what kind of mess we've got ourselves into here, Breanne. Heck, you probably know a lot more than I do, as much as it kills me to admit." A ghost of a smile danced across my lips, and my eyes found their way back to hers again. "But listen to me, here. I don't know what kind of person you think I am, really. You probably have a better idea than I do though, at least. Nonetheless, I do know one thing. I guess..."

I tried to shake away the thoughts before I said something either ridiculously sincere or rude, yet I knew by now it was no use. I lost my self control the day I met her.

"I guess, you're pretty much all I've got. And... It's not that much of a bad thing. Sorry if I'm hurting you, but I'm probably not leaving you any time soon." I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not so much because of your blood, either. That was kind of an excuse- I mean, well... Yeah. I guess..."

I trailed off, in utter shame with myself. I didn't know what was causing me to say these things, but it was like my pride completely ditched me and left me alone with this woman. No, not woman. This demonic, angelic being that somehow chose to speak to me. She was a curse, and yet still a blessing in certain ways that my mind would never allow me to think consciously.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_

“Good... At least you didn’t blow a gasket, or something...” My voice betrayed a hint of annoyance. I turned my glare toward my dorm’s window; the sky had lost its fury, and was now just some straggling gold wisps steadily being consumed—not by the break of night... But by the dawn of day. I leisurely spun back to face him, expression sceptical. “...Wait a minute, I don’t... understand,” My words drummed the air between us. “I mean, why wouldn’t you leave me? And what do mean, you still have an excuse to stay with me? You don’t. What you do have, however, is every excuse to stay away. Our attachment trembles between us, Rocus... It’s like a living thing, as delicate as a small bird, and as breathtaking in its hunger for flight.” I took an easy step back. “Mgh, this is so... complicated—” Talk about choking under pressure. “—I’m not sure about anything. Which, of course, explodes a Molotow cocktail of irritation into my misery, completing the infernal picture that is my life. I still have suspicions, above all. They’re all seething in my hot head as you stand there, being... being... DILDONIC!” Nice word. “Ugh.” I ran the back of my hand against the sheen sweat on my forehead, then running it through my hair, leaving it there. My stomach drops during the battle against the oceanic sadness, once again. Then, I drop the ball, as well. “I can’t take it, anymore... I get the saying ‘If you greatly desire something, have the guts to stake everything on obtaining it’, but... I know God wouldn't give me anything I can't handle; I just wish he didn't trust me so much. It's not that I want to have it; it's just that I want to deserve it... I don’t think I deserve to be unloved by you, when, in my case, it’s the opposite. In my case, it’s a disguised form of love. Y’know, when you hate someone whom you really wish to love, but whom you cannot love... When, perhaps he, himself, prevents you... That is a disguised form of love. The most delicate, unstable, flimsy kind. It sort of... Reminds me of myself.”

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

My eyes followed her in disbelief, eyebrow arched. "Did you actually just compare me to a dil-" I began, before cutting myself off and shaking my head, light specks of water flicking from my damp hair as I did so. I didn't even understand the other half of what she said. Something about God and love; two things I certainly didn't believe in.

"Listen, Bree. You're making our, er...acquaintanceship a lot more complicated than it really is," I told her, dragging out the words monotonously with a sigh. "We met yesterday. And I'll tell you something; it's not so uncommon for me to get with a girl and ditch her the next morning. But, due to certain circumstances, like the fact that I lost control and bit you, things just weren't that simple. To avoid suspicion, I took you to a hospital, then you had some epic witch battle with the hostess. Afterwards, I just dropped in to see if you were alive. Out of curiosity, you know."

I shrugged disdainfully, leaning leisurely against the wall. The wood sent a shock of cold through my bare skin, but I tried not to let it show. My features were already frozen; set in a preplanned position, much like they always were when I had to talk in a manner like this. Shoving emotion and cravings aside was what I lived for. Just because the situation was a bit more complicated this time didn't mean I had to shy away, open up my heart or anything equally ridiculous.

I'm Rocus. I can do this, I reminded myself. I couldn't forget that I had an entire cult out there for me, either. They weren't necessarily the best friends anyone could ask for, but they were the best friend I could ask for. They'd get me out of this situation. I may have left them temporarily, but if they had a fraction of a soul left, they'd forgive me. They had to.

"That's all there is to it, hon," I murmured, a frown pulling at my features. "I'm sorry if you were mistaken... I mean, you may be all I have right now, but now that the hostess is gone, I'm going to have to leave this place. Go back to my cult. There's no point staying if no money's involved, you know? Not like I have a clue what any of this 'disguised form of love' crap is that you're going on about..."

I bit my lip in thought, watching her intently. I didn't want her to get mad at me, but at the same time, her feelings didn't exactly matter, did they?

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_

“You’re right,” I mumbled. “End discrimination... Hate everybody.” It was like Rocus punched a hole in my chest, like he vacuumed my beautiful horizon while I was looking the other way, single-handedly crushing everything to smithereens. Sometimes I wish I were a little kid again, skinned knees are sure easier to heal than utter heartbreak. “I hope you choke when you tell the next girl you love her,” I continued on the same breath, releasing my hair. “And while you’re busy choking on your own deceptions, I’ll be embracing pain, burning it as fuel for the rest of my own life... And while I’m skipping off into the sunset one faithful day, you’ll have asphyxiated your every breath on the words you never stood for, and you’ll fall, you’ll break down, no one’ll be stupid enough to help you... if you can find someone, at all. ‘Cause you know what? Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. You’ll be alone either way, huh? Is that what you figure? Well, let me tell you this much—You’ll never be in a healthy place, Rocus. Never. But I’ll pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.” I folded my arms across the whole in my chest. “Although you’re already a lost cause, you didn’t die in life, just yet. Life died in you. Life dies inside a person when there are no others willing to be-friend them. They thus get filled with emptiness and a non-existent sense of self-worth. Enjoy your life going off, telling lies for others to believe, while living with the lie that is your very ‘importance’.” I rolled my eyes and strode forward, shoving him in the chest. “Get out of here, get out of here when you don’t even understand. Go be a waste of space while Irène deals with me. Go save your pathetic life.”


_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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My back slammed against the wall with her contact and I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to ripple away. Part of me deliberately made her this way. I wanted her to say these things to me. I wanted to feel the agony that slashed through me with every syllable that rolled off her lips. It was a nice relief in comparison to the nausea I felt with every nice word said to me. It made me sick because I knew it wasn't earned.

"You're wrong, Bree," I growled, "I'm never going to tell anyone I love them. You know why? Because love simply doesn't exist. It all ends somehow. It's a temporary emotion, as fragile as china dish, breakable like a porcelain doll... If love's so powerful, how come someone can forget about it the second they hit the liquor? How come someone can slaughter their own wife, as well as their own daughter, right before his son's eyes?" My voice was raised now, almost to the point of yelling. "That was the only love I've ever known, Bree! Does that seem like some sort of fairytale romance to you? If someone can forget about how much they love someone when they're merely drunk, then the emotion was never there to begin with... Just phony, fake... That's all this world is. Lies. Don't you get it, you naive girl?"

I glared at her pointedly, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_

My face hardened. “People of little understanding are most apt to be angry when their sense is called into question.” I said in a firm, acidic tone. “Rocus, why don’t you open your eyes? Why can’t you see that there are some who look forward in fear, others who look back in anger, and little who look around in awareness? You look back in anger, Rocus. You’re stuck in whatever horrible past you’ve gone through. You’re poisoning your own system with hate and anger for nothing. Nothing! Hate corrodes the vessel that even carries it, hate eats away at your sanity, feeds off your energy. You can’t just make up and shake hands with a clenched fist. Don’t you get it? Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die. They won’t, and you will. Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. Embracing anger is as a stone cast into a wasp’s nest; you’re the one who gets stung.” I sauntered towards him, squatting on one knee about four feet away from him. “Let’s debate, shall we? You think that love is nothing more than a reaction, chemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate... Or alcohol.” I bridged an eyebrow. “Love is another one of the many emotions created within the human mind through the complex interactions of naturally created chemicals. Like all emotions, it can be replicated, imitated, duped, and even mistaken for something that it is not. Like all other physical emotions, it is poorly understood and impossible to predict. You’ve either never witnessed love, are afraid to, or mistaking it, Rocus. It’s natural. It’s human. It’s alright,” I stood and grabbed a little book on the edge of my bed, toying with it. I then showed it to him—The Bible. I waved it around like a religious zealot before sitting on my bed and flipping through it. “If the love you think you felt goes away quickly, then what you felt was never love to begin with,” I continued fluidly, as if my speech was rehearsed, beforehand. “And no disguise can long conceal love where it exists, or long feign it where it is lacking—” I looked up at him wistfully. “—So don’t wear a disguise, Rocus. Don’t. Let yourself be... alive... Human, and not a black, soulless demon. What do you say?” My eyes abruptly filled with budding tears, but I blinked against them.

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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"You act as if you can throw away all my so-called 'hate and anger' with your fancy wording, and your goddamn biblical references," I jeered, my glare shooting daggers. "Ever think that maybe I don't want to be human? You... You take everything you have for granted. I don't know what the heck you are... Third angel, third demon, third human? Yet, you still embrace that weak part of you... The part with the emotion, the idiotic trust. The reason why you're so much stronger in your other form is because you forget about your humanity; the conscience and all that emotion that drags you down is gone. It's only that fraction of humanity that holds you back, that makes you remain as fragile little Bree..."

I exhaled hoarsely, my feet tapping lightly against the floor as I sauntered over to her. I put the back of my hand against her throat, feeling the steady rush of warm blood beneath. I felt saliva well in my mouth, just thinking about biting into her again, gulping down her sweet blood... "It's that human part of you that makes me want you, understand that? It's what makes you still a victim... And at the same time, it's what makes me human enough to not attack you again. It's our only weakness. Humanity. That's why I live the way I do... To get rid of it. I don't want anything to do with that part of me."

I opened my mouth, flaring my teeth. To bite her now would be so tempting, but I didn't have the razor contraption with me... Instead, I snapped my burning stare away from her. The craving was easier to cope with if I didn't have to look.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_

Rocus seemed aware of the fact that an electric current was pulsing through my body like adrenaline-spiked blood, but perhaps he was oblivious to one thing; the fact that my stomach seemed to be hosting a symposium of bees, once again. I was uncomfortable. Out of place. Broken out of my safe little shell. I could still feel the stirrings of unease at the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me. “Don't hurt me,” I stage-whispered. “I'm begging you.” Will he have the heart to even listen? My eyes welled up, again. I thought I was digging my way to something better. That I was sowing the seeds I took for granted. That this thorn in my side is from the tree I planted. But all it ever done was tore me open so I could bleed. Haven't I bled enough? Inside and out. The blood on me was still as red as pomegranates. “This pain is not so much as to kill me, yet not so little as to let me live. I'm trying to get a move-on. I'm going to try to live on while you... you...” I was startlingly lost for words, for the very first time. “At least my lesson is learned... Comeupance accepted... Everything's cool... I think.” I guess I did learn my lesson; when you play with fire, you get burned. And each separate dying ember wroughts its ghost... And you'll remember the day someone hurt you. Ghosts, those of memories, mold themselves in your head, as well. Once again I felt oddly off. My heart was thundering like a steam engine about to hit us both. I wanted to slap myself silly. Stop this, stop this, stoppit! But it was deafening. I couldn't hear a thing from the part of my brain that retained sanity, anymore. Just the thundering gone into my ears, the fluttering in my chest. Like helicopter wings. My thoughts channeled down a frightening path. “You're not going to hurt me... Are you?” I abruptly realized that he didn't have his little steel-razor fangs with him. “I mean, for when you are perfectly capable to. Are you? Would you dare hurt me, again? Tell me... Don't be afriad of telling me the truth. Even though I'm 'fragile little Bree', etcetera, etcetera.” The tears in my right eye were the first tears to begin cascading down into a cold torrent on my face. I tried to brush his hand off my throat, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.




_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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With a subtle smirk on my face, I pulled away from her neck, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. The polished onyx of my nails pressed against her flesh as I purred, "hurt you? Well, not like that's much of an option...I don't want you to turn into some mega killing machine again..." A hoarse chuckle briefly escaped my lips, "I may just lose control, though. You know what us addicts are like...our cravings kind of rule over all logic. I'm not guaranteeing I'll make a huge attempt to stop myself, just so you know."

I eyed her neck, briefly wondering if I could pierce through her skin with my teeth alone. It would probably cause unnecessary pain for her. Yet, the thought of having my bare teeth slice through her throat, being able to gulp down just her blood and her blood only without that metallic taste of the razors in my way...it was intoxicating. Ridiculously tempting. It made me furious at the fact I decided against having my teeth sharpened like the rest of the coven members; how could I have been so stupid?

But there was also the possibility that her blood was tainted with the new demon residing inside of her. Would it taste the same as it did the first time? Would it still hold behind it that angelic purity, the essence of Bree? There was only one way to find out...

Just as my eyes flared with thirst, I restrained myself. I could still last longer without blood. I went nearly all day without it yesterday, after all. But who knew if there'd ever be another opportunity? This could be my only chance for blood in a long time. I had no idea when I'd get back to my cult. Besides, it wasn't like the other interns would be as willing of a victim as Bree.

I mulled over the pros and cons of the situation silently, running my tongue over my canines. I felt that last wave of addiction flood through me, taking over my senses. My eyes were wide on her neck, my breathing shallow and rapid. I had to do it now or never.

Acting on impulse and moving as abruptly as possible, I sunk my teeth into the spot just above her collarbone. I paused hesitantly, the rich blood lingering on my tongue as I waited for her reaction.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_



Rocus seemed aware of the fact that an electric current was pulsing through my body like adrenaline-spiked blood, but perhaps he was oblivious to one thing; the fact the my stomach seemed to be hosting a symposium of bees, once again. I was uncomfortable. Out of place. Broken out of my safe little shell. I could still feel the stirrings of unease at the pit of my stomach, but I was determined not to let my usual squeamishness get the best of me. "Don't hurt me," I stage-whispered. "I'm begging you." Will he have the heart to even listen? My eyes welled up, again. I thought I was digging my way to something better. That I was sowing the seeds I took for granted. That this thorn in my side was from the tree I planted. But all it ever done was tore me open so I could bleed. Haven't I bled enough? Inside, and out. And the blood on me was still as red as pomegranates. "This pain is not so much as to kill me, yet not so little as to let me live. I'm going to try to get a move-on. I'm going to try to live on while you... you..." I was startlingly lost for words, for the very first time. "At least my lesson is learned... Comeupance accepted... Everything's cool... I think." I guess I did learn my lesson; when you play with fire, you get burned. And each seperate dyin ember wroughts its ghost... And you'll remember the day someone hurt you. Ghosts, those of memories, mold themselves in your head, as well. Once again I felt oddly off. My heart was thundering lkike a steam engine about to hit us both. I wanted to slap myself silly. Stop this, stop this, stoppit! But it was deafening. I couldn't hear a thing from the part of my brain that retained sanity, anymore. Just the thundering gone into my ears, the fluttering in my chest. Like helicopter wings. My thoughts channeled down a frightening path. "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" I abruptly realized that he didn't have his steel-razor fangs with him. "I mean, for when you are perfectly capable to. So, are you? Would you dare hurt me, again? Tell me... Don't be afraid of telling me the truth. Even though I'm 'fragile little Bree', etcetera, etcetera. The tears in my right eye were the first tears to begin cascading down in a cold torrent on my face. I tried to brush his hand off my throat, keeping my eyes glued to the floor.




_*_

Do not heal...



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[font=Dark Ages]Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC: UGH... If you want to know the horrible story of why I edited, PM me...

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I purred at the sound of her pleas, grazing my teeth against her in response. I didn't slow my pace in the slightest, covetously swallowing down all the crimson life that met my lips. It was the sweetest taste of sin; I could already sense the increased darkness that danced through her blood after her first murder. I thought it would taint her, make her less angelic... Yet, it seemed to have become even more addicting.

Her energy swept through me with every last gulp as I eagerly tore at her throat, not even half as gentle as I was the first time. It was so much easier to hurt her when I didn't have those razor blades attached to me; I knew I couldn't kill her with my bare teeth, could I? They weren't even half as deadly as razors, though perhaps more painful. Either way, I didn't have to worry now, for no one could catch me. The hostess was gone! Stressing about her stumbling in and taking away my paycheck was no longer necessary. No one could interrupt us now. I had Bree all to myself, as my play thing. My victim.

Blood ran down my chin, painting it a delicious shade of ruby. I paused to lap up all the escaped blood around the wound on her neck, as if I was licking the icing off a cupcake. Except, it tasted so much better than that. It was better than alcohol for an alcoholic, shopping for a shopaholic, chocolate for a chocoholic. It was more like that first dash of rebellion for a choir girl, or a first high for a freshman. Nothing I had ever tasted had been this good before. It was ruined innocence; the feeling of her murder in liquid form. All mine for the taking.

I had her wrapped tightly in my arms, constricting her ruthlessly, as if subconsciously trying to squeeze all the life out of her. The feeling of her blood seeping into my body was pure bliss; I didn't ever want to let go. Yet, I knew I had to. I didn't exactly want to kill her just yet.

"If you want me to stop," I whispered silkily, my lips humming against her neck, "then turn into that beast again. Throw me off yourself."

It was a taunt. A dare. I wanted to turn Bree back into that powerful being, to drive her to the point of homicide again. I wanted to see her furious, evil, darkly beautiful like before. I wanted her to hurt me just as I had hurt her. I wanted it all, as I leaned over her with streams of her own scarlet blood tumbling down my chest. My eyes held behind them her reflection caught in flames; the flames of my own hunger. The tension and desire crackled through the chocolate spheres like lightning, keeping in time with the ragged rhythm of my breathing.

I dragged my tongue along the wound one last time, savoring the buttery taste it left in my mouth. "So, whatcha say, Bree?" The words were drawn out in a velvety tone.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ *

Broken Wings...

_*_

His word were faint echoes that shocked me as they reached me, even through my fading subconsciousness. Blood loss? It didn't matter. All that mattered is that Rocus was either daring me to kick the snot out of him, or taunting me to do something I'd regret even more... So somehow, someway, my blood would taste sweeter... For next time. A feverish NO! resonated throughout my mind. I'll kill him. Suddenly, I could feel something. I could feel him constricting around me like a serpent. Trying to ooze the life out of me. My eyes flashed open, and I stared at him in outrage. I gave an exasperated headshake, then let out a howl of pain the sharp gesture did as it stretched the spot where there was an explicit absence of skin, because it was too busy hanging loose in bloody strips, to mend itself back into place, and keep the blood in my body.

The anti-magic field was another problem. Magic was a godsend in melee situations, and now I'd be reduced to my skill with my fists and a guy that honestly believes that I'm something worth looking at; something that could tear him to shreds if he intruded into my easiness any longer. Yeah, right. I didn't control myself. Couldn't. My parents weren't even this way. My grandpa was. But he passed before I was even 2 years old. Would Rocus fight back if he's really asking for it? I mean, genuinely asking for it. Or is it teasing me? Why not both? There was one thing I knew for sure; he'd seriously fight back, after all. It's instinctive, no? Isn't Rocus the instinctive kind of guy? So many of his operations in the past relied on sheer, brute force. And now that I think about it, some of the strategies he'll use are as elementary as breathing; it'll be easy to bypass them.

Why did he want to see me in my other form, anyway? Another sort of addiction? But now it was plain; psychological manipulation... human beings were never supposed to live under the conditions of pure immortality. Or ever revealed to it. It's like being trapped in a cell; they'd get claustrophobic... they can't live in darkness, either. And they certainly can't live near immortals. But that's exactly Rocus' deal; danger might as well be his middle name.

I bit back a few moans of pain, but some betrayed my wildest efforts. The pain was bewildering. "Sniveling coward!" I snapped ruthlessly. "You're feeding your own imagination in all too vivid ways, and it's giving way to helpless wondering! You want to taunt me to fight? I will. I mean it. I Will." But how? There was a pistol in my backpack; I was a haunting freak. You can take the girl out of Tennessee, but you can't take the Tennessee out of the girl. I actually thoroughly liked guns, in a way; they were probably largely obsolete in combat nowadays, as most military institutions, in my imagination, taught protection spells as a matter of course... At least to my kind. I prefered the old fashion way. No divine power nonsense. Now, I bit back a sardonic grin. At best, I could probably give him a few bruises... But why not use all of the materials I had? I pulled a barong out of my pocket; from the time I visited the Philippines. Rocus was still holding me tightly. I tried to aim shoves at his chest with my free hand, slyly placing the knife at his back, in the meanwhile. "Well..." I was gratified to hear my voice had returned to some semblance of calm... For a few counts, at least. "Curse you, Rocus!" I then made a stabbing gesture, hoping the shard of shard of steel would be able to slice through his flesh for once.

_*_

Do not heal...



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Character: Breanne Rose
Lyrics: Broken Wings ~ Flyleaf
OOC:

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