Cass - If Only...

[Samaena]

Just what the hell was she supposed to make of all this. The Father and Son stuff was…unreal. It really wasn’t something she could relate to, even though it brought the semblance of a smile to light her eyes. It was odd how it all contrasted. The light and the dark, the love that was felt amongst –this- family in comparison to her own. How she would have loved to have bled Moon like a stuck pig given half the chance…or just the fact that she preferred to imagine that her own just didn’t exist.

Perhaps it were those thoughts that made her feel so unwell. Glad to wrap her arms around Alexs’ neck as again they took to the skies without wings. It was fun…really it was but the more time went by. The more unwell she felt.

“The Grove.” She mumbled. Jao had said he knew where the demon was so there was no need for her to venture further than the Grove was there? She had done what she had set out to do. Found help. At least someone would help…even if it was another family member…in a odd sort of connective way.

There wasn’t another word said on the way home. Alex knew where the Grove was she was sure. If not…following his Father would be close enough.

It was setting foot back on home turf that had her waver a little. What she felt was in-describable and she had to hold onto Alex a little tighter till she could at least gather some semblance of stability. Something…was very wrong.
Enough thought at least to rise on her toes, to touch her lips to his cheek and whisper “Thank you” before she ran. No lingering looks, no tender embraces…she had to get into the grove. Before, she had said that something was wrong. Despite the little Demon problem there was something else. Was there only her that felt it? It got worse the closer she got…<br>
If only she could have sought comfort from loving arms. Arms that didn’t have a hidden agenda, arms that would have folded around her…whispers that would tell her that everything would be alright.
If only…<br>

[John]

Alex looked down at Cass and gave a nod of his head before his eyes found the grove of which she spoke. The Grove indeed. He swept downwards and the winds swept forward causing the trees to sway slightly. Alex gently set Cassandra down on her feet. He raised his head and watched Jao continue forth without him. He smiled and turned to Cass, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers for a moment, he leaned back and smiled.

"Wish us luck," he offered before crouching, and launching upwards.

Jao had slowed only a margin, however Alex was up at his side once more. The archaic Kirai-jin, turned his sleek, green eyes towards his son and looked him over.

"A thing for a vampire?" he inquired.

"Can't be worse than courting a dragon," said Alex with a none too subtle grin on his features.

Jao gave a nod of his head and recalled the ordeals he had gone through to get a ring around his wife's finger.

"Touche'" he said with a simple nod of his head as he directed his attentions forward.

The darkened presence was all around, echoing and ebbing in waves of depression and horror. Jao's brow creased as he felt the spiritual oppression and closed his eyes for a moment only to try and understand.

"Is it the demon that has caused all of this pain and agony, or is it the family itself?" inquired Jao.

Alex shook his head, his poise changing even withint he air that they crashed through as the violent clouds roared about and threatened to cave down upon all below.

"Uncle Eric sure knows how to pick them." stated Alex.

"I think the Kheinmors have a fatal attraction to dangerous women, though I must admit Hope's the sweetest I've seen in the lot," offered Jao with a slight shake of his head.

"I won't tell mom you said that," replied Alex.

"Thank the heavens for that."

[Forgotten]

The figure stood silently reclined against a tree. His auguries had proven accurate, and he had arrived at nearly the same time as Cassandra. His conversation with the Wingless Angel had gone on for a moment or two, before he had tired of it and moved on. She would understand that he was on a fairly tight schedule, and, despite her distraction and the delay that she had caused, he had managed to gain back the time, in part by walking quickly, and in part by ending the conversation at a point most conversations wouldn’t end at. Either way, he would meet her again, for it wasn’t the last that they were fated to meet.

He leaned quietly against a tree, oblivious and uncaring to whose tree it was, if in fact it belonged to anyone. He was in the grove, now, and that was enough for him. Yes, he would be here when Cassandra returned. It hadn’t been long that he’d had to wait. Perhaps a few minutes of waiting, before the powerful beat of wings rang overhead and behind him. His gaze shifted upwards towards the figures coming to the grove. His hand rose slowly, slender digits unfurling before his lips as he suppressed a yawn, his wild eyes scanning the forms of those entering the grove. It was a nice night out, he mused as the forms touched down before him and shared a tender moment. Perhaps there was a bit of a romantic mystique lent to the moment by the slightly chill temperature and the presence of a moon this night. Perhaps there was something to it in the center of the grove, but he did not allow himself to ponder it any further than previous ponderance. He seemed entirely bored by the situation, and said nothing for many moments after the winged one took flight, before his gaze shifted towards Cassandra.

“Welcome home, dark-eyed Cassandra.” He spoke after a moment, bringing his hands together, his gaze leveling at her. He spoke of home. “I trust that all went well, and see that you’ve fared decently.” He watched her for a moment longer, before straining muscles and pulling his weight off of the tree. “Well, now that that’s all said and done, then, I suppose I should be going. Likely that I’ll find some place better to fit in than here.” He took a step slowly from the grove. “I figured that I should tell you.” Quietly, he moved away from the grove, beginning to walk back towards the forest from whence he had come. Perhaps he had come to the grove with a different intention than that which he was leaving with, but it was hard to tell with him. Always.

[Samaena]

Somehow she didn’t think Alex and his Father would need that much luck. There had been something about Jao that she was unsure of….yet she had still gone to him to ask for help. Even at Hope and Eric’s wedding there had been something about the man that had made her feel unease. The whole situation she was once again running into was cause enough for that.
Had she stayed to linger by Alex she may have caught the words spoken between Father and Son but she had been far more concerned with finding the source of whatever it was that made her feel as though her whole world had been shattered.

Sight of the grove in its current state had her slow her pace…the stones. The Empty space where her Mother’s tree had once stood so proud. She’d have gaped if there hadn’t been the voice welcoming her home.
Turning to face her son. Small hands balled to fists. Not a word spoken. Disbelief…a new facial expression easily read upon her face.
“What?” she began to question.

Some better place to ‘fit in’? – Her previous worry of running to the Twin oak that belonged to herself and Hope was forgotten, if only while she watched Ell turn away from her.

“Just where the Hell else do you –think- you’ll fit in Ell?”

A reasonable question. At least she thought so. Maybe he just wanted to be away from them, the family and herself as a whole? Hardly surprising really.
A gesture of her hands as though she actually voiced what she’d have said ‘I give up’. Why should she bother?
It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted to make the effort. Wasn’t she obliged to? Simply because she was his ‘Mother’ – Then again she had been denied even that and again anger became a factor. A few paces forward she took toward Ell…she was angry but she looked away toward the place she had last seen Alex and paused where she was.
Her son was walking away…why the hell had she thought he’d be any different? Just…shaking her head as she watched his back, his every step taking him further from her.
What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to run after him and beg him to stay? That wasn’t her style. She didn’t beg no matter how much she cut at her nose to spite her face.

Just where exactly –did- he think he’d fit in. Here he had family, he was accepted just the way he was. She loved him.

“Go…” she called after him “I was never the one to turn my back.” A simple truth. One he could think about.
The whole thing was just unbelievable.
Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that she faced much the same as her sister, at the same time too. Swallowing past the lump of pride caught in her throat she turned to walk back into the grove. Pushing from her face those errant strands of black…to find on her fingers the tell-tale drops of tears. Tears? Cass never cried. The last time she had, she could recall every scream of pain…every cry of anger as she was forced to watch the sun rise upon her only son.
Desperation, begging and pleading…sobbing in a way she had never thought possible. It was all so clear…but it passed just as quickly as it had come.

Standing that much taller, holding her head high she strode between the monoliths that guarded the oaks and her way was made toward the Twin. She could stay a while. Gather her thoughts, regain her emotions?
It was the sight of her Angels’ Oak that caused her to worry further. Reaching out tentative fingers to ‘feel’, to offer what she could. Crumbling to fall on her knees as she realised with that one single touch, much more than she had intended to or needed to.

[Forgotten]

The Prophet hadn't anticipated that she would respond to him, nor had he anticipated that she would ask him a question. Augury, it seemed, had its limits, though it seemed to be far more accurate than the guesswork that visions incurred. Still, the questions had affected him, and a slight stumble entered his step as he paused, giving a moment of silent consideration to her words. "Perhaps I am not destined to fit in anywhere, Cassandra," He spoke after a moment, turning slowly towards her, a slender eyebrow raised beneath the tangles of long hair that hung wildly about his face. For a moment...maybe....could it? Perhaps it was...the fire seemed to vanish from his eyes, his features seemed comprehensive, understanding. It seemed for a moment that he had found sanity, "Perhaps I am not to fit in anywhere," He repeated, "But I am not entirely convinced that I fit in here. You have accepted me, though you have introduced me to none of my other relatives, nor have you attempted to show me the family that I could have had." A small sympathetic smile slipped across his features as the fire returned to his violet eyes, "You have been different, my Sweet Cassandra, yet always you have held me at an arm's length, never dreaming to bring me into the family whose blood courses through our veins. Perhaps if you had seemed proud of me at some point..." He paused for a moment, then looked in the direction of Alex, "You have another to love, though. Another to be proud of, do you not? Someone you will introduce to the family. You have another son..." His voice trailed off as he stood. His concept of love was obviously flawed, as he had known none. He had never known a traditional definition of it, and had never been taught to draw a line between maternal love, and the love of lovers. To him it was all the same. If he had ever possessed either, he did not know. He did know, however, that he had gone through changes for Cassandra. Changes he had not necessarily understood, and he had felt things that he could not comprehend, but he had done much for Cassandra. Things he had made sure she would never know about. The Other said nothing, The Warrior was furious.

Leave! he had shouted, You were so close! Freedom is so close. Without her, without attachments, I can get you anything that you desire. I can bestow upon you everything. Trust me, after all, have I not improved our conditions many times over? He nodded, slowly taking a step back, the words seeming to hold sway over him, Yes, very good...that's right, just a few more steps, and then turn... Another step backwards, then a third, and his foot halted in midair.

Stay. The observer spoke. Her voice rang through Ellatole's mind with staunch clarity. Her first word had reverberated throughout his mind, and the word had been beautiful. Never before had he heard his goddess's voice. Never had she chosen to reveal herself to him, until this moment, and the word she had chosen! It was pure poetry contained in a single syllable. The single most endearing word that could ever be expressed in his language. Though Cassandra had not spoken the word. She had told him to go. His hesitation was evident. He was torn. His goddess had finally spoken to him, and there had been a time when that would have been the voice that he had listened to. Now, however, there was another woman of equal importance to him, and their messages were conflicting. His shoulders fell as he battled inner turmoil. The word parted his lips quietly, his gaze locked on Cassandra. It was a small word. Fragile and tentative. "Help?" Perhaps it had been shattered by the very breath of its release. Perhaps she could no longer hear. Perhaps she no longer cared. Perhaps the decision had already been made.

[Typhus]

Within......here and without there was a nothingness he had touched upon; the ether of the cosmos grasped in spiraling fingers of zephyred nothingness......brought back out unto the fore for all with eyes of pale sanity to look upon, and kneel. Times of the ages cupped in hands of a babe, the lifetimes of countless thousands scanned with eyes of a god, yet the flesh and heart of a mortal. The soul of a young man, catching with eyes of spiraling blue what he was never meant to see. This was history in it's purest form; the chronicles of timeless thousands happening before him again and agan; at a whim within the swirling energies of his own pscyhe. A psyche that had become so driven that there was little to hold back Typhus' want for knowledge; to capture the simple words that he needed. Just the phrase; the sweetly honeyed phrase which he pleaded with the past to show him. To show him what he wanted, all of his wants and needs formulating in a single phrase, composed of the four words which would hold all the information he would require; It. Can. Be. Stopped.

The mountains; the hills of an elder age where all this turmoil began The plains of battle where forged blade and sinewed muscle were put to the test. Where majiks of a forgotten time were wielded with nary a thougth, now looked upon as nothing but a fairy tale. The tomes of the now echoing the sights of yester-year; looking amidst it all with the cautious glances of those abound, the whispered wants of beings meant to be unseen. This was not the fight of the voyeur, his fight to come countless millenia later when all would be riding on his resolve, and what the eyes of hidden gaze could accumulate in time. Clocks were ticking, gears were sliding as the grinding wheel of passing time slowly gained it's monolithic momentum......the granules in that glass running short in abundance, the last to fall very soon if nothing would be done.

And yet, there was a shift, the change. A change of changes, and priorities were altered. Altered but not changed; information gathered yet now actions needed. The ebbing waist the fringes of his soul; the frayed edges of a tattered spirit, the reckonings of staying too far from what was his vessel, the body which was his and aging away to the clutches of mortality. The viewer of past lives would return in time......just a bit more time was needed. More time to learn! To find the single moment of action which would be his quest, the imperative drive that kept that aired mind moving about, scrying and scrawling for any sign of indignation towards the past......a reason to be looking, something to further his cause.

Alas! He would not have this chance; the pulling mind of the being which watched being slurred, slowed......dragged away. It was time to return and find what was causing such a shift in what he was, and what was trusted to he himself and no other around him. Through the ethos of what everyone was, has been and what will be........the weaving threads of fate, Fate itself touched for a scant moment, the light of what was another essence, the warmth of a mother's touch wrought once more and touching to a formless cheek, if only for a moment. The spiraling cold, the blazing heat; warmth of such a piercing pain that the stars themselves were shamed, a chill so cold that ice was a poor substitute.....and the unease of perhaps returning to find it all for naught. And yet, through it all there seemed to be a safely encapsulated bubble of home, of a hearth that was not burned away through fires and gore. A comforting thing that put that mind at ease, the soul calmed of it's worries by the searing pain which wracked it's form. Paradox within the shapeless, a question within the nothing; the weaving ways of the fates of the cosmos at last releasing the ethereal prescence which walked it's voidal paths.

Eyes; eyes flickering with the colours of a sapphiric blue, of rubied blood and emerald green, yellowed topaz and the blackest jet.......opened. A life's sweet breath taken, lungs flowing with gasping air once more as that stasis had been cut. The stasis of residing in the lands of another age, the mind of the Bearer having taken the risk of losing his self to the spiraling minds of the tired pasts, having rollen a die and come out on top. For now at the least.....he had been successful in his attempt of scrying. Where was he again? The darkened room, the smell of mold, the echo of what could be occuring around him.

"The catacombs.....?" Confused he would be for a moment or so; like waking up from an antiquitous sleep, to find that nothing is the same as when those eyes first closed. A soft groan of drained energy hoisting that wracked frame up once more......and in that same moment Gaulgmouth clutched once again. With that stand, there was a stagger; with the return there was a welcoming. The black essence of Gaulgmouth......nervous? Or simply feigning it? There was indeed an unsease about it, the airs around him hissing of the shapeless daemons, the hissing voices for mortal ears telling all who could to kill, to butcher the masses and let them bleed. There was a reason behind the cries for slaughter; they were always abounding but never this vehement, never so insisent......something had happened whilst both mind and soul were taken away and the body left to guard the Charge.

[Typhus]

A hand went to his hair, to touch to the hair that blotted sight......to find that it was black, ebony and worn like that of years before. "What the..." -Was the only reply.....finding that his voice was a little more toned, richer and fuller then the rasped chortle which the lands of Greyseerer had come to know as his speech. A piece of glass; dirtied and worn from the misuse from one of the catacomb's posessions, was taken up with a pale hand, blinking slowly at the face which shined back against it's sooted luster. The face.....was normal; the eye? Gone! Burned out and replaced by spirits not meant to be known, the threads of fate weaving in and unto his very soul, Fate itself shifting backwards, the gears of time pulling backwards around him, ticking backwards until it was deemed satisfactory.

His face? A little more coloured then before, though still lacking the food which he had been shunning for the weeks beforehand. Scars were gone, that look of loss seared from bagged eyes and macabre stance.....and his thoughts clearer, like polished cystal things seemed clearer, the hissing wants of what resided within the head like a calmed voice, not the scream he had once known. Also, a mark! Eyes widened at the tribalistic glyph besides the left corner of his lid, but with mirrored glass brought glimpse of a sight; a tattoo, runic in origin yet painful for eyes upon the mortal plane to look upon. A wince brought even when trying to look at it's twisting design; the size of his thumb yet holding much more then he thought was allowed; the blessing of another, the sign of a shapeless hand to his shoulder...a sign of those that had helped The Four, now etched unto his flesh with the needles of antiquitous knowing, stitched with inks of an unknown make and definition, marking him and only four others with barbed tendrils of a patterened black.. Enough of the wonders which came with simply being, for there would be time to study the new glyph and it's meanings later.....when things were not in such a complicated situation.


"Someone's here......" A muted whisper, even as that hand clutched to the staff which writhed against it's shackles. Bound by iron and steel it was boletd to the rocky wall; the weapon of feigned innocence fighting with a will of it's own, twisting and grinding with the souls of the wicked, the screaming wood bubbling forth with the screeching faces of the damned. Yet ast that hand, the fingers of the Bearer grasped that shaft of simple oak malformed into something so unholy it was not meant to be.....it quieted; the shrieking faces burbling like a brook upon the wood shutting up, their mouth closed but their tiny eyes still glaring, still hateful as the shackles were released, the chains falling away with his own subtle majiks and Gaulgmouth taken unto his hands once again.

Kaliya's lackey.......no, her ~maid~....had openly voiced concern for he in the past weeks; the resonation of what was his mind still clinging onto words of a passing fancy, catching words that his flesh would take and musing over them. How odd a thing for one like himself, a human in the lands of mortals, alive only by the sinister prescence which sheathed his flesh....and to have another mortal in that very same abode be concerned for his well-being. In fact, he would even pass her ast he moved himself up and out for the Grove; Tilly herself stepping to the side to see this young.......~younger~ man.....walk by and out towards the Grove. "Go back to your mistress; I fear we have business in moments time. Tell her it is about her wingless child..." That was all he would truly speak of; not looking to Tilly as she rushed away, to obvously tell the 'friend' what he had spoken of. There was indeed an issue there he would need to close....and he would close it after this moment of surprisingly-human curiosity.

The Grove? Indeed that's where those steps would take him; the garb of what looked to be charred and tattered linens, the mal-nourished body clinging to black and brown, clothing of ruined pasts holding to his body, the scythe strapped to his backside and that hood pulled over his face. What of the others that looked to him? They would not look at him, even ast that hand pulled what he knew was a trifling object from the satchel at his side. "What....." He had stopped asking questions, even as he looked to what he retrieved from his satchel. There was more then just this that had been gifted to him; more then just what looked to be the first of new tidings, blessings from another that had not chosen to be revealed just yet.

A mask for half his face.....cleaned and polished, of ebony and not porclein, tear-drop shaped onyx jewels studded into where a daemonic maw had been sculpted into the stone. Like a beast of the voidal cosmos it seemed to emulate; a gentle smile on lips of paled flesh creasing that face before it was placed. Clasped and strung the mempo seemed to hold; the clasps of silver and throngs of suppled leather hinting at someone's placing of this item was new. Someone was here to meet with either words or blades, and he was now prepared for what was to come to pass. His mind was clear, his eyes were set and his goal set stronger then ever.

Like what seemed like lifetimes ago with Kaliya........there were matters to discuss.

[Samaena]

Looking up at her son as he eventually turned and took those steps back toward her. Glad that he hadn’t gone further. A conflict of interests? Wanting him to stay, to keep an eye on him, to know that he was safe…then again…As she listened it became more apparent that she was perhaps just as lost as she was.
Where had she gone so terribly wrong? Had her lust for revenge corrupted those fine shreds she clung to…grand imaginings of being a parent. Just like her own Mother, or her sister Hope…where was hope now? Sifting away through her fingers with each word he spoke.
She’d never stood a chance had she? Denied from the outset to give the child what he needed. She was totally aghast as she listened to each word he spoke.

“Is that what you want?”
Did he really want to know what the rest of the family were like? Warts and all?
“To now them all? Meet them all?”

There was a hint of amusement to pass over her features. There very thought of it…<br>Hadn’t he wondered –why- she had never taken him to meet the others? Glancing over her shoulder to where she had last seen Alex. Wishing that he had remained…but why? She had never really spoke to anyone about anything. She hardly spoke at all, to anyone. Alex was different somehow.
A son Ell had called him and that did indeed bring a mocking laugh to slip from her lips. That in itself would have been something to explain to the rest of the ‘Family’<br>
From tears to laughter in such a short space of time. Though had she laughed at Ell? No, she had seen the Humor, the implications, the conflict…family ties. Who the hell needed them?
One single thought, so wrong in this place, this moment in time had her think of the satisfaction she may have gained from rubbing her Father’s nose in the fact she still had her son, that she still had a chance…but it was wrong. Ell was not a tool to be used in such a way.

“Alex!” she turned from Ell for that moment then, scouring the place she had last seen him, up on high to see if he still lingered. Perhaps Alex would explain just exactly who he was. Ell would see and hear for himself the reactions of others.
How was she to tell him that Alex was nothing like a son to her? He was her … not even she could label Alex. A Lover? A friend? A cousin? What-the-hell was he anyway?

“ALEX!” she screeched.
Perhaps if he had answers then she, herself would know what was what? Two birds with one stone.

However, she had noted the changes within Ell’, her own struggle to come to terms with what she felt, aside that which Ell had now lain upon her shoulders she took a step toward him as he’d taken one back…then two.
If she had heard the voices he heard then she’d have known the internal conflict of interests here and in his own mind…<br>Accusations, guilt and more…the foreboding sense of danger and trepidation. A bundle of her own screwed up thoughts and emotion.
It was his one single plea that had her close the gap. Reaching out to take his hand. Help? What did he want her to do? What did he want from her? Too late to be the Mother she’d have liked to have been at one time. Too cold to voice anything other than the hatred she had let rule her for so long. Against one of her own. She blamed him. Moon.

Just the simplicity of one single touch. If it could have sang with a voice of its own…it would have screamed everything she couldn’t say, wouldn’t say. Curling her fingers around his hand, squeezing a little to show a shred of affection Ell had been missing for so long.

“I’m here” was all she could voice. Unwilling to say any more…it just wasn’t her. Was it?

[John]

The wind whipped across the features of his face viciously as he continued on at the side of his father. The history of the Greyseerer family was in all reality, quite a mystery to him. Cass had never mentioned a thing to him about it, and it did often make him wonder.

What was he to her? What was she to him?

In all honesty within a world he hated so much he was glad to find some anchor of interest and that was her. Attraction could only go so far however, and much like his father (Though if Jao would admit it or not was a whole nother story.) he had a definite thing for dangerous women. And Cass was as dangerous as they got... well unless she was compared to Faith. He had to chuckle at the idea.

"Still thinking about her?" inquired his father, who caught the smile and the chuckle.

Alex cleared his throat.

"Aren't you suppose to be.." he paused and stopped in mid-air, reality caught up and he ignored the sudden gusts that split around his frame as Jao stopped, and looked towards him.

"Sounds like she needs you Alex," stated Jao with a bit of a smile.

"Sounds like it," agreed Alex as he turned towards Jao. "You going to be able to handle this demon all by your lonesome old man?"

Jao smiled and shook his head.

"If I can't the last person that I think will do any good is a hot headed punk like yourself." replied Jao with a grin. "But we'll see."

Alex scoffed.

"Like father like son," he mused as he turned and blasted off back towards Cassandra's location. His frame cut through the air like a blade as he soared away from his father.

Jao only shook his head.

"He reminds me more of Eric than anyone else," he said with a smile before he turned and continued on towards this demon.

Alex would arrive soon enough and his frame darting down into the midst of the grove would be quite hard to notice. The aura of spiraling blue and white faded away from his flesh as he shook his head.

"Cass?" he called out clearly as he began to hunt about for her.

[Forgotten]

Ellatole's gaze traced over Cassandra's movements, curiosity drifting briefly across his features. He watched her, seeming to not comprehend her words, though this expression was one that commonly dwelled upon his features. His eyes drifted briefly closed before opening, a silent, hesitant step carrying him back only slightly. The distance between them had increased, as had his field of vision. A silent musing at this. Perhaps there was something to this. The farther from Cassandra he was, the more he could see. Who to listen to, though? The Goddess spoke to him, though The Warrior and Cassandra agreed. Then...Cassandra no longer agreed with The Warrior. She wavered, it seemed. What to think? His gaze snapped towards movement, the observant violet eyes tracing the descent of Alex. Perhaps the man had been attempting to move with stealth, though The Prophet often saw more than others, and more than he was supposed to see.

"Your son is here." He spoke quietly, his eyes following Alex, before he turned to face Cassandra once more. "Will you show him to the family?" he watched her quietly, his observant eyes registering a lack of understanding. "And why did you not let me form my own opinions of the family? You have your Hope, the one you love above all others, and yet never was I given an opportunity to meet her. There is something that you like about the family, and yet you refuse to share it with me." He watched her. "Introduce me to your other son, perhaps. He is here, and he is an opportunity to....Who do I listen to?" Mid-sentence he had shifted. "The Warrior, The Goddess, The Exterior....who do I listen to?"

He took a silent step back, his gaze shifting to look up the trunk to the nearest tree, fear and confusion registering in his eyes. A hand moved up to claw briefly at the rough bark, attempting to pull him up, though the effort was half-hearted, and he remained firmly against the ground. "They're all telling me different things...you're here. I'm here. He's here. Where do I go? Who do I listen to? Do I stay? Do I go? Where do I go?" The question crossed his lips again. He watched Alex, jumping as Alex spoke Cassandra's name, a hesitation forcing him to take another step back as Alex neared. He moved slowly and quietly, circling the base of the tree, attempting to remove himself from Alex's line of sight. Something about Alex was unsettling to him. Something about the man...

Spindly fingers curled about the trunk of the tree to his left and he moved back quietly, concealing his frame behind it, save for a dirty head stained with dried blood that poked about the corner of it. Blood. The thought crossed his mind, and a smile slipped across his lips. The smile spread for a moment, and a soft chuckle and a laugh escaped his throat, as he took a step from behind the tree, a hand moving to part the robe before his chest. Jagged red streaks were revealed on his bare chest as he stood before Cassandra. "She....scratched me..." He looked at her for a moment, then looked down to the scratches on his chest, another chuckle crossing his lips, growing with rising cadence in volume. "She scratched me!" He repeated, a demonic glee in his eyes as he studied the wound. It was not deep, and had he wanted to, he could have easily closed the wound, though for some reason he hadn't. He had not willed the blood to scab, and so it still flowed, a slow trickle, though he still bled. It had been pressed thin and dried against his shaped chest, a toned form that loose robes kept hidden. "The bitch scratched me! And he only cried..." He....cried. His laugh began to subside as he looked at her. " Did he cry because her neck snapped?" His head tilted to the side. "She deserved it...she scratched me."

He hesitated. "But they were so young...I just wanted to hold her. And she scratched me, and I shook her, and she stopped moving. He cried and screamed and ran and his screams were loud. They hurt my ears, and they were going to get other people. I didn't want to share the game. It was our game. I had to stop him from screaming, so we could play our own game. He screamed from his throat, so I caught the screams there with my hands. He stopped screaming, and then he stopped moving." He turned his attention up towards Cassandra, drifting back from a silent recollection. " Do you think he would mind if I saw how his wings worked? Please ask your winged son. I would like very much to learn about the wings." He watched her expectantly, reaching inside the folds to his cloak to produce a thin-bladed sharp scalpel. "Please ask him. I would only like to learn."

[John]

The laughter is what first and foremost caught his attention. The ringing chorus of something that was utterly disturbing and most definately not very pleasant. He paced forward towards the direction to see a man, and then to lay his eyes on Cassandra. Something wrong? Wasn't there always. As for himself attempting to be stealthy, that word seemed to not be present within Alex' dictionary. Stealth was to simple, to easy, it was far too much fun to bust right into the party. His five foot, ten inch tall frame stood there, quite openly. He leaned his head to the side and directed his gaze towards Cassandra, the smile on his face was still there. Still the simple arrogance that existed within his every movement shown easily to those around.

"Let me guess... More family?" he inquired, with a raised brow as he turned back to the sick, cut individual.

The scalpel was seen, his eyes focusing in upon it for a moment. Both of those radiant blue eyes rolling from the edge of the blade up towards the face of the rather disgruntled man. Was this the pretense to a fight? He was unsure at the moment. He didn't want to go cracking heads if it was someone that Cass was close to. However the man was disturbing, a real sicko from what he had seen so far. Of course he was the hot headed punk, and perhaps a part of him was waiting for this 'kid' to make the wrong move.

-come on kid give me an excuse to plow you six feet nder.- Rang the little voice of violence within Alex.

Mental, spiritual, who knew? Alex was ready at that point in time to do something, to do anything. He turned then towards Cassandra and once more that ever so cool look of curiosity passed over his features.

"Why'd you call me anyway?" he inquired just as simply, though his every cell was poised to move if that freak, decided to take a step nearer.

[Samaena]

Of course…a touch as simple as one of reassurance was brushed off. He chose to back away and she let him.
“Sarischa needs to butt out” she muttered softly. “Listen to the Goddess. Listen to me when I tell you that Alex is not my son” her voice was raising. The internal struggle with her own emotion kept in check for now. The last thing she needed to do was lose her grip, specially here and now.
A step was taken toward Ell as he backed from her and she was speaking, snapping almost as he chose this moment to tell her that he felt like an outsider.

“If I had thought for one moment that you wanted to be a part of it all. It would have happened. If I had thought for one moment that you really were interested in meeting the others. It would have happened long ago…but no…” she was almost furious, her hands were shaking, her heart pounding…did she have one? At times it seemed not. Perhaps it would have been better to have just…given in and let go completely so long ago.
“You go where you choose to. Just as you always have Ell”<br>She had her own gripes here. A son that cried for attention, to be apart of things not even she wanted to be a part of at times.
“Don’t you think I had my own reasons for not showing you to the others. If you wanted to meet them all you had to do was say.” Another step taken toward Ell as he backed around the tree but as he hid away and began to laugh she shook her head and turned away. There was no speaking to him was there. Her heart was breaking and no one gave a shit…why would they? They didn’t know.

It was what he did next…as Ell began to laugh and reappear from behind the tree…accusing her? Displaying scratches upon his chest…her jaw must have hit the floor and instinctively she raised both her hands and backed away two steps.
“No way. No way in hell”
But she was in Hell wasn’t she. That was a certainty from where she was standing. A manufactured Hell created in a place of sanctuary. Why did she do this to herself? Why did he do it?

Her hands were clean, there was no skin beneath her nails, there was no blood upon her fingertips. Alex coming alongside her was just what she needed…only it didn’t make her feel any better at all. Alex had arrived just in time to see her? Accused of such an act.
“I never touched him Alex. I never laid a finger on him” the truth plain and simple….

Ell went on to describe, as though he were still a child the games children would play. The simplicity of anger shown of innocence…the games. Cass was shaking her head. Death was what they did. Plain and simple. It was a way of life for creatures such as themselves and only now she realised that she abhorred her life…<br>
“I wanted you to meet my son” spoken from a dream, to Alex. Though she was taking steps back toward Ell. Reaching for his wrist, the hand which held the scalpel would not if she could help it wield anytime soon.

“I don’t have a son with wings Elladan.” Again she called him by his ‘given’ name. “Do you have wings? Would you like to learn from your own wings?” She knew damn well that he didn’t but if he had to ponder her own questions in relation to his…she had asked her son if he could learn from his wings…just as he had asked her to.
She couldn’t do this any more. She didn’t want to do this any more. Any of it. Tired of hating, tired of being what and who she was…Her sigh was explosive as she looked back over her shoulder to Alex. “This is my Son. Ellatole” his preferred name. Something to be really proud of right? The apple of his ‘Mothers’ eye she was sure.
Looking back to Ell she spoke softly “This is Alex. Hope married his Uncle” Alex was already a part of the family. Funny how that worked out wasn’t it? The fact Alex was a friend, a lover and someone she liked to be around didn’t come into the equation. Ell hadn’t asked, Alex hadn’t pushed as yet…would he? She wasn’t going to say anything else to confuse matters.
“If you want to meet Hope. I’ll take you.” Never had she denied Ell a thing. Did that make him spoiled? She needed to see Hope anyway, the emotional tie coupled with being here of all places, wasn’t helping. Not at all. Did anyone give a damn? No. Did she want them to? That…was another question entirely.

[John]

Elladan, Ellatole? It made little difference to him until he put the pieces together. He realized that this was her son and that pretty much cinched it. In a nutshell the family was more dyfunctional than a decaying zombie. Alex looked at the bleeding lines and then back towards Cassandra. It was a sensative subject he was sure, but unfortunately Alex had the sensativity of a two ton boulder. His right hand ascended and his fingers massaged the bridge of his nose.

"He's a man now Cass, he's free to make whatever damn choices he wants. You can only do so much for a kid before they become an adult and do their own thing," stated Alex quite frankly as he looked towards Cassandra. "Stop beating yourself up, I'm sorry but your son's lost it."

Alex leaned his head to the side and saw what he felt was a great deal of weakness within this man. A man who couldn't take up for himself, a man who decided to blame those around him. A man who felt better to do everything in his power to wreak havoc on the life of his mother. He shook his head.

"Is everyone in your family like this?" asked Alex. "Come on Cass get a grip. He's not even man enough to admit to his own mistakes, or to take life seriously. He likes to blame you for everything. For his lack of sanity?"

Alex shook his head and actually chuckled.

"Cass he's weak. You live, you mess up, sorry darling, but you're beating yourself up for a lost cause."

And maybe he was wrong in everything. Maybe Elladan was a good man, who was actually struggling and maybe it was actually all Cassandra's fault. The problem was he didn't give a damn and a half. He felt a great deal for Cassandra, but for the nut-job who had the scalpel, and was hysterical, he felt nothing, not even pity. He saw weakness and that was something that burned into him, something that bothered him more than anything.

[John]

Elladan, Ellatole? It made little difference to him until he put the pieces together. He realized that this was her son and that pretty much cinched it. In a nutshell the family was more dyfunctional than a decaying zombie. Alex looked at the bleeding lines and then back towards Cassandra. It was a sensative subject he was sure, but unfortunately Alex had the sensativity of a two ton boulder. His right hand ascended and his fingers massaged the bridge of his nose.

"He's a man now Cass, he's free to make whatever damn choices he wants. You can only do so much for a kid before they become an adult and do their own thing," stated Alex quite frankly as he looked towards Cassandra. "Stop beating yourself up, I'm sorry but your son's lost it."

Alex leaned his head to the side and saw what he felt was a great deal of weakness within this man. A man who couldn't take up for himself, a man who decided to blame those around him. A man who felt better to do everything in his power to wreak havoc on the life of his mother. He shook his head.

"Is everyone in your family like this?" asked Alex. "Come on Cass get a grip. He's not even man enough to admit to his own mistakes, or to take life seriously. He likes to blame you for everything. For his lack of sanity?"

Alex shook his head and actually chuckled.

"Cass he's weak. You live, you mess up, sorry darling, but you're beating yourself up for a lost cause."

And maybe he was wrong in everything. Maybe Elladan was a good man, who was actually struggling and maybe it was actually all Cassandra's fault. The problem was he didn't give a damn and a half. He felt a great deal for Cassandra, but for the nut-job who had the scalpel, and was hysterical, he felt nothing, not even pity. He saw weakness and that was something that burned into him, something that bothered him more than anything.

[Forgotten]

One hand rose to brush his matted hair up, the long strands hanging in wild tangles about his hand and face, his other hand coming to press against his mouth, lips that were parted in a broad smile, his eyes shining dangerously, though he made no movements. "Cassandra, I don't think your son likes us very much." He blinked for a moment, then rephrased his comment. "I'm sorry, I don't think your other non-son likes me very much." Had he just referred to himself as us? It made sense to him on some level, and on another level, The Prophet was greatly offended. The Prophet was not the same as the Others. Perhaps he was not all there, and it was not his fault, he mused. It was not anyone's fault, and he sought to lay no blame on anyone. His father and the sun were all he could blame. Cassandra had always been one of the greatest things in his life...at least, while she was in it, and her absence was not her own doing. He had endured hell at the hands of his father, and it had been too much. When the sun had pushed him to the brink of death and he had survived, his mind had simply snapped. He held no blame for anyone living save Hak. But he bore the man no grudge any longer, for without Hak's assistance Ellatole would not be nearly the being he was. He would be a hateful revenge-filled little beast, much as Sarischa wished him to be. Perhaps, he mused, Sarischa was the voice of his father, and so he knew often to simply ignore the voice.

He smiled once more as his gaze shifted towards Cassandra. His eyes pleaded with her for an instant. Perhaps she would understand that he wasn't what Alex was calling him, perhaps she knew him better than that, though it wasn't his place to say. Alex had formed his own opinion, and he was hotheaded and cocky, his body language had told The Prophet that much, and so The Prophet had already decided that he didn't like the man. It didn't matter, as the man was nothing, anyway. "I ask now, Cassandra, and I will form my own opinions about them." He watched her for a moment, then spoke once more, "And I respect your opinions, Cassandra, and I will bear them in mind." He was not fond of Alex, and this much was for certain. The scalpel was not held in any menacing manner, and his body's slant was not threatening in the least. His eyes glinted with curiosity as his gaze traced over Alex's wings. "I do not have wings, Cassandra, but he does. Please ask him if I may see how they work." He was being very nice. Very civil. He was really doing his best to be kind to the guest in the grove, and it seemed that the stranger to the grove had no intentions of returning Ellatole's kindness. Still, he shrugged this off and ignored the man, for the most part.

His mind was not truly clear, though he did hear and understand what Alex said about him. Such blatantly hostile words designed to affect and guide a mother from her child, and spoken right before the child. No, Ellatole was highly intelligent, he simply viewed the world through a shattered looking glass. His eyes clouded over for a moment as he looked towards the edge of the grove, where he spied a Neanderthal stalking a deer. In an instant, a spear plunged into the deer's flank, and the beast collapsed, the hunter upon it. Then the vision faded as Alex spoke once more, and his attention was redirected towards the man. "I lie no blame on my mother, and I take life very seriously. I am weak, and it is a physical weakness, though I see more than you could bear to see, and if you knew much of what I know, your mind would be as fragmented as mine seems at times. And, oh, how we all make mistakes! And not man enough to live up to them I am not, you say?" The structure was odd, the words twisting, "But we all make mistakes, and we all must accept and live with them. Then again, the fool with the shattered mind, too oblivious to everything to even realise that you speak negatively about him to his own face could not possibly have understood fully what you were telling Cassandra, so I shall pretend that I have said none of this," His gave shifted back towards Cassandra, and his head tilted to the side. His eyes burned violet, his features a porcelain mask, devoid of emotion. Perhaps he truly had not spoken those words...Though Cassandra knew him, and knew his capabilities and limits, as did Ellatole. He was young, frail and weak. His mind was broken, his intelligence nonexistent. He was an angsty little brat, wasn't he? Wasn't that what Alex saw?

It didn't matter, though. Not at all. Alex's opinions were his own, and Ellatole's his, just as Cassandra's were her own. He simply hoped that Cassandra saw more to him than Alex did. That Cassandra could see how much Ellatole truly cared for her, simply had no knowledge as to how to express it for her. After a moment, he turned his attentions back towards Alex. "Sir, may I please take a look at your wings? I wish to see how they work." He glanced down towards the scalpel, then looked back up towards Alex. "I am afraid that if you allow me to take a look, it will hurt, and there is no guarantee that they will continue working, but I would very much appreciate it." He remained silent for a moment, before taking a step nearer to Cassandra, back into range that she could touch him, if she desired such, and likewise, he could touch her. He did not much care for the presence of Alex, though at the moment, his curiosity was overcoming his distaste at Alex's company. No, Ellatole was not a malicious creature, only a curious one, and often he found that his curiosity led to the demise of others. It was not fair sometimes, and other times he did not understand the reasons for death. Then again, he had survived what he never should have been able to, so his views on death had been slightly skewed. He blinked in silence for a moment, then looked back towards Cassandra, bringing a hand up to lightly press his fingertips against her forehead. "Please show me what you do not want me to know. Show me why you have never shown me the family I do not have." There was no accusation in his voice, just a desire for understanding. Cassandra truly was all he had, save for the residents of his own mind. Could Cassandra see that, or was she just as self-absorbed as Ellatole knew he was. He prayed to the contrary, though knew it to be unlikely. He watched Cassandra. "I go where I choose, but so do we all, Cassandra, and now I am where I choose to be. Show me why I stay." His gaze locked on hers, violet eyes silently pleading with hers of grey stone, though neither face revealed emotion. After a moment, his hand dropped down slowly, a fingertip tracing up her cheek to wipe at the rogue droplet of water that had previously escaped her eye.