the beginning is the end (Myk)

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

Bella did not necessarily feel superior to this man in any way (at least not consciously), as she most certainly accepted her lack of experience in this life and therefore lack of wisdom that could only be gained through experience. She still, however, stood by her belief that her level of wisdom for someone of her age and experience level was indeed higher than most, and she grew very agitated when people underestimated her, which was quite often. She only felt the need to defend herself against his patronizing talk and explain that though she did have high levels of suspicion, she was not just completely eliminating any other possibilities outright, and here, she believed, lied the difference between an assumption and an educated guess. It didn't matter anymore, she supposed. It was mostly a matter of her own pride, she knew.

Myk was a name she had never heard before, but she liked it nonetheless. It was simple and sweet, and it had her curious about it’s origins.

“I’m not surprised. I don’t believe our circumstances to be all that curious, actually. As for liking you, Myk, well, I don’t very well know you, do I? And I can't say I've been given the best first impression, either, at least in terms of your trustworthiness.” She would have mentioned sanity as well, but it's absence wasn't necessarily something she judged people for, as it was something she herself was lacking. She was, however, aware that in her current situation, it could be dangerous and was something she should be wary of. She said this last comment whilst gazing into his eyes, with a dubious glint in hers, before she was brought back to the present when he began to speak again.

He asked her about her origins, causing her suspicion and defensiveness to come creeping back to her.

“Yes, I grew up not far from here, though I'm curious as to why you think that's any of your business or why you even care to know.” Bella drawled, ignoring his pressing comment about food. As he brought up his parents, she blinked a few times and opened her mouth to speak. But she was in such a state of confusion that it took a moment for words to come out. “I don’t even know you, Myk. Who am I to you? Who are you to me? We’re hardly acquaintances. And, even if I were remotely interested in meeting your parents, do you not think I have my own business to attend to? I’m not just some delinquent teen looking for money to buy new shoes or whatever other material possessions kids feel so ******* entitled to own these days. I need to get out of this city, before..” Her voice grew distant as her rambling came to an end. She looked up expectantly as a wave of reality washed over her. Why was she suddenly telling this man what she was doing, or why she was here? Besides the fact that he probably didn’t care and there was no reason to explain this to him, it could be dangerous to reveal too much more. Letting him know that she was alone, without anyone who gave a damn about her in this world could be just the motivation he needed to do whatever it was she was so sure he had been thinking about doing earlier. “So I’ll be going now.” She then turned around to leave the alley and begin her walk to the train station, hoping that Myk would leave her be. Her mind was becoming very frazzled all of a sudden and it made her feel unsafe, out of control. If he left her alone like she hoped that he would, she would be able to finish her walk quietly in the cool, night air and let the solitude calm her thoughts and put her to sleep once she reached the train station. Then, when she woke, there would be a train waiting for her. She’d have to bum it, but she was now somewhat confident she’d be able to make it out of London the next morning. She’d hopefully be able to climb out of the hole that London had become before a gravestone closed her in forever, never having left the confines of the forlorn city.

But there was still a small, lingering voice in the back of her head that was telling her she would not leave the city alive. Was it intuition, or just her madness again? She didn’t know.

[Myk]

Trustworthiness? This was the word that struck out at the Telepath the most as Bella spoke, or rather, it was the question of his trustworthiness that had. Myk hadn’t dreamt of himself as being the trustworthy sort and it never even occurred to him to think anyone else was worthy of it either. People were inherently selfish after all – at least one could always rely on that truth. Myk wasn’t the honest sort as it was, made even more impossible by the curse that required him to lie about who he was on a daily basis. It was always a surprise to hear when people vocalised their lack of faith in Myk, as if they had ever suspected he or anyone at all was capable of being relied on. Experience had shaped his mind to be a thing of independence, and while it was nice to have people around, people who he could call friends and family, he didn’t necessarily need them in order to function. They made his world brighter and he loved to have them around, but Myk was used to the cold isolation of living on his own, he was attuned to fighting battles solo and surviving without anyone’s interference. Myk knew that he was capable of continuing in that same vein too, so it never bothered him to have people close even if he didn’t believe anyone was trustworthy. When you expect the whole world to stab you in the back or neglect you when you need them most, you tend not to be surprised when it does happen and the experiences harden you.

Myk found more similarities and differences between himself and Bella as they continued to interact. She was standoffish and cold and somewhat spiteful, which he could be at times – particularly if he was in the position she was in now. On the other hand, Myk’s temperament was the ever-changing rainbow of petrol spills on water, so really he was just as likely to laugh maniacally at someone as become hostile or indifferent. Bella continued to speak, hounding him for answers he didn’t necessarily have because he’d said these things without thinking, causing pewter eyes to grow a little distant. The far corner of the alleyway was decidedly more attractive and interesting than having to listen to her judgement. Yes, he was well aware that he was peculiar and improper and outrageous. Yes, he was also aware of how these characteristics were very rarely welcomed or appreciated. And yes, he was aware that he was a hypocrite – prepared to criticise her naivety if she’d decided to join this crazy stranger on a journey to his home as equally as accuse her of being a stuck-up cow if she wouldn’t. C’est la vie.

Pewter eyes were looking around the short space between the brickwork, analysing strange puddles that had gathered on the floor and wondering how likely it was that the contents were merely water. This wasn’t exactly a great neighbourhood full of inspiring youths who were looking forward to making their way through University and jumping on the career ladder. This was London after all, where the unemployment rate in this city alone makes up 16% of the overall unemployed population of the United Kingdom. There were piles of trash clinging to walls and floors – plastic bags, nappies, beer cans, bottles and cardboard that were now more sludge than paper. England tended not to have the metal cylinder trash cans that America tends to have, so the one that Bella was positioned behind was no doubt dumped here out of someone’s kitchen. How ironic that even bins can become trash, particularly when that bin was probably empty too. Myk didn’t want to test his theory in case there might be a collection of meat stored inside – their origins and rate of decomposition varying, but the smell wouldn’t be. A super sense of smell like his would rather avoid that if he could.

It was during Myk’s extended analysis of their whereabouts that Bella decided to exploit his distraction. The flash of movement, however, was quick to bring him back to the present and he watched, curiously blinking with his head canted to one side, as Bella got to her feet and began to leave the area. No doubt he had missed something she had said and now she was off, freeing herself of his presence. A breeze of interest stirred the garbage-like thoughts into a spiralling column in his head, leaving Myk at a wonder as to which paper-thin notion would be best to grab. Should he follow her now that she was leaving him and if so, what would be his reason? Since he had established that she was indeed corporeal, Myk actually had no plausible excuse to pursue the mortal. Well, other than the fact that he was pretty hungry and no one would miss the little urchin. Myk doubted she had parents who gave a **** if she’d return home from one night to the next. How could they? Surely normal Human beings with an ounce of awareness and consideration do not let their teenage offspring travel the city streets at night. Myk’s parents hadn’t been able to control their wayward son, after all, and so they deserved what had become of him. The justification seemed plausible and Myk decided that he would follow the mortal.

Every step was careful, and deliberate, keeping a perpetual distance from her as to avoid detection. They passed under the sickly orange glow of the streetlamps in haste, then melted quietly into the darkness. There, his pace slowed, allowing the distance to gather between them. Myk didn’t need to keep Bella in his sights in order to pursue her, he could follow the scent of her blood. The Telepath shadowed this perfume until the light of the city finally leaked through the maw of the alleyway and stroked his eyes. Myk watched as the distant silhouette take a left outside the alley and disappear out of sight. He quickened his pace and followed suit, but was quickly forced to stop at a junction. It probably wasn’t a good idea to break a pace and leave oneself vulnerable like this, but Myk had little choice in the matter. Rolling over the bonnets of cars, trucks and lorries certainly wasn’t his idea of fun. He waited and gave a sigh, pushing out the cumbersome breath into the frosty air. He watched it vaporise into a mist, drifting erratically upward between the light drops of rain before at last, it faded completely into the toxic clouds above him.

During this lull in activity, Myk thought he recognised the area and had a clue about where she might be heading. He didn’t stay still for long, knowing how easily rain could dissolve even the copious amounts of hairspray and gel that he’d applied to make his hair stand up like a lion’s mane. When the traffic moved on, leaving the roads clear for crossing, Myk made his move. Pursuing the trail of sweet air to exactly where he suspected she might be made the Telepath cackle with joy. Tottenham Court Road Station was just meters away, and Myk fondly remembered the station being used for a sequence in the 1981 film An American Werewolf in London. The fact that he was a British-Italian-French Vampire who lived in Canada, visiting London, didn’t really shake the lines of familiarity he was drawing between himself and the film. What’s more, Myk couldn’t really stop himself from being amused by how his hunger had brought him to the same place where a city gent was chomped by the Werewolf in the movie. The London underground is not a 24 hour system, however, and the station had been closed for at least an hour by the time Bella had arrived, so he might not be able to enact the scene anyway. Myk decided to wait and see what Bella would do now and where she might go, all the while he stood from across the street – out in plain sight – watching her with dark amusement in those pewter eyes.

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

Bella walked in silence to the nearest station, Tottenham Court, listening to the sound of the rain fall gently upon the ground, and watching the small droplets make the pavement glisten under the light of the moon. She began mumbling in a hushed tone, looking upwards towards Luna (the moon), a sort of muse for introspection she had been using since she was a child. Why? She didn’t know. It wasn't that she necessarily worshipped the moon or prayed to it, as she wasn't religious and she actually tended to lean more towards the nihilistic side of things, but having been so antisocial up until her early teens, she supposed finding something, especially something so constant, to converse with was her brain's way of making up for her lack of socialization. She wasn't loony enough (at least not in that sense) to believe that the moon could hear her, was some sort of deity, or could have any aspects of a living thing whatsoever, such as the ability to comprehend words or have opinions about things. She knew that she was just talking aloud to herself, but there was just something about the moon and the allure it brought to the hours after day had passed, the strange sense of darkness it carried despite glowing so brightly upon ebony nights. It was this that compelled her to direct her innermost thoughts to it. “Full moon” she muttered, beginning her pensive soliloquy. “It's...funny the way light has been made to be practically interchangeable with "good", and darkness with evil, when often times light is the very thing that drives people to these dark places. There must always be a balance..too much light can be just as bad…if not worse..than too much darkness, the blinding, burning essence and whatnot. But what even is evil, Luna? Is evil defined by the action or the intent behind it? Both? I suppose it doesn't bloody matter either way...When life is lacking in meaning, everything becomes subjective, mostly by way of morality, which is the stupidest ******* concept ever created by mankind...aside from religion and philosophy, perhaps, both of which are sort of under the same umbrella. People think that having a "conscience", or "moral compass" is just a natural aspect of humanity but honestly, I think it's something that's been socialized into people, a result of the prehistoric and eternally decayed intelligence of the world as we know it. We truly are a pathetic species, I'm glad to have risen so far above the rest.” After this she was silent for a long while, lost in her thoughts. When she finally approached the station, she was very weary and ready to collapse somewhere and rest. Because of this, she was very irritated to find it closed, though she supposed she had been stupid and mindless to think it would be open at this time of night. She’d have to go to King’s Cross. Though she wanted longingly to just sit down and take a breather, she knew that once she sat down she wouldn’t be getting back up until morning, and she needed to take the earliest train she could. So she dragged herself along the side of the road for another half hour or so, though she wasn't really keeping track of the time, until she had finally stumbled upon King's Cross.

It was around 1 AM when Bella arrived, and nearly empty apart from a few homeless men settled in corners, with various items scattered around them, asleep. She was able to find a schedule plastered on the wall, even in the darkness. Her eyes scanned the board, considering her options. The first train to Cambridge, a destination she had decided upon on a whim, left around 6 in the morning and arrived at about 7:30. She would only get five hours asleep at the most, but perhaps she could at least doze off on the train. Her legs carried her up the stairs and onto the upper level of the station. She found a small bench to lie upon, grateful to finally be able to rest. But for some reason, her mind was buzzing despite the exhausted state of her body. She could not shake the memory of meeting that strange man earlier in the night, and the dark feeling that overtook her when she thought about him for too long. Darkness was of course not something she was a stranger to, and it was actually something she'd taken the most comfort in as a child, and perhaps even today at times (though she'd found better, more pleasurable 'comforts' in recent years), but finding it and feeling it in others was practically unknown to her. It felt almost as if a part of him had lingered with her, like she couldn't shake the feeling of his cold hand grabbing her wrist, and those pewter eyes looking down upon her. Surely he was just some creep who took pleasure in frightening others (again, something she also admittedly found to be rather enjoyable). She hadn't actually been afraid, she was quite apathetic to the situation as a whole, however that seemed to be his intention (too bad for him). Eventually her mind gave in to her body and she drifted into a deep slumber in the darkness, the pitter-patter of the rain a familiar lullaby that kept her submerged within her subconscious.

[Myk]

Watching somebody sleep generally invokes a feeling of revulsion from the person when they realise it has happened. And, in fairness, they have every right to feel that way. It’s an invasion of privacy; an entreaty when they a person is at their most vulnerable. It’s the equivalent of watching somebody shower, only, without the nakedness. The white-haired mortal had been curled up on that bench for only a handful of minutes when the Telepath had arrived. Myk had followed the spice and creep of her every step to this point, and now that he had her in his sights, he curiously watched her sleep in a blanket of moonlight like a sprained sparrow resting amongst the cats. There was every chance she could be carried away by a more nefarious being than himself, after all. This was London. Besides, it wasn’t as though her bedraggled company had any regard for her safety; it wasn’t as though they would jump to defend her honour should the worst come. In fact, each body on the ground had turned away from the sight of him, like sinners before the judgement of Peter. Cardboard crunched and sleeping bags squeaked as his footsteps echoed into silence. Nothing seemed to wake the girl up, however, not even his looming shadow.

It was possible that the only reason Myk had followed her tonight was because she had ran from him. It wasn’t often that Myk could be compared to canines over felines, but, he did possess that predator’s inquisitiveness. Dogs were pretty much hard-wired to chase down a fleeing prey, even when they knew they weren’t likely to catch it. But then, that wasn’t the point. For a domesticated breed, the chase wasn’t for survival, it was for fun. A wolf might weigh up the cost and reward of chasing a rabbit across the highlands. It needed the rabbit, but if the possibility of failure was too high, it was better to keep moving and seek out easier prey. There was always that evaluation process running through the minds of successful hunters, though it was hardly as sophisticated as a conscious thought. It was more of an instinctual recognition of events, like knowledge of body language; you just know. The wolves who understood this fine balance of output and input were the ones that lived on to carry that trait into the next generation, creating a powerful bloodline. But dogs were different to their wild ancestors in more ways than one. They weren’t often bred to hunt, and therefore such bloodline traits were replaced with more social ones, ones to garner their relationship with man – their new provider.

For all of Myk’s wiles and his dangerous nature, he had more in common with the domesticated Border collie than the Timber wolf. He was hungry, but he didn’t watch Bella sleep, or indeed, he hadn’t followed her to this location and watched her sleep because he was necessarily thinking about eating her. The thought had crossed his mind, but it had passed like a wandering cloud as he had followed her. She had done something… unexpected as she’d travelled. Her chin had lifted, her cold eyes longing for that celestial body above, and she had talked to him freely and openly about her philosophy of evil. Only, she had referred to Mr Moon as Luna; a goddess of some kind, or so Myk assumed. For it was his knowledge of various mythology, religion, and legends from across the globe that had cemented the notion in his head. Unfortunately, there was so much stuff in that skull of his that it all clumped together into a globular mass, not unlike the substance inside a lava lamp. So, Myk couldn’t pick apart each individual clump to determine just what had compelled Bella to speak to the moon, refer to it as Luna, but maybe that was something they could discuss when she woke up…

It would be easy enough for Myk to wake her with a prod or a shake, but, that would result in the poor girl becoming startled. It was probably better to let her rest, allow her the chance to dream of better circumstances and wake to a warmer feeling. Myk sat himself on the floor in front of the sleeping vagabond, his legs crossed beneath him in a lazy lotus position. After rolling both shoulders and cracking his neck, Myk loosed a calming breath and then closed his eyes. He wasn’t about to fall asleep himself, but, he was going to join Bella in dreamland. In his experiments, the Telepath had acquired an interesting trick which would allow him to step inside the dreams of sleeping mortals. He had never tested his powers on his kind, invariably because he was asleep at the same time they were, but also because they reacted violently enough to a little Mind Speak. Imagine what they would do to him if he hijacked their brain waves and crept into their dream! Bella was probably too exhausted and distraught to be able to resist his power, but, there was always a first time for everything.

[Bella Rose (DELETED 7820)]

(A Dream Sequence)

Bella awoke to a deafening rumble and a high-pitched screech, the startling sound of the train pulling in. It was morning, though the station was devoid of any warm light. It was still raining outside, and a thick fog was settling over the city. She picked herself up from the bench she'd slept upon the night before and made her way downstairs from the upper platform, climbing onto the strangely empty train. She slid into the window side of a two-person seat and was pleased to find that that she was still alone when the train departed the station. It certainly was an odd set of circumstances, but she wasn't complaining.

She stared out of the window for what felt like hours, though time in itself felt strange and unbalanced at the present moment. They were moving at such a rapid pace that she couldn't really see where they were or make out any shapes or figures outside of the locomotive. The train began to slow down as they entered a cemetery, a graveyard blanketed in blinding layers of white. It was snowing lightly, falling in the form of tired flakes to form a silent shroud upon the earth. They finally stopped moving and she frowned, as this seemed to be where she was meant to get off, but it didn’t feel right. She glanced around, realizing she was still by herself. Of course, there hadn't been anyone with her when she'd gotten on the train, but to think that even after multiple stops (which she supposed she must have been unconscious for?), it would still be completely empty seemed absurd. There was no one. Had she fallen asleep and missed other stops? Was it just an unusually slow day on the railroad? Why was she alone? Why hadn't anyone come to check on her, collect a ticket of some sort, anything? These questions echoed through her mind as she found her way to an open door and stepped out of the train, practically suffocating in her own solitude.

She began approaching some of the tombstones, quickening her pace when she eyed her own name upon one. It was small and ordinary, no flowers or things of the like surrounding it. It read, “Here lies Bella Rose Deveraux”. No epitaphs, no dates engraved upon the stone. She sat down in the snow, just staring at the incongruous grave, entranced by what was in front of her. A light smile danced upon her lips when she noticed the growing red stain that was tainting the purity of the white snow. Her eyes traveled up her torso, revealing to her the large wound below her chest, the source of the liquid rubies. She lied down in the snow, staring up at the unsaturated sky as she began moving her legs and arms in a back and forth motion to create a snow angel. After a few moments, she stood up and stared down at her creation, which was now an angel-shaped pool of blood. Her head tilted to the side in confusion, as the blood had quickly turned into an impenetrable black, lacking in even the slightest glimmer of light. There was no fear or concern in her eyes, only the reflection of what some might consider to be the darkest parts of herself being revealed in the ironically but conveniently white & bright season of death.