Connections [Invite]

[Myk]

He sat down on the edge of the mattress by the bedside table, picked up the receiver and dialled. The dull chirrup of the connecting call barely competed with the blood pulsing in his head and he breathlessly watched his peripherals blacken, questioning himself, telling himself to hang up, to not go through with it, but, the call connected.

“Hello?”

Myk barely even recognised the man’s voice. It sounded so odd over the phone, so old. The man waited for a long time and Myk wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words past the pomegranate lodged in his throat. When he sensed that the man was about to hang up, the fruit loosened and Myk croaked into the line.

“Je suis désolée.”

“Myk?”

He couldn’t speak again.

“Myk? Is that you?”

“Bonsoir, papa.”

“Myk, where are you? Are you okay?”

He hummed into the line. “I’m quite alright. How are you?”

“Myk… Have you heard from your aunt at all?”

“Not in a few years, no…”

He was drawing circles in the dust that had collected on the bedside table; his father had grown very quiet in such a short space of time. Myk supposed that was an alarming fact, but, the man had a lot to process. He gave him the time to think it through and work out the words, preoccupying his own erratic thoughts with the shapes of his dust art.

“Myk… Do you know what happened to your aunt?”

He hummed in approval.

“What do you know about it?”

“I didn’t do it, you know,” he hissed.

“Just tell me where you are—”

“I wouldn’t hurt family. And it doesn’t matter where I am. I’m safe and sound. Shouldn’t that be your main concern?”

“Of course I’m happy to hear you’re safe and—”

“So don’t ask where I am, papa. You know I would never tell you that. How’s mia madre?”

“She wants you to come home, we both do.”

“I can’t do that. I have far too much to do here. Perhaps when I am done I can visit—”

“Are you still taking your medication?”

The line crackled as Myk breathed deeply into the receiver. “No papa, I am not. I do not need them anymore.”

“Why not? Who has authorised that decision?”

“I’ve authorised it myself. I’m not a child who needs to do what you say. Do you know how old I am, papa?”

“You’ll be twenty-six this year.”

The fact was something of a revelation to him; the old man had it right and Myk was stunned silent for a moment. “Precisely…”

“You know I’m not speaking as your father when I tell you to take your medication.”

Myk growled. “Alright then. Doctor. I am no longer taking my medication and felt that I should inform you of such. It is my decision. I’m now legally responsible for my own personal health and while your advice is sweet, really, I’ve decided that I don’t need or want to take those pills anymore. Thanks.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t make a difference. The fact of the matter is that you’re not legally responsible for yourself, which is why you’re supposed to take the clozapine.”

“That’s not entirely true, papa. And any court of law that you’d employ to force those pills down my throat would have to interview me, you, and any health care professionals that aren’t in our family to determine whether or not I’m actually insane. So… the chances are that you won’t win. You won’t even find me. So… don’t even try.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Myk smiled.

“You know something, papa? I knew you would ask about the medication, about my aunt – your sister – and I knew you’d ask, not because you have concerns for me, but because you’re worried what I might do to others… in one of my episodes… But you know something else, papa? I called because I wanted a means to an end. I’ve been thinking that my problems extend past any abnormal chemicals in my brain and I’ve been thinking that perhaps Mary was right all along…”

“Myk. What happened to your aunt Mary?”

“You know what happened, papa. She bled to death.”

“How?”

“From a wound… Papa, please don’t change the subject. It’s very important, what I have to say. I need you to listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately. A lot about death and life and eternity and fear. I’ve been thinking about how it must be to live on forever, never dying. Not even if you’re shot in the chest or your brain was removed or… or… you were bled dry. I’ve been thinking that it would be so hellish, papa. Wouldn’t you say? To live on and on and on forever. Never dying. Doing the same boring **** day in and day out and never seeing an end to it? Never seeing your enemies die either? Wouldn’t it just be easier to die, to be free of pain and hostility? Wouldn’t it just be a lot less of a hassle to die?”

“But living is a gift, Myk. There are beautiful things in this world, love and laughter and family. Such beautiful things. If those things were to go on forever too, would life be so bad to stick out for an eternity? Most people would do anything to live forever. Why look to the dark of the matter?”

“Because those people are stupid. They want to live for themselves, forever, with the hope that everyone else would die. But what if everyone lived forever? The good people, the bad, the sane, the insane – what if everyone you loved and everyone you hated had to live forever and the rules of mortality didn’t exist? Everything would seem fruitless. Everything would lose its charm. Families would become countries with every generation producing generations of their own. Love would lose its meaning with so many people to share connections with. This planet will be overrun, its resources would be depleted and what would we do next as eternal beings? We would have to create laws to control the populace, govern what they do and how they think and how would we enforce these? Punishments and threats? Life is not a gift, it is a prison. People should die, papa…”

“Did you kill your auntie because of this?”

Myk paused. “No, papa. That doesn’t even make sense and please, don’t change the subject again.”

“Then I fail to realise what this has to do with your aunt.”

“Because she said something poignant to me one night, one important night of my life that I’ll never forget. She said, you only have one life and you should never regret the way you’ve lived it. But I’ve been regretting a lot lately. I regret the way I’ve been behaving, been thinking. I regret what I’ve done to the people I love and to the strangers I’ve impacted the lives of. I can’t really undo the damage that I’ve done so my only alternative is to try and change myself and try and make sure that I do not cause damage again… So, I ask you, papa. If there was a cure for me, for the eternal beings like me, should I seek it out?”

“Myk… I don’t understand what you’re asking. But if you want help and you’re asking for it, just tell me where you are and I’ll give it you.”

He smiled. “Thanks, papa. But it’s okay, really. I know a man who can help me already and I feel better for having this under my own control. I know I won’t wander from this cure because it wasn’t forced upon me by a doting father. Please, just keep safe and well. Give mia madre my love too, won’t you?”

Myk ended the call there and leant back against the headboard. He thought that it was so nice to hear his father’s voice again and he knew from the very beginning what he was doing. He was looking for an excuse to gain the confidence to contact the man he’d been thinking about for months. Myk had been watching his online activities; he’d even browsed his mind from time to time and evaluated him. There were parts of what he was saying that made sense, made so much sense, but the other Vampires were so hostile to him that it had scared Myk off from getting in contact.

Indeed, Robert Pratt had a reputation for being a lunatic and traitor. He’d apparently attacked his own kind and shone a light on them to the Humans, whom he harboured and apparently taught to defend themselves from preying Vamps too. Robert Pratt was a masquerade violator and had been sent to the Shadow Realm for it, but he never relented. Myk liked his determination, his valour. The man had intelligence in spades and his whit was whip-smart. Myk thought the man could teach him something and when he offered that Vampirism was a disease, Myk was a little startled. He’d never thought of it like that before and if it was indeed true, then his efforts researching the Shadow Realm were not needed. If he could focus on curing the immortality of Vampires, return them to their Human state, then perhaps in turn that would solve their incessant feuding.

Myk closed his eyes. He’d been preparing the words for a while now and when he spoke into the mind of Robert Pratt, he felt pretty much assured that it would go over well.

“Don’t be alarmed and forgive the intrusion to your thoughts, but I was wondering… do you have some moments spare? I’d very much like to talk to you.”

[Robert Pratt]

Robert had had a tough week. So many people in need and in trouble that he'd helped - and while he loved helping people, it drained him. It was like he gave each person that came to him, a piece of himself and a piece of his strength to help them get through whatever it was that had made them walk through the front doors. The 12 year old kid who'd left home after being abused for years. The woman and her kids who'd just walked out on her husband and was still bleeding. The homeless guy who'd been on the street for 30 years, and had finally been persuaded to come inside and get some help. The 16 year old kid who'd been thrown out by his mother for causing too much trouble. The single mother struggling to support herself and her kids. The family, just looking to use the facilities. And so many more people, with so many other problems that he took on himself and helped them get through however he could.

He could feel them now, all on his shoulders and weighing him down. Their voices echoed in his head, telling him their problems over and over again and he could imagine the violent ones happening. He could see the blood, smell the rich iron scent of it as it sprayed into the air and dripped onto his face. Their wounds, bruises, scars - both physical and mental - all could be felt by him. It was getting worse and worse, and he wondered if it was part of the whole, telepath thing he was going through right now. Whatever it was, he knew he needed a bit of time to himself, and he knew exactly what he'd do with his down time.

Pulling out his phone he texted Belle - as she was somewhere in the building, with someone, but he had no idea where. He texted, because while he could use telepathy to talk to her - she'd asked that he not do that if it could be helped as she found it really unsettling. So, back to technology he went.

"Belle, Robert. Going to take the rest of tonight off and just have a bit of me time. Yes. I know you've been telling me to do it for a while, think of it as a victory. Ok? Any emergencies, shout for Leyna and she can get in touch with me. Love you. R x"

Message sent, he looked around and didn't see Deanna anywhere about so guessed that Keara probably had a job for her somewhere or other - proably hunting down more innocents to kill. He curled his nose at that one and then headed out of Solace and off into the wilderness. Once he was far enough into the trees and out of sight of everyone, he stepped onto the water and hovered above it without any effort. Gently, he rose and fell as the waves washed under him and over rocks - his feet staying the same distance above the water at all times, regardless of what it did beneath him. There was a specific spot he'd found down river that was perfect for meditation, and it was to that spot he headed.

It only took a few minutes to get there and he smiled to see that it was still there and there was no obvious signs of human or vampiric disturbance to the bank. Right here, in this spot, the currents all flowed against one another and left a single spot big enough for him to sit upon, where he wouldn't find himself swept to the bank on the current. He could sit for as long as he liked, to drift off into his meditative state and stay there without being disturbed. So this was exactly what he did. Sitting himself down on the right spot, he crossed his legs, closed his eyes, rested his hands in his lap and concentrated on nothing but the sounds of water, wind and nature all around him. In his mind, the water beneath him would pick up the negative thoughts and feelings and wash them away. It would find his aura and scrub it clean, cleansing him of all of his troubles as the light of the moon washed over him and bathed him in it's light. He was the light in the dark of the night, sitting there in his river clearing as if a spotlight was shone upon him and only him - the saviour of all.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there for when he felt a tingling sensation at the edge of his mind. He knew the feeling all too well and so was ready as the telepathic message slipped and wound it's way around his mind.

“Don’t be alarmed and forgive the intrusion to your thoughts, but I was wondering… do you have some moments spare? I’d very much like to talk to you.”

His eyebrow rose above his closed eyes, which remained shut, and he racked his brains trying to think if he recognised the voice or not. The voice was male, though slightly feminine to his mind, and it was obviously vampiric in its delivery system. Though it didn't necessarily have to come from a vampire as he'd had many messages sent in such a way from blood thieves who'd supped on vampiric blood. However, no matter how hard he thought on the voice, he simply couldn't place it and figured it therefore had to be a new acquaintance. That was all well and good, and he had no issues with people reaching out to him, looking for his help, guidance, advice - or even to throw abuse at him as so often happened.

However, this voice had done nothing to identify itself to him, and he therefore had no way in which to respond to it. There was no name to focus on, search out in the ether and respond to. There was no face to imagine, that he could focus on to then press his thoughts into their mind. Then he had a thought, and wondered if such a face even existed at all. Had the voice a body anymore? Could it perhaps have been the voice of a Dybbuk, looking for a way into his body after being sent by Muga? Could it perhaps have been the voice of Dysmas, one of Lux's followers and loves? She had contacted him in the beginning when he was out in the wilderness, filled with emotion and close to an emotional break - so it stood to reason that here in the wilderness, while clearing his mind and focussing on his inner Light, one of them would again reach out to him and look to guide him.

He had faith in them, and in people. And he knew that whoever - or whatever - it was that had spoken to him, would try once more if they needed him for something of importance. He only hoped that next time, they would identify themselves so that he might this time respond and help, advice or pity where it was needed.

[Myk]

He could be a patient man, a courteous one, conscientious and generous and kind, but more often than not he was terribly self-conscious and controversially arrogant. Myk didn’t like to be ignored and when Robert Pratt didn’t respond right away, Myk began to sulk and think and grow angry and sad. Of course he’d interrupted the man, intruded on his thoughts, maybe he’d upset him or maybe this wasn’t an appropriate time in which to respond. This wasn’t the first time someone had failed to return a message. How many times had he reached out to be left in the dark? How many times had he reached out to be swatted away? And in these instances, how many of these people he’d reached out to where people he’d considered friends and family? Myk was a stranger to this man; he shouldn’t have expected any less.

Sighing, Myk got off the bed and took a walk around his bedroom. In his boredom, in frustration, he’d been picking at the wallpaper. Some areas expressed only minor wounds, small holes in the deep red glitter showing the pale plaster beneath like an inversed corpse. Other areas, meanwhile, had been brutalised with whole sections of the paper being torn from the wall, pulled into strips and trailed across the black and white tiles. As Myk walked, patrolling the confines, he kicked the debris into the corners and the very edges of the room, building walls within the walls as the stripped paper bunched around him like a nest. He tried to think about anything else but contacting the man again, but each veiling thought faded or blew away, leaving him with no place else to turn. It was no use, he was too determined and so, his thoughts reached out again:

“When you have the time, contact me. My name’s Myk. You should find me easily enough…”

[Robert Pratt]

It took a while but finally, as he meditated, the voice came into his mind again and this time gave him a way to respond. It had taken a while, and Robert needed the man, Myk, to know that he'd not been ignored and that Robert wasn't being rude. So without delay, he concentrated on the name 'Myk' and sent him a response.

"Good evening to you Myk. Apologies for the delay, but before you identified yourself, I had no way in which to respond. I'm not sure if it's possible, but I know it's not possible for me as this is a newly learnt power for me. So without your name, I was powerless to reply!"

He thought over his words and decided that they were polite and said what he needed them to, and he didn't think he'd sent any stray thoughts to the man. With it being a newly learnt power, it still fritzed now and again and sent out thoughts he didn't want it to. Slowly he uncurled his legs and stood up and stretched. With his old body, it still ached and creaked from time to time. He wasn't sure why, or how, because as a vampire it should have been fine. Maybe his age was all in his head and it was simply psychosomatic. He began heading back towards Solace while sending the man, Myk, another message.

"Of course I have time for you and your questions. Would you like to meet face to face? It's much more.... reliable than this is. For me at least. I'll be in The Sanctuary in a few moments if you'd like to come down? Just south west of Newborough station. There's plenty of places in there that are private, so there's no worries about being overheard. Or if you have somewhere you'd prefer - let me know and I'll come to you."

He'd lost concentration while he was sending the telepathic message. He was a man after all, so multi tasking wasn't exactly his strong point. As he finished sending the message, he realised his feet had gotten wet. However, he hadn't closed the connection with Myk properly - and his first few thoughts were sent on as well.

"Oh for the love of Lux! I've ruined another pair of shoes. River water just doesn't come out, and I've tried everything...."

He shook his feet, trying to get rid of the worst of it as he found the bank and headed back home. Though he knew he'd need to change both his shoes and his socks and even his trousers. He couldn't meet someone knew dripping with water, what sort of impression would that give?!

[Myk]

There was a sudden tingle and a buzz that carried inward from his right ear to the middle of his forehead, just beneath the skin. It was like being invaded by a tiny wasp. The low frequency buzzing began as a constant sound and as it broke into irregular chunks, it also transformed into a man’s voice. Then he realised that it wasn’t like a wasp, but more like radio waves. They filtered slowly through his mind, from the ether, making words that weren’t quite sounds despite how they felt.

Myk could never explain telepathy; how it worked and much less about how he experienced it. Each time, from each different person and probably dependent on his own mental state, the messages came in and were translated with their own characteristics. Some he heard like a whisper in his ear. Some he felt imprinted as text on the inside of his eyelids. Some he just felt intermingle so strongly with his own thoughts that he often mistook them for mere imagination. And then there were other messages, the ones with such intense emotional attachments that they would completely transfix him. He would be lost to the world, focusing on the voice, their scent, their image, their everything.

He rarely encountered telepathic messages though; the people he interacted with were not overly chatty or not well versed with such communicative abilities. Myk found it adorable when Robert Pratt professed such inexperience with the power, though he didn’t fully understand his reaction to that information. Perhaps it was just nice to hear a man suffer, perhaps it was nice to hear some hearty honesty, perhaps it was none of it or all of it. Whatever it was, Myk found himself grinning and feeling swayed to bow his head and wag his tail, do whatever it was the man would propose. Only, as he was about to answer, a stray wasp entered his head again and produced an unexpected message. The words seemed rather intimate, or so Myk thought – the kind of thing you’d say to yourself in idle musing. Myk decided to look past it and respond accordingly:

“I’ll be happy to come to you, Mr Pratt. Could we meet in an hour or so at The Sanctuary?”

Admittedly, he didn’t know where The Sanctuary was, but he felt too insecure to ask outright. Robert Pratt had given him enough clues to narrow down his search, but of course he wasn’t overly familiar with that side of town. He wanted to think that he’d just know it when he saw it because it was unlikely that the place would have a giant billboard outside or an engraving of sorts. He wanted to think, that with such a name, he’d be looking for a church or monastery; something ostentatiously baroque. On the other hand, considering how private Robert Pratt appeared, it was likely more subtle than that. Myk couldn’t see the future, but he could see himself wandering the streets in an hour’s time knocking on the doors of random establishments and causing all kinds of hell… Hmm. Perhaps he’d ask eventually.

[Robert Pratt]

Fabulous. He had an hour in which to change his shoes, socks and trousers. That was more than enough time for him he decided as he wandered through the wilderness. Just over 20 mins later, he had made it to the door of the Sanctuary. Rather than dripping all over the wooden floor and causing a trip hazard, he stood outside and leant against the mossy wood of the building side and removed his shoes and socks. Standing for a moment, wriggling his toes in the grass with a smile he just sighed happily. However, he had an appointment, so he couldn't stand for too long. Inside he went with shoes in hand and socks stuffed within, and headed right for the stairs with a wave here or there to those he knew or just those who made eye contact.

Up one flight he went, and then up the second, and then even up the third to get to where he was currently keeping some clothes. Quickly, he stripped off and changed everything he was wearing, even jumping into the shower quickly as river water did have a bit of an odour to it. Once he was cleaned and changed, he checked the time and nodded. It had been 50 mins since he'd gotten the tele message. It was perfect timing indeed. Downstairs he went, all the way down, and decided to take up residence in the herb and vegetable garden, just off and down the side of the building, where he began tending the shoots that were springing up. It gave him a good view of the road and everyone who came down it. So when this Myk arrived, he'd know. Hopefully.

[Myk]

While he’d posed his words as a question, he didn’t necessarily need an answer. As long as the two men were on the same page there would be no hurt feelings. Myk decided to proceed with his plans. He wanted to make the right impression; he was old fashioned like that. Or, perhaps he’d just been groomed appropriately. His parents were always the kind of people that were sharp, punctual, honest, polite, and to the letter. They followed the rules and they did so with the appreciation that obedience and fair play were the doctrines of harmony. Nonetheless, they weren’t blinded to the nature of mankind: good people do not need laws to act responsibly and bad people will always find ways around the laws. Myk had always wondered why, when his parents understood this basic principle, that they never considered doing something more about the injustice of the world. His father came from a long line of psychologists and scientists and his mother had her background in politics and law, but the two never did anything remotely controversial. Despite their strong feelings, they obeyed uncritically and expected their child to do the same.

Myk faced the contents of his wardrobe with mixed feelings. Certain outfits – such as the more grandiose or gothic themed clothing – would be completely inappropriate for the occasion. While it was generally a good idea to reveal yourself to others in order to make a true, good impression, Myk figured that some parts of himself were better left in the closet. What he needed to portray was sensibility, congeniality and a little confidence; his circus slacks and Victorian dress shirts wouldn’t cut the bill. He picked out a pair of black trousers, the kind one might wear for a job interview at Hooters. They were tight around the hips and thighs, slackening only at the knees, but Myk would tuck the ends into a pair of black Chelsea boots anyway. Following the smart-casual-flirtatious theme, Myk picked out a plain, long-sleeved shirt – in white, the sleeves to be rolled up past the elbows – and a black, fitted waistcoat to go over it. The rest of the outfit was all about the accessories: a high-gloss pleather belt with chrome buckles to cross over the hips, a long silver chain with a flat cross pendent to rest over his heart, and a ring of pewter skulls around his left middle finger. Myk would put the outfit on after his shower – river water had nothing on the ancient decay of the catacombs...

He stripped on his way over to the bathroom, which was at the other end of his suite, past the front door he never locked. Nobody bothered to visit or disturb him and Myk never cared about his nakedness even if they did. When he reached the tub to turn on the shower, he only had his boxers left to remove; he stepped nimbly out of them and into the scalding spray. It was nice at first, to feel the hot water pecking at his skull, but soon the water began to make his hair clump together, making his head feel heavy. He decided just to get on with it and after scrubbing himself clean of dirt, blood, grime and whatever remained of his make-up and hair gel, Myk turned the water off and stepped out. If he had the time, he might have walked around his suite to dry off naturally, but as he didn’t, he proceeded to pat himself down with a towel as he walked around his suite. This shaved off a couple of minutes, time he could use on sorting out his hair and make-up as he dressed. The plan was to go au naturel, which to Myk meant making it look as though he was in a natural state rather than genuinely being in one. He blow-dried his hair before straightening, so that the locks fell around his face and past his shoulders like a moonlit gown. He applied a minimal amount of foundation, just enough to unify his pallid complexion, and framed his eyes with the lightest coating of mascara and eyeliner. His lips remained in their natural rosy hue and even though he no longer had a reflection, he was sure he looked exactly as planned.

With just a couple of squirts of his favourite cologne, the kind that smelt feminine and fruity, Myk left his suite at The Ivory Tower and made his way toward Newborough. He had a vague sense of where he was going and was sure that he was heading toward the southern end of the city. If memory served, River Rock was to the east, Swansdale deep to the south, so he figured that meant Newborough was to the west. He headed down his familiar routes through Wickbridge to Coastside past the Metronome Club and once he found the airport, he began heading west, south and then a bit west and then a bit more south. Eventually he found himself past the point of familiarity and sandwiched between questionable establishments, slums, trailer parks and wilderness. Myk didn’t like admitting he was lost, so he ventured on with the same kind of south-westerly direction, even if it meant that he was leaving civilisation behind and heading into Fae territory. Of course, Myk kept to the roads, determined to turn back or teleport the hell out of there if he hadn’t found his way in ten minutes, but since he really didn’t know what he was looking for, that was kind of hard to judge.

The groaning of the arching trees and the crunch of movement in the thicket put Myk on edge as he continued to walk, and after a little while his mind began to play tricks on him. It all started to look the same, the road beneath his feet twisted on and on forever and the wall of black bark and leaves on either side of him began to grow and bend, falling into each other, blotting out the light of the moon. Myk came to a stop and so too did his imagination. The scenery changed almost instantly and the gurgle and hiss of running water drowned out any other sound. He looked up and saw the moon, its face peeking out behind gossamer clouds, and felt instantly reassured.

“Hello, moon.” His voice, dreamy and wistful, was clearly audible for any around; Myk just didn’t think there was anyone around to hear him.

[Robert Pratt]

He'd pulled up a number of weeds and had made a little pile of them off to the side of the beds. However, he was standing there, staring at a little plant in his hand that he'd just pulled up, and he was frowning. He had a horrible, horrible feeling that what he'd just pulled up was in fact a proper plant and not a weed at all. Belle had a very specific plan and layout for these beds, and she knew exactly what was what and what should be growing where. So if he'd just pulled up a plant..... he was massively in the doghouse! In the middle of his worrying, he spotted a figure in the distance, just the other side of the hedge and walking down the road. He grinned, figuring that even if it wasn't Myk, he owed them thanks - because they'd just given him an excuse to stop worrying about the little plant!

He stuffed the plant in his pocket and carefully stepped around the others that were still growing there until he reached the midway section, where there was a little path. He hopped over the worm that was wriggling through the earth, not willing to even harm the smallest of creatures. There was one flaw in his plan however, because when he reached the hedge, he was hidden behind it and there was no way through. He sighed softly, shaking his head and then heard the man's voice from the other side saying 'hello moon'. Now, there were plenty of 'odd' folks in the city, in the vampiric population so being called 'moon' wasn't the oddest thing to him. So with a smile, he replied from his side of the hedge.

"Well hello sunshine."

He chuckled and wondered if it was possible to push through the hedge or not. It seemed a bushy one, with lots of twigs and branches and impossible to push through. So he was going to have to walk along to the gap by the front door.

Less than a minute later, he'd got to the front door of the Sanctuary and poked his head around the hedge, giving the..... was it a man? He couldn't really tell, but he didn't care either way..... a wave and beckoning them over with a friendly smile.

"Hi! How are you? Are you well? Can I help you at all? Name's Robert. Robert Pratt. And you are?"

He leant against the hedge a little, and realised he'd made the right decision not pushing through it earlier. There were LOADS of branches pricking his arm and back and there was no chance he'd have made it through unscathed.

[Myk]

With his eyes projecting his full focus to the moon, the rustle of movement in the thicket went unnoticed, but he couldn’t ignore the voice that stirred in the darkness. He was sure it was directed to him because of the words, because of its timing; he spoke to the moon and immediately there came a reply about sunshine. For only the smallest fragment of time did Myk consider that it was the moon which was calling back to him, but in that tiny hesitation, came a resonance of prolonged inactivity. His body froze, as though rejecting time’s influence, and it was only when the voice rumbled once more into his ear that the temporal disruption dispersed.

Myk turned to face the voice, to face the man it belonged to. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Robert Pratt in the flesh – he might have passed by the man a half dozen times in his travels – though it was the first time that they’d engaged one another and the first time Myk had actually paid attention to his exterior. It was a shallow thing to do, Myk thought, but he couldn’t help where his eyes roamed and what he thought of the view. Robert Pratt was an interesting looking man – not commercially handsome, but alluring nonetheless. He gave the impression that he was comfortable within himself, he was friendly, approachable, and only the tiniest bit intimidating because of it.

Myk dropped his head, feeling instantly sheepish as Robert Pratt introduced himself and expected the same of him. “I’m… Myk.” He wanted to say more, but held back.

[Robert Pratt]

Robert watched the body language of the... man before him and a little frown crossed his face. The man seemed meek, timid, unsure of himself and not necessarily all there from the way he'd been staring up at the moon. However, this was the sort of person Robert had set Solace up for; those who were lost and scared, who needed a friend and somewhere they could always feel welcome and safe. Slowly he stood up from where he leant on the hedge, making sure none of his movements were sudden so that Myk wouldn't skitter off like a shrimp in the sand who'd seen a movement - as he seemed the type.

"Come on inside Myk. I was expecting you. Did you find the place ok?"

He waited for Myk to close the distance and then walked with him, leading him into the building and then pausing to let him look around and take in what all was there.