Madness Made for Me[Raegan]

[Ysmir]

After meeting Marisol, and what the pleasant experience that had been, Ysmir had found his whole world changed. He had died, and, frankly, that had been only one of the smallest shocks to him recently. The real kicker was that, after death, life had become so much harder, it had almost driven him delirious. Just thinking had become an experience for him, his mind was so vastly different now. He had thoughts about things that he had honestly never even considered before. His very way of thinking had become very expanded, considering options that had never even seemed to exist to him before, his thoughts very vivid, very real. He could almost see the entirety of an image come to life in front of him, just from thinking about it.

That had been the most tremendous experience, the greatest shock. He didn’t even know his own mind. He knew that he was still himself, but at the exact same time, he was someone... else. Someone new. Someone with a mind that was faster, smarter, and much more creative than he had ever been. The way that he solved problems now was astonishing, coming to conclusions that he knew he would have never even seen before. That was what made interacting with people that much more difficult.

He could see all these things, could know all of these things, that people frustrated him with how slow their minds worked, with having to teach them the things that he could see, to have to explain to them the way that he could see things happening, to explain connections he had made a dozen thoughts ago, and had moved on to bigger, more concerning issues.

He found himself rather good at keeping that irritation in check, however. He attributed that to his naturally sunny disposition. He had always been a pleasant man, he had thought, and was glad to see that much of himself remain intact through the incident.

Most frustrating of all the things he had come to grips with was the young woman, Raegan. She had smitten him, speaking simply, and she had seemed absolutely disinterested in even learning his name. At least, at the first. He thought that she had warmed up at least the tiniest bit at the little meeting they’d both attended the other night. That much was pleasant, at the least. There were a few droplets of water on the block of ice that stood between them now, and that much gave him hope.

He smirked to himself as he glanced at his watch, the only gift from his mother that he’d managed to keep with him in the quick deployment to Harper Rock, and noted the time. It was early in the night, and he was typically a quick riser, up and about long before most of their community was, so it was no surprise that he sat waiting around the Fade Portal inside The Third Circle for her to show up for the night. He had hoped that, maybe, when she popped in, that he could strike up a conversation with her, and possibly get the chance to convince her that he was worth getting to know after all. Possibly to suggest that they find something that they can do together; to get to know one another better. Even if it was as small as finding a quiet place to talk.

At the very least, he hoped to learn a little more about her. The not knowing; that was what was really driving him mad.

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

W E A R I N G

The hunger was like a fire in her throat, and as she dropped her pack on the ground at her feet, she curled her fingers through her hair. The temptation to pull the violet strands from her scalp was almost too strong to pass, and she scraped her nails against her skull, teeth snapping together. She felt almost maddened with her craving, the burn traveling through her veins like a wildfire. Tapping the toe of her platform heel against the scratched floor of the elevator, she lifted her wild gaze to the numbers and watched as she crawled closer and closer to her salvation.

By the time the bell chimed, she was a second away from sending her fist into the door. She could have ******* climbed her way to the shop faster than this. Sweeping her bag from the floor, she tossed it over her shoulder, the strap pulling against the thin cotton of her Legendary Ride dress. A low growl vibrated from her throat as the door slowly pulled open, and before it had even managed to reach the end of its cycle, she was slipping through, breasts squeezed against her chest to make room. When she managed to touch the floor with one heel, her bag got hung on the door, and with a quick pull, she freed it – and found herself stumbling forward, her face slamming into solid wall.

Pressing her hand to the surface, she took a second to orient herself – and realized that what she thought had been an inanimate object, was actually a living, breathing – well, not quite that – person. By the feel of muscle beneath her palm, it became abundantly clear that the stranger was male, and as the scent of expensive cologne assaulted her senses, she knew exactly who it was. Shoving her hands against his chest, she instantaneously untangled herself from his embrace.

“I got it, thanks,” she snapped, her voice thick with her irritation as she combed her fingers through the tangles of violet that framed her face. Narrowing her wild, almost animalistic, glare on his – she pivoted on her heel and headed for the shop, her hand outstretched for the blood pack that had already been procured for her. It was a nightly thing, this hunger that consumed her nearly every waking thought. Ripping open the corner with sharp teeth, she tipped her head back, her eyes closing in satisfaction as the cool crimson slid down her throat with ease. Before she had been killed, she would have never thought this would be her favorite thing. Then, she had awoken in the dark one night, sheets tangled around her damp form, and her vision clearer than it had ever been. Two minutes later, she’d been out the door, her hunger the only thing on her mind.

The rest of that night was a blur, but the one thing she knew for certain, was that she had taken more than just the Beast’s blood that night. She had also taken his hunger, his animalistic ways. Draining the pack, she tossed it into the can at her side, before her fingers curls around the second one, the man behind the counter looking wary as he reached for a third. When she shook her head, he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped away, fingers deftly counting the cash she had thrown in his direction. It wasn’t until that second pack was nearly drained that she turned to face Ysmir.

She remembered him, of course. He had haunted her mind about as often as Cristof. There was something about him, something that made her want to know more, and yet, at the same time, she couldn’t get away from him fast enough when they were alone. Taking a few steps away, she carefully placed the bag in the trash and tossed her pack on the couch, the feral gleam dulling in her eyes. She said nothing as she put more distance between them, before collapsing into the nearest seat, eyes watching him as warily as a caged tiger.

[Ysmir]

She had come bursting through the elevator like a hurricane, the wild look in her eyes said that, much like a storm, there would be no standing between her and what she was after. Fortunately for her, however, he was rarely one to listen to warnings, even the ones as glaringly obvious as that wicked glint in her feral glare. Had he not moved as she’d yanked at her bag, she would have collided with the wall, and very likely the floor. In his mind, it had already happened, and he was simply there to prevent what he had seen.

It was very probable that she would have broken her nose, and likely have lost a few teeth to the floor. It was liable to be a tough night on her, trying to feed with broken teeth. Instead of the hard floor, though, she’d launched into his chest, her face planting square into his center as his arms rose to keep her from tumbling one side or the other. Her thanks, however, was a rough shove and a growl, her words almost lost on the angry sound as she rushed for the shop behind him. That much he understood, anyway. He imagined that, for vampires, just as it was for people, hungers and thirsts came in different intensities, making gauging one another difficult. He could, however, piece all of the pieces together, bringing the puzzle to completion as understanding dawned. Her irritation was sown in the soil of thirst, a tremendous bloodlust that gripped her in wicked clutches.

It seemed, however, that the shopkeep had just what she needed, and a double dose of the Hemo Special later, she was as right as she was likely to get. He watched as she moved, stalking away from him to throw herself into the couch, her eyes filled with a guarded wariness, a nervous warning that she was not above putting a knife in him.

He didn’t doubt that much of it, even for a moment. It seemed that every vampire of the female persuasion had a knack for wanting to bring him some sort of bodily harm. He supposed that was about par for the course of his human life as well, and he gave a smile of bitter acceptance as he moved from his place in front of the elevator, hopping onto the shop counter as he watched her on the couch, watching him. He only let the silence linger for just a moment before he offered her a grin.

“Glad to see you’re finally awake. I would ask if you’d care to share breakfast with me, but I suppose you’ve already had your fill.” He chuckled lightly, the sound warm and good natured as he flicked his fingers at the shop keeper, turning his hand over, palm up, to accept the pack of blood that the man laid in his grasp. He turned his palm over, the bills tucked between his pinky and ring finger plucked from his grip by the other man, as he nodded and turned back to his business without another word. Reaching to his belt, Ysmir removed a small pocket knife from a clip on the leather and snicked the narrow tip of the bag, sipping from it like a makeshift straw.

He drank only a bit, the bag resting in his hand as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as the blood dangled between his legs. “So. Raegan. Tell me a little bit about yourself. I’m afraid we’re still complete strangers, and I’d really like to remedy that, if you’re agreeable to that idea. I promise to make myself a exciting as manageable.”

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

Sinking back into the cushions, she tossed her legs across the length of the couch, the velvet of her boots crossed against the other as she continued to watch him. That feral gleam still danced within her wild gaze, even as he kept his distance by leaping gracefully onto the counter. She refused to think of how that had enticed her, the way his body moved with a fluid grace that she lacked. Just the thought had her dropping her arm, her hand pressing to her hip as the dull, constant ache reminded her of everything she had endured. She couldn’t allow herself to fall prey to another man, no matter how his eyes haunted her every nightmare. Running her tongue along her full lip, she tasted the lingering sweetness of the blood she had consumed, her eyes narrowing when he watched her for only a second.

When his voice broke the silence moments later, she cocked her head, unsure she had heard him correctly. At first, she didn’t bother to answer, her eyes watching him for a crack in that mask. He was too jubilant, too confident in his ability to break the walls that she had mounted around herself. He thought with his smile, warm eyes and charming compliments, he could erase every second of pain. Curling her hand against her hip, she swallowed the growl that bubbled up the back of her throat, even as her own lips twisted into a sardonic smile. **** you, Ysmir, she started to say, but hesitated. The images that entered her mind at that simple insult had her closing her eyes, fingers finding the bridge of her nose as she released an agitated breath. She was like an animal caged. She needed to run, she wanted to stay, she wanted to tell him to **** off, she wanted to see what he had to offer.

With madness dancing in her mind, she bent her aching leg, drew the sole of her boot along the couch until the heel pressed to her calf. She didn’t bother to straighten out her dress, the material sliding along a pale thigh until it dared to reveal what she wore beneath. When the position did nothing to ease the pain, she pressed her hand to it, palm digging into the injured bone. It had mended together, but as her body had fought to stave off the disease the Beast had infected her with, some injuries had taken a backseat. She was still operational, and though the consistent throb frustrated her when she allowed herself to dwell on it, the reminder of what she had survived kept her grounded. It kept her safe.

After a long, drawn one minute, she finally opened her eyes once more and sought him across the room. She hadn’t heard him leave, and she didn’t think she would. He was as persistent as a gnat. For some fucked up reason, he had chosen her to set his sights on, and it didn’t matter what she did. He remained steadfast in his pursuit. Pulling her hand from her hip, she brushed it through her tangled hair, the silence between them meant to madden him. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. She wanted to rip out his throat – she wanted to… no. No, she just wanted to rip out his ******* throat. He was everything she should hate, yet she had to suffer through his persistence. With the watch gleaming on his wrist, the money that practically dripped from his words, she wanted to scream. He belonged with an Olivia, a Cassandra, a Madison – or one of the other thousands of women Cristof had paraded around in front of her and fucked like a rabid dog while she was forced to watch, hands bound behind her back, body too broken to do anything but endure the mental torture.

With that thought taken front-seat to everything else, she finally allowed herself to speak, lips still twisted in that smile that was meant to turn him away. “What part of my attitude seems to make you think I want to tell you any goddamned thing about me?” Her words were chilled as she delivered them, her eyes never wavering from his, even as the color seemed to shift beneath the light as she once again tilted her head, features expressionless. “What are you looking for, Ysmir? Do you want me to divulge all of my secrets? Does it drive you mad that there’s clearly something so fucked up with me that even someone of your superior intellect can’t decode – or do you just get off on hearing the sordid tales of abused women?” The last part hadn’t meant to be spoken, and as soon as the words left her tongue, she snapped her jaw closed. ****.

[Ysmir]

Arching a brow, he watched as the silence between the stretched on, her obvious attempt at freezing him out was hardly an effective tactic. He used the time, rather than engaging in conversation with the stony woman across from him as he waited, to sip from the blood pack with ginger care, taking his time and enjoying every touch of the crimson glory to his tongue. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but he felt like this shop in particular, had especially fine blood for purchase. Perhaps it was the convenience of its location coupled with the safety of their own personal space that made everything just seem… better, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would enjoy what he was given, and he wouldn’t go looking too deeply into it, for the sake of enjoying what was given to him freely.

When she finally did speak, she was still on the same trail, she’d just changed gears to try and get to her destination a little faster. Regardless, the end goal appeared to be getting him to leave. At least, that was the goal on its surface; one’s motivations always appeared another shade of color when you dared to scratch the paint of one’s desires. He waited for the lashing of her irritation to abate, idly sipping at his blood pack as she laced her questions with insult, and did what she could to make conversation with her appear as unattractive as possible. His patience was monumental after years of dealing with his own mistakes and having to seek small tweaks of code in page after page of his work.

The true test of that patience had come when he was hours ahead of a deadline, and was seeking to fix a bug that consisted of a single misplaced bracket in a string of code that stretched for nearly five hundred pages. He had to hunt down the mistake, which in itself had taken more time than he could have imagined, and then test his work before the deadline was up. If he hadn’t cracked under that pressure, he doubted that he would crack here, now. She, however, didn’t know that. She clearly didn’t understand the first thing about him, and he could see that in the way that she looked at him. It was the same way that everyone looked at him. He had hoped that she might have been different.

Now, his hopes were that, with just a little bit of conversation, that they might understand one another better. His hopes were given a little flare when, in her venom-spitting, she offered up a little piece of herself; of who Raegan was, exactly. Even if she hadn’t meant to, it was something. It was more than what she had been giving him until now. He leaned forward again, then, and tipped his head so that he could look at her over the black frames of his glasses as he smiled at her from his perch on the shop counter. “I find it interesting, you know,” he began, lifting a hand to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, getting a better look at her face as he spoke, “that you would assume so much about me. That, just because I’m intelligent, and thank you for recognizing that by the way, that I have this undying need to decode everyone. That everyone is just a puzzle to me that needs cracking.” He shook his head and leaned closer to her, making sure that she was paying attention. “I’ll let you in on a secret. A little piece of the real me, since you were so kind to share first.” Even if it was an accident.

“I don’t give a **** about people, Raegan. Who people are, what people are… I just don’t care.” He shrugged a shoulder and turned his wrist over, glancing at his watch. The morning was wearing along at a perfectly agonizing pace. He sighed, and turned his hand over again. “What I do care about, though, is what I keep close to me. What I choose to care about. Must be your “lucky” day, because that means you.”

He shrugged again and pushed his hand back through his hair, lifting the blood bag and finishing it off, draining it before he crushed it in his hand and tossed it into the trash. He let his gaze settle on her again, then, and he let one brow rise in a defiant gesture. “So now that we understand the tiniest bit of one another, let’s build on that.” He rubbed the flat of his palm against his thigh as he leaned forward again. “Who’s the poor ******** that thought he’d get away with abusing someone like you?”

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

You look in my eyes, I’m stripped of my pride…

Forcing herself to relax, she eased back against the arm of the couch, her legs once more stretched casually out across the cushions. There was still wildness about her eyes as she swept her gaze across the room, searching for anything that wasn’t his sculpted features to focus on. When she came up empty, everything else lacking that taste of danger, she turned her attention back to where he was perched, her brow arching in that same defiance. What will it take for you to ******* leave me alone, she thought, though the words never left her tongue. Swallowing them instead, she released a quiet growl, the sound as fierce as the smile she had graced him with only seconds before. She was a wolf trapped behind bars, and he was hell-bent on not only rattling her cage, but also blocking every viable escape route.

****.

Her only saving grace was her hope that he was like every other man, too focused on the chase to hear what their prey had to say. She had prayed that her sentence had gone unnoticed, or that he would allow her admission to fall into the abyss where it belonged. When his features shifted, she knew that he had heard – and he had cared. She watched as his jaw turned to stone, and she swore she could hear the sound of enamel grinding away as he flipped his wrist over. When his eyes lifted from the face of his watch to focus on her, she swore she almost lost her breath at the barely controlled molten fury that burned within his eyes. Once again, she refused to speak, the silence drawing out between them with a familiarity that was becoming a comfort to her. It wasn’t just her lack of social graces that had her remaining silent, but the way he looked at her, the words that he had spoke. They remained in the air between them, charged with something that she didn’t care to ******* name.

There was no implication in his statement, no hidden innuendo. He had spoken his desire for her with a confidence that she almost envied. It was insanity, however. He knew nothing about her short of her name and her oh-so-charming personality, and yet she had managed to make it to his list of things he cared for. Rolling her eyes, she allowed herself to fall back into the embrace of the couch, her hand pressing once more to her aching hip. “I find it interesting, you know,” she began, her tone holding an icy chill, “that you think I give a **** about any little secret you might have.” Even as she spoke the words, she was turning, her long legs sliding from the couch so the soles of her boots hit the floor.

“I didn’t ask for you to care about me. It’s suicide, for both of us,” she hissed as she eased herself from her seat, her hand gripping her side. She loathed showing weakness in front of him, but she couldn’t pull her palm from the throbbing bone. If she did, she would collapse. Swallowing back the bile that rose up the back of her throat as she inched towards the counter, she managed to keep a wide-berth as she came into his circle, her arm reaching around him to snag another bag. The plastic was warm in her hand as she quickly pulled it from the keeper’s hand and stepped back, ignoring the electric current that danced along her skin at the close proximity of his body. “If I tell you, will you leave me the **** alone? Is that what you want, Ysmir? I don’t ******* get it, but fine. He was a lot like you, you know. He was tall, dark, handsome, and he just screamed money. He also loved to shatter my bones, taste my blood, and **** other women to the sound of my screams. Is that what you wanted to know? Are you satisfied now?”

[Ysmir]

Arcing a dark brow, he pressed the sides of his thumbs together as she went off on another string of hisses, clicks, and growls she apparently called conversive tone. He ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, patient with her to a fault, even in the face of her blatant hostility. He was, after all, very successful at focusing his ire. The irritation he felt was hardly at her, but at the situation that made her act the way that she did, and at the person that had generated the entire premise of that situation. He’d never met the man, and wanted to smash his imaginary face. Perhaps one day, he might.

Instead, he remained exactly where he was at, resting on the counter of the bar, even as she shoved herself to her feet with the grace of a one-legged stork. He watched her as she approached, content that she had rid herself of him with her snapping teeth and ragey grumbles. What really piqued his interest, though, his what she apparently thought of him. It was almost laughable, really, when he heard the words roll off the tip of her tongue. He smiled, biting back the bitter laughter as he cocked his head to one side and watched her for a moment, taking her in as she leaned over him.

Was she trying to be intimidating?

He doubted it very much.

He shrugged a shoulder and looked at her with that same expression. “Well that sums up quite a lot, actually.” He shook his head and gently placed an open palm on her chest, gently pushing her back as he leaned forward again. He left only enough room for him to sit proper, while she nearly rested tip of nose to tip of nose with him as he spoke. “You don’t know the first thing about me, if you think I’m anything like that, then.” He tipped his head and watched her, his bright blue eyes moving over her face before he rested on her gaze while he continued to speak. “I’ve never been particularly fond of being violent,” he began, one hand moving to rest on his knee as he leaned closer to her, “there is plenty enough violence in the world without my perpetuating it, you know. And, frankly, I don’t need to beat down a woman to make myself feel like a man. I’ve come to terms with my gender since before I can remember. I don’t have to break a woman’s jaw to get hard, and I don’t have to make her feel like a slug to feel attractive, either, Raegan, so do enlighten me, then, what parts of me, exactly, make you feel like I’m anything like that?”

He shifted in his seat, then, and slid back on the bar, until his knees were against its edge. He watched her with a predator’s intensity as he shook his head. His expression was intense, but the real thoughts, the real emotions behind that face were masked with that wall of disappointment. “Sounds to me, Raegan, that you’ve simply got a problem with my money. With my good fortune and what good looks I was lucky to be graced with. The things I can only credit my mother for, not things of my own design. Because these other things you say I’m like, these other things that this man is that you say I resemble ever so closely? These things have nothing to do with me; are nothing like me. So I’d appreciate if, in the future, you differentiate just a little bit and let me have my own chance at letting you down, yeah?” He ran his hand along his thigh and quirked a brow at her.

“Hell, I might even surprised you.”

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

When the weight of his palm found her chest, it took every ounce of restraint she possessed to not curl her fingers around his wrist and snap the bones. Instead, she snapped her teeth together, her wild eyes finding his as she clutched the plastic that contained her desert in her palm. “Don’t touch me.” Even with the threat that underlined her tone, her voice held a quiet uneasiness to it, a plea that she refused to voice. It made her weak, and she was tired of showing her vulnerability to the world. Yet, with his hand against her skin, she couldn’t think. It didn’t matter that he had meant nothing by it. There was no violence in the way he eased her away from the counter. The only thought in her mind was how close his fingers were to her throat, how easy it would be for him to inch them up, curl them around the slender column, and tighten his grasp until she couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t.

She had become as still as stone when he touched her, and it wasn’t until she felt the warmth of the blood slid between her fingers that she realized she had punctured the pack. It was almost comforting, the way the thick sustenance eased across her flesh, painting the pale skin the same shade of red as her lips. Lips that were now trembling, despite her best efforts to keep herself as strong as possible. This was what she had been reduced to. This was what he had made her. She was as strong as a kitten in the face of a bear, and she ******* hated it. Swallowing down the bitterness that had risen up her throat, she finally forced herself to move. She didn’t put distance between them. No, her feet were glued to the floor. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t step away. Instead, she swept her tongue across her lower lip, the pink a sharp contrast to the red. “I’m taking back my earlier observation,” she heard herself say, her words a low rasp as a chill danced across the nape of her neck.

“You’re not intelligent.”

Her blood had turned to ice, and as he shifted on his perch, his body bending until he had managed to close even more distance between them, she had to force herself not to run. Her body screamed at her to pivot on her heel. The elevator was right behind her. It would only take a second for her to reach it, to slam her hand against the button and disappear into the night – but she didn’t. Something held her frozen in front of him, chaotic eyes sparking with that ferocious chaos that he seemed to live for. “That’s exactly it, Ysmir. We don’t know a goddamned thing about one another,” she snapped, though she bit back the rest of her statement. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what he wanted. He wanted to get inside her head – her body – and claim her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, shield her from the world, and protect her from the darkened nightmares that possessed her every waking moment. It was the same song and dance. They saw her as broken, fragile, someone that needed protecting. They thought she could save her – and for once, she thought of giving in.

It was in the way his eyes burned, a ferocity that surprised her. They all looked at her like she was weak, but there was something in the glint of his gaze that spoke of a different tale. He still had the charm of a knight, but there was something else there, something she couldn’t quite name. It was as if he didn’t want to fight her battles, but be her battle. It was the way he stood up to her, the way he took the brunt of her anger, the rage she threw at him, the storm she embraced him with. He showed no signs of giving in. It should drive her mad – it did – but it also enticed her. Slowly, she forced her fingers to relax, the plastic peeling from her skin where it had embedded in her fright. Running her tongue once again over her lower lip, she waited until he was finished with his monologue and slowly shook her head.

“You’re right. I did base judgment off the way you wrap yourself in your money, but you’re also wrong. I didn’t say that you were like him in all aspects. You jumped to that conclusion on your own. If you paid just a little bit of attention to what I said, you would have realized that I said you resembled him in looks and cash, but that he took it one step further.” She didn’t know why she was defending herself. She should have allowed him to believe what he wanted and walked away. It would have had him leaving her alone, and yet, even as she pushed him away, she wanted to pull him back in.

[Ysmir]

Without a sound, he lifted his thumb, biting at it idly as she spoke. Her voice was quiet, but sharp, able to draw his attention with a distinct clarity that he doubted would leave much out of hearing no matter the volume. What he had clearly missed, however, was the tone in which she used that crystalline voice. Often, things of beauty were wildly deceitful, and she was no less. Her very nature seemed to twist upon itself, the entire structure of what she appeared all but collapsed beneath the weight of her action, when inaction would have suited her portrayed desires far better.

He knit his brows, watching the way her lips moved as she spoke, all but bewitched by the subtle, simple motions of her face. Had her voice not been such a thing of haunting beauty, he would have been entirely lost in any conversation he might attempt with her, for being lost in the lines of her face; in the beauty that was Raegan. As her lips came to a stop, pressed firmly in a thin, shimmering line that bordered on a frown of concentration or self-flagellation, he offered a smile into those enchanting eyes, the shimmering blues of their stares mingling into a single space, where they shared a glance, a look, perhaps, on some plane, a touch. He cleared his throat, and let his smile broaden into a grin.

“Your tone was misleading, and I made a mistake of following the sound of your voice, rather than the message of your words. That was my faux-pas.” He chuckled, the sound light, gentle, friendly. His hand reached out, then, and gently, as lightly as a feather might have alighted upon her, rest upon her shoulder. His touch was almost unregistered, his proximity to her almost electrifying as his watchful stare searched her eyes. “I haven’t the slightest desire in the entire world to bring the smallest harm upon your person, Raegan. I am not a man of aggressive tendencies, nor do I relish the idea of violence for the sake of violence. Particularly against those that I find to be… intriguing company, to say the least.”

The tentative touch slowly retracted, then, allotting her the space that she apparently found comforting, as he let his legs move, the heels of his shoes kicking against the face of the counter he sat on, his hands moving before him to lace fingers, the pads of his thumbs pressed into one another as he studied her. He thought for a moment, watching her, looking at the shape of her face. It was pleasing to look at her, if he was going to be honest. She was attractive, in an obvious, physical sort of way, but it was more than that. The mere shape of her drew his eye, and the curves and colors of her form were appealing to an almost basic part of himself that he had never really known he was disconnected with.

He let his lips twist into a smirk as he let his hands unravel and spread in a gesture. “That is my point entirely, however, Raegan. We don’t know one another, and I’d really like to get to know you. Not like a bug under a glass, though. You and I are going to be a part of this little… ‘family,’ I suppose they call it. We should try and get to know one another, at least a little. I understand your reluctance, but I assure you that it’s unfounded, and that I believe that we could be very close, you and I.”

He chuckled, then, and gave her a sly wink. “At least, I certainly hope that we could be. So how about we set aside the hostilities and we just… talk, hm?”

[Raegan (DELETED 9663)]

There was something about the way he spoke that made everything seem so… simple. It should be easy to just allow herself to converse, to lose herself in mindless conversation until she forgot who she was. Yet, she couldn’t. Something held her back, and even as she felt herself start to give in, she witnessed that wall she had painstakingly built over the years slam back into place. With a quick clench of her jaw, she took a step back – and then another – the haste in her retreat evident. Yet, she didn’t leave. She could have disappeared through the elevator, she could have stepped through the portal and disappeared into the dark, but she didn’t.

Instead, she ran her tongue along a plump lip and snatched her discarded pack from the floor. Once the strap was wrapped around her wrist, she headed for the forge – and careful to keep the man within her sights, much like a cornered wolf, she studied the burning embers. Satisfied with the temperature, she dropped her bag to the ground and began to rummage through it, before realizing he was still there. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. Instead, she suddenly became acutely aware of his stare that had been focused on her with pinpoint precision. Swallowing a frustrated growl, she relinquished her hold on her bag’s strap once she had secured the materials she needed, and finally spoke.

“Since it’s clear you’re not going to give up, then tell me, Ysmir. What in the hell do you want to know?”