Draven's eyes opened slowly and her vision came into focus. The room she was in, she recognized from years ago. Close to six now, at least. Sitting up, she pushed the sheets from her. The room was lavish to say the least. There were no real words to describe it. The rich earthy tones, the antique furniture collected over various centuries of traveling, some of which she had personally bought for him. There was movement off to her right. Instinctively, Draven's had reached beneath the pillow, fingers grasping the cool metal of the gun. He remembered that she always kept a weapon of some sort beneath her pillow as she slept. It brought a small smile to her lips.

"Dasani?"

"Of course." His voice was just as she remembered. For a moment, Draven closed her eyes, letting the information sink in. She shouldn't be surprised. This wasn't the first time he had returned from Death. The first time had been six years ago in Rome...


"We have to get away, Draven. They're sending Assassins after us."

She was confused. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just trust me on this." Dasani replied, lifting a hand to rest the palm of it against her face. "The Lycan's want us both dead. I have this feeling that they're helping the Mortuus."

"Fuck."

"We don't have time for that." A smile graced his lips.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Dasani."

"I thought it was."


Draven shook the memory from her mind. Best not dwell in the past. "I thought that this last time was it."

"As did I. I made a bargin. But that bargining was not without its price." He shifted then, pushing himself up from the chair in which he sat. Nothing more than a lounge chair set beside the bed. It seemed out of place in this room. His hair was the same, perhaps a bit longer. The same pitch black as hers, pin straight. It was his eyes that were different. Instead of their ever changing colors, they were now a milky gray, almost silver.

"They took your sight."

"Yes." Dasani closed that distance between them, letting his fingertips trace the curve of her jaw. "I have longed to see your face again, Draven. But alas, I can not. At least not yet." He sighed softly, leaning his head down to hers. "My Snow White Queen." It was a nickname he had called her almost the moment they realized the strength of the bond between them. It was far stronger than the one that had been between her and Karise. Dasani and Draven were truly soulmates in every sense of the word. It was evident in the way he kept coming back into her life when she assumed Absolute Death had claimed him.

Draven reached up with her own hands, allowing them to frame his face. The pads of her thumbs caressed the smooth grayish skin of his cheeks, just beneath his eyes.

"Will you kiss this blind man, Draven?"

A small smile curved the corners of her lips. "Yes, of course. You never have a need to ask that of me."

Further conversation was put on hold, at least for the moment. Draven tilted her head up just enough. At first, the kiss was the barest of contacts. A brush of the lips. But as the past six years of separation caught up with them, it became something much more. Reluctantly, she pulled back just enough to gain her breath. It all came flooding back...


Not even two weeks after leaving the Sanguine Veil, another lover had been burried. Draven stood within the center of Dasani's crypt. The large black marble affair glittered silver beneath the light of the moon. It should have been her that died, not him. Sighing softly, Draven reached out and touched the large marble angel in front of her. It was now time for her to leave Rome. More assassins were coming. This was a battle she had to now fight alone.

"I love you, Dasani. I will join you soon in the afterlife." Draven vowed softly, a few tears slipping from her eyes and trailing down her pale cheeks. Her fingers reluctantly lifted from the angel to slip into the pocket of her leather trench coat. She bowed her head and turned on the heel of her boot, but before she reached the door, a presence caught her attention. Her bright green eyes searched around the chamer, althought she appeared to be alone, Draven knew better.

"They should have killed me, Stratovarius." Even though she still had not seen what her Assassin friend looked like, she had in fact learned his name. Draven didn't wait for an answer, she simply opened the door and joined the rest of civilization beneath the moonlight. She knew Stratovarius would follow her where ever she went, his month wasn't up yet. There was still a good three weeks left. But, to be honest, Draven didn't care anymore. Her emotions, her hopes and dreams died with Dasani.

Draven had not heard the commotion. She was too far away. Dasani's crypt trembled, the marble cracking under intense pressure. He hadn't been dead, merely in a comatose state.

He stirred from within, within such a dreadful tomb, constructed to exhonorate his life, or afterlife. Such a terrible thing wasn't necissary for those who knew who he was. He found himself in the darkness, much as he had been for the majority of his existence, but more curiously, he found himself without his prefered clothing. A simple shirt and pants were what he was garbed in, which simply would not do.

His hand crept up from aside his waist, fingertips tapping quite delicately against the stone surface above him. It was thin, the eerie click resounded about the tomb about him. His fingertips straightened, and once having placed his palm against it, he pushed it slowly upward.
He sat up in unison to pushing, untill the stone slab slid to the side and shattered on the ground.

He turned his head to the left, and placed his right hand against his chin, softly pushing it into a tilt untill a number of pops were heard. He next began climbing out. It took him a few moments, afterall, he had been cramped in there for a few hours, at the very least. His eyes squinted and he stepped into the cool night air, a gentle whisp of the east wind caught against his left cheek and tugged playfully at his hair. He savored the moment. An immortal has nothing in larger a quantity than time, but he found himself amazed at how he couldn't recall the last instant he simply stood in the moonlight and enjoyed the touch of a soft breeze.

He turned to his left, suddenly unable to remember where he was. Taking a few unstable strides forward, he found his feet in a large patch of grass. His eyes immediately turned downward at his bare feet. It was cold, and he wiggled his toes in the grass, which had collected the dew of the night. Then, a feeling came about him, an emotion. A subtle joy began mustering in his stomach before continuing through his entire body.

It wasn't long after it faded that he realized that he couldn't remember his name, what day it was or why he was in a tomb. He knew he was a vampire, but he somehow thought that he could have come up with something far more elegant than a tomb to mask himself in the shadows while the sun assaulted the planet with it's rays. There was a ring on his right ring finger, but he couldn't remember how he obtained it. It was simply a silver band, but it seemed to him that it held some sort of significance.

He looked at his surroundings, hoping for something familiar, but found nothing. Next, he unceremoniously fell into a sitting position upon the grass and looked up at the sky. He saw formations of stars that he couldn't remember the names of, and the moon. He didn't know why, but his current attire seemed to annoy him, so he discarded the shirt. Poor manners it would have been to be walking around in the bulk, so he kept the pants, at least untill he found new ones to take their place.

He got up again and continued walking. Walking toward lights, street lights. It didn't take him long to find a closed shop which boasted clothing that he enjoyed the mere sight of. Suddenly, upon impulse, he punched the window. Naturally, it shattered behind the attack, and he stepped in through the display window, searching through what was in the store for his sizes, which he seemed to remember, even if he couldn't remember anything else.

A white poet shirt was put on along with a pair of fine dress shoes, the dirt ridden pants which he was wearing were replaced with what looked to be black leather pants. He chose them one size larger than his actual size, considering that he didn't feel like being constricted. It took him all of two seconds to decide to take another of the same shirt, another pair of shoes and another of the same pants with him, so he did.

As he began to exit, he heard sirens. It became appearant to him in that moment that he had done something illegal, and authority figures were on their way to detain him for commiting such crimes. He stepped back through the display window, the spare shirt, pants and shoes in hand and simply stood there, awaiting the arrival of the police. The words "Run, you jack-ass." shouted at him from within, but he ignored them and continued to wait.

Draven had heard the sirens, but paid them no heed as they rushed past her in a blur of white and flashing lights. A black carry-on bag was slung casually over her shoulder, containing quite a various assortment of weaponry within. Her eyes flashed their endless bright green, for but a moment as she glanced up. Standing, just a few feet away were those group of Lycanthropes that had ambused the hotel room. She had remembered their faces very well indeed, vowing that she would see them again and put an end to their suffering, shit filled existence. A single hand reached into an inner pocket of her ground length trench coat of black leather, removing but a single explosive device. Carefully, she raised the home-made bomb and turned the dial with a gentle clamp of her teeth. For a moment, she just stared at it, wondering if perhaps she should just wade into the group and take them down with her. Deciding against such tactics, Draven flicked her wrist, sending the device flying through the air like a frisbe. One of the Lycanthropes, the dumbest of the pack, caught it, staring down at it as if he had no clue what it was. However, before the Lycanthropes could turn and catch the source from whence it had came, Draven was gone.

Carefully leaping the width of the alley to another rooftop, she rolled, stood back up, and just kept casually walking. At the right time, merely a few seconds, the bomb exploded. There was yelps as each Lycan was blown apart. The device had been encased in a thin sheet of silver, making any fragments very deadly had they been struck by them. There was no expression on Draven's face, just an utterly, emotionless void.

It didn't take long for them to get from Draven's position to the shop. When they arrived, Dasani was standing there in a way that would suggest either defiance or cooperation. How they viewed it would be revealed as soon as they set foot from the car.

They drew their weapons as they got from the car and began to approach him. "Get on the ground, now!" one shouted. Dasani heard it, but couldn't imagine getting on the ground after being commanded. He didn't know why that was, but he stood. They saw it as defiance and directed the sights of their guns toward Dasani's chest. The other police officer repeated what his partner had said. Something boiled inside Dasani's chest and out came a spurt of slander.

"How about you douchebags get on the ground?"

The first cop opened fire first, the second followed. Three rounds each, scattered aimlessly across Dasani's chest. He looked down at the bullet holes in some sort of astonishment, and brought his hand up to the now melting fabric of the poet's shirt. His hand cupped beneith a wound and it quickly filled with blood, which he slung nearly carelessly toward one of the cops.
The blood had spattered across his face and shortly afterward, his face began to melt. The blood was seeping in with a light hissing sound, but was mostly overpowered by the police officer's screams of pain.

The second cop ran to the car and called for backup before opening fire once more. The thick cracks of ignited gunpowder screamed about them both as the bullets penetrated through Dasani's chest and stomach before exiting from his back. Dasani didn't act, or at least he didn't mean to.
The next thing he knew, he was standing beside the cop, his hand burried into the cop's side, through the ribcage, through the left lung and was gripping a quickly throbbing heart. He retracted his hand and watched the police officer fall to the ground and begin bleeding.

More sirens blared. More cops began on their way.

More sirens caught Draven's attention. She stopped walking and settled the bag down at her feet. Crouching upon the ledge of the roof, she watched as the cars spend past her position and towards a shop not to far away from where she was. Glancing from the cop cars to the mess at the store's front, she nearly fell from her perch. An unseen hand, which she could only guess was Stratovarius pulled her back onto the ledge. It couldn't be Dasani. She had witnessed the mass that had been his body after the Lycanthrope attack.

Before she even realized it, Draven had a small compact rocket launcher slung casually over her shoulder. Popping it out to it's full size, she loaded it, and took aim. Gracefully, her finger pressed down upon the small red button. There was a woosh of air then silence. That was until, the rocket found it's target. The first cop car in the caravan that was making a beeline towards the shop. Almost instantly, Draven was in motion. She had shed the trench coat along the way, but the bag of weaponry she had picked up, just in case she may have need of it. The flames from the wrecked cop cars nearly reached the highest peak of one of the buildings roofs.

There was no sound as she slowed her run to a casual walk along the ledge of the shop, just above the chaos.

He looked onward toward the explosion with an odd calm, as if he had no reason to be afraid of what was going on. What's more, he wasn't fearful of the police. Some dark portion down deep inside him beckoned that they hurried to meet their death, and he tagged along behind.

They did as the darkness asked, and hurried out of their cop cars, ignoring the destroyed car infront of them. None of them saw the rocket, so they assumed that Dasani had done it. They opened fire. Dasani's figure was peppered with standard, police issue 9mm rounds. More blood spilled from his body and began to melt away the fabric of his pants. The darkness was cast aside and Dasani became angry. Soon he would be in the nude because of these infantile police officers.
His fingernails burst outbound from the tips of his digits, metallic tallons bursting through the rot of black that was once housed by his nails. The flesh tore way to the tallons and a meaty gore was flung from his fingers, traveling but a few feet untill falling on the street and releasing a soft hiss.

His iris flattened vertically for a second, almost appearing to be a blink without the motion from his eye lid, before returning to it's normal circular shape. The fingertips on his left hand were torn open as he took stride, the pain was insignificant, and now more tallons. The closest cop was no match, the index, middle and ring fingers on Dasani's right hand tore through the thin layers of flesh across his forehead, splitting the skull open. His arm lashed to the side, slinging the cop's spasticly twitching figure into his partner. The tallons on his left hand fell off into his now free right hand before being tossed toward the next cop in sight. Like large spiked bullets, they shot through the air, and much like what had happened to Dasani, they penetrated the kevlar, entered the chest and exploded from the police officer's hindside.

The next was female, but Dasani didn't discriminate gender, latching his fingers around her throat and raising her into the air before him just in time for her body to catch the bullets that her partner fired. Her frame dropped to the ground and Dasani vanished, reappearing behind the partner. His left hand balled to a fist and was thrown into the cop's side, catching in full his liver. The body stiffened for a moment and then collapsed into Dasani's grip.

His lips spread, revealing the enlongated canines. He lunged forward and burried them into sweet flesh. Fresh blood spilled into his mouth and a nearly orgasmic feeling flushed over his body. His body twitched for a moment and he almost released the cop, but was craving the feeling's continuation far too much to release. He drank his fill and bit down deeper, tearing away a massive section of the cop's throat before discarding his body onto the ground.

He tore away the destroyed clothing and began back toward the shop in the nude. As he approached he collected the spare clothing that he'd dropped on the ground and walked back though the shattered window. He put the clothes on, once more grabbed an extra pair of everything and then walked back out into the street as if nothing had happened at all.

"Fucking humans."

It was him. She couldn't mistake that, however, something was different. Draven silently dropped down onto the awning that shot over the sidewalk and mass of carnage. Like an acrobat, she suspended herself upside down which placed her almost directly next to Dasani who had stepped out from the shop's broken window.

"My my, what a web of carnage we creatures of the night weave."

Without awaiting for a response, she let go of the awning with her legs, dropping down to the pavement below. Draven's body tensed, waiting for a blow, or perhaps a comment of dismisal. She fought the urge to touch him to see if he were real. The evidence of such things lay strewn across the pavement in a carnal mass.

He simply turned his head and looked at her, left eye brow peaking. With almost no hesistation, he simply replied in question.

"Who are you?"

That darkness in him nearly twisted his intestines in a knot as he inquired, but he ignored it and showed no sign of such a hostile internal action. Casually, he slung the spare shirt and pants over his right shoulder and kept the shoes hanging from his left index and middle fingers. His head turned again to see what he'd done and looked onward in near shock. He knew he did that, and it wasn't the dark half, but it still didn't seem like he was capable of it.

Strands of black hair shifted in front of her face as the wind tugged them, hiding a sizable portion of her face, save for one bright neon green eye.

"Draven." She replied simply, bowing gingerly from the waist. "I know who and what you are, but it is entirely up to you on which decision you make. You can either let me help you, accompany me to Egypt, or you can go on your own merry way, and figure out things for yourself."

Draven reached up, brushing those stubborn strands of hair from her face. She shifted the carry-on bag, moving it to rest behind her instead of at her side.

"Now, I know it is an odd request seeing as how you do not remember who I am. But I knew you before you woke up in that tomb. I knew you when you were Human, Dasani."

Draven turned then, stepping over a mutilated corpse of a police officer. "Either decision you make is yours and yours alone." She didn't wait for a response, she just simply, and casually began walking away.

"How do you know me from my humanity?"

He screamed after her quickly escaping outline. He began trotting after her, unknowing of who she was or what she was getting at with saying such things. He couldn't even remember his humanity, couldn't remember his name, it was all a blankness that seemed to suck in everything that he should know, much like a black hole.

"I know you because I was the one who Transformed you. In your Mortal life, you were dying. You came to me, asking me to help you because you were not ready to die."

Draven stopped then, turning to glance over her shoulder, as she did, the wind tugged at her hair again, shoving it back in front of her face. The one, bright green eye visible, just barely.

"It would still appear that you are not ready to die, Dasani. I would hope not. Your Bloodline, which is one of six needs to be reborn. As you have witnessed eariler this evening, your blood, in itself is a weapon. Wounded, it can physically harm, or even kill anyone or anything it touches. However, if someone were to feed directly from the jugular, they would be unharmed. There is much that I know, dear Dasani, and much that you need help in remembering. That is all that I am offering you. Is help."

She sighed softly for a moment and tilted her head to the ground. "You and I, you could say, were lovers before you woke up in that tomb. This is why I help you."


"Much have I to remember, then. Perhaps that man is what lurks in my stomach, twisting at my insides."

He found himself stopping, unable to take another step. His hand crept up to his face and his fingernails, which had already returned, scratched softly at the flesh. It seemed as though the dark half was making sure that it was really there. That everything was intact. It seemed that the dark half didn't know how he died either, and that was it's reason for checking.

Draven chuckled softly.

"It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest."

A small smile crossed her lips, revealing the very fine and sharp points of her canines.

"I must warn you. There are other Vampires after me, trying to kill me. They have been for a few weeks now. They seek to kill me. There's an Assassin friend of mine that follows me, making sure that I stay alive."

She reached behind her and patted the leather carry-on. "I, however, am not without my own means of retaliation, as I'm sure you may have witnessed earlier with the explosion of that cop car that led the second onslaught of police."

"And perhaps they will suffer the fate of those police officers. And are you speaking of that figure on the roof two buildings down?"

He saw the assasin, of course he did. Since the police arrived, he'd been searching around everywhere to ensure that he wouldn't have any more surprises. He did, though, with this woman. He couldn't remember her in the slightest, and his dark half twisted his gut more and more furiously as they conversed.


"That would be the one, yes."

Draven replied casually, almost matter of factly. A smile tugged just at a single corner of her mouth. She glanced up towards that specified building and gave a courtly nod. Draven turned her attention back towards Dasani and gave a small sigh. This was something she had feared, loosing Dasani. Physically, she hadn't, but mentally, and emotionally, her worst fears came true. She didn't know what to say to ease the furiously twisting dark side within him.


"So, what's in Egypt, Draven?"

He wasn't positive as to where that question came from, but he assumed curiosity. Afterall, this was a new world to him. He knew where Egypt was and what it was like, but he didn't know how he knew such things. It mattered little. She said that that was where she was going, and he figured that he'd follow her, perhaps jog his memory a bit in doing so.

"In Egypt, there is another like us. Her name is Jezza. She is the head of the Dimensia Bloodline. Vampires that have the ability to rift, teleport to places that are visible to them. My Bloodline, the Requiem Bloodline, are able to heal Vampires, no matter what damage they may have sustained. However, we Requiem use the feeling of lust, desire and live to heal Some may consider us the Masters of Seduction."

Draven shrugged her shoulders casually and let them fall.

"After living 30,000 plus years, you tend to learn a few things in the evolutionary chain."

Another set of sirens could be heard in the vague distance.

"I don't know about you, but I think we need to get out of Rome before we are detained for the duration of daylight hours. I, for one, am not willing to turn into a crispy critter inside of a steel cage."

"Sun up is, more or less, in six hours. Are you sure we can make it out of the city and to Egypt before the sun rises?"

Ignorance was bliss, and Dasani was dancing in it. He'd forgotten all of the tricks of the trade, all he knew was that he was an immortal, and he had amnesia. He hadn't the slightest clue that planes had shutters on all the windows, he couldn't even remember ever being on a plane. He was going to have his experience with it, though. That was to be sure.

"There have been quite a few advancements in technology, Dasani, that can allow us to travel during daylight hours. We need not worry."

Shifting the bag more comftorable on her shoulder, Draven led the way, away from the carnage, and towards the private air strip where the jet awaited their arrival.


It wasn't long before they were safely secured on the jet, and in the air, heading towards their new point of destination, Egypt. She didn't alert Jezza ahead of time, Draven already knew that once they hit the desert sands, the Dimensia Vampire would know of their presence. Glancing up from her book of notes that she had taken on the experiments of Bloodessence, her eyes traveled over Dasani for a brief moment. There was a sadness that crept into her, one that she couldn't quite place where it came from. It wasn't her sadness. Perhaps it came from Dasani himself, through the connection that they had once shared. If he remembered how to use it, he could gain the knowledge of his life from her memories.

Draven closed the notebook and placed it back in a small pocket of the carry-on bag. "There is a way for you to learn the facts of your life, Dasani, more quicker that poking around in journals and notes. As your Sire, even though you are of a different Bloodline, there is a connection between us, one that can allow us to share memories, emotions, and even thoughts. My walls were down the moment I knew you had no recollection of memory. All you have to do, is let yours down, and the knowledge will come."

"I did notice things, just images, flashing through my mind. But I don't think I want to remember everything all at once. Through amnesia, I've obviously become a different person from this Dasani, who would more than likely be my dark side. What if I discover things too quickly and become disgusted with myself? I've never felt it, or at least I don't think I have, but it must be a terrible feeling."

His fingertips tapped on his knee softly, in rhythm. The soft thuds carried well into his ears, and he soon became surrounded by it and nothing else. He became obsessed with the beat, he hadn't heard it before, but now he was duplicating it. He wanted to know why, but sometimes, things are best unknown. At least for a short while.

"How did I come to be, Draven? I mean, be what I am, an immortal."

"That is a long story in itself, my dear, however, we do have enough time for me to give you, at least, a brief summary."

A small smile crossed her lips. Her eyes, momentarily turned towards her lap.

"You were born Human, in a monistary in Rome some years ago. Close to 17,854 if I am not mistaken. You were dying from an incurable cancer. One that was rare and has a very low survival rate. You came to me, asking for help. My reputation as being a gifted Healer proceeded the reputation of what I actually was. I informed you of my Vampiricy, but it didn't seem to phase you. You told me that you weren't ready to die. You're time wasn't up. You couldn't explain it, but you just knew that you were not meant to give up living just yet. Intrigued, I Transformed you, took your blood, giving you my own in return. My blood, being a rare Healing property on it's own, manipulated the cancerous cells, killing them instantly. However, my blood also manipulated your own, creating it into a weapon itself. Thusly creating a new Bloodline of the Sanguine Veil."

Her eyes shifted up then, taking in the expression etched upon his face.

"Everything happens for a reason. You were sent to me for a reason. Your being reborn this night, happened for a reason. But, what those reason's are, are for you alone to answer. This is not my journey in life. I can only guide you as I have done the best I could in the past."

She laughed then, a snorting chuckle passing her lips. "The fearless, self-centered Draven giving advice on how to make decisions in life. Now that is comedy, maybe even a tragic comedy."

Draven reached up and brushed those stubborn strands of black hair from her face a gentle sigh passing her lips. "After I speak with Jezza, I think it is time I retire and return home to Romania."


"Dying? I wasn't ready for death. I guess I'm still not ready for death. Restless souls stay restless, I suppose"

His hand rubbed softly at his temple for a few moments before there was a smell. Something like burnt rubber. He looked around and saw nothing aflame. He dismissed it. It assaulted him once more. It was a horrible scent. He blinked a few times and looked around once more. Smoke began to rise from the flooring. His eyes widened suddenly and he looked on in horror as what appeared to be an illusion appeared infront of him.

"You miserable fuck, Dasani! Why can't you just fucking die so I can have your soul?!"

It was Keirisin, the demon that Dasani had invited into his body before. Dasani was supposed to die after the attack, not heal, not continue breathing. Keirisin was pissed, Dasani's soul would have greatly increased his power, but low and behold, Dasani was alive and kept his soul.

"Great, now I'm hallucinating."

"You're not the only one. Normally, I can't see him, but then again, when Keirisin got pissed off, the whole world knew it."

Draven sighed softly, leaning her head to rest upon her closed fingers.

"You, Keirisin, never give up. I think it's about high time you learned that Dasani's soul will never be yours. At least not until Dasani is ready to give it up, and by the looks of it, it doesn't look to be anytime soon. Go back where you belong and leave us alone."

There was a seething hatred and anger Draven had for Keirisin, they had shared witty comments far into the night for many years and both never backed down. But this night, she was tired of his pointless interruptions.

"I..I know this...thing? What the hell is it?"

He extended his arm and put his hand directly through what was Keirisin. The illusion-like mass seemed to part so his hand could pass through. He waved his hand through it once, but it didn't make it go away. It was interesting, yes, but what did it want with Dasani's soul, why would it want his soul? These were things that puzzled him. He retracted his hand and waved at the smoky light-show dismissively. He'd had his fill of strange things for the day, and now this thing needed to leave.

"Don't you wave me away, you punk. Give me your soul!"

What would represent it's hand lashed forward, trying to snatch Dasani's soul from his chest, but broke away and scattered just before it reached his chest. Dasani began blocking this thing out, ignoring it. It'd have to leave sooner or later. Dasani wanted it to be sooner, but beggers can't be choosers.


"This thing, in lamens terms is nothing more than a pain in the ass. If it is ignored, then eventually, it will go away. As for the specific's as to what it is, well, it's more like a Demonic leech. It latches onto a host in hopes of gaining its soul."

Draven arched a single brow faintly and sighed once more. The fingertips of her opposite hand fiddled absent mindedly with the sheath of silver needles resting against her upper left thigh. These needles were approximately a foot and a half, two feet in length, maybe half and inch to an inch in diameter. An obscure and rare weapon choice, but none the less, Draven's favorite. She was rather accurate with them, and hardly ever missed the intended target. But, there was a first time for everything. She just pittied the fool that made her miss.


"You can have it when I'm finished using it."

Dasani stated calmly. His left hand waved through the figure a single time, as if dismissal. His right hand moved to his face and scratched at his chin softly as he looked downward at the time piece that was in his left pocket. He pressed the button and the lid flew open. It was around ten in the morning, which meant that the sun was up. After that, he became rather fidgety. Scratching his chin every so often and rapidly tapping the heel of his shoe on the floor. He was in a flying cage that could easily fall and kill him. The sun was on them aswell. What if something happened, and light got in. There were very many reflective surfaces in the plane. It could be made into the equivilency of a house of mirrors. He and Draven trapped inside to be incinerated.

Were he his old self, he simply wouldn't care. But as things were, he did care. There was very little he wasn't taking into consideration.


"Are you alright?" Dasani's voice seemed full of concern. She had fallen silent. He dropped his shields, letting the link between them open. He felt her anguish and tourment and knew that she was remembering the past. "The past is just that, Draven, past. Let it be. Let it lay in its soils and be nothing but memories, some good some bad. Let us live in the now."

"I can't as long as that Leech is still on your tail. I know he's one of the ones you bargined with. He has a strong desire for your soul, Dasani. He has for centuries."

"You're learning everything from my mind."

"Of course. Just as you are learning everything from mine."

He smiled and it nearly tore her heart in pieces. It was a sad smile. "If we go after the Demons, Draven, one of us may or may not come out of this alive."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. If you don't want to do this you don't have to."

"I'm not letting you go alone. The last time I did that, I nearly lost you."

"That was a long time ago, Dasani. I've had alot more centuries of practice."

"I can't help but worry, Draven. I've loved you from the moment I saw you rip their hearts out."

"Somehow that's not a very good visual of realizing you love someone."

Dasani chuckled. "I've never been one for the common things of life."

"Ain't that the truth."