It was a struggle to get that night of his head. What was worse than knowing that the woman whom his sister seemed so inclined to make her best friend in their new world was one of the absolute last beings in the world that he wanted his little sister to be around. It was bad enough that Lazarus wasn't really a model citizen, never hesitating to pick a fight with someone that got on his nerves or leap at any opportunity to take a pretty face to bed for the evening only to disappear before morning light. How Elain hated that about the man with those messy caramel-hued locks. He loved the young woman to death and not a day went by that he did not stop to regard her for a moment with those glittering and bright icy blue eyes that reminded him so much of their mother, even the very essence of the older woman seeming to find his little sister in everything that she did. From gardening to cooking and that almost sickening sweetness that always seemed to fill her smile, it was nearly impossible for Lazarus not to see their mother in Elain. It would bring about a pain that he was always quick to shove away or channel into any other feeling, which nine times out of ten translated into irritability. It wasn't her fault that she was the spinning image of the one who'd given them life and raised them, taught them what it was to love family above all else and to always be there for each other no matter what the world would throw their way. Little did the siblings know that their mother's words would come to mean so much when they would never be able to hear her voice again. Another year threatened to pass them by since the robbery gone wrong. Even to this day, on some of those harder nights, those nightmares would find him. He would re-live that night and it always seemed that no matter how hard he tried to force himself away, there was no escaping.

Just like any other night, the Daray estate was quiet and calm. His parents had retired to the master bedroom a time after dinner, and Elain had scurried off to her own respective room at the other end of the large home to study for her exams that were just around the metaphorical corner, glacier blue eyes bright with excitement that the young man was never truly able to understand, eager to pursue her future as a college student wanting to unlock her full potential and one day become an English teacher for little kids â€" or so she'd only told Lazarus and their parents an almost unbearable number of times. Lazarus had followed suit, his own room being just across the hall from his little sister's, but unlike the ever spry and bright young woman, he had no plans for his future. None that were his own, anyway. He was to one day run the family council, and though his training had only just begun, that did not earn the young man any sort of leniency. Sore and far from looking forward to the morning, he'd gone to bed as he would any other night. It wasn't until well after the Daray household had drifted into silent slumber that everything would come crashing down around the siblings. He could still hear the scream of his mother, the crash of glass, the roar of his father... He'd shot out of that bed then and burst into his sister's room, the young woman's gaze bright with fear."What's going on Lazlo?", she'd whispered in a hushed voice. He wasted no time in grabbing her wrist and dragging her from the bed, flinging open that walk-in closet where he knew the trap door leading into the cellar rested."Down. Now", he'd hissed at her as he flung that hidden door in the floor open and ushered her down the ladder. Their parents had always told them that if ever there was trouble, this would be their evacuation point if every any sort of disaster however natural or unnatural should come and that night was certainly one of those times. Once they'd made it down, he guided her to the false wall that gave with a push of his heightened strength and they'd slipped into the tunnel the took brother and sister to the bomb shelter. Closing the steel door behind them and there they stayed for an unknown number of hours, Elain clinging to Lazarus as she shivered. It was only when Lazarus was sure that they'd waited long enough that he opened that door, making his way back the way they'd come with Elain in tow. When they'd reached that false wall, he'd commanded her to stay there, said that he would come back for her if everything was clear. What he didn't expect to find was the bloody scene waiting for them above ground... Then, he'd see them...

He jerks suddenly, dark forest eyes flying open as they quickly dart around the room of the townhouse, heart beating wildly in his chest as the nightmare vanishes with his consciousness. He looks to the window to see that the sun had sunk beneath the horizon. He lay there in still silence, senses strained as he "felt" for her. When he detects the soft breathing of his sleeping sister, he dares to draw a breath himself as he sits up in his bed. There was no sleeping now. He snatches had phone from its place and pressed the power button to reveal the time as eleven o'clock at night, indicating that he'd only been asleep for no more than three hours. Releasing a quiet groan, he hauls himself out of his warm cocoon of blankets and slips into relaxed fitting faded blue jeans and grabs a black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. He didn't want to disturb Ellie since he was well aware that she'd be up early in the morning for classes but he felt restless. He needed to get away. He always did after that nightmare. Throwing on his black zip-up jacket and pulling that hood over messy caramel locks, he silently makes his way down the stairs and past the sleeping Donovan sprawled out on the couch in a tangle of sheets, slipping out the door and stepping into the cold night. Only then does he feel for the faintest moment like he was being watched. His gaze sweeps over the sparse population that still swarmed the streets of the downtown area and giving a shrug of broad shoulders he turns and wanders through the streets, chalking up that unusual sensation as the after-effects of that haunting moment in time he'd never be free of.

Time seems to move slowly around the man as he finds himself on the northern part of Sacrosanct now, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as those restless dark forest eyes glance with disinterest at the well lit streets and their fancy lamp posts that made it felt like old England or something. Pausing in his steps, he lifts his gaze to find the glowing sign that read "The Voodoo Room". Just what he needed. He pushes through the door, embraced by the warmth of the luxurious bar and the soft hum of business as those around him at tables and the bar itself talked contentedly among themselves, no one bothering to look up and watch the man as he moves deeper into the establishment until he's seating himself at the stained and polished bar."Good evening, sir. What shall I get you?", came the soft voice of the female bartender. He glances at her from beneath his hood to see a pretty face that doesn't even manage to rise a wolfish grin to the surface like it often would."Jack and Coke", tenor tones answer as he reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet and place it on the bar in front of him. She gives him a quick nod and turns to make his drink. He stares blankly at the assortment of bottles stocking those fancy and expensive shelves, hardly turning to look at the woman as she places his drink before him and, seeing that he wasn't up for a chat, she goes about tending to the others that sat at the bar. Lazarus moves his hand to grip the glass, lifting it to his lips and taking a heavy drink, hardly heeding the sudden presence of another man beside him until he sets his glass down. At first, it was just a brief and casual side glance but then that accented voice speaking the man's name has him turning sharply back to the man, dark forest green gaze narrowed dangerously only to find a face he hadn't seen in years, astonishment flickering across those depths."What the hell do you want? Better yet, what the hell are you doing here?", growls the young man as those dark eyes narrow in suspicion. He couldn't even clearly remember the last time he'd seen good ol' Uncle James, but what he does remember was how his father had exiled the man with dirty blonde locks and icy blue eyes. He remembers how his father warned Lazarus to avoid the British man who, aside from Elain, was now the only family that he had, only not the good kind.