It took every effort for the girl to look inwards, finding that reckless, unharnessed ability within her to push away all those malicious ghosts that surrounded her - shoving them far back into the corners of the world, as far from her as she could push them. The effort left the young woman entirely exhausted, her limbs shaking ever so slightly, her forehead holding a slight sheen of sweat as she slowly, ever so slowly, fell to the floor in the now darkened silence of her basement.
Oh what a tangled web we weave through the lies and macabre truths with which we deceive; be it ourselves, our surroundings, our acquaintances, or our souls. There was very little deceit with which I regarded myself. I know, first and foremost, what I am and what I am not and there is very little that the opinions or derision of others might affect what inner effigy of my person I possessed. There was a horrendous horde of adjectives and even nouns for what I was, but in it's most simple form I was a man victim to experiences and behaviors of a sinister nature, anchored in a sorrowfully deliberate and innate desire to vindicate wrongs inflicted upon myself and others through violent means. It wasn't always that way, no. There was a time long before fog and inclement weather permeated my atmosphere, a time inhabited mainly by a vivacious desire to live and exist in the very moment afforded to me by the exact time and place I was in. How the times changed, and the fog rolled in over my proverbial cliffs, the fingers of said fog corrupting me with tendrils of hatred and blood red foundations of sin. At the root of all my evil was a box much like the fairy tale of Pandora that housed the last essences of innocence, grace, and goodness I was afforded by a childhood ridiculed with wrongs perpetrated by all those who should have shown me the right path. And when the moment came, I was ready to become the man that they proved to me I should be and I was only capable of becoming: a monster.

A monster drowning in strangers' blood.

I felt the very life essence exuding from the infantile wound in my flesh, warm and oozing with a slow speed which afforded me the ability to ignore it for the time being, though my breathing felt more labored as I began to picture just how the brunette witch saw the images before her. The headless boys rendered me a callous savage, embodying the brutality I had wielded like a wrecking ball at the time I had needed it most. What she wouldn't know, and surely I would need to explain, was that so many of these actions and murders came from a place of juvenile horror; how could I explain the pathetic feelings of inferiority I had been lost in when I was younger? I had no control over the events. I had no control over my inability to protect my sisters from the horrors of life they should have been sheltered from. I should have been able to, I should have been able to... My life-long nightmares would soon be shared with the witch whose hands my current fate rested aggressively within, writhing and waiting for her to either change the sails or hand the reins over to the incredibly merciless mistress of Fate. There was nothing I wanted more than to offer her the kind, supportive, and comforting words that my sisters had offered me when salted tears graced my dirt and blood stained cheeks at the end of a whirlwind of misery and violence. Calliope had always known what to tell me, Serena had always understood that the color of my eyes revealed the senseless emotion and mental disturbance that had taken over me... Elenore had always been able to ground me, and now? Serafina might have remained the only anchor to the present plane amidst the panic that must have been coursing through her veins at the sight of my atrocities. It was with her that my stability remained intact, focused through my attempted gentle gaze resting and locked with a tender sense of intimate fear visible in the azure of my eyes.

Injuries had never offered me cause for worry, before. There was nothing on the earth I generally worried about losing, that I worried about leaving. It had been time and time again that I had thought about my release from the physical world and finding my way into some kind of ethereal eternity that gave me peace and sleep instead of the cliffs and valleys that my life often offered as attractions on a road trip I usually didn't want to partake in. Time and time again I had wanted to surrender to the extra amount of heroin pushed into my veins. Time and time again had I wanted to surrender to the amber haze that followed, or to allow my efforts in times of trivial clashes to fail me. And yet, time and time again I found my way back to sanity and a state of consciousness that I oft felt the need to forget. Now? The pull of an internal frost so sensually coaxed my attention away from the comforting lull of my encouragement to the young witch, allowing me to fall back into a white, shivering and rolling miasma of a sort of purgatory where I could all but forget my transgressions and watch the rest of the scene unfold at the hands of the talented girl I had unfortunately gained affection towards. In an array of moments that I wasn't able to follow with my eyes or my attention, the frigid presence of the spectors of my past were expelled from the room in a deliberate attempt to change the persistence course of Fate that Serafina had managed to overcome. And for that? My unconscious, eternal gratitude began to swell.

As I lost what consciousness I had sustained, the cold material of the floor was welcomed on my back while my wakefulness waned. I felt what was surely the body of my companion fall beside me, her breathing as abberant and slow as my own, but I was yet again powerless to exert any effort in order to protect or provide her some kind of safety or refuge from the obscenities she had witnessed that had rendered her without consciousness. And so slowly as time passed like it does during the longest moments of your life and so slowly as blood stained my shirt did I succumb to the darkness.

The blonde woman, aided by the young Dorian girl began to materialize as the bodies of the maleficent spectors dissipated. It was with haste that she did gather what kinds of herbs and materials that a salve and remedy could create for both individuals lying on the floor. The blonde woman gave her attention to the young witch, desperately urging her to wake with the aid of the herbs. The young Dorian girl focused her attention on her brother, adding the salve to his wound, and gently kissing his forehead as her begin began to dissolve beside Serena's, though not without kind, soft, loving words.

"Goodbye, brother. I will never be too far," Nahlia murmured sweetly, dissolving into the dark. It was the blonde woman's turn to brush the hair from Serafina's forehead, satisfied that her efforts were working as she sat quietly with a maternal air beside the young witch, speaking solely for her benefit. "What an astounding, incredible effort. How you are worth the affection," She murmured, casting one soft glance to Davante's still form before brushing his hair back and sighing. "I will love you forever, Davante, but it is time for you to accept what you feel for her. It doesn't disgrace memory, it doesn't disgrace your strength. Let her see your weaknesses, let her share your pain and comfort her in the ways we have, you. Goodbye, sweet boy..."

And with that, the icy air faded into the warmth of the working thermostat, waking both individuals with the oppressive, intrusive heat.