"Hm. I still don't know why you protect her... Oh wait, love, right?"
He smirked somewhat playfully, leaning forward to remove his back from the wall just outside the club, a black clove cigarette tossed to the ground where it hissed angrily at having the poor luck of falling into a pool of water from one of the sporadic rains that seemed always to grace the city at particularly convenient (or inconvenient, depending on how one felt about rain) times. Fine leather shoes narrowly skirted another such puddle as he approached her, his coat moving with his body, all layers of leather and fabric, all code, all the digitized essence of soft midnight...
It was something that others didn't understand, but that they, as Exilists, could uniquely and fully appreciate the value in. Appearance, that was...
He stopped for a moment, his eyes meeting Return's own from behind their two opposite pairs of lenses... And for once, he decided not to press the matter further. There was a fierceness in those eyes... He had come to expect a certain determination from the Lady... But this was something different. She seemed so mortally resolute of purpose. Void knew that look.
It had been his own, once...
Back, when he was able to do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted to do it to, and not feel a thing of any consequence, except for the pleasure and relief of a grim job well done. Back in those days, his name was but a rumor on the lips of those who lurked the back alleys. Those that believed, that had seen his work with their own eyes... They feared him. Void drank it in, reveled in their fear... And thus, he was untroubled by those myriad attachments that troubled so many.
... All that had changed, now.
Now, he felt the insecurity of humanity, he felt the inability to act upon his employment, to act with any purpose whatsoever... It was debilitating. He would not yet admit that he feared anything, but there was a certain hesitance. He gritted his teeth. This was all because of Pltchaos, and her unwelcome advances upon him... But then, why did he have such a hard time turning her away? He, Void, the everpresent shadow of the Merovingian himself, the man who had spurned the advances of countless Succubi, who had even been able to decline (politely of course) the Frenchman's wife herself... Now, it seemed, he was being torn to shreds by this novice of a seductress. Regardless of what power she possessed, that annoyed Void greatly.
And yet... He had enjoyed it...
Blinking, and realizing that Return was still staring at him, he quickly regained at least the appearance of his usual bearing, that slight smile returning to his face.
"You know where to find me if you want my help in this..." he said, his eyes rising slowly from her own, to the sky. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."
And he jumped.
- Void
He smirked somewhat playfully, leaning forward to remove his back from the wall just outside the club, a black clove cigarette tossed to the ground where it hissed angrily at having the poor luck of falling into a pool of water from one of the sporadic rains that seemed always to grace the city at particularly convenient (or inconvenient, depending on how one felt about rain) times. Fine leather shoes narrowly skirted another such puddle as he approached her, his coat moving with his body, all layers of leather and fabric, all code, all the digitized essence of soft midnight...
It was something that others didn't understand, but that they, as Exilists, could uniquely and fully appreciate the value in. Appearance, that was...
He stopped for a moment, his eyes meeting Return's own from behind their two opposite pairs of lenses... And for once, he decided not to press the matter further. There was a fierceness in those eyes... He had come to expect a certain determination from the Lady... But this was something different. She seemed so mortally resolute of purpose. Void knew that look.
It had been his own, once...
Back, when he was able to do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted to do it to, and not feel a thing of any consequence, except for the pleasure and relief of a grim job well done. Back in those days, his name was but a rumor on the lips of those who lurked the back alleys. Those that believed, that had seen his work with their own eyes... They feared him. Void drank it in, reveled in their fear... And thus, he was untroubled by those myriad attachments that troubled so many.
... All that had changed, now.
Now, he felt the insecurity of humanity, he felt the inability to act upon his employment, to act with any purpose whatsoever... It was debilitating. He would not yet admit that he feared anything, but there was a certain hesitance. He gritted his teeth. This was all because of Pltchaos, and her unwelcome advances upon him... But then, why did he have such a hard time turning her away? He, Void, the everpresent shadow of the Merovingian himself, the man who had spurned the advances of countless Succubi, who had even been able to decline (politely of course) the Frenchman's wife herself... Now, it seemed, he was being torn to shreds by this novice of a seductress. Regardless of what power she possessed, that annoyed Void greatly.
And yet... He had enjoyed it...
Blinking, and realizing that Return was still staring at him, he quickly regained at least the appearance of his usual bearing, that slight smile returning to his face.
"You know where to find me if you want my help in this..." he said, his eyes rising slowly from her own, to the sky. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."
And he jumped.
- Void
Recursion: n - See Recursion.
