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.,;:'Sorrow's Seething Solitude':;,.

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That thin brow quirked just slightly once again, and he nodded. "Go ahead...it's hardly much different than me, except less talkative." Truth be told, the casket was quite like him. Dark, uncolored, and damn cold too. It's entire form was just like his flesh, hypothermia inducing. Of course, she probably had little to fear of such a defense, given her heritage, and her previous physical contact with the spectre himself. "It was made quite nicely, I must say..." He stated, and of course, he did not lie. It's insides were of white velvets and satins, trimmed in silvery buttons and even a very fluffy sort of pillow at the place where his head might have rested. It was roomy, for a casket, and one could figure that even with all of his clothing on, Kyro would easily fit into the death bed.
 
She smiles, as true to form, he obliged her ever prominent curiosity. Removing the glove from tanned fingers, she stuffs it easily in a coat pocket before brushing her fingers along the polished and lacquered wood. The chill surprised her, but just as before, she enjoyed it. And it was a familiar cold. As if touching the casket's smooth side was like running her hand along the handsome spectre's cheek. Moving those fingertips along to the lip of the coffin, and then over the soft, satin pillow, she smiles faintly, drawing her hand back to hang at her side. "Someone must have loved you. A lot of work went into this resting place," she murmurs, mind far away. She could picture Kyro having a wife at some time. Perhaps children too. A loving family mourning their loss. And suddenly she felt like a terrible intruder, as if she really shouldn't be here at all, as if she were treading upon someone else's territory.
 
A wave of cold swept the room, much like a wind had brushed it in, but it engulfed the building far more thoroughly than the wind ever could hope to achieve. His eyes slipped closed as he gently unequipped his cloak with a pair of quick and dexterous fingers. He quietly hooked the cloak up on a window's mangled frame, which creaked in protest. "Must have..." Were his only words to her, for he could barely recall the life he had lived before death. Yet...he could feel it, still a part of him as much as it had been when he died. If he ever lost this feeling, he concluded that he would likely cease to exist, and so, he kept it close to his cold heart. When he turned to her yet again, his face was masked like it was to those whom knew not the man's name. Carefully walled off, as if to protect himself and those around him from that which was the treachery of emotion.
 
The chill shook her in such a manner that she wrapped her arms across her chest, in a desperate effort to cling to any warmth, trap it inside the white, furred jacket. His expression mixed with the flat tone of his voice was all she needed to know that she had been closed out. She didn't need the powers of empathy to tell her as much, though they did in a very real way. Faltering in her ever present grace, she drops her eyes to the ground, taking a deep breath. It took every bit of will power she had not to sprint out of the building, knock the door down and dart down the mountain side. Gazelles weren't known to stick around in an unpleasant situation. Even less for persisting, but Meth had always been an oddball. Approaching him, she gave him a smile before reaching out to touch his cheek, a determined look in her eyes. "You're still cared about, Kyro," she says strongly, but then it seems as if her passion had abandoned her, leaving behind a shy girl, trembling before him. "You're still loved," she squeaks out, her voice cracking under the weight of the words, impending rejection tensing her body for the blow.
 
Motion did not come from him, instead, he simply watched as she approached, and his eyes followed her hand for the time that it passed between them only to disappear on his cheek. When it's first warm sensation triggered in his mind, his eyes slipped shut. Those bandaged arms of his tensed slightly, and to anyone whom hadn't known him as long as she had, it would have been slightly invisible. "Meth..." The spectre whispered out between those cool, pale gray lips of his. "...Love is to me...what blue is to the colorblind...I can recognize it, but I would be hopeless to describe, or recreate it." Those stony eyes of his slipped to gaze into hers, those mottled irises with tiny flecks to mock the entire color wheel, in shades of gray, stared back with certain indisputable concern. The sudden frigid gust seemed to fade away slowly, not unlike how it had first arrived, just as abruptly, as if brushed away by her oddball response.
 
As gray meets gray, she simply smiles. Meth's face showed none of the sadness of her life, none of the wear and tear of experiencing others' emotions. She nods slightly, contented at the very least that he had let her touch him in this moment, to feel the chill of ice come from something that felt soft as flesh against her palm. Brushing her thumb along the curve of his cheek bone, she gazes upon his handsome face without a word, having nothing to say in defense to his response. A part of her wanted to argue, that all things were capable of love. But..., it just felt silly, something a silly girl would say. At least he had been gentle about it, she could appreciate that much coming from her dear friend.
 
A gentle nod came from the ghost's head, and he let loose a soft, airless sigh. It's form was insignificant, so much so, that it did not exist at all, but in the form of a very tiny noise. This noise of sorts, was equivalent to a snowflake's graceful landing. Tiny, and hardly anything that even the most acute of ears would twitch to. The thoughts of a dead man were few, normally, but right now, they swarmed like a kicked hive's army. Intent on devouring that which had 'kicked' their ornate structure. Naturally, this simply meant that the spectre's mind was at work, little different than how it normally went. Moving his gentle hand to her, he brushed her own cheek with his thumb, reluctantly at first. Years of being quick to dodge, to escape any contact at all, for fear of slaying the innocent, shone through like an abused dog's ducking habit.
 
Even though she watched the movements that led to that moment, the touch of his thumb to her cheek still surprised her, the chill rolling down her spine. But more surprising was the uncertainty his body exuded. Kyro had always been strong, certain, unchanging in Meth's presence. Certainly not without emotion, but this occasion was strange at best. But completely welcome, enjoyed. Leaning into his hand, a reassuring smile, she presses her warm flesh against his chilled, gray eyes venturing to make contact with his once more. "It's okay," she says, quietly in the still room, comfort slowly returning to her mind, her whole body relaxing before him.
 
The lids of his eyes slipped closed, incredible in their lack of haste. With a very small nod, he opened them again, to peer through her the way he seemed to peer through most things. Drawing small, indistinguishable shapes on her cheek with the same patient lack of speed with which his eyes had closed. Words eluded him, and for a time, he felt as if he should have been the one to elude, and that she was the one whom should be eluded. Pain, was likely the only thing she would feel from this strange 'love' she felt for him and he knew it. His life, or what was left of it, would not end, as far as he could tell. Incapable of savoring the joys of true life, yet so able to feel the holes which they normally filled, he could not see a way to bring about the joys to another being.
 
Smiles faintly as her cheek is traced upon, but she closes her eyes against him, against that piercing gaze. Taking a deep, shakey breath, she steps forward suddenly, inside his guard. Clumsily, she steps too close, her eyes opening to be face to chin, and she almost panics in her startled state, quickly forming an escape route. But steeling herself just as quickly, Meth tippy toes up to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. Nothing...too adventurous, she hoped. But point was made, or at least, that was the assumption. She knew the contents of his thoughts. About sparring her the heartache. But in her mind, she was also certain it was too late for that. If he left now, she'd still be hurt, she'd still be heart broken. The time hardly mattered.
 
For a moment, the spectre was a bit shocked, even if his expression did little to change. A slight tilt of the brow, and he could feel her, the fact that she was already bound to him was obvious. It was an unfortunate turn of events, but, he couldn't simply shatter the poor girl's heart. That would be allowing history to repeat itself. How then, does a creature incapable of love, express it? It'd be a cold day in hell when he knew the answer to a question such as that. Those granite eyes of his couldn't help but stare, envious of her emotions. A soft, slight nuzzle came from his nose, to hers. Nothing major, and perhaps a let down in comparison to the daring kiss she'd just exchanged for it, but it was a step, none the less.
 
Quite the opposite of what he was expecting, that slight gesture was truly all she needed. Giving him a beaming smile, she bows her head, trying to rein in her giddy, school girl reaction. A blush on her cheeks almost as pink as her hair gave away her sentiments entirely. Her body flushed and heated, she shrugs her way out of her heavy winter coat, leaving her standing there in a dark blue sweater, quite the contrast to the all white of the coat, but still extremely flattering against her skin tone, a shock of color in the drag building. Hanging the coat by the hood on the door knob, she glances at him over her shoulder. "Forgive me, if I don't believe you," she murmurs, brows furrowing together.
 
That cold gaze wandered along her vibrant sweater, and above it, a diminutive quirk of his brow. She didn't believe he was quite as lacking in emotion as he seemed? Strange, for him, as time and time again, he had only noticed traces of kindness, not so much a real emotion as a leniency, he had decided. "I see." The spectre replied, quietly. Each of his eyes let their veils fall, till they were consumed completely by that pale flesh. "What, makes you believe?" Cold words called out, questioning her with a hint of curiosity, though their owner had already assumed a large quantity of possibilities. To hear the answer from her, would not only be easier, but far more meaningful, and relieving.
 
Both hands travel up to run through her short hair, over the tiny nubs there that embarrass her so, the female equivalent to antlers in her breed. Leaning against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other in such a nonchalant way, she nods a bit at the question, standing in silence to gather her thoughts. "I believe that we keep ending up together for more reasons than just because I wish to see you again. I think you feel the pull as well. And if our paths are so intertwined, why can't it be for benevolent reasoning?" she inquires, gazing at his face curiously. "Or, you know, you just like humoring me and I've misread everything. Could be that too. But that wouldn't be quite as," she pauses, brows furrowing together, seeming to have lost the word right off the tip of her tongue.
 
Each of his granite eyes were slowly revealed once again as their veils peeled away, much like stage curtains before a show. Even more slowly, was a very faint rise, this rise, was a largely forbidden thing, something that hardly happened, and happened hardly. It occured, most daintly, upon the very tip of his lips, though it only managed to live until she mentioned the bit about humoring her, at which point, the spectre's tiny smile vanished once again. "As if there is anything more elegantly vibrant to observe, and trade company with." Kyro whispered, each of those eyes examining her own, drawing tiny circles around the rims of her irises in a slow, meticulous manner, rather than the flicky manner most eyes seem to move.
 
Flushing at the compliment, she nervously chews on the silver rings circling the right part of her lip. "Well quite obviously, if you were just humoring me, the situation would be less..., flattering. But you obviously have no qualms with flattery," she quips playfully, shaking her head the slightest, a quite protest to his kind words. Meeting his gaze, she holds it easily, watching the paths of his eyes without any motion of her own, lest she allow the temptation to look away get the better of her.
 
He paused his small optical movements, quirking a brow very faintly. How he noticed her cheeks light up at his compliment, that pretty hue of pink seeping into her flesh's lovely tanned state. Sighing softly, he outstretched a gloved hand. Offering it up for her to hold as he watched her body language. "That is true, however, I only compliment where necessary." Replied the spectre while one leg took him to a low bow. "Do you dance?" Was the next small portion of voice she would hear, curiosity and a eagerness that perhaps only she might be able to spot in the tiny changes of his facial expressions.
 
Shifting slightly, she takes the offered hand, her tanned flesh resting ever so lightly on his bandaged hand. "Some, though not often," she replies, taking a small step towards him. The emotions he was letting leak through, through that statuesque nature of his, it was so intriguing, so lovely. The smile on her lips only grows, a flutter in her heart, the delightful sensation of butterflies in her stomach. Young love was such a pleasant thing.
 
There was a tiny tap in the spectre's mind. The kind of tap that only the living recieved. His colorless eyes watched her movements carefully as she stepped closer, and a slow step of his own began a slow spin. Together now, their bodies battled for superiority of temperature, his chill with her warmth, mixing slowly. Reluctantly, his eyes slipped shut, each one disappearing behind a veil so pale. This tap, wasn't going away, Kyro was not afraid of it, but it would have been far more than a nightmare for any living creature. Deathrow, held many similar taps, the condemned section of hospitals, held the same sensations. In light of it, he danced, a slow slow dance with a beautiful girl. His lips refusing to curl into a smile even now, though he could tell that this little feeling was the motive for smiles in his life. The power that had kept him alive was becoming restrictive, he could feel it like a thousand tiny links, forming a chain far too strong for him to bear against. Perhaps, if he simply enjoyed his time with her enough, his time as the undead would be far from the bleak existence. It would be a short, but blissful one. In her hand his own bandaged fingers would lace, giving a small squeeze. Not a protest, in fact, it was quite the opposite, a small mannerism left behind from his time amongst the living.
 
Light on her feet, Meth steps in time with him, the slow circles about the decrepit cottage on the mountain top making the dance seem all the more unreal. But then, she was dancing with a ghost. The things her father would have to say about the chain of events, the smile he would offer up. "My little gem, she is always so very strange. Can't you fall for a normal guy?" he would say and laugh. Because he would never wish such a bland life on his oddball daughter. Closing her eyes as well, she allows her body to be led with the soft pressure of his hands. Returning the squeeze of fingers, she chuckles softly.
 
Free, his left arm wove around her curves, taking her body close to his as his cheek moved close. Slowly moving to brush against hers, it resembled marble in every aspect. The feel of a bone, high and graceful beneath his frigid flesh, moved gently over hers. Climbing her skin a bit, his cheek moved till it allowed his lips to come dangerously close to her ear, so much so that she could feel his words upon her heated skin. "I feel. . .this..." He whispered most softly, his words cold as ever, though it was as if the blizzards had passed. Each of his feet halted, as his lips moved along her cheek, till they found her own. Pressing against them deeply, and suddenly. Neither of which were things he might have done to anyone, such kisses were potent, deadly, and in most cases, worse than being killed outright. To living creatures, a horror of metamorphasis would occur after such an action, but for her, it would likely be as harmless as any other sudden kiss which held so much passion.
 
An arm around her waist, she complies easily as he pulls her close, the cool embrace so very relaxing. As his cheek glides against hers, she bites down on the lip ring on the right hand side of her bottom lip. The words bring a chill down her spine, the delicate vibrations weakening her knees and blanking her mind of coherent thought. Making the kiss all the more unexpected, even with the lead up, his cold lips dragging down the curve of her cheek until they crash land on her pink lips. The passion caught her so off guard, she had to grab onto his shoulders to stay on her feet as she endeavored to return the affectionate gesture as best as she could without being too clumsy about it. The chill of the kiss wasn't even noticed in thrill of the emotions linked to it, so much so that she didn't even ponder how lucky they both were that she was a child of the sun.
 
Sensing a bit of edge, his arms loosened slightly, though the embrace was still cool as ever. Gently, he released her hand, and drew his own up to her cheek. Caressing the soft flesh there with his thumb's curve, he let loose a soft sigh, so small as not to expell air between their lips. Those careful fingers of his would move along and to her hair, weaving in amongst the locks. The spectre wondered if she truly knew what this meant, though, he ventured to guess that perhaps she didn't, after all, he had barely a clue what this display of emotions meant for him. Was he dead? This certainly was living, the glory of life. Love. It couldn't coarse through his veins, but it did. It couldn't force him to do such things, but he did them either way. Tricky, this was. Too much thinking caused his lips to slowly steer away from hers, as the kiss came to a liquid stop, leaving him lingering in an emotion he hadn't felt in ages.
 
His hand moving across her cheek and then into her hair brought the pink haired demoness back to her thoughts, a dazed smile stretching out the previously puckered pink lips. Opening her mouth to speak, she finds no words to express the jumbled thoughts in her head. Part of her wanted to ask what was happening here, or if it was the start of anything, but she was so worried that her voice would destroy the magic in the air. Glancing at his face, the thoughts passing behind those slate gray eyes, she decides she couldn't care less. Hands moving to grasp side of his face and his hip, she pulls him flat against her body, this time ravishing his mouth with hers.
 
Surprise of the strangest sort struck the spectre, his lips quickly responded to her kiss with a subtle, but passionate caress. The strange change of the kiss, was that his lips had curled, a genuine expression of emotion that caused him to scale the mountain of surprise with even more haste. A smile, something foreign to the ghost of a man. Something which was wreathing his mind in the fires of delight, melting away the horrid winter's prison. Each of his hands moved down to her hips, gripping the curve gently, and yet, wishfully. Drawing her closer still, till his back pinned to the wall nearest him in an embrace which could have no word other than loving define it. This entire turn of events was confusing, but the desire for more was quickly seeping from the cracks of his cold mind. A slow trickle of happiness, peeling away the layers of sorrow he had built up over such a time. Tiny wrinkles at the edges of his eyes formed as he let them slip closed.
 
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