District 7 (Rave & darkangel76)

[darkangel76]

The sky was black as pitch as the stars shone down in all their harsh glory with the rays of the silvery moon as the strange howling growls seemed to rise and then fall from within the walled in zone that would forever be quarantined, a place of exile and danger and god only knew what else. That rancid hell was something of nightmare, or so the rumors went, but they didn't deter Martina Graeme. No. They only fed into her unquenchable curiosity, piquing it to heights even she couldn't begin to fathom or come to understand. Just then, the wind suddenly blew causing her to tug at her thin embroidered shawl that hung about her shoulders. The white, lacey frock clinging snugly to her body as she pulled it closer to help stave off the chill as it tried to bite into her flesh.

Bite. Funny that thought should cross Martina's mind. She reached up with a delicate hand, one just barely gloved with a soft leather that only the finest and wealthiest such as herself could hope to afford—yes, she was a lucky girl, daughter of a high ranking scientist, overseer of the alchemists of old and deducer of those to be trained in the arts to serve the city and its people with their skill. She then pushed a strand of platinum blonde behind an ear and swallowed, morbid thoughts of what it meant to be bitten by those lurking the quarantined zones, the districts—twenty in all—that had sprung up as a result of an event so severe that her kind had nearly been annihilated completely, not to mention nearly driven mad with despair. But from the bleak hopelessness that surrounded them all was a beacon of light, something so strange and unexpected that none of her kind had even realized their true potential until it was nearly too late. But fortunately for them all, the first alchemist, the first of the magic users, realized what they could do if they tried. It wasn't easy and it never would be, but it gave them all hope and something to strive toward. A goal.

After the first fortresses were erected, life was never the same, or so Martina had been taught. She never knew the comforts or marvels of the old ways, only the raw grit of reality now that zombies lurked the Earth, roaming free in the quarantined districts as if they owned the places. She often wondered if any lurked outside of them, but she dared not test that theory, not until the day she realized that magic went further than just alchemy. There were secrets deeper and darker than she could ever hope to imagine, ones her father had kept from her for her entire life. But her ears had overheard him one day speaking of darker things, things she knew she shouldn't be hearing. And now, now she was standing atop the fortified walls of District 7 in the pitch inky black of night, staring down into the wilds below.

Martina could feel her heart racing, pounding hard as her adrenaline coursed through her veins. Something inside her wondered why such magic users, those practicing darker arts, ones that went beyond mere alchemy, were exiled to such a fate. It hardly seemed right or fair. She could feel her blue eyes stinging slightly as she thought about the gruesome future that would befall such a person should they be thrown into such a place. She knew what lurked beyond the walls, those creatures, those... those things that once lived, rising again from death only to feed upon the living. Again she shivered, her blood turning to ice at the thought.

Biting. Funny that Martina thought of that.

Just then there was a strange sound—footfalls. Immediately, Martina looked up and saw the shadow of a figure approaching. "Guard," she whispered aloud, though to herself. "Damn it." She bit down on her lip, her mind frantically searching for an idea on what to do, where to go.

Martina knew she had to hide. Getting caught wasn't an option given who her father was. Not only would she get herself into trouble, but him as well and no doubt it would cause an uprising of some sort on top of everything else. As it was, she was already causing a stir with her incessant questions, having angered her father and his colleagues earlier that very day with all her nosing about.

The footsteps grew louder, faster causing Martina to wince in fear. She began to whimper softly as she watched him approach, her eyes focusing on his silhouette and taking in the fact that he was very clearly armed. Panicking, she went into a low crouch and began to run.

"You! You there!" the guard suddenly shouted out. "You in white!"

"Damn!" Martina muttered.

Martina had only wanted to peek and now she had to run and along a wall's narrow edge no less. As she ran, she could feel her legs begin to burn and knowing she'd been spotted, she finally stood up and went into a dead run. It was hard to balance, the darkness making it even more difficult, the strange sounds rising below making it distracting. Whimpering louder, she extended her arms for balance, her hands gripping her shawl so as not to drop it. Suddenly, she felt her ankle give and she stumbled, before she knew it, she tumbled over the wall's edge, her slight body striking the hard stone wall before finally slamming into the cold ground below.

 

[Rave]

The fire sparked along the wooden logs in a bright blaze that lit up a pitch black room. The air was dead and silent, not a sound of joy nor a whisper of a hope to be heard. This place, right now this place was overwhelmed with the feeling of burden, this place was drowned in the gravity of hopelessness. This place was in a pit so deep, so dark, that it seemed the only way out was the murder of your own self. The fire did not provide light, no. It was only a reminder of what this place could not achieve. A reminder that this place would never again see something so bright and powerful as fire, never again shine as brightly, never again rise into the sky. Yet the pitch black silence was broken with a mere whimpering voice, a single question drove a wooden steak through silence.

"Mother...what's going on?"

Zaine Crawford took his small steps out into his house's living room, where the fire sparked along the wooden logs and the air fell dead and silent. He walked, holding onto a small stuffed bear close to his chest. His feet trembled, his heart raced like an escaping prey, and his fingers would not stop shaking. Step after step, he made his way to the couch where he could make out the silhouette of his parents sitting motionlessly on the couch by the fire. Zaine reached up his right hand to try and touch his mother's dress to get her attention, only to freeze at the sight of himself. Instead of flesh there was metal, instead of blood there were gears and wires. He had forgotten he was a monster, he had forgotten that he should not be afraid of this darkness as he was told this was his domain. Tears frantically began to fall down his rosy cheeks, at the sight of himself as his mother sat there motionlessly, knowing what fate was about to become of them. How was it, that an infected got past the walls to begin with, no one knew. How was it, that out of the Eighty Nine Thousand living in the Capital it found him. How was it, that it chose to bite a boy of merely seven and sink it's rotten teeth into his arm. How was it, that oh-so-conveniently, the Fortress' medics were there right on time to decapitate his arm. No one knew the answers to these questions. All Zaine's family knew was the plates and vases he broke on command, the decay that he could bring to a wooden object, making it rott upon touch. He intended for none of it, but it happened, and his mother's cold stillness was oh such a bitter reminder of it all.

"Here....S-s-s-s-s-sooomeone...---F---Flesh." The strange words uttered from his mother's lips.

"What? Mother? Are you alright? Mother...Mother?? Mother?!" Zaine screamed, and just like that a sudden pain hit his chest and head and a giant breath was taken.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Along with a giant breath, came a rise from dreams and nightmares as Zaine awoke from his nightmare by his..."Friend's" gesture. He took several quick heavy breaths, every single one of them more painful that the other. He just had to remember this now, He just had to have his wretched past over and over every time he closed his eyes for a moment's rest. With a sigh, he rose from his makeshift bed and kicked some dirt onto the fire to put it out.

"What are you babbling about, Babylon, there's no life on this side of the wall. I'd call your brother alive but...well, he's missing two arms and half his head is shot off. To think I took out half of the guy's brain and he's still walking around. Resilient is your family."

He snorted, trying to shake off his dream with bad humor. He walked around their cave, a small yet somewhat roomy, temporary home where he established a base. It's been over twenty years since he was thrown off the wall, more than twenty years after they all died...Snap, he didn't want to think about this anymore, and so conveniently, Babylon interrupted his thoughts.

"No...M-Master...N...New...Newnewnewnew...Flesh...G-g-girl over the...wall..." The Zombie, apparently domesticated, turned to Zaine and pointed towards the wall itself.

This snapped Zaine out of all his thought process, as he stared blankly into Babylon's eyes. "WHAT?! Are you certain? She'll die in minutes! And of corse she had to pick the fucking day where the fourth colony of the district is hunting beside the fucking wall. For all that is heavenly she must have an IQ of nothing!"

Zaine quickly put on his armor, fashioned from old gears and metal that he had forged in fire himself. He grabbed his pistols and his grabbed his sword that was bathed in the blood of the decay themself. His arm was no longer just a piece of metal, but a full on weapon with blades and gears. His body was scarred from bottom to top, nothing ugly, but merely the slash marks and wounds, the bite marks and gashes of battle.

"Stay the fuck here, I'm going to go hunting."

 

[darkangel76]

Martina clutched her head and rubbed at her temples after she'd struck the cold, hard ground beside the ominous stone wall she'd just fallen over. She gazed upward, feeling a bit dizzy as she tried to focus her eyes on the ledge where she'd been standing only moments ago. The silhouette of the guard was visible against the silvery light of the moon as it shone down from inky black sky as if to laugh at her misfortune at having fallen into the rumbling wilds that seemed to move and have eyes that focused on her.

Just then there were strange sounds that began to rise in the distance. They were growling snarls, ones that wreaked of hunger and malice and almost instantly Martina could feel her heart skip a beat as it began to quicken its pace beneath her heaving chest. She sucked in a sharp breath, gulping for precious air as panic began to set in. Panic and fear. Frantically, she began to search about her, her head tossing itself this way and that, in vain, as she tried to gather her bearings. But it was no use. There was no where to go, to turn and she wasn't about to give herself up to the guard looming above her on the wall's edge. That only left her with one option...

Run.

Swallowing hard, her mouth as dry as desert, Martina stood up. She let out a tiny cry as she placed her weight upon her ankle, clearly sprained from when she'd twisted it and now injured further from her fall. Immediately, hot tears welled up in her pale eyes and began to stream down her porcelain-like cheeks, leaving dirty streaks in their wake while she tried her best to shrug off the pain... that throbbing pain.

The snarls grew louder, more menacing, and Martina knew what it must be that made them. Never had she seen the creatures—her father had seen to that—but she knew. And now, she was about to come face to face with them. Many, from the sound of it.

"Oh dear god, Marty, what have you done?" Martina admonished herself aloud. She limped a few steps and began to run as best she could, but she knew there was no way she could out run the things that would soon be pursuing her, smelling her fresh blood, alive and pumping through a beating heart as her breath moved in and out of working lungs.

Crying slightly, her body shaking and shivering, Martina hobbled through the rough brambles, the growls and hisses growing louder and louder as she tried to get away. Whimpers passed over her lips as she cried, pleas for help, a miracle, something... but she knew it was hopeless. She was inside District 7. Who would be there? Death surrounded her... death and rancid, rotting flesh. Corpses that somehow walked yet needed to feed and soon she would become their prey, their next meal.

 

[Rave]

The echo of her voice bounded through the trees as the dark, withered forest enveloped the district. The echo traveled far enough that it reached Zaine's own ears. Her cries for help, her tears flowing down her cheeks and dropping to the ground, he could hear everything clearly. He didn't know what to think, he'd not seen another human in a quarter century. He began to think the impossible, he began to hallucinate of thoughts that could not be real. "Mother!" He yelled in desperation, such a wild thought that the voice could be of his mother, or one of his sisters perhaps. This place was haunted, this place played tricks on your mind. It does not matter that he saw every member of his family, outcasted and exiled, being eaten alive and killed by the wretched that surrounded him. Maybe his vision blurred, maybe they were lost. It was hope, such arrogant and desperate home that he lost his footing from running so quickly to the voice of the helpless. He needed something to hold on to, beneath the scarred body and the gears and the armor lay a broken man, an exiled man who had lost faith in humanity long ago.

Finally he reached the end of the forest, teeth gritted as he dove into a nearby bush to remain stealthy. He could see the shadows just beyond the mist, he could see the white, pure figure running frantically, he could see that she had someone who wanted to feed on her surrounding her without her knowing. She was two steps away from running into a wretched's arms. He couldn't let that happen, he couldn't let the only hope he had to regain some of his humanity be eaten alive just like everyone he knew. He couldn't make a mistake that caused a death of a human again. Abandoning reason, abandoning stealth, but out of the pure desire to protect he yelled out an instinctive, rough cry that sent chills through his own spine before it hit anyone else. It was loud enough that it could be heard at the gates of the district and beyond.

The wretched froze and turned to him, and before they moved he was already in the mist a midst them. He uttered a quiet mumble, and with a burst of black magic, his metallic arm's gear shifted and changed, forming a long, serrated blade in replacement of an arm. The screaming girl was only a few feet behind him, just a few more running steps and she would see what was happening. Behind the last wall of mist there were only sounds. None could see what was going on besides Zaine and the wretched, but all could hear cries of wrath, and the sounds of the slashing of limbs, the pouring of blood. All could smell the death that surrounded the area just behind the mist. All would know that a monster, much more dangerous and much more wretched than the creatures themselves had just struck. And after a few moments of war, there he stood, drenched in blood yet not his own, two curved blades in each arm instead of a serrated sword for an arm. His chest heaved, his hair slightly unraveled to fall along his golden eyes.

Everything infront of her had vanished, yet everything behind her still lived and wanted to eat her alive. It was either risk the monstrosity ahead, or fall victim to the death behind.

 

[darkangel76]

The air was thick with the scent of death and decay, the smell hitting Martina hard. As she cried, her slim legs moving out of their own volition, her one ankle throbbing with pain with each step she took, she could feel the bile trying to rise. She gagged a few times before she allowed one hand to reach downward and clutch at her gurgling tummy. She couldn't stop, couldn't afford to take pause. To stop and wretch now would cause her to lose time, something she didn't have much of. As it was, the walking corpses were gaining on her. They might have been slow, but they felt no pain, nothing stopping them from wanting to quench that basic instinct.

The need to feed.

Martina was all but sobbing as she pushed at the branches, her tiny body weaving through the trees and over stones and stumps. She winced every time she stepped with her bad ankle, a tiny whimpering sound escaping her as she moved through the eerie shadows that seemed to have a life of their own.

The snarls were loud and Martina chanced a glance of her shoulder. Through strands of platinum blonde, her pale eyes caught sight of the rotting thing stumbling ever closer... closer, closer... gaining on her tail as she moved.

"Oh god," Marty panted, her heart pounding hard as a bead of sweat worked its way down her chest and in between her breasts. The thing would soon be upon her, feasting upon her supple flesh, taking joy in her demise, making merry as she dwindled and died and turned into a beast!

Suddenly, a strange fog clouded the way ahead, but Martina had nowhere else to turn. Dare she move forward and take her chances or... But there was no 'or'. If she lingered, she was a goner, done for. Licking her lips, she ran forward into the strange fog, her eyes clamping shut as she feared the worst, terrified of the nightmares that would surely descend upon her now that her sight would be hindered. But as she pressed onward, her ankle throbbing, her tiny grunts echoing through the trees, the fog began to dissipate, her eyes focusing on something... on someone?

A strange silhouette stood before Martina, one soaked in dark shades of crimson. He smelled of death and decay. She looked upon him, her body frozen as she stared. Her voice wanted to let out a scream, but she couldn't find it and then she saw the crumpled heap at his feet.

"Who... wh-what... are you?" Martina then asked, before she glanced behind herself once more, the snarling sounds growing louder still.

 

[Rave]

His chest heaved and his his breath came out in short pants, the voice behind him snapping him out of a crazed daze of murder and savagery. He slipped his pointing finger through two circular holes at the end of the hilt of both blades he had in his hand and he twirled them rapidly. He turned around and lifted his arms, blades still twirling around each finger. Without a word he swung his arms forward and the blades launched from his fingers and flew right by her face. She would not have guessed his angle, after all there were two blades flying straight at her. However the intention was clear a second later, and a sound of growls boomed from behind her and two wretched dropped dead on the ground on both sides of her, right next to her. Suddenly he darted forward and grabbed her by her wrists, then suddenly swung her onto his back. She had no say in the matter, he was forceful and he knew she could slip away if she wanted to. Yet when he threw her on his back she could see forward, and what she could see were the hordes of wretched gathering behind her. They had all appeared suddenly, he couldn't fight them all with her here. No, she was too much of a hinderence...to delicate. Just then, he shouted.

"Babylon!"

That was all he said, before muttering a few curses. Just then, the ever so domesticated Zombie appeared from behind Zaine, now enlarged and savage, and ran into the wretched horde. One giant swing after another, he was doing away with them. Yet the wretched were not so easily dismayed. One after another they began to climb and bite at Babylon like spiders, their limbs breaking and twisting to put themselves on all fours, their decayed claws digging into flesh. Yet Zaine had no time to help. He swung the girl down into his arms and carried her as someone would carry a bride, and without another word he took off into the forest. He was so swift that the wind hitting his face was somewhat painful, the cold air piercing at his flesh as he ran continuously, as far away from the horde as possible.

Finally, after a few moments of non stop running, he reached the cave he was at previously and tossed her somewhat lightly onto the ground. Years of being alone didn't give him much knowledge in social etiquette, it was good enough that he saved her life. For that, out here, is the biggest miracle that could have ever happened.

 

[darkangel76]

Everything was a blur. One moment, Martina found herself standing, shifting her weight onto her 'good' ankle as she stared at the strange man standing before her, the hissing growls growing louder as they neared. The next, she was draped over his shoulder as he raced off into the darker shadows of the woods, the wild branches seeming to reach out for them much like the creatures that were ever pursuing, ever following.

The sight of those corpses as they hobbled and lurched, lumbering forward with that instinctual need to feast on flesh was enough to make Martina's blood run cold. When the strange man finally pulled her around his body, cradling her close, she buried her face against his chest and wept. Her tiny hands clung tightly to her shawl, but they also grabbed onto his shoulders, tightly gripping whatever she could so that she stayed close as he ran to whatever destination he seemed to have in mind. It was clear he knew the area, perhaps a good portion of the district. It made her wonder just how long he'd lived within the confines of its walls, how much he'd seen, had heard.

A shiver ran along Martina's spine just then. Surely this man had seen more than most should. To have survived even a day? Certainly he must know things, secret things... dark things... Just then, she felt herself being pulled away from his warmth and safety. He was setting her down with a thud. A tiny squeak rolled over her lips and reverberated throughout the cave she suddenly found herself in when her backside made contact with the hard ground. She then looked up at her rescuer, her head tilting in wonder and curiosity as she took in the sight of him—so odd!

"Th-thank you," Martina spoke, her words soft, almost hesitant as she stuttered. "I... I owe you my life." She tugged on her shawl slightly before reaching up to push at her platinum blonde hair which plastered against her slightly dampened face, thanks to the tears that had marked her alabaster cheeks. "I'm Marty... Martina Graeme, actually. Though please, call me Marty." She bit down on her lip, a trembling shiver running across her flesh as she continued to look at him, his appearance and manner making her slightly uneasy. She hoped she hadn't offended him or angered him in some way. It was hard to tell after everything that had happened and even more so with the adrenaline still pumping through her slight body. "I do hope I haven't offended you sir," she then added, her blue eyes looking downward as she brought her arms about herself and began to rub her arms for warmth.

 

[Rave]

A million thoughts were running through his head all of a sudden. He'd just been surviving another day, and now there's someone he'd never seen before in his cave, rescued by him, and just so happens to look like an angel. The thought process went something like 'Who the hell is this? How did she get here? Is she...like me? But she's...weak...yet how does she shine so brightly?" He shook his thoughts off as she began to speak, and as she did he reached for a towel on a makeshift rack to rub all the blood off his face and body. His ears were tuned to her, yet his arms and hands began unclicking and toying with the gears and armor on his body just a little noisily. Just as she had finished speaking, two puffs of steam suddenly shot out of both sides of the armor and it automatically unhinged from his body and fell to the ground...except for his arm. Seems that part wasn't so detachable. He picked his armor up and set it on a stand fashioned specifically for it, and took both of his blades and placed them in their own case. Finally then, he stood naked from the waist up and turned his attention to her.

With all the mist gone, she could see him clearly as he approached her. His face was piercing, his golden could be compared to that of a hawk's. His body was muscular, defined, not simply toned. Littered with scars, yet healed oddly well to not deform the body. He was a rather handsome man, and would make a groom for any would be wife back home if he didn't control the dead. The most obvious feature of him however was his arm, people usually looked down on him because of that, he couldn't expect any different from her.

He walked up to her and grabbed a wet cloth on his way, and kneeled before to her to look at her directly in her eyes. His head tilted lightly, and he simply stared at her for a few moment. When he realized he was simply looking without speech, he cleared his thoughts and looked away.

"Sorry...It's been a while since I've seen something so bright and...well, glowing."

The tone of his voice was not the tone of a man who simply wants to flatter or flirt, it seemed... genuine, like he truly hadn't seen anything bright. Perhaps it was her pure white skin or her beautiful hair, or maybe it was just her...maybe he was smitten, he didn't know. All he knew was that there was someone glowing sitting in his Cave's living room.

 

[darkangel76]

To say he was peculiar was an understatement for he was unlike any man she'd ever laid eyes upon. In fact, he was unlike anyone she'd ever seen. Martina was certain that even her father hadn't seen the likes of someone such as this particular man. There was an odd way about his manner and though she was sure she should be screaming or frantic with panic or fear... she wasn't. After all, he'd gone to the trouble of saving her, risking his life to help her and allow her to see another dawn. Surely the dawn wasn't far away and the sun would be rising soon enough. Wouldn't it? Time seemed to run different ever since she'd left the comforts of home and venture into the darkness and peer into the wilds of District 7.

District 7. Her new home. Funny that.

Martina gathered both her thoughts and her wits, her pale eyes focusing on the man before her as she allowed them to drift over his figure now that it wasn't enshrouded in darkness or mist or hidden through tears as she cried in fear and terror. He definitely was quite a sight to see. Not only did he have an odd manner, but his appearance... there was something intriguing about him that caused her to almost stare. She took notice of his blemishes and flaws, the marred flesh that were obviously marks of past battles, stories and secrets that were his to tell. And then there was his arm. She'd never seen the likes of such a thing, not up close and not of its making. Surely he must've had a dark past to render him in his current condition and then there was the one question that circled within her brain.

Why was he in District 7? She needed to know why he was there, what brought him to the den of devils and demon spawn.

Martina felt her porcelain pale cheeks grow hot as the strange man looked upon her, his face seeming to study her in great detail. She wondered if she passed his scrutiny, what his judgment would be. He said she 'glowed' and she supposed she did. She wore white and was unusually pale, but then a lot of that was because she didn't venture out very much, holing up inside the fortress due to her father's wishes while he practiced his alchemy and trained those showing skill. She often times wished she'd had the gift, but alas she had no spark. Nothing. She was worthless in that regard. A troublesome girl with no skill or magic to speak of, only an unquenchable curiosity and a stubbornness that surpassed most. She knew she infuriated her father, though the man loved her. And then there were his colleagues. They only barely tolerated her and it really had only been a matter of time. Once she'd turned of age a year ago, their tolerance had begun to wane.

"It's quite all right," Martina spoke, her voice soft and gentle. Her eyes watched the man's armor fall to the ground. She then briefly looked at his arm before shifting them to look upon his face. "Might... might I ask you your name, kind sir?" she then asked with a smile as she pulled her shawl a bit tighter about her body. "I wish to properly thank the man who saved me."

 

[Rave]

His hands moved along her body without touching it for a few minutes, as if trying to sense something about her while she spoke and took everything in. He took the wet cloth that was in his left hand and began wiping away the blood along her arms first and fir-most, lightly squeezing a few droplets of cold water along the skin before wiping away. He then lifted the cloth along with his other hand up to her face, and brushed away a stray strand of hair that covered her cheeks. He wiped away little spots of blood, probably his own after carrying her so close, away from her face delicately.

"So they don't' smell you and come eat you in your sleep."

Her remarked with total seriousness at his actions, he had no idea what he said could possibly be, I don't know, frightening and cause lack of sleep. Either way, his ears perked at her question while he took his hands away from her face. He brought the towel all the way down to her legs, and suddenly he flung the lower part of her dress upwards. In normal society, he would get a scream and a slap, yet his purpose was not lewd. He tied the wet towel along her sprained ankle gently, taking her foot into his hand so he would not accidentally bruise her further. "I had a name once." He uttered quietly, before looking up for her for a brief moment.

"Zaine...I was named...Zaine, son of Crawford."

His name must have carried some infamy despite his un-awarness of the fact. After all, when an entire family is outcast and banished into a district, their name slandered as murderers and mad sorcerers, they tend to be known. Yet he had no idea, as far as he was concerned all that he had to do was not get sacrificed or eaten alive like his mother, his father, his sister and three brothers. Being the youngest meant that he was always sheltered, someone always died before him. He'd watched it all, every single member of his family die before his eyes, allowing him to run away...maybe that's why he rescued her, maybe that's why he felt this odd affinity, this strange sense of protectiveness over this person he had no idea about. It was the guilt that tore at him, for once he would sacrifice his own safety for someone, for once he would not cause someone close to him to die.

"I need to cut this." He uttered as he looked up into her blue eyes, unexpectedly he fixed upon them with his own, wordless for a moment. She was rather captivating and he didn't really know why. He had no standard to judge beauty by, so he could not tell that in fact she was angel-like. All he knew was that she was...warmer than anything he'd seen in years, she was...more delicate, in a good way. One does need delicacy after living in a constant state of war.

 

[darkangel76]

Martina blushed slightly as the strange man began to tend to her, almost neglecting himself as he did so. He'd roughly and haphazardly mopped himself off only to immediately focus his attentions upon her. So strange given how he'd so carelessly placed her upon the ground only moments ago. It made him all the more puzzling as she watched him, his manner beckoning for her to somehow understand or better yet learn his story. Surely he had a story. No one came to appear as he did or be where he was and not have a story to tell. She wondered if he'd dare tell it to her, share that piece of his past, his soul, his mind.

Just then, Martina let out gasp. It was soft, almost inaudible, as the man suddenly moved to lift up her dress. The action took her off guard, nothing more. And though her heart began to pound beneath her breasts, she didn't feel fear or anything of the sort. It was strange. Her father would've broken the man where he knelt, others would've scolded or worse. But he'd saved her, helped her, was caring for her. His odd manner continued to beckon and intrigue, holding her captivated as she watched him suddenly tend to her injured ankle. Tending and introducing himself as Zaine... Crawford.

Crawford. The name sounded familiar and as she sat there for a moment, Martina let her mind wander. She recalled the cases, the names... there was something about it that she couldn't quite pinpoint and it niggled at the back of her mind. It had the ring of a name she recalled overhearing a long time ago, one day when she'd overheard her father speaking of things considered taboo, things... not for her ears. He'd told her to run off and play, to move along and so... she did. She wondered what meaning that name had to him and his colleagues, but it was obviously of some great importance. Something deemed dark and wrong.

Shrugging it off for the time being, she let her thoughts drift back to the present and immediately a smile lit up Martina's face. "Well, thank you, Zaine Crawford," she began as she watched him, her eyes fixed up his when he looked up at her. "I owe you my life. I owe you so much." She gave him a warm smile, reaching out with a gentle hand, she touched his arm, letting her delicate fingers linger against it for several moments before pulling away so that she could hold onto her shawl once more. "If not for you, I'd be dead..." A shiver ran along her spine causing her body to shudder. "If there is anything I can do to repay you, I'm at your service, sir," she then stated warmly. "Also, and pardon me for my boldness but... how is it that you are able to survive such creatures? How are you able live out here among them?"

 

[Rave]

She touched his arm, and at that moment his flesh twitched lightly beneath her fingers. As if his muscles had been touched by something new, something that they have never encountered before. It was almost like a shiver, of both fear and excitement, to have something so pure touch him. It had been so long since he had felt a hand caress him so, it had been so long that the more she lingered, the more he found it difficult to move on from the position they were. Until she removed her hand, and asked all those piercing questions that he was not sure he was ready to answer. He let her feet drop back down to the ground gently and walked over inside the cave a little deeper. As if he put her questions on hold for a few seconds. He went inside and stripped himself of all his remaining clothes, throwing them aside and putting on a pair of make-shift shorts that look like underwear more than anything. He came back to her with a small knife, and kneeled before her yet again.

"They detect the smell of dried blood. The less you have on you, the better chance they won't find you."

With those words, he took the knife and started cutting at the bottom of her dress. It was rather bright and white as snow, a loss, yet a necessary loss. He cut it to just above her knees where there were no more traces of blood, and as he carved the knife through the cloth, he looked up into her eyes and spoke.

"How...did you get here? Were you exiled too? Are there others like me?" He seemed to have more questions for her than answers, although they all held clues to what he was, to why he was out here. He needed to know.

"Where did you come from?...can you take me?...are you an angel?" His eyes, through as pure as the color gold, were filled with both hope and despair, such desperate hope that perhaps she was an angel, those mystical creatures talked about in children's stories and old texts, that perhaps she was sent to bring him back inside...he needed an answer, just anything.

 

[darkangel76]

Martina suddenly found herself biting down on her lip when Zaine left only to return nearly naked before her eyes. She wasn't used to such a lack of modesty. Where she grew up, it was considered undignified to show so much skin especially in front of someone you knew so little. Swallowing hard, she just smiled politely, trying her best not to stare, to not let her eyes move too much over his body as he moved about the cave without a care. Fortunately, his awkward manner helped keep her in check, but only just.

Suddenly, Zaine knelt before her once more, his golden eyes staring deeply into her own. Martina couldn't help but wonder if he was searching for something, hoping to find something hidden deep within. As to what, she had no idea. She wasn't anything special... just the daughter of a high-ranking alchemist, one who'd trained several and seen much. One who spoke little of what he did day after day. In some ways, she felt as if she hardly knew her father and in many ways she didn't. Though that was her father's plan, what he wanted. Her recent inquiries had bothered him greatly and to a point of anger. Had she pressed further it probably would've caused problems, but that just wasn't her way. She couldn't help herself and it probably served her right that she fell into this den of demon spawn.

Riiiip. In that moment, Zaine began to cut at Martina's dress. Her eyes instantly went wide, blinking rapidly as she watched him cut away at the filmy fabric that had been covering her milky thighs. He was exposing her, making her indecent... no. No. He was helping her yet again. Saving her, teaching her.

"I understand," Martina whispered as she watched Zaine cut away the last pieces of her dress, making it rather short. "An angel...?" she mumbled. "I'm hardly that, kind sir, you flatter me that you think so." She gave him a warm smile. "I'm from the other side of the wall, from the stone fortress known as Piatra. I accidentally fell into this place. I'm not supposed to be here... no one knows I'm here and if my father finds out I am, what I was doing..." her voice trailed. "I'm afraid I'm not sure what to do or where to go or if I can even escape." She paused a moment. "Even if I do, I'll be in certain trouble. I'm afraid I've caused quite a stir." At that, her cheeks turned quite red, more so than when he'd ripped her dress, something she realized was rather odd, but then again, her entire situation was rather odd. "I apologize for my ramblings. You must think me a silly girl. I wish I could be of better help. I... I'm sorry, kind sir."

 

[Rave]

That glitter of hope and thought faded from his eyes when she told him that she simply fell over the wall, that she's here by accident. Accident, that's all that kept happening to him. His expression changed for a few moments, and the curious, hopeful, yet odd man turned into a saddened, hurt odd man. How foolish was he, to think that there were others like him. It's so rare he probably was the only one, at least the only one still alive let alone in the same district. His head turned and looked away for a moment, as he muttered the words "I see." He cleared his throat and picked up the remaining, cut off part of her dress only to throw it with the other pile of dirty clothes. With that he got up and away from her warmth that he previously could not escape. He took himself and walked further inside the cave where a bright light shone, a small fire had been made there. He figured she would follow, so he sat with his back to the cave wall and placed a stick into the fire, holding onto an end of it to poke and fuel the wooden logs into the fire some more.

His eyes were closed, as if finally taking a second's rest. He didn't know if she had chosen to stay where she was, away from him, or if she had come to sit next to him, either way he spoke to her. He dreaded the words that he knew he had to say, he hated knowing that she was not like him, that he was still alone, that she would have to go back to where he could never return.

"I'm afraid you'll be here for about three weeks or so then...Martina." He felt a little awkward saying her name, it came out in a slight stutter, as if the name would shatter along his lips if said too harshly. "The wretched wont move from there until about then...you can risk it if you'd like, however take it from someone who has not seen that wall in decades...take it from someone who's..." He paused for a moment, as if every word, every memory drove a knife bigger than the previous into his chest. "Who's seen man after man, child after child, brother after sister fall in vain attempt."

His teeth were clenched, and his body tightened lightly around the fire as his eyes finally opened to stare at the flames. "I'll...tend to you while you wait, if that is what you choose."

He didn't know why, she would be a liability, she would risk him getting killed, she would draw more flesh eaters and she would most likely give away his hideout. She could tell he was uncertain, but at the same time his words emitted an aura of comfort, of protection. As if he truly would shield her from whatever it is that she is afraid of...until she left him.

"And don't call me sir..." He said that with slight bitterness. "That is what they called the one responsible for me...my creation."

 

[darkangel76]

For the first time since meeting Zaine, Martina felt her first wave of bitter cold and it had nothing to do with the weather. A shiver ran along her spine and her body began to tremble slightly, her hands clutching tightly at the shawl that clung to her body like a second skin. Her eyes shifted away from his face, unable to take in the terrible expression he now seemed to bear. It was like a knife to the heart the way his face had changed, the way it had almost hardened as a darkness began to loom and hang about him as a result of her apology for not being a creature of the heavens.

Oh how Martina wished she could take back those words, but they'd only be filled with emptiness and she hardly wanted to fill his heart with false hope and promises she knew that could hardly be kept. Especially after all he'd done for her. It just wouldn't be right. Though she didn't know him, she knew he deserved better than that. He'd saved her, helped her, risked his life for her own. She owed him that much, if not more.

But no matter.

Gone was the softness, that spark of warmth and awe. Martina wished she could somehow bring it back. But it was hopeless. She was nothing but a common girl, useful to... no one and meaningful probably only to one person—her father. And even his patience and love seemed to be wearing thin as she grew. She supposed it was her lot in life to be friendless. Her father had always wanted it that way and so far he'd gotten his wish. Maybe he'd spoken to fate and struck a deal.

Martina had to chuckle inwardly at her morbid thoughts. She knew it was just coincidence. But in some strange way, she could relate to the loneliness this man seemed to be suffering. The mere fact that he seemed so desperate for her to take him away spoke of that well enough, but... How had he come to even be here? Why? What had he done? How had he managed to live, to survive? She supposed he'd never tell her now, not any longer now that she no longer she no longer seemed to matter in any way.

Why did it even matter? Why had she cared? She didn't know him... she'd only just met him a few minutes ago... Could she really be longing so desperately for someone to care whether she came or went, whether she...

Martina blinked hard in that moment as her pale eyes suddenly welled with tears. Quickly, she brought a hand up to her face and brushed them away, hoping that some how Zaine wouldn't see. She knew, most likely, it was in vain. But the girl needed to hope nonetheless.

Sitting down next to Zaine, her movements slow and almost deliberate, Martina nodded. "I shall stay with you, s-... I mean, Mr. Crawford, or... shall I call you Zaine?" She looked down at the ground, her eyes stinging as she kept her eyes fixed upon the stone, terrified to let them stray for fear of upsetting Zaine more than she'd already had. "I... I'm sorry I'm nothing more than what I am, but if there is a way out, you are welcome to come with me." She paused a moment. "Though I'm not even sure there's a place for me any longer after all I've stirred up," she then admitted, her cheeks turning red as she continued to stare at the floor. "And... pardon me, but... what creation?"

As her words rolled off her tongue and spilled into the air, Martina finally dared to look away from the ground. Her eyes searched the shadows for the form of Zaine who was located only across the way since she'd followed him deeper into the cave. She wondered what he'd meant by that, if he'd explain or if he'd just push her away since all she was now was 'nothing'.

 

[Rave]

His expression had suddenly brightened, if not for a tiny moment, when his eyes opened at the feeling of her sitting next to him after all. Despite his distance, despite the fact that she was not a true mythical godess that would rescue him from this hell he was thrown in, her warmth remained. He instinctively found himself leaning into her, as if his body was drawn, magnetized even, to something it had lacked for so long. It was starved, starved of a warm touch, starved of the gentle feeling of warm skin, the delicacy of a woman. His head turned to look at her lightly, seeing that she was facing the ground and afraid to look up. He remembered that look, his own when he first came here was quite similar. Looking down, afraid of the world, afraid of everything around you.

"Please...Mr.Crawford was my father." He smiled, yet the smile was sad and lifeless at the memory. It was his weakest one, seeing as his father was the first to perish in these horrid lands.

"When I was young that was a joke...I'm not sure if it still brings laughter to people, it's been decades...so forgive me if my attempt was somewhat seasoned."

He then locked eyes with her as her own head turned and she grew enough courage to look at him again. Just then, his broken heart started healing bit by bit. For some reason, whenever she looked at him with those eyes he remembered all that was good about the world, the blue in them mirrored the bright sky that he had not seen in so long. He found himself getting closer and closer to her without consciousness of it. Whether it was an inch to the side, or him leaning towards her, he was un-aware of it until he found himself but a thin paper's length away from her. His hair fell along his face lightly as his lips opened to speak, his words whispers, the distance now small enough between them that voices were not fit to be loud.

"There is no place for me beyond those walls...you cannot take me back. Not after what I have done..." He frowned lightly just then, trying not to reflect his own frown along her lips as well. "If you knew what I truly was...you would not be this close...you would regret your decision to stay."

 

[darkangel76]

Martina tried to smile when Zaine mentioned the 'joke'. She wasn't sure if he was trying to attempt humor or not, the situation he was in—that they both were in—it was unnerving to say the least with all those 'things' out there snarling and lurching, searching for flesh to feast upon and devour. Again, a shivering tremor ran along her spine. The urge to suddenly look away became strong, but she refused and held his gaze. She could see that his sudden displeasure from moments ago was waning, dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. She knew she couldn't fault him. After all, she'd gotten an up close and personal view of the place, a front row view. And what she'd seen had made her blood curdle.

This man had saved her despite all odds. Martina knew full well that she should be dead, her body bitten and torn savagely to shreds by those creatures that lurked and moved in the shadows of District 7. Yet... here she was. Here she was sitting, alive and well, by a fire no less and conversing with a man who against all odds had rescued her. She still wondered how he'd managed. But then again, to have survived this long, and it was clear he'd been here longer than anyone should, he must've learned a few tricks.

Just then, the bitter cold feeling that Martina had been feeling when Martina had to admit she was no creature from heaven began to fade. The warmth began to grow once more. Her eyes found Zaine's and she suddenly found herself searching them for something—but what, she couldn't say. One thing was certain. He was carrying a burden. Perhaps it was loss? Surely he'd borne loss. After all, to be here alone, on his own, no family... no one. She wondered what happened to his family.

Crawford. Why did that name sound so familiar?

Again, Martina shrugged it off. "Everyone has a place of some sort," she stated in a soft whisper, her hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of platinum blonde behind an ear. "Me, you." She paused a moment. "It might not be out there, but it certainly isn't in here. After what I've seen, no living person belongs here. None." A shudder passed over her and she began rubbing at her arms.

Without realizing it, Martina shifted slightly, her body turning toward Zaine, moving a bit closer. Despite his strange appearance and odd manner, the odd way in which he spoke, he offered a comfort she couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was because he'd done the impossible by showing up when he had or maybe it was because he was company when she was certain she'd find none. But whatever the case, he was there and she was grateful and she felt a tiny tug every time he seemed to 'pull'.

"And pardon me for asking... Zaine..." Martina smiled as she spoke his name, her cheeks turning a bit pink as the word rolled off her tongue. "But, what have you done? I can't imagine you doing anything so bad it would place you... here."

 

[Rave]

When she smiled at him and blushed, he took pause for a moment to understand what had just happened to him. He found his heart beating rather rapidly, a feeling he was rather familiar of yet...it was different this time. It wasn't out of fear or worry...he didn't know what, but he felt like stumbling his words and looking away just as much as she did. Yet he locked his gaze upon her still, this odd and awkward attraction remaining strong despite her hurtful questions. He knew she was unaware, and she would remain unaware until he's told her the truth. But could he? She would just abandon him like everyone else did...maybe.

Just maybe she was different, she didn't run away yet and she seemed to be drawn to him just as much as he was drawn to her. Or so he hoped. Was there really a choice after all? He could hide it, sure. Then she would just figure out he's holding back and leave after the three weeks have gone by. At this point, he didn't care, he just didn't want her to leave. As much as he would have to teach her, as much as he would have to work to keep her alive along side him, he wanted her there. He was beyond what the word desperate meant.

Just then, his golden eyes locked with her own once more and his voice was no louder than a whisper. "Everything you are, I am not...you are beautiful, you are brave, you are gentle...I am not." It wasn't just worthless self pity, he was beginning to truthfully answer her questions.

"I did not come here by choice...I was forced here by the people behind the walls you came from...I have no place where I am not wanted. When the head magister of Alchemy, the one who decides what happens to people's lives, decides that yours and your entire families' deserve to be exiled and left for dead to the dead, there's not much choice for me."

His voice wavered, and he could sense himself about to let loose a flow of tears at the painful memories. Perhaps one managed to escape his eyes and roll down his cheek, yet he had to persevere, he had to, at some point, talk about it.

"I belong here...I...was stupid and I was bitten and...I got these strange gifts and because of it they threw us all out here like...like fucking garbage."

 

[darkangel76]

The air shifted and a strange coldness seemed to suddenly surround Martina as the question loomed between them for a moment. But it wasn't long before Zaine finally broke the silence, his voice hushed to a point where she almost had to strain to listen. As he spoke, her heart began to pick up speed, racing faster and faster as it pumped within the confines of her chest, her corset ready to burst as it heaved with each breath she took—the subsequent harder than its predecessor.

"I... I..." Martina stammered, her voice so quiet she had all she could do to hear herself. Had she heard him correctly? Crawford... Crawford... that name. She knew it sounded familiar. Could it be... could it?

Martina wracked her brain as she began to think on the past, that time when she'd overheard her father speak of a case from his own past, one concerning a family that had gone on trial. He'd called it 'nasty business'... 'sordid work'. Slowly, she remembered the words her father had muttered and used. And they'd all been used to describe something very particular, but she hadn't heard what, only the name of the family. The name... the name... What was it...? Could it be...? Was it?

Just then, Martina blinked and let out a gasp. Her eyes suddenly stung as they welled with tears. What had her father done? What had he been a part of? She brought her hand to her mouth as she listened to Zaine speak, telling her about how he and his family had been exiled, left to die for what they were. And what were they? Far as she could tell, he at least seemed decent enough. He might be odd, but he was kind enough to put his own life aside for another, for hers. That spoke volumes of his character and the sort of man he was.

What had her father done? Why?

"What sort of gifts do you have, Zaine?" Martina then asked.

Martina's curiosity was piqued despite her despair at realizing that it was her own father that had seen to it that Zaine and his family had suffered so. The guilt that consumed her in that moment overwhelmed her and she knew that as a result she needed to somehow right the wrong in father's stead since the man would never do it himself. Surely whatever it was that this man possessed it didn't mean he belonged in District 7. She could hear the pain in Zaine's voice, could see it in his face and eyes. Yes, she owed him more than just her life. She owed him her service, her everything. It was her family's fault he was here and she would fix that. And she would stay by his side until he said otherwise, that was if he didn't want her dead after he learned the truth—that her family was responsible for his current fate.

 

[Rave]

He glanced at her a little oddly for a moment when she gasped and her eyes teared up, not knowing if what he said had affected her somehow personally or...wait, what was he thinking. She's a delicate, gentle woman whos just been told that a family of seven was thrown out into a district and left to die one by one, a grown man would cry. She couldn't know anything about this, it was impossible. The thoughts swarmed around his brain for a little while longer, the heat of the fire finally warming his body enough that he felt just slightly more comfortable. His body found itself leaning into hers further, so that their shoulders, sides, and hips touched. Perhaps it was for further comfort, or perhaps it was just simply the needs of a lonley man, a man who was desperate for a touch.

Just then she asked her question, and he froze for a moment. Suddenly he let out a snort, somewhat abruptly yet obviously slightly sarcastic. It was not at what she said, but at how she put it.

"Gifts?...they are not gifts. They are curses...they are my bane, my shame, and my pain. Every day when I was young, I used to pray to a non existing god or diety that he would remove these...these lich horrors from me, yet these...powers, only grew stronger."

He paused for a moment, remembering something that made him crack a small smile.

"That is why...I suppose I thought you to be an angel." He lifted his normal arm lightly, so that his hand stood next to her cheek and his finger brushed down her cheek for a moment.

"I'd always imagined this god would send some... Savior or Angel, and they would look just like you. As beautiful as God himself, as white as the winter snow, Skin so soft a single touch would throw a desperate man into bliss...and what you are, is not far from what I imagined."

 

[darkangel76]

A deadly knot began to form deep in the pit of Martina's tummy. It twisted and turned causing her insides to feel contorted. This poor man had been through so much, his life altered forever, his outlook on life swayed by everything he'd been through and more. And it was her family's fault... her family's. She listened to Zaine speak so bitterly about himself, seeing nothing but ugliness, nothing but disdain. She still wasn't certain what could be so terrible, he seemed kind enough, though a bit eccentric—but when was eccentricity of person a crime? He'd more than proven his worth in her eyes.

He'd saved her, risked his own life for hers...

Martina blinked back the hot tears she felt forming in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Zaine to feel pitied. Instead, she wanted him to feel as though he'd found someone who cared and gave a damn. She might not be an angel descended from heaven to save him from his personal hell, but... Yes, she'd right this wrong as best she could. She'd make him see that he was worth more than exile. Already, he'd shown her that he was even if he might not believe so.

Just then, Martina felt a slight brush of warmth, her head turning slightly to see Zaine's body just barely touching her own. She wondered if most would shrink away from him given his unique appearance—scarred, slightly altered. But those weren't his fault. No doubt he'd had no choice. They were a means to survive. He had to live with that everyday. Every single day. Again, she felt her eyes prickle and a pang of hurt struck at her core.

Martina's eyes locked with Zaine's for a moment, his hand reaching up to touch her face as he spoke. Her heart lurched and she wished to whatever god would listen that she could be his angel, that she could be forgiven for the hasty and horrible decisions her father had made. She'd been a small child then, but now...

"You flatter me," Martina whispered as her skin flushed ever so slightly, tingeing a pale shade of pink. "Out there, no one would ever compare me to such things. Out there, I'm ordinary, with practically nothing to offer anyone." As she spoke, she felt her insides grow slightly cold. Indeed she was ordinary out there. She had no magical skills to speak of, something her father had been saddened by. He'd always hoped she'd have the gift of alchemy, but it was never meant to be... or so it seemed. And so she remained forever the sheltered ornament, a pretty object that was good for nothing. At least Zaine didn't see her that way, yet another thing that beckoned her to him and made her wish to help him all the more. "I wish I had more to offer you after all you've done for me." She paused just then, her tongue moving as she licked her lips. "Though I should like for you to come with me when its time for me to try and escape. We can go anywhere you want. You and me... together."

Martina knew it would mean giving up her current life on the outside by extending the offer and she was fully prepared for doing so. After everything her father had done, there was no way she could go back to him anyway. Besides, after the stirs she'd caused and the questions she'd raised with his colleagues, there would be problems with him on top of things. Life would be a mess. Better to start anew, she figured. But she wouldn't be able to do it alone. Would Zaine go with her? And moreover, would he if he knew the truth of why he was in District 7?

Martina felt her insides roil and turn. She was terrified to tell Zaine the truth of why he was there, fearful he'd take things out on her even though it had been her father who'd done everything. He was in so much pain and anguish, loathing himself for who he was, what he'd become... it pained her to see it. Dare she tell him that the one he thought moments ago was an angel was actually the daughter of his Lucifer?

"But, Zaine, before you decide anything, I..." Martina's voice trailed and her eyes welled up again. "There's something I should tell you, I... a... a memory that's been triggered..." She felt the tears trickle down her cheeks as she looked into Zaine's eyes. "You'll probably think me a demon as opposed to an angel..." She shook her head, her tummy fluttering as fear began to wrack her body causing it to tremble violently. Swallowing hard, she knew she needed to continue, to tell him. She had to right the wrong and this was where it had to start. "M-my father, Zaine... I think he was the one... the one that placed your family here." Just then she choked on a sob. "I'm so sorry... forgive me..." she begged.

 

[Rave]

As her feelings went through a major crisis for a few moments, it almost seemed like he could sense her distraught. From the slight moments she flushed and her cheeks redenned, to the moments where her smile seemed to dissapear and her body grew cold. At first, he wasn't sure what was occupying her mind so. Was it the fact that he had such horrible powers after all? It was a legititmate reason to leave him, to think he was an odd freak of creation that shouldn't be approached let alone touch the way he did her. "It's okay, I understand...you don't want to be around m--"

Just then, he paused at what she said, and his eyes grew wide for a moment. He sat there in shock before words finally managed to slip out of his mouth. "You...and me?" He froze. Instead of running away, this girl was actually willing to stay with him, to take her life and throw it away with him into the pit of chaos. And it would be chaos if someone knew the District 7 monster escaped with a woman and ran off somewhere. They would never be safe, they would always run and settle in the farthest of places. Yet...as absurd as it was, she asked him. Not only did she stay with him, care for him, and be the first person to ever treat him like a human...but she was willing to throw her life away for him. It had taken him a second to realize that the concept of throwing one's life away is only so normal and an every day thing for him, since he lived out here. For her to say such things, for her to take that huge step when her life had probably been littered with suitors and comfort must have taken an incredible amount of courage and a heart so pure and gentle she overthrew the angels he dreamed of.

But just as it all seemed angelic, just as he was about to speak back she continued. And oh when she did ,did his heart fall to the pit of his stomach like it never had before. Every word that came out of her lips after that knotted his stomach further, and his touch instantly grew cold and he scooted away from her lightly in a moment of shock. It was a feeling worse than going out into the horde of undead, a feeling worse than being bitten by them, than being alone. At this point, he was further shocked by a feeling he had not experienced in a long time. His cheeks were wet and water dripped down onto his lap from his face, his vision blurred and his eyes itched. He lifted his hands, staring at her still, to touch where the water was and it was streaming down his cheeks without his control. Tears had not been an option here yet...here they were. Finally he mustered up some courage to speak.

"If this is a joke...I'm not amused...for you to---to tell me that the person I saved from harm...the one I risked my life for, the one I thought to be my angel is the daughter of the man who killed me. Who killed everything I know..."

He couldn't help but suddenly feel a surge of anger, and acting upon it he stood and stared at her with cold eyes, eyes that reflected the endless suffering of the last twenty years. At heart he knew she was not at fault, but for so long there had been no one to get mad to, he didn't know who to get angry with, all these feelings were lost or locked deep within his core and she was the key to unlock all of them.

"Are you like him?! He yelled out, unable to control his emotions, his tears yet staining his face. "Should I gain my vengeance against the person who literally ended my life and cast me dead right now?!"

 

[darkangel76]

His expression, it was like a million shards of ice piercing her flesh... the way his eyes looked into her own as if they were scrutinizing and judging her soul. And then there was the way he suddenly moved away as if she wasn't fit to be touched... Martina could hardly fault him. Her father had condemned him and his entire family to a life of exile, a life fraught with flesh eating monsters... she was the spawn of a demon in his eyes. Why wouldn't he slink away from her?

She wasn't fit to be touched. She wasn't fit to be saved...

Martina felt all of her emotions roiling beneath her porcelain pale skin. It was as if she would crack at any moment. Crack and crumble, falling into a lifeless heap onto the floor, nothing but dust to be swept away. Perhaps Zaine should've just left her out there. Perhaps she should've been left to her own devices, her own demise. But... if she could right what her father had done, if she could fix the cruelty and damnation he'd imposed, she wanted that chance. He deserved that chance.

It was funny. When she'd fallen and landed upon the cold ground earlier that night, her first thoughts were to get out, to somehow go back—despite how much she knew she didn't really fit in. But now? None of that was seeming to matter. In the matter of hours, life was taking a jagged turn and her eyes were opening. There was more to life, so much more. She'd always known this to a certain degree. If not, she'd never been as curious as shed always been, stirring up trouble and nonsense as her father had always put it. For one exhibiting little to no magical skill, she'd always had a way of causing him troubles with his colleagues. And now that she was learning cold truths about the things her father had done, did and probably always would do... she wouldn't stand for it. She couldn't.

No. She couldn't go back to that life. And she'd help Zaine if he'd let her... if he...

Martina could feel her tears streaming down along her cheeks. She felt absolutely horrible for all the things her father no doubt had done to not just Zaine and his family, but probably others as well.

"I... I'm hardly like him... Zaine... I'm not him..." Martina whispered through her tears as she brought one hand up to wipe at them. "I wish I could undo what's happened... th-the... the best I can d-do is to fix it. Please Zaine... let's fix it... together. You and I."

Still crying, Martina reached out a hand toward Zaine.

"Together... I don't fault you if you don't trust me. How can I after what my father has done? It... it..." Another sob bubbled up and Martina felt a fresh wave of tears fall. "It's abominable. I'm so sorry... I can only ask that you forgive me. I didn't know... I didn't know he did these things..." She reached further. "Please... together... let me fix what he's done. I... I wanted to start by telling you the truth the moment I remembered... no secrets, Zaine. You deserve that."

Martina looked into Zaine's eyes as she pleaded with him, hoping that he wouldn't cast her out to be the flesh-eaters next meal. If he did, she wouldn't hate him, though she knew the terror that would wrack her body, mind and soul would be unlike anything she'd ever known. Still, she hoped he'd take her hand... that he'd try... that he'd see she truly wanted to fix everything her father had done if she was able.

 

[Rave]

His head had never been so overwhelmed with different and contradicting thoughts before. It shot a pain through his skull like it was splitting it in two, and the tears flowing down his eyes dried from the vanishing of sorrow and it's replacement with anger and frustration. He didn't know what to do with her, what to make of it, what to think even as she talked. He had suffered and nearly died, lost limbs and his body got torn with scars because of her family, yet there she stood weeping just as he did. It was a question if he was strong enough to...not forgive, but overcome. Despite the horrors that had happened to him because of her family, there she was being everything her father was not. His eyes looked up and locked onto her own, his filled with regret as he watched her hand extend upwards and watched her plead to him that she is nothing like her father. There was no reason not to believe her, she had offered all these things...but could he truly trust her.

"You...you came here and...switched my life around...now I don't know what to do with myself, nor with you..."

He paused for a moment, taking a breath that was much needed as most of the air in his chest had left him in the form of sighs and yells. He looked at her again after brushing some of his dreaded hair away from his face, yet this time his look did not promote anger or distrust, it was more...weakness. She had severed him more than the wretched had done in twenty years, and the power to mend him rested with her and her alone.

His hand lifted slowly, and hesitantly they took her own. At the touch, his fingers laced with hers until he held her hand tighter than he'd held anything in his life. Slowly, yet it seemed so quick to him, he pulled her into him and buried her against his chest, his head falling in the corner of her neck as his own eyes pressed against her skin. His hand held hers still, and his other hand wrapped around her to hold her at her waist and press her against his body tightly.

"I can't do this alone...not anymore. I'm tired....I'm tired." He whispered.

 

[darkangel76]

A pang of what she was certain should be fear, but oddly wasn't, tore through her. Martina didn't feel fear in those few moments as she looked into Zaine's eyes, trying her best to read his thoughts. Instead, there was heartache... genuine hurt. She felt a strange pain as she began to empathize with everything he must've gone through at the whim of a man—her father—who thought himself above others and thus in the right to judge and decide the fate of a family. It wasn't right; she knew that in her soul. It was why she wept for him; her body trembling as she choked on the sobs that continued to erupt as if it had been her own fate to have been condemned to such a life in District 7.

Just then, the air shifted and the bitter cold began to stir. Martina could feel it swirling about her body, moving and dissipating, flowing away. She cocked her head to the side as she continued to look at Zaine, her eyes pleading with his, her hand still reaching, her entire body and soul... hoping. For the briefest of moments, she couldn't breathe. The air would not come. Her lungs would not fill. For the briefest of moments, panic began to swim through her mind as despair filled her heart. Yet, that warmth...

As the warmth began to grow, Martina closed her eyes for a moment. She allowed herself to focus on how it began to spread. It started with her hand at the tips of her fingers... a gentle brush followed by a slight squeeze and then... Just then, her eyes snapped open.

Suddenly, Martina found herself being pulled into a tight embrace. Zaine's arms wrapped about her tiny frame, his body pressing firmly against her own. She could feel every angle, every plane. He was a stark contrast to her softness, her curves. But then, he'd been hardened to life in the 'district', a life fraught with monsters and horror. Her own life had been filled with comfort while she'd been sheltered from everything, even the truth of all the things her father was a part of, the things that he did, the decisions he made. The man was more than a mere alchemist. She was learning the whole truth now and it stung deeply. Much more so than knowing how bothered the man had always been that she seemed to exhibit no magical talents or skills... as if that was all that mattered in the world!

There was so much more to life... wasn't there? Martina hoped there was. And now that she was in the arms of Zaine, she had to believe it.

"You don't have to be alone any longer, Zaine. Not any more," Martina whispered as Zaine held her close. "I promise you that I won't leave your side unless you wish it. We can leave this place together. We can find a way. I promise you. You have my word." She looked up into his eyes and smiled at him warmly. "My word. I never break it. Not ever. If you look into my eyes, you'll know I'm telling the truth. Look into them and see." Taking a deep breath, she tried her best not to blink. "My word, Zaine. I give it to you. Where you go, I follow. You have my word."