Back to Square One [Necros]

[Achema]

Another cool night, the same salty breeze flowing through the air. The same cool waves washing up on the shore as there had always been...nothing had changed, except for the girl who walked the shores. She wore a long black dress that covered her arms and her neck, fitting at her waist then billowing out downwards, reaching down to her ankles. She walked bare-footed on the sand, her bright, now slitted crimson eyes leering coldly out on the horizen. She sifted through her memories of when she first walked on the beach...she remembered very clearly, actually. Her now hard, icy scarlet eyes had rounded pupils, and held a bit of a warmth, however hollow, to them. Her face had been more at ease, and she had been less...dangerous, less feral. She had strode the shores of the beach as a stranger to this city, knowing no one but herself and her own shadow. And now, here she stood, something she thought she would never be: a vampire, in the true sense of the word. She had always been a vampire, in the literal sense, but now...she was really a vampire, the kind humans had a good reason to fear. That feeling of regret, when she bit into the neck of a human? Gone, forever. The small bit of mercy that she held deep within the confines of her scarlet eyes? Disappeared, extinct. Now, they were colder than the coldest ice, holding nothing but perhaps a death sentence for whoever they might descend upon. Even her stance looked different, the way she held herself. Poised, elegant as always...but something more foreboding, like a panther crouched in preparation for the hunt. Her red wings folded neatly on her back, her freshly crimson stained fangs protruding against her colorless bottom lip and her claws sharp and evident. She wasn't hiding anything right now. If someone came, let them see...they wouldn't be there for long to remember, anyways.

Unless...they were someone, that she now remembered. Necros...what had become of him? She hadn't seen him in...months, now that she thought of it. Although the memory of him was as crisp as it would have been had she spoken to him only moments ago. No, she wouldn't kill him. She winced inwardly at the memory of when she did...strangely, that was the only crack in her new cold statue of a personna. Now, don't think she was going to be completely soft and kind, even to him; she couldn't have been that even before. So...well, let's put it this way: she wouldn't pounce at him with her fangs bared, as she might someone else. And it would be much easier...now that she fed off of human blood, she could go longer without it, and had better control of herself. Her days of being deprived of self-control were diminished significantly. It could still happen, but she could see it coming, and she could stop it. Even now, she was freshly fed, her eyes a vivid cold crimson color. She also remembered the rose he had given her...he had seemed so pained to give her that small gift. She couldn't imagine why, but she took it with gratitude, all the same. Even now, it was still locked up within the confines of her forever dark apartment, never to see a single ray of light. It would stay that way...she had respect for her good friend, even now, in her wilder, deadlier state when she respected nothing. Even now, as she stood with fresh bloodstains on the chest of her black dress from her latest victim, she wouldn't kill him. But...she wouldn't have to. She hadn't seen him in forever, and couldn't help but wonder if she ever would. She just shrugged, and gazed back out at the horizon.

The sea was a very dark blue, almost an inky black beneath the stars and the full moon. The silver moonlight reflected quite beautifully off the top of the ocean, hitting her pale face as well. It shimmered in her crimson bangs and silver hair, reflecting from the porcelain-like complexion of her face, glinting dangerously in her feline red eyes. She walked forward so the cool water of the waves lapped gently at her feet, a comfortable feeling...this was a good night to be out. She let her acute senses, her hearing and smell, stretch as far as they could go. There was no one around for miles; she was completely, blissfully alone on this beach in the dead of night. She was perfectly at home, the only time she could ever feel truly, truly peaceful.

[Necros]

Necros looked up at the full moon shining brilliantly upon the waves, making them look like a sea of silver under its gentle light. He turned his gaze to his bare chest, lean yet muscular, and gently prodded the corpse-white skin. A thin line of silver flashed across his chest like a gleaming steel wire, extending from the left part of his ribcage and almost reaching his right hip. A scar. His only scar. A scar that had been inscribed upon his skin by Achema as she attempted to rip him open and spill his innards onto the pavement like so much soggy confetti after he had taunted her about Madeline. Thanks to his powers and quick reflexes, he had anticipated her attack and avoided being gutted, but she had still managed to cut three shallow grooves into his chest. Two of them had healed, but the longest one remained, a reminder of what he had done to her that night, and was perhaps the only thing she had given him that he could keep with him as long as he lived. If it had been anyone but Necros, they might have laughed. The only gift your only friend ever gave you, and it's a scar from when she tried to kill you? Nice. No sarcastic comment sounded in his head, for Nevermore was away doing...something. He hadn't bothered to tell Necros, and the sadistic youth didn't really care.

The silver line disappeared as he began to pull his shirt on, cut off from the moon's light. It was only ever visible under the clear light of the full moon. He had deduced that it probably had something to do with his anatomy, altough he had no idea how it was different from that of humans, aside from his powers and the obvious physical abnormalities, such as his freezing skin and natural blood-red eyes. Yet another piece of information that his amnesia, or whatever it was, had stolen from him and locked away. In his mind. His own mind. Being who he was, the knowledge aggravated him. He stood up, for he had indeed been sitting. Sitting on the outcropping of rock near the ocean where he had watched Zethis impale Achema. It had become a frequent spot for him to visit and brood after that night. He pulled on the black t-shirt, leaving most of his arms exposed to the crisp night air. He examined himself: he wore a black t-shirt with white words proclaiming "I sold my soul for all this sarcasm" and a pair of worn, faded blue jeans. He had worn them down himself of course; bad enough to be wearing something made by human hands let aloner already worn by humans. A studded belt and some chains that clinked irritatingly when he moved completed the appearance, along with a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His silver cross necklace remained, as always, tucked beneath his shirt. The chains and studded belt were new additions. He was confident that they would be the last modification to his "emo" civilian outfit, but he might find something else that enhanced the image. No lipstick or eyeliner though. Not a chance. It's not that he wouldn't do it because of the humiliation; no one but Achema knew him personally. It just...what did the humans say? It wasn't his style.

He looked down at the sand about ten feet below, and jumped down, landing in a crouch. He breathed in deeply through his nose. The air was fresher over here than in Jump City, one of the reasons he visited the beach, but it was still tinged with the noxious fumes of various pollutants, and he found the salty tang annoying. And then he tasted another familiar flavor, not with his mouth but his mind. And along with it, the familiar foggy barrier muffling the new mind's thoughts. He only knew two vampires, Achema and Zethis. This wasn't Zethis. But he could tell something about her had changed. Her mind was more feral, sharp, like a needle, and there was a general indifference for eveything arround her. It wasn't like Zethis's arrogance, that sensation that nothing of consequence could affect him, but this wasn't the friend he had known. He turned toward the source of her thoughts, and there she was, making her way slowly down the shore. His eyes sliced through the darkness easily, but distance still made her features indistinct. She had her wings out, as well as her claws, not bothering to conceal them, seeing as the beach was deserted, save for him. She was barefoot and wearing a black dress, with faint smudges of red down the front. She must have fed recently. He made his way down to the shore, placing himself in her path. She wouldn't attack him; he knew her well enough to be sure of that, even if her mind hadn't let him know. But they needed to talk. Yet another thing humans were wrong about. Time didn't heal all wounds: it just made them fester.

[Achema]

Soft thuds in the sand...part of her thought about looking, just throwing her glance quickly in that direction. But, for some reason, her gaze just lingered on the moon, like some strange force had hypnotized her cold eyes to the huge silver sphere casting light on an otherwise dark night. She was actually deep in thought, her crimson eyes glazed over with a trancelike expression as she explored the depths of her mind. She could almost see that cursed barrier that kept her from her memories. Cracked, but still standing firm. It caused her great pain to even put a crack in the wall, but pain was a minor thing now. No matter how much it felt as if her skull was going to split open beneath her hair, she would keep trying. It wasn't until a very distinct, different but familiar smell came into her acute sense of smell that her eyes widened just slightly in recognition, then narrowed in thought once more as she took it in. It wasn't human...no, but she had smelled it before. Long ago, actually...months ago, and she half expected not to take it in once more in the rest of her long, long life. Slowly, she turned her head, peering through red bangs at a silohuette that stood in the shadows. If she was human, he wouldn't have been distinct. She wouldn't have known who it was, his dark clothing blending perfectly with the backdrop of blackness. But she could see everything as good as she would be able to in daylight...her night vision was as good as day vision, only being that everything changed colors, taking on almost a purple tinge. She saw everything from the black shirt with writing that he wore, the small glint that reflected from the chains of his pants, and the pale, pale skin of his face. Yes, this was Necros...long time, no see, she would say. A pleasant surprise.

She turned her body fully to face his direction. As she turned to face him, he would see the rest of her. The way her claws and fangs were sharper than before, the way her stare was cold and venomous, her pupils slit so thinly they were almost invisible against the bright crimson of her eyes, which glowed mavolently in the darkness. She just looked ready to kill, as if hunting was the only thing going across her mind...although, this was appearance and her personality. She was quite sane, with no intentions of attacking him. Had she been her old self, she might have cracked a smile at the sight of him. Heck, she might have even trodded over to him to greet him. Although instead, she just stood there, a cool, examining leer glued to his form. After a few minutes, she nodded her head slowly towards him. Necros, she greeted. Her voice was low and smooth, but laced with a bitter venom, the voice of a serpent. He was silent and calculating, but that was no surprise. She remembered to Necros she had known months before to be the same way, but that was fine. Preferable, actually; she didn't think she would get along too well with someone that filled a perfectly good silence with senseless babbling and meaningless words. Especially now...she doubted she would even allow someone the time of day to ramble to her, silencing them before they could speak two words more. She couldn't imagine Necros being anything more than silent, and that was one of the reasons that they did get along. He was one of the very few people that appreciated a peaceful quiet, not feeling the strange, rather stupid need to fill a silence with casual speech. And when he did talk, it was meaningful...had a purpose.

She couldn't help but wonder, through the blank stare that he shot at her, if he wondered about her change. The change from the old Achema was terribly obvious, even to humans. Before she attacked Necros, she remembered human guys winking and smiling at her as she walked down the sidewalks, some even having the nerve to stop and speak to her. Now, they were so afraid of her. It was funny, really; she always had at least eight feet of space between her and the nearest person if she ever for some reason wished to walk in the streets. It was like there was some sort of invisible forcefield between her and humanity...which was exactly the way she wanted it. Well...except when she was thirsty.

Speaking of the attack, she remembered when she had struck Necros down...a large feat, no doubt. After all, she knew very few people, if any at all, that could even touch him. She remembered how sweet, how delicious his blood smelled pulsing through his veins. She remembered the terrible burning in her throat that was so much worse, as thirsty as she was at the time. And most of all, she remembered how his blood had tasted as she bit into its neck. It was cool, unlike the usual warmth that regular human blood had. Pleasantly cool, though. She had barely been able to stop, almost ending the shadowmancer's life right there in the streets. There was also a memory of something else...oh, yes. He had prodded her about her sister, Madeline. Oh...and it had set her off, big time. He had crossed the line, whether he knew it or not; she would not have expected even him to do that. Even now, that was still a sore wound in her heart that had healed, but still throbbed a bit in its pain. She had...cried. She had actually shed ice cold tears from her eyes at what he said, another great feat that she knew no one else to ever have been able to do. Of course, she still held her sister dear to her. Even in the feral, almost wild state that she stood in now, she still thought just as well of her sister Madeline as she always had. But now...she didn't very much begrudge Necros for saying that. Grudges were pointless, stupid, for the weak. Whatever they spoke about, she would speak to him civilly.

[Necros]

She knew someone else was there, but she didn't know it was him. Not yet. He remained where he was, simply staring out at the majestic pearl suspended in the sky, shining brilliantly. He looked for all the world like a wraith from a dream, one you would expect to deliver some ominous portent and then vanish like a wisp of fog. Necros almost couldn't look at the moon because of what Red X had done to him. But he managed to gaze upon it without experiencing pain. The moon's light, though bright, was soft and gentle, caressing his face and bathing everything in its benevolent glow, unlike the harsh, blinding glare of the infernal sun. Everything looked better under the light of the moon; even Jump City. He bent down slowly, and grabbed a hand of sand, letting the rough grains sift through his pale fingers and drift back to the ground. Under the light of the moon, it looked like stardust. He kept his mind focused on Achema's the entire time of course, and was mildly taken aback to discover that there was a crack in her mental barrier. Not the natural foggy barrier that partially shielded her from his powers; the barrier within her own mind, the one that kept the memories of her past sealed away. She must me exerting a tremendous effort upon it to have damaged it so severely. He wondered if she knew her method would work if she continued with it, if indeed she was attempting to retrieve her lost memories by assaulting the barrier, or if she knew that another bite from Zethis would achieve the same affect. He recalled Zethis's words from the conversation he had held with Achema's tormentor soon after her departure: "She's a fighter." Necros had agreed, though he had kept the thought to himself. It would appear that they had been right, though there had been no reason to suspect otherwise. Both ways would be incredibly painful for her, but Zethis's bite would most likely be quicker. Perhaps he would tell her about it, if she didn't already know. It would be a step toward repairing what remains of our friendship.

Recognition resonated in her mind as she turned to face him, and saw who she was sharing the beach with that night. She kept her emotions carefully neutral, neither pleased, nor angry, though she had every right to be furious with him. He turned towards her as well, his face expressionless as he studied her. Now that she was closer, he could see the details of her appearance better. The elegant black dress that wrapped around her slim figure looked as if it had been designed with her specifically in mind, and the dark crimson marks that adorned the front glistened wetly, signaling that they were fresh. Her claws were slightly longer, her lips were stained with blood, probably from the same creature that had provided the decoration for her dress, and the glossy red feathers of her wings twitched slightly in the cool breeze rolling in from the ocean. But the largest, most obvious difference, was her eyes. They were still the same shade of scarlet, but now the pupils were vertically slitted, like a serpent's, which enhanced her new feral, malignant aura. It was as if she was filled with loosely chained rage, tempered only by her gracefulness and intelligence. He deduced from her new demeanor that the blood on her dress had come from a human. On a certain level, this pleased him, for it meant she had finally overcome her inhibition to dine on humans. But because of the foggy barrier surrounding her mind, he couldn't be sure if that attitude extended to him or not. He wouldn't use his powers to delve into her thoughts and find out. Even now, he respected her and wouldn't invade her privacy, no mater what had been lost between them.

"Necros."

Her voice when she spoke was flat and cold, carrying a venom specifically engineered for him. He inclined his head, and responded in kind. "Achema," he murmured quietly. His voice wasn't gentle or caring, just...soft. He blinked, and twin streams of blood trickled from the corners of his eyes, running down the sides of his nose like some type of garish tribal face-paint. He didn't bother to rub it away. Instead he concentrated on her mind again. The brief flashes of emotion and thought combined to form a memory. She was remembering the battle. The last time they had seen each other, when they had been trying to destroy each other. It had started simply enough. She was hungry, and had gone after him instead of Azraiel. He had taunted her about Madeline, thinking that if anything would snap her out of it, it would be the memories of her dead sister. Instead, as he had known might happen, it had driven her over the edge completely. He could still hear her screaming "I'll kill you!", still remember the sensation of her fangs penetrating his neck, sucking the life out of him. The memories, along with a faint sense of pleasure that emanated from her as she too recalled the event, prompted him to ask her a question. Something else that she had said echoed in his mind. He had asked why she was attacking him and not Azraiel. "Because Necros, your blood is the sweetest that I smell." He looked at her steadily for a moment, then asked, in a detached voice, "What did it taste like?" Then, a few moments later, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "Why didn't you kill me?"

[Achema]

Achema's cold stare was calculating, full of recognition yet void of the excitement or happiness to finally see her long-lost friend that probably should have been there. It was void of negative emotions, as well...to sum it up, it was empty from anything but an almost business-like air. And in return, she saw the same thing in his own crimson leer. He looked at her with nothing but pure recognition, but that was all. Before this, it might have hurt her a bit...but now, she was actually glad. She didn't now what she would have said to him, anyways, if he had actually showed positive emotion upon seeing her again. He still had the whole empty, dark air about him...she compared him to the girl, human girl, that she had been 'conversing' with at the park. She never got the girl's name, mostly because she didn't care, but to compare her to Necros was completely laughable. There he stood, silent and strong, knowing full well of what he stood before, and yet he stood as if he was standing before just anyone else. Fearless, emotionless. The girl, although trying so hard to conceal her real feelings, had been scared out of her wits. She had been barely shaking, but through her acute eyes, the girl was clearly trembling. She had heard the girl's heart beating wildly in her chest, her blood pulsing at a rapid rate, and the excelerated breaths she was taking. She had been horribly naive, as well...holy water, indeed. Just the thought almost made her want to laugh again...almost, but it hadn't been enough to break the stonelike composure she held tonight.

Achema. His voice, though, still held that slight softness that she had heard when they spoke so much before. It really was very slight, barely recognizable...any other human probably would have interpreted his tone as still cold and uncaring. Although it was still cold...it was the slight softness that she had been one of the very few to hear. And yet, it was of no significance. Maybe a few months from now, she would look back on this night, and perhaps it will mean a bit more. But, for now...it really didn't mean much, just conversation. She could see through the empty holes of his eyes, he seemed to be in thought about something. Perhaps remembering, perhaps just thinking...she didn't know. She was no mind reader, unlike himself. Although, he might as well not be, in her presence; apparently, vampires have a certain sort of shroud that kept him away from her mind, from having full access to her memories. Perhaps he could retrieve bits and pieces from her emotions and memories, but her mind was more of a blurred page of smeared ink rather than just an open book. Suddenly, his voice rang out, and it caused her to raise a brow. Not at the question, but at the tone. It was...void, even for Necros, as if he was slightly upset about something. Or, no...not even that. It was completely empty and dark. Strange, but she didn't let on her thoughts, poised to respond, but he continued before she could speak. Why didn't you kill me?

This last question caused her to bring her lips back together again, as her expression turned thoughtful...what hadn't she killed him? Of course, the answer was about as easy to ignore as the sun on a cloudless summer day. She just look straight back at him, crimson eyes boring into crimson, and spoke as if it was nothing, almost completely nonchalantly. The sweetest blood I've yet to taste. She neither smiled nor frowned with that statement, saying it in the same tone she would use if doing something as meaningless as introducing herself. The next answer, though, had a bit of thought in it. And as to why you are still alive...in all honest truth, I cared about you. Through memories of killing Madeline, I was able to stop myself before you died. Perhaps she should have been shy and bashful about it when she admitted that she cared about him...she wasn't. Although it had a bit more feeling to it than her last answer, it was still very official and business-like. Now, the edge of her lip twitched upwards ever so slight, in a smirk. It seems that your taunting of my sister did have an effect that, in the end, worked to your advantage. No matter how infuriating it had been...or, how much she still disbelieved how even he could have threw something like that in her face. But, she didn't dwell on it for more than a second, and she quelched all anger or resentment that might have threatened to resurface. She would not hold a grudge...she simply wouldn't.

[Necros]

Necros stared right back at Achema, silently enduring her scrutiny. He kept track of her emotions all the while, searching for her reaction to this meeting. It had been nearly a year since they had seen each other. Although the fog surrounding her mind, as always, made it slightly more difficult for him to detect her feelings, and by estension, her thoughts, he still gleaned enough to realize that she was dealing with this encounter the same way he was. They were both maintaining a respectful, slightly tense silence. The air between them was filled with caution; not as tense as conversations he held with others, but not as comfortable as it had once been between them. He found regret threatening to surface on his features, but he did not allow it to show itself to Achema. Still, the emotion remained, lingering within him, and he knew that the distracting thing would not leave him alone until they had resolved this matter. How they did so remained to be seen. A flash of thought broke through the barrier enshrouding her mind, and Necros seized upon it, swiftly composing the image of an unknown female human in his head. Achema had met her, that much was obvious, and Necros could tell it had been in Jump City, not that long ago. He was pulled from his thoughts, as he often was, by her voice, silken and cool, drifting on the ocean breeze that rolled across the shore.

"The sweetest blood I've yet to taste. And as to why you are still alive...in all honest truth, I cared about you. Through memories of killing Madeline, I was able to stop myself before you died. It seems that your taunting of my sister did have an effect that, in the end, worked to your advantage."

That wasn't exactly the kind of answer Necros had wanted, but he wouldn't push her. What did it matter what his blood tasted like to her? Still, he found himself wanting to respond with something. He lowered his gaze briefly and murmured, "Yours tasted of starlight and shadows." This was probably the closest Necros had ever come to making awkward small talk. Well, depending on Achema's perspective, maybe he had the awkward bit covered. The glance downward had been automatic; after so much time gone by without speaking with her, he had made a gesture that he normally would have reserved when talking with others. A shrug here, a sigh there, they were just things he did to make himself seem more human to others and give them a small sense of security. He raised his head to look her in the eyes again, scarlet meeting scarlet, as they had so many times before. When she answered his second question, Necros was momentarily rendered incapable of speech.

"And as to why you are still alive...in all honest truth, I cared about you. Through memories of killing Madeline, I was able to stop myself before you died. It seems that your taunting of my sister did have an effect that, in the end, worked to your advantage."

Cared. Past tense. But still, she had...cared? About him? He took a few seconds to ponder that. He had been so focused on thinking of what his developing relationship with Achema would mean for him, so confused and distracted when he realized he had come to think of her as a friend, it hadn't really occured to him that she might have begun to think of him in the same way. And now, perhaps that was gone forever. Hesitantly, he murmured, "When I would ask you why you still insisted on not harming humans more than once a month, and you would respond by telling me you were afraid you might hurt someone you cared about, you meant...me?" It was a real question. Necros had to be sure, be absolutely certain that she had meant him. But then what? What did that mean for him? When she mentioned Madeline, he turned his head and stared at the sparkling white sand upon which they stood. He fought down a spark of anger at himself for performing the action. He could easily have held her gaze, but this would make what he was about to say more convincing. He wasn't really trying to manipulate her, it was simply habit, but he still disliked it. The regret that entered his voice when next he spoke was genuine, and he knew Achema would recognize that. She was much more perceptive than those pointless humans, not to mention they had always just sort of...what did the humans say? Clicked. "Nevertheless, I regret what I said, and not merely because it nearly cost me my life. I didn't mean to hurt you with it." He looked back at her now, and said in a clearer voice, "I am deeply sorry." He would have had to wrench the words out if he had been speaking to anyone else. Then again, if he had been speaking to anyone else, it was extremely unlikely he would feel the need to apologize at all. It was still difficult to say, but he had to let her know. This time, at least once, he had to say straight out what he meant, no playing with words permitted.

[Achema]

Through her intent gaze, she could tell something was different about him than usual...the cold, icy exterior that he usually extorted from himself was cracked somewhat, a bit weaker than usual. To any other unkeen eye, or a keen one that hadn't known him quite as well as she had, he would surely have seemed the same Necros as was seen in the eyes of all others. Frigid, silent, inquisitive but his silence as sharp and almost as tangible as a blade...but not tonight. Although the silences between them were anything but 'sharp' and painful, this one was different. It held sort of an awkward air, the peace that instilled in their usual wordless conversations much, much less present than usual. He seemed to be pondering something, although his face kept all sense of weakness away from her. No, he wasn't being weak, he wasn't doubting, and if he was...well, he was doing an extraordinary job of concealing it. Yours tasted of starlight and shadows. This statement made the edges of her lips upturn slightly, just slightly, as deep within her pale chest the quietest, single chuckle reverberated, and she knew it was a motion that Necros surely wouldn't miss. Although, she didn't miss the gesture of his eyes as they dropped slowly from her own gaze to the white sand beneath them, which made the small smirk disappear back into the flat, placid line as she tilted her head to the side, a trademark signal of when she was in thought, curious, or confused about something. It surely wasn't something he normally did, so there was something there...did it regard their last meeting?

After the statement of care left her lips, she saw something in him that she hadn't seen in quite a while. She saw...hesitation, something he would usually never admit to, much less show through physical actions like that. This vexed her, and it might have shown in her bright, slitted crimson eyes as a bit of curiosity streaked quite vividly through the bright red color. And deep, deep within, hidden within her mind even from the abilities of Necros, concern that had been buried for months unearthed itself from where it was buried for so long. What could be bothering him so much that it would crack the perfectly cold exterior that she had come to know? If she had been her old self, she might have reached out as she had once before, forgetting his strong rebuke to touch, but the new Achema remembered and remained where she stood, just a few yards from him. Finally, the slightly tense silence was broken with something other than small talk, his eyes lifting up to look at her once again. When I would ask you why you still insisted on not harming humans more than once a month, and you would respond by telling me you were afraid you might hurt someone you cared about, you meant...me? With a simple motion of her head, she nodded, her crimson bangs blowing with the sebreeze. Indeed, I did. A simple answer, but was every bit as effective; she was never one to waste words on what could be said with a simple statement.

When he turned to look out to the ocean, she had a feeling as of what he was feeling. Guilt, perhaps? She did know, did remember, his apology when he had brought up her sister. That grudge had never existed, and the anger she felt had only lasted that day, at that moment, intensified by that ravage thirst that had driven her over the edge. Her eyes squinted slightly as she tried to understand why it would bother him so much, before they opened again to normal size as he spoke once more. Nevertheless, I regret what I said, and not merely because it nearly cost me my life. I didn't mean to hurt you with it. I am deeply sorry. The cool, businesslike exterior faltered for a moment to reveal an almost sympathetic look, a remnant of the Achema that had met Necros at first, before washing away like the waves of the ocean as she composed herself, and with a placid face that still did show forgiveness, she replied. You know I am not one to hold a grudge. You are easily forgiven. One side of her mouth lifted up into a slight crooked smirk. All things aside, I hope this won't effect anything. I am still your...friend, if you will permit it. Your friend...something she had slightly choked on, because it was something that she hadn't said in so long, and was so unaccustomed to say something. By anything, she meant their friendship, although she was reluctant to say the word in the fact that she was unsure of how he would react to it. Suddenly, she was drawn back to remember what she had said in response to his question as to whether or not she cared about him. Indeed I did, she had said. Deep from within, an inner voice continued it within her mind. And still do. Although, she kept it compressed...she couldn't let that reach the surface.

[Necros]

Necros heard her quiet, reserved chuckle flow up through her chest and whisper past her gleaming fangs, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. In truth, he did not find the statement that amusing; but the fact that he had made her laugh, however briefly and quietly, was just one of many steps he could take to repairing their relationship. Why should I care? He asked himself the question for the twenty-seventh time. He knew. He had counted. And for the twenty-seventh time, his answer did not please, nor satisfy him. Because I consider her my friend. Therein resided the problem: he shouldn't want friends. Moreover, he couldn't. It was a weakness. Even if she would never betray him, enemies would always use those close to you to harm you. It was one of the most basic and accepted rules of the universe. And Necros was bound to have enemies. Mori and Conflict were proof of that, and even if they could overcome Achema, which he doubted they might not have the stomach to torment him in that manner. Others would, however. Besides, what if others like Achema came along? He put the thoughts out of his head for the moment, for there would be time enough to deal with them later.

He could sense her confusion at his actions. The emotion was clouded as always, but it was still there, and it was to be expected. He wasn't acting normal. Well, normal for him anyway. And he knew she was bound to notice, even if he had been trying to conceal it. He berated himself inwardly. There were other matters for him to attend to. Matters that would go a longer way toward retrieving what had been lost between them than idle chatter. If their current attitudes toward each other were anything to judge by, then as the humans would say, "business first". He noticed a twinge in the depths of her mind, which interested him. He couldn't determine what emotion it was; that was to be expected. But it was so faint, he shouldn't have been able to detect it at all. This deserved some looking into. Once he had the time of course. He shook his head slightly to clear it. He needed to focus on more important things for now. That was the second time in as many minutes that he had had to remind himself of that. That was not a good sign.

"Indeed, I did. You know I am not one to hold a grudge. You are easily forgiven. All things aside, I hope this won't effect anything. I am still your...friend, if you will permit it."

She did. She had actually cared about him. He blinked at the statement, and now a steady trickle of crimson liquid seeped from the corners of his eyes. He shook his head when next she spoke, and when he replied, his voice was still soft, and would have sounded sorrowful to those he took him for human. "You may have forgiven me, but easily? I think not. After all you told me of Madeline, and everything I glimpsed myself, I cannot believe it was not a struggle for you to forgive my transgression." He had to stop looking at her. He had to, or he would just keep revealing more of himself. What little he already had was bad enough. Before their fight, he might not have been so defensive, but now after almost a year apart, he was more wary around her, as he had been when they first met. He shifted slightly, turning to look out over the silver sea. "You know it will, Achema. Whether we repair our relationship or not, we can not change what happened. It will always impact our dealings with each other. It will not necessarily make things worse, but they will most certainly be different." He opened his eyes wider when he heard what she said next, and twitched slightly, for the action had caused the flow of blood from his eyes to increase. To his knowledge, neither of them had actually voiced that they considered the other a friend. That she should do it now, after what had happened, only made it more startling. He nodded slowly. "I...would like that." He glanced at her swiftly. Will you take me back as your friend?" A sigh whispered past his lips. They were getting sidetracked again. It was time to turn to a different subject. Still looking at the horizon, he murmured, "You came back for the locket, did you not?"

[Achema]

The corners of his mouth twitched up in the slightest of motions, and suddenly the small amount of tension that she might have felt speaking to her old friend was lifted, as if this was just another one of their conversations. It might have showed as the muscles beneath her ivory skin settled and relaxed a bit more, and she looked at ease as she always had sitting in the darkness of her apartment. With small differences, of course, considering her overall physical appearance was still attractive, but more dangerous and frightening with her sharp, serpantlike eyes and menacing aura. But, she felt the same as she used to, which was a close step. Although she still felt that always persistant burn in the depths of her throat which accompanied the scent of anyone's blood, she had a firm, firm grip on her thirst and control. She had grown quite accustomed to this burning that signaled her eternal, neverending thirst, and it didn't in the least touch her features and barely even her mind. She almost relished this familiar feeling of ease, but knew all too well that it was too soon to feel so comfortable, and he probably still felt a bit tense. Was it prudent to be so relaxed with someone who she hadn't seen in months, and whom she had attacked in the same amount of time? Probably not...but she was, and it didn't change the whole time that they spoke from hereon out.

It was in that moment that something happened, something that alarmed her and made her eyes grow just a bit wider. Necros blinked, and something came from his eyes...and as a vampire, she knew all too well what that substance was. Blood leaked from the edges of his eyes, making him look as if he was weeping...something she had never witnessed him do, and never even fathomed that he would. Instantly in reflex to the beckoning scent of blood, she cut off her breathing as the features of her face tensed again, so she might not inhale the scent. Her fingers twitched from their comfortable position wrapped loosely around her shoulders, her arms crossed, restricting the slight impulse to reach out to him in concern to the fact that he was seemingly...crying. Instead, she settled with asking in a slightly unsettled tone, Are you...alright? When he next spoke, his raven hair swishing around his pale face as he shook his head, his voice almost worried her. He wasn't acting so...cold. It was very strangely a nice change, but one that she was unaccustomed to, and surprised to experience. You may have forgiven me, but easily? I think not. After all you told me of Madeline, and everything I glimpsed myself, I cannot believe it was not a struggle for you to forgive my transgression. She parted her lips to reply with something, but the words never left her mouth as he resumed his speaking, and she closed her mouth again to listen to what he had to say. You know it will, Achema. Whether we repair our relationship or not, we can not change what happened. It will always impact our dealings with each other. It will not necessarily make things worse, but they will most certainly be different. Now one side of her mouth lifted upwards slightly, but never touched her eyes as her features formed a slight, sad smile for the boy. The last of what you said, I can't deny. It will be different. And...perhaps...I had been a bit angry, but it passed quickly, whether you believe those words or not. Her face fell just a bit slightly, her crimson eyes finding her feet as she muttered very quietly, mostly to herself. It was all my fault, anyways... If she had been more careful, and hadn't landed right in front of Necros while she was so driven by thirst, this would not have happened.

Her gaze found its way back to Necros, and her own eyes widened to mimic his. Now, he was weeping more blood, a stronger flow of the red substance raining down his cheeks in a small river. Was he...upset that she had asked to remain his friend? This thought caused a slight pang of pain to erupt in what had been a long-since dead heart, but she didn't let the emotion show. Instead, she patiently but anxiously waited for him to reply, wondering what he might say. I...would like that. So, he would. This erased the slight hurt she had felt a second ago, and her lips lifted upwards slightly again. You came back for the locket, did you not? His sudden question reminded her of the business-like air that they should have been holding, and in one smooth motion, her previous appearance returned. Emotion disappeared from her face as she harnassed that placid, calm and cool expression on her face and replied in a normal tone. Yes. I'll find Zethis soon, and retrieve it again. If there was anything she really desired to take back, it was that locket.