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[Amseriah]

Patrick moved his zafu to the center of his meditation room, sat upon it in seiza, and bowed his head to the floor until his forehead rest upon Oboru-Muramasa's sheath. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath in as he felt his soul stirring in the blade, struggling to claw its way back to his mortal form only to crash into the barrier of its prison. With reluctance, he sat up upon his cushion and let out the breath that he didn't realize he was holding. In his mind's eye the Akashic Brother saw the Atlantean runes of the Arcanum of Space glowing in the empty air in front of him, his mind reaching out to pull the threads of space and time together to weave a pocket between the threads, as his hands blurred through the Kuji-in*
Zai and Jin. The air around the mage took on the vague scent of burning sulfur and cries from the tortured denizens of Hell could be barely heard, the iron bracelets that he wears appearing more like broken shackles than jewelry. The space directly in front of Dark spiraled clockwise opening the portal to a pocket realm, as he reluctantly placed the Relic inside, and dismissed the portal. Sitting back on his zafu, setting his hands in his lap in the cosmic mudra, Dark deepened his breath and set his gaze onto the floor in front of him letting the crashing waves of his thoughts settle in his mind.

He felt less than...without the sword at his side, and even then he only felt a shadow of his former self. The only times that he truly felt alive anymore were with Oboru-Muramasa in hand, his being reunited...his body, mind, and soul in unity exalting in the glories of his beautiful work. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to reach for his blade only to remember that it was not on his hip. Resuming his position, he sat, as sweat beaded on his forehead. He sat, as his jaw clenched in frustration. He sat, as visions of slaughtering the one who took his sword raced through his mind. In what felt like an eternity of pure torment and need (but was only precisely 1 hour 42 minutes and 2.5 seconds...thank you time arcana), he jumped up and began clawing at the space in front of him, desperate to reclaim his Soul. He couldn't! Focus...he had to focus...return to your breathe...calm yourself...be your own master...FUCK!!! Breath in...breath out...envision the runes, focus on the Imago...hands, move like this, then this...send your ki through your chakras...open your third eye...see the strings on space, pull them, reach between them, and open. The portal opened and he clawed his way to the blade, jerking it out. The portal collapsed in on itself, leaving Dark laying on the floor clutching his blade as a mother clutches her child tears trickling down his face, when there was a knock on his door.



*http://bleachfanfiction.wikia.com/wiki/ ... _Seals.jpg ,http://www.tswo.pl/index.php/historia-z ... cji-dragon

[angelicyokai]

She would have been less disturbed if she’d found Dark having a wank. Stone-faced even as tears leaked out of his dead eyes and twisted disturbingly around that bloody foul sword.

She was going to ask if he wanted to go to run to the Tesco, she could have some crisps if she bloody well wanted, when his face stopped her cold. Wasn’t she supposed to be the creepy one?

She ran tired fingers through her blonde hair and tried to look anywhere but at Patrick, “So...I was thinking of taking a break from all this nonsense…”

They’d already discussed that they needed training. Danny, bless his shiny little soul, might not understand, but as long as there were things that went bump in the night, there needed to be people to put those things down.

With that bloody geas in effect, Light had returned her, somewhat illegal, service piece to the ARV. She could take down non-magical entities without it, and wasn’t up to risking death for accidentally nicking one of the supernatural community. Her rank and history in handling armed disputes had merited her being issued a taser.

She did, however, have several other pieces squirreled away at the manor, and those, a rucksack with clothing, food and some essentials were on her person as she waited for Dark, Patrick, to finish getting ready. It still sometimes irked her that her once criminal nemesis and she were now on a first name basis, and housemates.

She snatched up a chocolate biscuit (Damn! More of Danny’s kale...kumquat...ketchup...oh who Bloody knew, the American was seriously obsessed with anything flavourless) and eventually choked it down with some milk, straight from the bag.

She didn’t agree with Danny on much, aside from a few telly shows they both enjoyed, but she did think Dark needed help. He had gone from a brilliant, how else did he elude her all those years, thief to an near unrepentant assassin in the last few years. His information was useful, but not worth the destruction of a somewhat decent man. She hoped their fighting/training/bonding session in Stygia could help make some headway.

As he came, hollow-eyed down the stairs, she tried to keep the mood light. “Off we go then, a quick pop to the dead-lands are just the thing to perk us both up!”

One quick trip through a dedicated doorway and they were in the Kingdom of Crypts. Here she could relax, free from the almost painful fluidity of life. The gentle grey stillness was serene. She’d wondered if the land held any appeal for Patrick as glints of gold and emanated from the very rocks. He was likely less fond of the crypts that lined the walkway, but Light had always admired their stark beauty.

She was honestly a bit shy to show her creation to any one else. Since she had become more adept at mastering solid matter, she had taken time to warp this portion of Stygia’s terrain to her own desire. A building of grey and white marble jutted upward a few stories, with small lines of gold and silver running throughout. Ironically, she had first seen art like this, kintsugi?, setting up a sting operation to catch Dark. She, like that amazing pottery, only improved after being broken.

Near to one of the rivers of death, she could easily get to the Watchtower of the Lead Coin, not that she was particularly interested in returning. Upriver...she had to admit she was intrigued. It could be hell, actual death, or something completely unknown to her. She had even made plans to explore, but every step upriver felt like walking in quicksand, and somehow she always found herself quickly returning home.

She hoped a few days here in a tranquil, non-threatening environment would let Dark clear his head, and that some training would improve both their skills without the worry of the geas crushing them into oblivion. The thick, grey water of the river was gently murmuring as she walked toward it. The ground was soft and free of tombstones here. Despite the myths, falling in here would just get a person damp.

“Let’s just put our stuff on the last crypt before the riverbank and we can get started. Once we’ve had a chance to de-stress a bit I’ll give you the grand tour.” She attempted a flourishing gesture to go with the statement, but it was cut short as a she felt a sharp burning in her lower back.

“What the bloody hell?!” She had been stabbed before, in the leg, and the searing pain was sadly reminiscent, but the twisting, shredding of her very essence was new.

Beyond words, Light fell to the ground, deep screams emanating as her very powers turned against her. She was a wielder of death itself, and suddenly death sought to consume her.

The knife was irrelevant, it was the power attached to it that would end her existence.

Only a moment passed with Light shaking on the ground before a figure stepped wraith-like into her field of vision. “Patrick-” was all she gasped out before calloused hands lifted her and tossed her into the river.

~~~BU BU BUUUUM~~~

[Amseriah]

She is right, I think that I do need to blow off some steam and a little bonding time might be good for us.

Dark followed Light through the gateway, into Stygia...the Land of the Dead. He had been to many places at this point in his life, but this was the one place that he never wanted to see, at least while he was still living...until he saw all of the riches embedded in the cavern's walls. Gems larger than his hand, and streams of gold reflected the ambient light in the cave, giving it their own unique hue. A man with a pick-axe and a backpack could easily set himself up for a very early and comfortable retirement.

Entranced as he was by the surroundings, the rogue almost missed what his twin sister was pointing out to him. Prying his eyes from the temptation that lay everywhere, Patrick turned his gaze to where Siobhan was gesturing, and his eyes grew wide in awe. The palace appeared to be carved out of a single piece of marble, with gold used to fill cracks formed from the vagaries of time. Carved into the walls, eyeless skulls, gleaming like polished bone looked at and through him.

He started to turn toward his twin, to ask her about the carvings, when he saw the attacker materialize from the shadows behind her. She screamed his name as the death curse tethered to the dagger wrested control of the entropic energies at her command, and turned them against her. The assassin didn't have time to pull his and back from his strike, pulling instead a bleeding stump, his hand still holding dagger falling to the soft ground under Light's feet...instantly turning to dust. The flash of the Demonblade reversed, liberating the killer's head from his body. More assassins appeared around Light and Dark, two of them picking Siobhan up and throwing her still convulsing body into the river.

"You are too late Tokisuna, the late detective's contract is mine...", came the voice of his handler from behind a mask.

Tokisuna - Sands of Time - the Shadow Name he took for himself, and the only name that the assassins knew. They didn't know about his relationship with Siobhan, this was a hit. Some bloody bastard put a hit out on his sister!

A cold fury took hold of the Dark, and his mind cleared of all thoughts, there was only here, only now. As singular as his focus was, he didn't notice the conversations in his mind escaping his lips.

"Guide my hand masters of old, exalt once more in the dance of life and death..."

Stepping forward, with Oburo-Muramasa overhead, Patrick severed the carotid artery and trachea of the nameless attacker in front of him with a vicious kaburi strike.

"He will bleed out in less than a minute, his heart will pump faster in panic, speeding up the process...next.", the Surgeon calmly stated

Flinging himself out across the web of space, Tokisuna appeared simultaneously next to the remaining six attackers.

Using the momentum of the teleport, Dark ran his prey through the right lung and heart, barely registering the gasping wheeze and spray of blood.

"When withdrawing the blade, pull across the nerve clusters in the shoulder to paralyze his sword arm before he dies...", the Master instructed in the antiquated Japanese of the Muromachi Period.

The Demonwind called to the young Akashic brother, it guided and carried his attacks as surely as the souls of the masters in the Demonblade. His was the Path of Scourging...his opponents may be Death, but he was the Wind, everywhere and nowhere. Space and Time warped around him, confounding their attacks, until there was only one remaining. His handler, Niryana, Death.

"What is the meaning of this?! What has been done, has been done. We completed the contract, the payment is ours, you can't kill us and claim the kill!"

"We are done playing at your game Chakravanti, it is not for you to decide the Dharma of others. We fought, killed, and died in the Himalayan Wars. Others may have forgotten your delusions, but we have not. We are eternal. Prepare to be welcomed by the cold embrace of Death that you have for so long sought." all the souls in the blade merged with Patrick's own voice as the Demonwind carried his body to his final foe.

Niryana, his body now wreathed in the cold fires of Stygia, tried to grab Patrick's sword arm, but only grazed his flesh thanks to the distortions of time and space. Still that graze caused blisters to raise, pop, and become necrotic.

Dark's teeth gritted through the pain, as he reversed the swing on his katana, slicing his opponent's forearm with a shallow cut.

The first exchanges made, the two Adepts began their duel in earnest. Magics warped the landscape, primal forces of entropy, against the very fabric of time and space. The scent of brimstone mingled with that of decaying flesh, screams of tortured souls and laughter of demons threatened to drown out the moans of the restless dead. And in the middle of it all two killers engaged in an ancient dance...

With a cry, Dark feinted an overhead attack, but was kicked firmly in the chest, knocking him back 2 meters. Tightening the strands of space behind him, Patrick flung himself blade first into his foe. With a clawed hand Niryana caught the left side of Dark's face, digging his death shrouded thumb into his left eye...

Patrick let out a blood-curdling scream as the left side of his face burned with the cold fires of Stygia, and his eye quickly turned to dust as his Niryana's thumb reached for his brain.

Niryana, chuckled a bitter uncaring laugh as he raised his other hand to finish of his opponent, but out of his mouth came a stream of foul blood. His eyes widened in shock and horror as the Demonblade of Muramasa was yanked down through his cracked sternum, only stopping its journey through him when it cleared his tailbone, splitting him in half from his chest. The body hit the graveyard like earth of Stygia just before it vanished to dust and bones.

Patrick collapsed to one knee, in searing agony, reaching out with his Sight to look for Siobhan's body...

[rydi]

Sam blinked hard, flinching at the memories as they came at him fast and strong.

Flashes of happier times, a ball flying high, the wind blowing as the car moved fast, the laughter of children…

Then the pain, the screams, the beating. The children were hurt, the new man was bad. The salty taste of the bad man’s blood, the feel of a steel-toed boot breaking ribs.

An endless gray stretch, hungry, alone. The streets, then the cage...

Danny broke Sam’s terrible reverie. “You can’t dwell in the past Sam. I know you’ve been through hard times, but you have the chance at a new life now. You have the right to be angry, but you have to stop projecting that anger onto Summer and Winter, it isn’t their fault. And you know it. Be mad, use the anger if you must, but don’t ruin their lives, and ruin your chance at a fresh start.”

Sam was confused. Not only by the psychobabble, but by the way his emotions shifted as the man spoke. Despite that though, Sam felt like the sessions were doing him some good. The anger was slowly draining away, and he was starting to see himself as the protector he was meant to be, rather than a used up and useless pretender. Maybe he could be the leader the others needed, the leader they deserved… He had experience, after all, and he was a survivor.

“Well Sam, I think you’ve come a long way. I’m proud of you. But you know, the important thing is that you can find it in you to be proud of yourself… Oh, it looks like our time is up today Sam. Same time tomorrow? Alright, see you then.”

Sam whined a bit as Danny left his seat in the garden. What was that man going on about? Alas, the curious ways of humans. Sam slowly moved to his feet, and padded toward where Summer and Winter were spending their morning. Suddently, his hackles rose, and he barred his fangs, as a presence moved across the path, both in front and behind. The menace of his stare gave the specters pause; Sam was no prey animal to be hunted. The spirits abandoned their hunting game to manifest. Whuuul whined an apology, while Huur skulked sullenly a few yards behind them. Sam gave only a clipped bark as a response: let’s just move on.

A few minutes later, the trio entered a clearing in the ever-shifting hedgerow maze. Summer and Winter were stretched out in the sun, tired from a morning spent in play. Though still young, they were already larger than Sam, but their inexperience showed in their clumsy movements and youthful exuberance as they sprang up to greet Sam, Whuuul, and Huur. Sam exchanged greetings, but he remained stern; the pups were already vying for control, but they weren’t ready. A low growl rumbled in Sam’s chest as Winter rubbed against him, attempting to push the smaller male aside with his bulk. Winter backed away, cowed, as the others looked on expectantly. What now, what is the game?

Sam looked at each of them, then stared into the maze at one of the strange spirit animals that stalked the edges of the grounds, hoping to leach off of the powerful energies of their home. The others followed his gaze. Today, we guard. Today we hunt. As one they moved slowly toward the hedge, and only at the last moment did the creature notice them, sprinting into the maze. The pack barked and howled as they gave chase, Sam leading them at first, then falling behind while continuing to coordinate.

His spirits lifted as he ran, and Sam dared to feel happy again.

[arete]

I have read up to this point and this is all good. We should get everyone to do this.

[rydi]

Feeding time at the Dartsmouth estate was a complicated affair. Danny, the resident groundskeeper for the more unusual elements of the property, slumped into one of the elegant lawnchairs in front of the dogs' food bowls, and tossed the needle and tubing onto the table next to him as he sipped at a juice box. The blood loss always made him lightheaded.

Winter barked, hungry and demanding. Danny looked up, and something in his gaze silenced the half-grown wolf. While Danny was easygoing and soft-spoken, he was a man who prayed for lightning and never doubted that thunder would answer. Winter’s boundary testing was met with iron resolve and an electrifying presence; he quickly backed away from the intensity.

I should feed them though. They're hungry, it is dinner time after all. And it’s the last thing left.

Danny ran through a mental checklist of the various tasks he had completed. The most important was the blood sacrifice, blood spilled at the four cardinal points that seeped into the soil next to the manor’s foundations; he’d given up doing it Dartsmouth’s way, with a knife, and had taken to using the needle. It was cleaner, and cut down on extraneous blood loss.

The wind spirits wanted a song, which he was always happy to provide, though they’d grown fussy lately, demanding traditional Tibetan chants. Luckily for them, he knew some. Then there was feeding the sacred kururu’pa plant; it wanted ritually slaughtered meat, but since it wasn’t overly picky about the specific ritual, a trip to the Pakistani butcher took care of that. The moon plant wanted otherworldly soil to grow in (meteor chunk off ebay ground into some miracle grow usually did the trick, and one batch lasted several months), the carp in the pond needed feeding (thankfully they just needed fish food), and the pond wanted the blood of the innocent (malicious pond, it had to make do with the Manor’s leftovers).

The nightstalkers and boogeymen got their meal in the mail just in time (hxr-19 mice, engineered to have quintuple the fear response of a normal mouse), and whatever they didn’t scare to death, the cats and cat spirits would eat. The lightning rod on top of the house wanted polish and a nice coat of oil (only pine nut oil and essence of gardenia please), the weather vane swan wanted a bird friend (but its terrible personality kept driving them away), and the orchard always demanded some new terrain feature or animal (probably trying to create its own spirit hierarchy to rule over). The hedgemaze was the least pleasant of all of them, as it wanted souls, and a prick of its thorns left Danny more drained than the blood loss (it only got a taste, as no one wanted to know what it would do on a full stomach).

I should get up. I still need to make dinner. No one eats enough vegetables around here, they need at least one night of decent home cooked organic stir fry.

Danny pulled out the giant bag of dog food, or what was left of it anyway. The dogs had finished off most of it. They watched hungrily as he poured, but they knew better than to rush him. When the last bite of kibble fell into the food bowls, Danny went and got the hose to fill the water bowls. Winter was moving toward his bowl and got about halfway there before getting sprayed in the face and jumping back. After the water was full, Danny waived them in and took a seat again to watch the sun set and listen to the satisfied chewing of the pack.

Ten more minutes won’t hurt, they’re always late to dinner anyway… Danny’s thoughts turned toward cooking, and then to the kitchen itself. Tomorrow he had to feed the appliances, and they were much more demanding. Maybe I can get Gordon to help out with some of this… The oven is just terribly mean, and I don’t think I can keep giving in to the trash compactor’s deviant requests… Danny's thoughts were interrupted as the hose in his hands thanked him for the recently purchased attachments, and the opportunity to bring "lifegiving water to thirsty mouths." Danny's mood brightened. "you're welcome hose." At least someone around here was grateful and polite...

[Amseriah]

*Note: This takes place after the harrowing adventures of Light and Dark in Stygia, which will be continuing.

Julie lifted her Gucci sunglasses and set them on top of her head like a hairband, smiling at the host with a smile that reached her eyes, as he pulled her chair out for her at the patio table. A well manicured finger absently twirled her silken blonde hair in ringlets, while she studied Pavilion Cafe's menu waiting for her brunch date.

11:53, seven minutes early...he said noon, which means as soon as the second hand strikes noon, a grin appeared on the corner of her ruby lips always so punctual this one...honestly I don't know how he does it!

"May I start you off with something to drink, ma'am?", a young fresh faced waiter interrupted her reverie.

"Oh, yes please, I will have a mimosa, and he would like coffee.", Julie replied

Just then a tall figure blocked the sun and cast a shadow over her face.

"I was actually going to change things up a bit today, I'd like a bloody mary and if your bartender could be a little heavy-handed their and your generosity will be rewarded.", she heard Patrick's voice as he addressed the waiter, who looked up from her and slightly recoiled.

"O-o-of course, Sir, I will put that in."

Puzzled by the waiter's reaction but still unable to see more than the silhouette of Patrick, the slender blonde stood up to embrace him in a hug. Only once she was chest level to him did she see him wearing an eye patch and a gruesome puckered claw-like wound emerging from behind it.

"Patrick!", she gasped, "what happened?!" turning her head to his chest, she embraced him in a protective hug.

"Ex-girlfriend...she took offense to our clandestine rendezvous", looking down at her in his arms, he gave her a half-cocked smirk.

"No, you don't get your charm your way out of this...seriously what happened to you? Who do I need to kill?!"

He closed his eye and let out a sigh as he replied, "Seriously Jules, I can't and don't want to talk about it, can we forget about it for now?"

"Okay, if you don't want to talk about it right now, we can just enjoy our brunch and discuss business."

That is weird...this feels like it is a big deal...but you know what, if he doesn't want to tell me what happened to his...his what? Oh, mimosa!

Patrick gestured to her chair with that damn smirk on his face, and pushed it under her seat as she sat down before taking his overcoat off, hanging it on the back of his chair and taking his seat.

"How have things been Jules? It has been far too long since I have been graced with your presence."

Julie tried to hide an involuntary blush at his compliment, "Things have been well, Mr. Dark." she raised a challenging eyebrow to him, oh how he hates it when I call him that...in public, then softer, "I've missed you...the kids have too. Especially at the Christmas party."

The waiter chose that moment to reappear to take their order, I swear it is a skill that they teach to servers, how to interrupt at the most unfortunate times..., "I would like the eggs benedict, please"

"And I will have the eggs royale...", Patrick finished the ordering process and turned back to her, "I know Love, I have missed you and the kids too. Things have happened though that should free up my time a little bit so I can be around more. Have you checked Homes for Angels current account? I deposited another £.50,000 this morning."

"Patrick, you didn't have to do that, you already do so much for these kids!"

"I know, but I have enough for myself, and I want to make sure that the kids are well taken care of until they can be placed with loving and deserving families. How are the Angels doing?"

"It and they are well, really. We need to expand though, we have outgrown our campus and it would be amazing if we could find a second one, but between zoning codes and limited real estate...well that isn't likely to happen any time soon. We are doing what we can, adding extra bunk beds to the rooms, but it is getting tight.", Julie sighed, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand while lightly massaging her temple.

The handsomely roguish man appeared lost in thought briefly, then looked in her eyes with his good eye, "Let me talk to Mayor Johnson, he owes me a couple favors, I think that he will be find himself quite agreeable to helping out your organization to find more property, and I know a couple of developers who I will ask to put in bids."

What exactly does this guy do, or who is he really??? The mayor just owes him a favor...he just has £.50,000 laying around? She had pieced together that his vocation was less than legal, but he was always very generous with her and he was the person who convinced her to open Homes For Angels, bankrolling the entire charity, even after the grants began to come in. She had thought to investigate him when they first began talking about the project, but she couldn't find anything about him and it really didn't seem too important after a while. Then, well, then a relationship began to form. A mischievous twinkle shown from her eyes when she remembered that first date...

She pried her gaze from his strong hands with a slight shake of her head, "You could do that for us? You would do that for us? Oh thank you, baby, you really are a good man..."

She didn't notice the imperceptible shadow that fell over his face, nor the lowering of his gaze at her compliment. Instead they enjoyed the small talk of close friends and lovers, who were catching up over drinks and brunch.