Deviations in Writing

Hours later, Destiny sat at her desk staring at the letter she had been intending to write. It was headed to her ‘Most Respected Teacher’ and that was as much as Destiny had been able to write out before becoming distracted. Sitting on her desk, beside the pad of letter-sized pages, was a pad of pink notes that were glued together at the top. Not the tacky kind that you would stick around in locations, just a normal pad.

Already she had doodled upon three of them, before the idea popped into her head. Having a rather good idea on where Saint might be—namely the Wolf, lounging in his hammock—Destiny wrote a small note to him and tossed it into the shadows beside her desk, willing them to take the note to Saint.

Though she was oblivious to it, the shadows about Saint did in fact expel the note and let the pink paper lazily spiral down to land in his lap. As she wasn’t sure whether or not the shadowy note passing would work until she attempted it, the first was brief.

Daddy hates me now.

That was how Destiny saw the situation, and she would likely not be easily talked out of it. Returning her attention to the letter, she was able to add in ‘Vilisto’ to the end of the greeting. However, her attention kept shifting toward the pink pad, and once more she found herself writing another note to Saint; this one more in depth.

I don’t know what to do. It seems like I’m a constant disappointment to him. He disapproves so much of you, and doesn’t seem to care about how I might feel. I’m sorry, Saint. Please don’t be angry at me for simply throwing words at you, with little way for you to reply; maybe I just need to get this out. No reply needed; just these words.

It felt good for her to get out how she felt; it was times like this that the girl was in desperate need of a diary!

Falling into a daze, Destiny ignored both the pad and her letter for a considerable amount of time; simply looking toward a picture on the wall that she had drawn the year before. It was nothing spectacular, merely a picture overlooking what used to be the island that she and Damien played upon in their youth; long prior to its destruction at the hands of Id and her uncle Dalamar, which had cleared all the life from the island. It was so different from what stood there now; the massive temple that was sculpted from stone and catered to the darker aligned gods.

Realizing how late it was getting, Destiny made a final note for Saint. Upon it she drew out a rose and very small in the bottom right corner of it she wrote out: Good night.

Permalink

Nearly twenty minutes after Demere left his daughter’s room there was another knocking upon her door. It was much lighter than her father’s, so Destiny knew instantly that it wasn’t Demere returning for round two. Lying on her bed, Destiny sighed aloud and moved her arm to stare at her door.

“What?”

“Tiny, let me in,” spoke her brother through the wood of the door. He sounded irritated, which was uncommon with him; she could only guess that their father had popped in for a visit with him as well.

“Why?”

“… Just open the door!”

Saying a number of unkind words, Destiny crawled off her bed and swept the chair out from under the doorknob with her foot; already crawling back into bed before it finished hitting the floor. “Lock it after you.”

Hearing the chair hit the floor Damien cast his attention up toward the ceiling and sighed. Wasn’t it enough that he had to deal with his father’s annoyance? Now he had to come here and deal with his twin and her bratty attitude. Stepping inside the room, he did as she asked—well, she didn’t really ask there, has she?—and moved the chair back under the doorknob.

“You know, I could get an actual lo—” Damien paused, catching a glare from his sister. “Or I could forget that idea. Yeah, so…”

“Please, just get to your point, Damien.”

“Fine. In Father’s words, ‘Get your priorities straight, before I put my foot up your ass.’ And in my words… Please do so before Father puts his foot up everyone’s ass. We really don’t need to be taking this kind of shit because of you, Princess.”

It was very uncommon to hear her brother speak to anyone in that nature, much less his twin. The talk with their father must have been wholly unpleasant. But then, after the conversation she had with Demere, Destiny was not surprised in the least. Sighing, she drew her blanket higher until it covered clear up to her chin and she grumbled under her breath.

“I just don’t understand why he won’t let me live my life, Damien,” Destiny finally spoke aloud to her brother.

“Because you’re his daughter, and still a child.”

“We are not children, Damien. And I never asked to be his daughter.”

“Well then, would you rather not be? Care to imagine what he would do to you, if you disobeyed his order and did not carry his blood in your veins?”

“He already told me,” she whispered.

“Share with me,” said Damien, though it certainly sounded like he knew well enough what Demere would command of her, were she not a Sceth. Perhaps he thought she needed the reminder?

“He would order me to kill Saint.”

“And if you disobeyed that?” prodded Damien.

“I guess that he would kill us both himself.” To that Destiny wasn’t sure, so she took a wild guess; an easy task, considering she had seen and heard of Demere’s punishments many times in the past.

“So I have to ask, why do you persist in something Father clearly disapproves of? Do you really love this man?”

Destiny’s answer to both questions came in the form of silence. Pushing herself up to lean against the headboard of her bed, her attention went toward the ceiling and she found she could only shrug.

“Yet you’re willing to risk… everything?”

“I simply don’t know, Damien.” Whether it was something she could consciously recognize or not, there would always be the thought in other’s minds as to whether Demere was pushing Destiny closer to Saint by his persistent disagreement with their attention for one another.

Damien gave his sister a compassionate look and simply nodded. He remembered his first love, Genevieve. Demere seemed so proud of his son and the fact that he had found himself a girlfriend; never mind the fact that if Destiny had found herself a boyfriend at the same time, it would only have been Destiny getting the ‘too soon’ talk. Looking back on that time, Damien realized he would have done anything for Genevieve, and so he could understand Destiny’s willingness to disobey their father.

“I have to ask you for something,” Damien started, moving to sit beside her on the bed. In his hands he held a rectangular box, much like one that would hold an expensive bracelet. Destiny eyed it suspiciously, especially once it was opened. Contained within its interior, a syringe sat inside. “Father has asked…”

“He wants you to check my blood? For what?”

“Whatever it is that he says Saint drugged you with.”

“Do I appear drugged, Damien?” Destiny shouted suddenly; her mood darkening when her brother merely looked down at the box in his hands.

“Don’t make this difficult, sis. Just… give me your arm; it’ll be over in a minute. I promise.”

Bristling with anger, Destiny thrust her arm out toward her brother, who calmly went about preparing her arm for the needle. He had a bedside manner that people would kill for, and had frequently spoken about ailments and illnesses; all from the books that he had gathered from various locations into his own section of the family library. Just as he said, it took only a minute for him to draw the blood from his sister’s arm, and the syringe was quickly tucked back within its case.

“Thank you, Destiny.”

Destiny grumbled at her brother, watching as he stood from the side of the bed. His attention remained downcast, and he noticed her shirt from the night before lying upon the floor, seeing the black marks upon the fabric. “Can I take this also?” he asked, picking it up and showing her the smudges upon it.

Destiny nodded to her brother and slumped back down into bed. “You might as well, it’s ruined. That stuff won’t wash out.” As much as she hated to admit it, right there was a good reason as to why her wardrobe should be black.

Leaning over the bed, Damien gave his sister a kiss on the head. “Don’t worry, Tiny. I’ll know more in a day or two, and everything will be fine.”

Though Destiny only snorted in reply, Damien turned and moved the chair from the doorway once more. Looking back over his shoulder at her, he idly wondered if she was going to get up to ‘lock’ the door after he left, but she motioned to the desk. Nodding, he returned the chair to its proper location and then headed out of her room, closing the door gently behind him.

Permalink

Destiny had wakened later than usual that morning, unable to remember how she had even gotten home the night before and little of the events. She could recall in clipped images, her father’s anger and Lilith being shot. When she looked down at her clothing, which she had apparently slept in, she saw the dried remains of the black liquid that was the result of a backlash of Demere’s power; something she was becoming accustomed to. Gathering up her robe and a towel, Destiny headed out of her room and down the hall to the bathroom; planning on taking a long soak in the tub.

A good portion of an hour later, Destiny returned to her room and dressed for the day, though in sweats as she figured that her father wasn’t going to let her out of his sight for awhile; plus she felt like death warmed over. Curling up in a blanket, Destiny sat in her windowsill, looking out over the backyard and garden. Leaning her temple against the cold glass, she was set to spend the day there when she heard knuckles rapping upon her door.

“Are you awake, Destiny?” asked her father from the other side of the door.

Though her voice was still harsh, though why she couldn’t recall, she called out to him: “Come in.”

Opening the door to Destiny’s room, Demere stepped in and closed the door behind him. His torso was wrapped in bandages, covering wounds that he had taken the day before, and his face was still covered by the fabric mask he had taken to wearing lately. Approaching his daughter, Demere stood by her bed and looked toward her and the window. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’ve felt better,” she said, watching her father for a moment. Lifting a hand, she rubbed at her red and raw looking nose. “Tired.”

“You look better than you did last night,” answered Demere, his attention drifting back to his daughter’s bed. Picking up a stuffed animal from the bed—upon which there were many—he toyed with it for a moment, before looking back to his daughter. “Destiny, I want to know, what was going on yesterday. I want the truth. You know what I told you; from the first day I told you did not trust him. He took no interest in you until he found out what lays asleep in your blood. Do you have such little faith in me, such little trust, that you think I would wish for you to stay away from him because I’m ‘jealous’ or do not feel he is good enough for my daughter?”

Machine-gunned with questions, Destiny slumped in the windowsill which caused the blanket she was wrapped in to scrunch up more around her shoulders. “Do you remember, I think it was about a year ago, when Loakie decided that if he couldn’t attack you, that I would be a good replacement? He beat me soundly, but then there’s little surprise there; him being a deity and all. It was Saint that paid him for my release; so no, it wasn’t like I was non-existent until he realized.” She sighed and tried to get herself back onto track, back in line with his questions. “Of course I trust you, Daddy. I always have. It’s not like I thought to myself, ‘Hey, let’s disobey Father!’ It just … happened.”

Listening to her words, Demere’s fist tightened around the poor stuffed bear’s head; though it seemed like he suddenly realized that the plushie couldn’t be killed and set it back upon the bed. “So then, you love him because he paid for you? Do you ever real—” He paused, severing the words off that he intended to speak as he wished not to make her feel utterly worthless. “Do you plan on your continued path with him? Should I ready myself to watch my daughter slip away with a man, who has no respect for himself, let alone me?”

“Daddy, can you just sit and listen to what I actually say, rather than every fifth word?” Upon asking that, Destiny nodded toward her bed, a step behind where her father stood. In complete silence, Demere stood and turned his cold stare upon Destiny. It wasn’t until she was about to speak further that he actually sat upon the bed; unwittingly upon one of the stuffed animals which he then pulled out from under his ass.

“No, I don’t love him because of that incident, I was just pointing out to you that it wasn’t like he appeared out of the blue,” she finally finished, pleased that he did at least listen enough to sit as she had asked of him.

“I’m sorry, Destiny. I should give you the chance to speak and have me listen to your words; and not just the ones I could turn around on you. I owe you more respect than that, so again, I apologize. I am listening now.”

Hearing her father say those words, Destiny fell into a bit of shock, and she blinked repeatedly at him. She had honestly expected him to yell or simply ignore her request, so when he did the unexpected she found herself soundly blown away. “Thank you, Daddy. I’m sorry I disobeyed you, I never meant to disrespect you—and I realize that this is exactly what I have done. I do care for him, however. You want better for me, I heard this; I understand this. Maybe you’re right… I’m sure there’s something more, some side of him that’s horrific, but I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Well, what am I to do in this position, Destiny? Whether I show it or not, I want nothing more than for you and your brother to be happy. I would give up everything I am, if it meant that this realm would fall under a lull of peace, allowing you to be able to love and do what you wanted. To be happy with whomever it is that you decide. But I can’t do that, and like I asked, what am I to do now? Do I allow you to keep seeing him, and put you and your very life at risk, since that is how I see it? Just so that, in the end, you are either lost to him and not in a way of love; or so that he can show his other side to you and you are left crushed? Either way, you are most likely going to end up hurt if you continue with him, but do I want to be the one who hurts you now to protect you, or do I watch as my princess is crushed down the road?”

“I suppose I cannot answer that, Daddy. You’re locked into there being no possibility of a happy ending,” she answered honestly, watching her father from her spot on the windowsill, her chin resting upon the folds of the blanket. “Did you listen to everything your parents told you, when you were my age, Daddy?”

“Did I listen to my parents? … Yes. Though not so much at your age.” For a moment, his attention had drifted toward his hands while he fiddled with the corner of the blanket he sat upon. “Such is hard when there is a war; one half led by your father and the other by your mother. Four years from your age, my parents were dead. I would love to be in your position right now, Destiny, but it was not the hand I was dealt.”

It was so infrequent to hear of her father’s past, that Tiny got lost in the moment, attempting to imagine what he was telling her. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t know.” Worried that she had upset him by making him dredge up the past, Destiny slipped off the windowsill and waddled her blanket-cocooned form over to the bed to sit beside him.

“I know, Tiny. But I figured, if I didn’t tell you, you would simply assume that I was being a jerk again and just pulling the ‘Daddy’ card on you again.” Wrapping an arm around his daughter, Demere pulled her into a half-hug against him. “I grew up in a different place; a different time. My parents ruled a land, but their fist was not iron like my own. There was, up until that day, no war. No pain, no suffering. The people were happy and I wanted nothing more than to be like my parents; to take the throne and continue what they set out in front of me. My days were spent with sword-play, learning to be ‘proper’ and with the daughter of our land’s highest lord.” Demere paused, chuckling at the memory. “Everything other than spending the time with a woman, I really do wish you could have had such a life, Destiny.”

Leaned against her father, listening to his past, Destiny wished she knew more about her father and his youth. “My life isn’t terrible, Daddy. I have a wonderful family and a father who would do anything for me. Yes, there’s war, but there are also times of peace; like now. I haven’t seen a fight in weeks, well… outside of Keric attacking Saint. There isn’t anything I would change in my life, except to have Mom around more.” She would also like for her father to accept Saint, but she felt it best to keep that thought left within the confines of her mind.

When Destiny had mentioned her mother, Demere’s arm tightened around her. “I hold a different opinion about the life you are granted, Tiny, but it does bring me relief to know that you are happy. I wish Deeblit was around more often as well, as much as she scares me. I would love for you and your brother to be able to go see her at times. You must miss her terribly, but Fyre isn’t that bad of a step-mom, is she? Sure, she can be a little crazy at times, and the gods don’t even know where she got that maid from, but I think she does a decent enough job at keeping me in line. Which is always a plus for you and Damien, right?”

Destiny chuckled and nodded. “She does the job, but she’s so not Mom.” Of course, how many people were like Destiny’s hovering, mallet-wielding mother?

After a moment, Destiny dared to breach the subject of Saint once more: “Why don’t you trust him, Daddy? I would like to understand; maybe it’ll make it easier for me to accept what you’re telling me.”

She was pleased when he nodded to her words. “I can’t really say exactly. It’s just a feeling inside, Tiny. There are some things that bring worry though. First, he was loyal to Lych and as far as I’m aware, especially with his interest in your blood, he still is. He took over where I left off, and I’m sure you realize there is no love lost between myself and Lych. That alone brings concern to me, seeing how close he is trying to get with you.

“There is also the fact that he acts like my equal; granted, such could be seen as a silly reason for me to not like him, in your eyes, but to hold that kind of an ego then there is really little if anything that he cares about other than his own gain.

“I have also heard,” Demere started, moving onto his subject with more care than the others, “and seen of those he has been with in the past. One of them includes Lilith; another, Star. Now it’s not the Lilith part that brings me concern, but the relationship he held with Star that is a big warning sign.”

“I guess I can understand your side of it,” she said, after considering each of his points; mostly those regarding Lych as she did recall her father’s annoyance whenever the name had been mentioned. The latter comment though she attempted to ignore; if he expected her to find someone who didn’t have a reputation to them, she was going to be forced to seek a mate outside of the lands!

“Isn’t it possible that,” she started, returning to the Lych topic, “his blessing could have sprung out at any point in time? What if there was no one who understood it around?” It was evident that she was still upset at the fact her parents had kept that knowledge to themselves.

“While it is true that there had been times I felt it within you, there had never been a time before Saint when it was so strong. Now it is as if it’s calling out to him.” Suddenly Demere rose from the bed, shaking his head. “You know what, Tiny… forget it. Forget I said anything. You claim that you understand my words and respect them, but I do not feel like going through this again. Go and explore yourself with him. Get close, have your feelings. I would rather give you my blessing than continue to have you work you way around my words and have me feel like shit for my discipline.”

Demere’s half-assed blessing seemed to make Destiny feel even worse than before, were it possible. Shaking her head, she sighed and focused her attention upon the floor. “No, it isn’t what you want, Daddy. Just … let me see him again, with your permission, and then I promise to stay away from him, completely, at least long enough to maybe show you that he isn’t completely what you think of him. Is there anything he could do to prove this to you? That he means well for Nod, and for me?” If innocence could have taken on a body and soul, it would be sitting there looking toward Demere; for Destiny obviously did not understand that what she asked to happen would likely never occur. That if she asked Saint to do what she just asked for, he would likely laugh aloud at her words.

“Destiny, it is not up to me anymore. You do not need my permission; I’ve already given it to you. You have proven to me that when you make a promise, it means little whether you keep it or not when dealing with Saint.” Demere actually lifted his hand and waved it dismissively at his daughter. “I say yes to this one time and what? It turns into two, three; you return home drugged from yet another kiss, or worse? You do what you want with him; lead your life how you wish it. You are obviously old enough to make your own choices and I should simply step aside. I’m sure as hell not going to go over what he can and can’t do to prove himself. I don’t make ultimatums Destiny; you of all people should know that. I wish you two the best.”

With that final comment, Demere turned for the door and headed for it. Sitting upon her bed, Destiny stared at her father in disbelief, and for a long moment she was tempted to grab one of the stuffed animals from her bed and throw it at the back of her father’s head due to his own obstinate attitude. Reining in her thought, Destiny sighed and cast her attention back toward the floor.

“I realize I messed up, Daddy. I wish I could make up for what happened, but obviously you won’t even allow me to prove myself to you. I’ll say it again, I’m sorry. I want you to tryst me, Daddy. I really do.”

“And why the hell would I give you yet another chance to prove yourself? How many times must we run this circle, Tiny? I say, stay away from him and you get closer. Get me information on him, I ask, and you get none. Finally I tell you not to go near him again, and I walk in to find you kissing him not even a day later. What next, Tiny? I give you this moment to see him prior to breaking it off, and you come back a few days later to tell me you are carrying his child?”

Reaching for the doorknob, Demere turned and looked back at his daughter. “Let me take another guess. You’ve told him pretty much everything I have said about the two of you, over the past couple days?”

Shaking her head adamantly, Destiny answered with the truth, “I told him that I couldn’t see him anymore. He didn’t ask why, I didn’t tell him why.

“Forget it; forget I asked. Forget everything about this. I have to study anyway. I have to write Vilisto and tell him that I cannot help him in his plan for vengeance against Star. I need to refocus and remember what I’m doing and whom I’m doing it for. I’ve been selfish and forgotten about our people.” As she gave her valiant speech about the people of Nod and her chosen path that she walked ‘for them’, Destiny’s voice cracked and tightened on her. Pushing herself off her bed, still enwrapped in the blanket, she waddled toward her desk.

“You do exactly what you want to do, Destiny. I will not be the reason for your sorrow nor will I allow such to float over my head. Enjoy your evening, Destiny. You should try and get some rest; you still do not look all that well.” His final words spoken, Demere allowed the door to slam behind him.

When she reached her desk, instead of taking a seat at it, she grabbed the chair and dragged it over to her door. There she wedged it under the doorknob; not in an attempt to lock her father out, but rather so that she did not have to put up with any of her siblings for the night, as none of them seemed to grasp the concept of privacy or the act of knocking.

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The following evening arrived after what seemed like only minutes to Destiny. She had gone back to the temple to bathe and change her clothing, and night had fallen before she was done. With no duties at the temple to care for, it was only a given that she would return to the Wolf, and in fact, no other idea occurred to her.

Her return to the Wolf was brief. Within minutes of arriving, Destiny felt an intense sensation of dread rush into her stomach, brought on by the preceding wave of chaos that heralded Demere’s arrival in the Wolf. The situation could have been passed off easily, were it not for the fact that the pair had been caught in the middle of an embrace. Never mind the fact that if Demere had only been 30 seconds faster, he would have caught sight of a kiss. It was probably well and good for all parties involved that Demere did not see this.

Turning to look at her father, Destiny tried to smile but failed miserably at the act. Worse, when he asked what was going on, she stumbled over her words and made her whites lies sound even worse than they were. She had little practice at lying and she quickly realized that her father was not going to be the best one to try out her new ideas on!

“Fine!” she exclaimed, disgruntled by Demere’s glaring eye. “I came to check on Saint; he was in a fight last night.” We they not both of Nod; and wasn’t it her duty to look over those of her land?

“Do you check everyone by kissing?” Demere asked, his tone harsh and with no hint of humor. So Demere had seen after all, wonderful.

“It… but…” Unable to come up with a good response, Destiny found herself stumbling over her words once more. Finally she spat out some blatant and obvious lie, which displeased her father greatly and nearly caused Saint to groan. It was evident that Destiny’s proficiencies did not lie in … well, lying.

“Fine!” she exclaimed, feathers ruffled. “I came to check on Saint; to make sure he was okay after his fight last night.”

“And is this how you ‘check on’ all your patients, Destiny? By sticking your tongue down their throat?” Demere asked, eyeing his daughter.

“I didn’t heal him,” she added. “I was merely here to make sure that he didn’t need healing, Father.”

It would seem unfortunate that Lilith had chosen that moment to enter the Wolf, combined with Demere’s apparent lack of comprehension, as he pressed the point. “Well, if that’s how you check on all your patients,” Demere started, his hand pulling free of the shadows gripping his gun tightly. “You might want to help Lilith,” he continued, pulling the trigger and sending a single bullet into Lilith’s chest.

Lilith took a step back in surprise, one hand rising to where the bullet had pierced through her armor and sunk into her flesh. Lifting her gaze, she looked up at Demere and then Destiny in turn, utterly lost on why she of all people had just been shot. Looking toward Lilith and the blood that began to trickle out of the wound, Destiny started trembling and looked back at her father in shock.

“Go on, Destiny. Kiss her, just as you did Saint.”

“I didn’t heal Saint,” she insisted once more, as Lilith began to ask just what was going on. Shaking her head, Destiny headed over to her sister and looked up at her, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. Lilith shot her a look of anger, nodding at her to get on with it. Frustrated with the turn of events, Destiny lifted her hand to cover the wound. Behind her, Demere continued to spit off remarks that caused her skin to bristle, so that when she finally did begin to draw upon his power to heal Lilith, she jerked hard and actually caused the shadows that surrounded him to flicker out of sight.

Forcing the energy into Lilith’s shoulder, Destiny’s brows knit tight together, acting more with anger than concern. The energy spiked pain nerves in her shoulder, and after a short moment she yanked herself away from Destiny’s touch.

“Stop, I’ll do it myself,” she said in a venomous voice, moving away as Destiny was slapped by the sudden backlash of power. Without a point to move out toward, it snapped back like a rubber band into her, causing her to drop suddenly to her knees. Almost immediately that vile, black ichor began to leak from her eyes and nose; staining her pallid skin with its dark mark. Blinded by the mass amounts of the fluid, she could not see who approached her; but she could hear the stride and the scent upon the air clearly pointed out who then stooped down to pick her off the floor.

“Hand her to me, mortal,” Demere spoke to Saint when he lifted Tiny from the ground. She could feel herself handed over to her father, though any further words were lost as her body slowly shut down into sleep due to the massive drain upon it.

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It was but only a handful of days later when Destiny went seeking Saint’s company, and to the Wolf she made her way. The inn appeared deserted when she first entered, however she had been there previously and known of Saint’s interesting location of choice within: a hammock positioned above the bar. Even before she raised her eyes, the scent that trailed after him was present to her sensitive nose. Momentarily refraining from moving further into the inn, Destiny leaned against the edge of the open door.

But it only lasted a moment. Before she could even think of moving elsewhere, the door was given an unexpected shove. Stumbling forward, Destiny turned and glared at Keric who had shoved his way inside. With a scowl on her lips, she moved away from the doorway and further toward the bar. Saint was singing, his words floating down to her and not wishing to disturb him she merely moved to sit atop the bar, watching him from below as he sang and wrote within the book in his lap.

Disinterested in the child, Destiny paid little attention to Keric as he sat against the wall, murmuring and groaning. Even as Keric’s skull bounced upon the wall repeatedly, Destiny gave no notice. No, her attention was solid upon Saint; even as his song came to a halt and he reached up to tuck away the book and pen that he had been using. Leaving one hand up and fingers wrapped around a beam of the rafters, he leaned down and wrapped his arm around Destiny, hauling her up suddenly into the hammock to join him. Drawn across his lap, Destiny settled into a straddled position, her bare legs bent with her knees up near his ribs. Tall black leather boots hugged her calves, which she pressed against his outer thighs; toes pointed down toward the end of the netting that they lay within. Leaning forward, Destiny came to rest against his chest; one arm curled under her to keep her lifted up slightly, while the other had risen to brush her fingers against his cheek.

For many minutes, they were positioned as such in silence; enjoying the heat the other provided and the wordless company given. However there remained that constant presence near the doorway. Something was wrong with Keric, but Destiny had never been very fond of the child so her concern rose only in small amounts. Try as she might, Destiny was unable to wholly ignore the child, as his head repeatedly bounced against the wall, and painful moans rose from his mouth. Further, he was breathing non-rhythmically, almost like an animal panting. The distraction caused her hand to lower from Saint’s face, her fingers curling about his shoulder. Heat ebbed off of the man, keeping her warm in his embrace and the cool air far away from her bared skin.

Unnoticed by Destiny, Keric had drawn a blade and begun to hack at the flesh of his arms, causing blood to rush to the surface and spill over. On the other hand, Saint did notice the blood on the air and his reaction to it caused Destiny to snuggle closer to him; to continue absorbing the warmth that rushed through his body. One of Saint’s arms was wrapped around the girl, his hand rubbing the small of her back; while the other rose and he began to run his fingertips in random patterns against her cheek.

In soft whispers, the pair spoke and continued to ignore Keric’s presence, Keric’s actions far below on the floor. Saint’s words, along with the sudden and playful groping of her rear end, caused her cheeks to redden. Before she could even bring herself to answer, Destiny moved her hand back to run her fingers against his lips and cheek; taking the time to absorb in the feel of his skin.

More might have been said, more might have even occurred, but everything came to a swift and unexpected end when Keric attacked, upending the hammock that the pair lay within. Spun out of the hammock, the pair descended to the ground and impacted hard upon it; Destiny protected from the fall by Saint’s embrace. After making sure that Destiny was well, Saint leapt from the ground and made his approach on Keric.

The fight was a blur to Destiny; the only thing she saw was red, and felt was anger. It wasn’t until Keric though to speak directly to her that she snapped free of her reverie.

“Someday you may be standing right where I am. Wait until that time before you condemn my actions.”

In a blind rage, Destiny snapped and lashed out at Keric, her hand slapping hard against the child’s cheek. Enraged, her words were like venom spat from a cobra; vile and vindictive, ordering Keric to finish the attempts at suicide which had started before the fight commenced. In turn, Keric threatened to inform Demere of what he had seen between Saint and Destiny, but she just laughed it off.

“Please Keric; do you actually think that my father is going to listen to the words of someone who is obviously drugged?”

Moving to Saint’s side, Destiny kneeled down and tried to offer him aid in rising. Though he chose not to accept it, she did remain nearby when he stood, and followed after him as he vanished from the sight of those now fighting—as Keric had been attacked by Jade. That night they both remained at the Wolf; Destiny remaining to make sure Saint was on his way to healing properly. Just prior to sunrise, she left to head back to the temple and ready herself for the new day.

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Destiny had asked Taletha to seek out the Shadowlord, and give her impression on Destiny’s condition. It was later in that day when Taletha trekked out of the temple, and discovered Demere in attendance in Cain’s. Knowing that Destiny was inside as well, the woman spoke Demere’s name from outside the walls of the building, asking for a conference of the minds—literally.

“A word, Shadowlord?” she asked upon a thread of shadows, keeping her attention focused upon the main door of Cain’s, making sure to remain unseen.

“You are being given this time to speak due to your loyalty to my daughter. I suggest you do not waste such, mortal,” he voice rose from the very shadows surrounding her; impressing upon her with the might that rose from the Divine.

“I thank you, my Lord.” Though she did not stand before him, she was in the presence of his shadows, and she bowed her head respectfully. “Your daughter seems to be largely unaffected by the drugs introduced to her system. She is eating a consider amount, but I haven’t been able to detect any other effects of it.”

“I take it you’ve not only used ‘magical’ detection, but the more standard of detection of science? I wish to know if her blood is clean. I would also like a report given to me, by you personally, on all those who visit the temple… those that do not have real business being there. It is a place of worship, not a place for friends to gather and chit-chat. Do you understand?”

Taletha was quick to answer; speaking into the emptiness surrounding her. “Until this point in time, my Lord, none has come to the temple in a social mind frame. It would seem that most arrive wounded or deceased, and leave shortly after they have been cursed of their ills. As for her blood, I have a sample but not the systems adequate for the testing.”

“Find her brother. I am not sure if he has what will be needed, but I do know he has his connections. Also, do not let my daughter know that you went to him. I do not want her to worry anymore than she may already be doing.”

“Very well. I will do my best in keeping an eye on her and the temple. Thank you for this honor, my Lord.”

“Thank you for bringing this news to me, mortal. You have done well.”

“Thank you, my Lord. Dark eve to you.” Quickly retreating, Taletha made her way from Cain’s, intent upon finding Destiny’s twin brother, Damien. She need not ask his whereabouts with the Shadowlord, it was well known that Damien remained close to him or in Neo-Krell. The Sceth Manor was not terribly far from Cain’s, as she had made that walk once before in order to pick up some items for Destiny.

Twenty minutes later, Taletha arrived upon the door to the Manor, her hand rising to knock upon the dark wood entryway. Listening to footsteps on the other side, she straightened her back and calmly put her arms at her sides.

“Oh! Hello Taletha! Need you pick up something for dear Tiny once again?” asked Aidmheil, the Sceth’s nanny with a wicked memory for names. The woman smiled at the acolyte, her head tipping to the side.

“Afternoon, Aidmheil. Actually, I was looking for Damien. Is he home today?” she inquired in an even voice.

“Ah, yes he is. Allow me a moment to fetch him for you. Would you care to come inside?” Turning from the entryway, Aidmheil motioned inside, bidding Taletha inside to the sitting room.

Acknowledging the motion, Taletha stepped inside and made her way into the room to wait for Damien; the sound of Aidmheil closing the door and heading down the hallway behind her. Choosing not to sit, Taletha looked over the portraits upon the walls of the room, recognizing near half of the Sceth family. There was one in particular that she paused upon, looking at the woman with curiosity.

“That is our mother, Deeblit,” Damien said, watching Taletha from the doorway of the room. He had taken a lean against the doorjamb and was watching the acolyte with interest.

“She is very,” Taletha started while looking toward Damien, “beautiful. You take after her.”

While most men typically wouldn’t like to be told they take after their mother, Damien certainly did; much like how Destiny took after their father. However, the trait carried from mother to son was physical, unlike the similar attitude his sister had gained from their father. Damien, like Deeblit, bore a third eye; granted to them by Prime’s blessing.

“Thank you Taletha. I’m going to guess that you did not come here to start at my mother, so why don’t we just get to the heart of the matter.”

“It is about your sister,” she started and moved to seat herself then, waiting until Damien followed before continuing. “Your father has asked that I bring you a sample of her blood, to be tested for toxins. He believes that she has been drugged by a man known as Saint, and as far as I can tell by my touch, she is not. Your father would like you to check it out, however.”

Damien nodded to her then. “And you have a sample?”

“I do,” she answered, pulling free the hand towel she had used to clean Destiny’s leg the night before. It was dried, and the amount rather small upon the white of the towel.

Damien frowned and shook his head. “Unfortunately, this won’t do. But I’ll see what I can do myself.”

Exhaling a sigh, Taletha dipped her head in sorrow. “Blast it all, I’ve messed up already.” Her fingers gripped the towel, worried now that the Shadowlord would be upset with her.

“You couldn’t have known, Taletha. Worry not, I will manage to get some of her blood; she’s not exactly the most graceful, at least not at home.” Once he reassured the woman that all would be well, he lead her out and returned to his own room to think more upon how he would get a sampling of his sister’s blood.

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Destiny had gone to bed shortly after Taletha had departed. At first she had intended upon reading more of the file, but it soon became apparent that all the strife of the evening was too much for her, and that she was in dire need of sleep. She did tuck it safely away within her bedroom, though none of the acolytes would dare enter any room other than the sitting room.

Sometime in the night Saint unexpected arrived and made himself comfortable, entwined with Destiny in the plush comforts of her bed. While she slept, Saint remained awake; caressing the girl lightly. It wasn’t until within the hour of dawn that Tiny awoke—odd since she couldn’t wake that early at home, yet at the temple it was part of her normal routine.

“Welcome back, Destiny” Saint whispered to her, feeling her stir in his arms. One was curled under her head, supporting it, while the other had been drawing meaningless patterns against her skin.

“Good morning, Saint,” she whispered in reply; her hand drifting to cover his own, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand.

For a considerable amount of time, the pair fell back into comfortable silence. Destiny was cradled against his body, her mind swarming with thoughts; mostly in regard to the conversation with her father only hours earlier. Coupled with Saint’s fingers brushing against the minor scars that had recently been birthed upon her skin, and Destiny could only tense in his embrace.

Saint took notice of the tensing and pushed himself up to rest upon his elbow. Looking down at Destiny, he leaned forward and gave her a light kiss upon the temple. “Something wrong?”

“I wish there wasn’t,” she said after a moment; her voice had a minor tremble which gripped it tight. Feeling overcome by what she knew she would have to say, tears welled within her eyes. Though compassionate was not likely the first word that came to someone’s mind when they thought of Saint, he was indeed so, proven when his gaze moved away from her face so that she could have her moment of sorrow unwatched.

“Let it out,” he prodded, his fingers brushing against her jaw.

“Father has commanded me to not see you again. He says that while you're an asset to Nod, you are not meant for me. That I can only be with someone who is as loyal to Nod, as they are to me. But," it was then that her voice caught and she found herself unable to continue.

“Shh, Destiny … that is enough,” he said in a soft voice, his lips pressing against the back of her head to kiss her though her hair. “I understand, you don’t have to go on.”

Entwining their fingers together, Destiny gave his hand a squeeze and drew it up to her lips to press his fingers to her lips. Most of her panic had dissipated, leaving her once more calm and able to speak without that horrible tremble affecting her words. “He doesn’t understand, Saint. There’s no one I would rather be with… than you.”

In silence, Saint drew away from Destiny; sitting upright on the bed. His back was toward her, bare and showing the rich red wings tattooed upon it and the unusual symbol that she did not know the origin of. Reaching out, she traced her fingers against along a crimson line, memorizing it in the silence of the room.

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Destiny breezed into Corda Mandulómi and headed straight for the kitchen. The acolytes worked in shifts that overlapped normally, but her most trusted were still laid up in bed; having been used as conductors in moving Demere’s power to Destiny in order to resurrect Saint. (This was also an incident which would cause a great deal of confusion for Nod’s Princess; she had been told to distance herself from Saint, but there he was, in the temple awaiting resurrection. When she summoned her father, he came and said nothing; merely giving her the divine power without question.) However the two acolytes used, Ezra and Syntyche, took a massive blow from Demere’s strength. They had no prior experience with the divine. Instead of starting low with mere tricks, they were instead at full-force. At the time, Destiny expected their bed rest to take a week, and asked the other four—Taletha, Uri, Myron and Shamgar—to pick up the slack left behind by the absence of the elder two.

Uri and Shamgar were busy in the dedication hall, tending to the altars of each of the chaotic deities. They removed old offerings, replaced candles and refilled oil in the lamps. Once their cleaning duties were complete, they would make the rounds; speaking a prayer upon each altar. Between each prayer, they would center themselves within the hall and slip into meditation. This ritual was performed each night.

Taletha and Myron on the other hand, were finishing up more mundane chores within the temple’s massive structure. Myron was folding up laundry in the washroom off the kitchen, while Taletha finished up the dishes. The two were chatting when Destiny hurried into the room; her cheeks flushed with exertion.

“Just the two I wanted to see,” she called out to them. “I’m starving, would you mind fixing me up a couple of steaks, Taletha?”

Turning from the sink, Taletha began to dry her hands upon a dish towel. “A couple steaks? You have someone hiding in your room, missy?” Taletha was much the mother of the temple, frequently making jests at the other acolytes and Destiny herself. The petite blonde flashed Taletha a look, and the mother-hen winked and moved toward the ice box. “I’ll bring them up to you shortly.”

Destiny nodded to her and then glanced at Uri. Though she liked the male, she decided not to bring up the other topic in his presence. “Thank you, Taletha. I’d like to speak with you at that time.” She then turned and slipped out of the kitchen, making her way through the temple toward her personal chambers—a three room suite composed of a sitting room, bedroom and bathroom.

To waste the time before her dinner would arrive, Destiny changed into a pair of pajamas and settled into a chair in her sitting room. On the table beside it sat the steel briefcase left for her by Saint. Inside its padded confines, Saint had given Tiny a number of gifts—one of which she had already begun to use: a pair of pink-lens sunglasses. Her thoughts however, were on the other items contained within it that interested her. The Djarum Blacks and the plastic Bic lighter were glanced at and she smiled at his memory; though she had been refraining from smoking recently (really, it didn’t fit with her ‘good girl’ image). The thought was still greatly appreciated and who knew, she might quickly return to her old ways; especially if Zane keeps slipping her cloves and absinth!

Also contained within the case was a Desert Eagle that she still hadn’t drawn together enough courage to take from its padded encasing. The gun was beautiful, polished chrome and black rubber; the chrome etched and filled in with pink detailing. Obviously it had been specially ordered for Destiny, what with her passion for the color pink. It matched the shades, and many pieces of clothing that she wore. Too bad the thought of carrying the gun horrified her. Additionally, another piece of foreign technology was safely secured within the foam inserts of the briefcase: an iPod that she had yet to listen to. It had been a few weeks back, maybe a month, when Tiny had come bouncing into Cain’s, listening to the brand new one delivered to her by Alexandria, Demere’s assistant on Earth. The woman had stashed it within the folds of a bolt of silk cloth, knowing the young girl would immediately tackle the rich fabric. It had come fully loaded with music, just as she assumed this one would.

There was one more item of interest in the briefcase, which Destiny then turned her attention to. Bound into the top of the case by way of an elastic band sat a manila envelope. It was packed and near overflowing with pages, and as she pulled them free from their prison she had to pause and wonder if this was something she should even be reading. The stack of paper sat in her lap while she considered this, reasoning with herself that Saint would not have given it to her if it was something he didn’t want her to read. It took over ten minutes of talking herself into the idea before she finally looked down and began to read the first page; an act that was quickly dismissed when a knocking resounded upon her door.

“Destiny, its Taletha. I have your dinner,” called the older woman through the wood of Destiny’s chamber door.

“Come in!” Destiny shouted, gathering the pages to her chest. Rising from her chair, she headed for her bedroom to stash away the files. Tucking them into her desk, she told herself that she would look them over later, but now she needed to eat and talk with Taletha.

Walking back into the sitting room, Taletha was setting a tray down upon Destiny’s table, her eyes momentarily drifting toward the metal briefcase. While she couldn’t see what was inside of it, the woman thought it was a peculiar object for Destiny to own. Intent upon getting a peek inside, Taletha started to move around the table, busying herself with the platters of food. Before she could get a look inside the case however, Destiny reached out and pushed the lid down and the click of the locks sounded softly.

“Thank you for the late dinner, Taletha. Would you care to join me? I have something I need to speak to you about,” inquired Destiny as she herself sat before the place setting Taletha had been adjusting.

“If you wish, then yes, I will join you.”

Destiny nodded to the seat across from her, and began eating while the woman sat herself. The steaks were rare, just as she liked them, and a second plate was filled with vegetables—obviously Taletha’s motherly instinct kicking in. To appease the woman, Destiny did idly pick at them, though she made no massive dent into the heaping plate. No, her concentration was more focused upon the meat. Only after she finished half of the first steak did she put down her knife and fork, to tell Taletha was she was needed.

“Father has asked that I be checked over. He believes that I have been drugged, and wants to make sure that I am alright.”

“I see,” Taletha responded, watching Destiny as she once again picked up her knife and fork, returning to her dinner. The older woman relaxed in her seat and settled into silence while she waited for Destiny to finish her meal. It was almost twenty minutes before Destiny had her fill, as the girl had been working upon the steaks slowly, interjected with random a spearing of vegetables to keep Taletha’s mood on the up side. When she finished eating, Destiny crossed the utensils over her plate and then pushed it away from her.

Without a word, Taletha rose and approached Destiny, who also stood from her chair. Moving over to one of the more comfortable upholstered chairs, Destiny sat and looked up expectantly at Taletha. The older woman went about her business swiftly; she checked Destiny’s eyes for broken blood vessels, under her tongue and then looked at her throat. After those physical checks were made, Taletha moved her hands to rest her fingers against Destiny’s temples, both women silent for a number of minutes. Though the act was largely unobtrusive, Destiny cringed at the minor psychic link that the woman used to check on her. While it was but the buzzing of a fly’s wings in comparison to the shouting from Tranziel that she was especially sensitive to, it proved to be quite an annoyance.

When she pulled her hands away from Destiny’s head, Taletha nodded to the girl. “You seem to be well enough, Destiny. Nothing that I can detect myself. Though, you do have a wound…” she started, her words drifting off as she turned toward Destiny’s bathroom to grab a hand towel and dampen it with some water. Returning to where Destiny sat, she motioned for the girl to stand and began to clean off blood from the back of her leg.

“You have a rather deep gash here, Destiny. It’s stopped bleeding, so I’m not going to clean the wound itself. Just be careful when you bathe that you do not break the wound open again.” After cleaning up the wound, Taletha kept the hand towel, thinking she would take it down to the laundry, considering she had to stop by the kitchen to return Destiny’s dishes to it.

“I will do just that, thank you Taletha. Would you mind going to and speaking to my Father? Assure him that I am indeed fine?”

“Of course, Destiny. I’ll seek him out tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Taletha.”

The woman gave no response. Instead, she just tipped her head to the younger woman and cleaned up the table; sliding the plates onto the tray and heading out of Destiny’s chamber.

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They had been Saint’s final words to her, but she knew what he actually meant by them: Lie through your teeth, Destiny. He wanted her to protect herself, even if it meant shifting the blame onto him; had he not tried explaining to Demere that his princess was drugged, in an explanation of why the situation occurred? Mulling over Saint’s words, Tiny paced the floor and awaited her father’s arrival.

Disappointment was very clear displayed through his words. Some struck her like weapons, while others merely caused her to sink into the depths of silent self-deprecation. It always seemed that she conflicted with her father’s plans, his thoughts for what she might become in future years.

Their brief but explosive argument did little to alleviate Demere’s agitation at his daughter—in fact the intermixing of their words likely heightened his annoyance. The truth was that the father and daughter were not all that dissimilar. Both were headstrong, and disliked being told—worse, commanded—what to do. Worse, in being told that she was forbidden from one of her few interests, Demere only ended up sparking a greater flame for the current object of his daughter’s attention. The conversation was far from long lasting; they spoke for no more than ten minutes when Demere sent Destiny to the temple.

“Go to your temple and have one of your aids look you over,” Demere suggested to his daughter.

“Look me over? What for, Daddy?” Obviously for her to take such a different tone of voice—when angered he was ‘Father’, otherwise he was ‘Daddy’—but that was far off the topic at hand.

“You kissed Saint, correct? I’m sure you’re feeling the effects of his … fluid.” What a choice of words there! “Trust me, that is not your heart swooning right now, Destiny. It’s the poison that he left behind.”

Though she was far from ‘swooning’, Destiny knew the time for protesting her father’s words was past, and if he already thought her under the affects of Saint’s drugged kiss, then there will little change he would believe her words.

“Of course, Daddy. I’ll do just that… after I eat.” The last two weeks had been an odd period of time for the girl. She hadn’t known as first what was causing the odd feelings that were coming over her, but it occurred to her soon enough. Thanks to the mutated dragon genes that her bloodline carried, Destiny was experiencing her first ‘season’. Had Demere known of this, he likely would have blamed her interest in Saint upon that as well as the drugs introduced into her system, so she made sure not to mention it—but then, what kid wants to talk about the ‘birds and bees’ with their parents? During this time she was eating considerably more, burning through it much like a fire would eat through kindling. A good, solid meal was definitely first on her mind.

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Destiny was not normally one to disobey her father’s wishes. However, she was one to misconstrue situations and work them in her favor. Demere stated simply, she was not to see Saint anymore. When the man died, she was the one who resurrected him—with Demere’s aid, of course. Was this not a sign that the banning had been lifted? Of course not, though she wholly took it as such.

The girl was only sixteen, what did she know of life, love and survival in a world filled with political strife? She intended to listen, sought to find the words to tell Saint that she would be unable to train with him further, unable to even so much as be within the same room with him. That had been her intention; until she ended up running into him in Prokovia. She had even been avoiding public structures in Nod, trying to stay clear of him, but there he was followed by the demon, Tranziel. The promise to her father was forgotten, as she approached and gave Saint a hug; leaning against him while she listened to the conversation between he and Tranziel.

In the midst of the conversation, Saint leaned forward and began a small series of kisses upon Destiny’s neck. From there they drifted to her jaw, following along the strong curve of it. It was Destiny who tilted her head, and touched her lips to his. Try as some might, it had not been Saint who initiated that contact, though he certainly made no effort to stop it, or discourage it. The length of time spent caught in one another’s arms went unnoticed by Destiny; in fact the night could have passed as far as she was concerned, but the end came much sooner.

“Daddy sees all,” rolled Lilith’s voice. Her arrival had been unnoticed; her sudden movements to appear at the side of the kissing pair also unseen. Gripping Saint by the shoulder, a sudden toss threw him back into a wall. Destiny had been leaning against Saint when the abrupt motion had been made, and she stumbled forward, scuffing a knee due to landing upon it. Separated by a considerable distance, both Saint and Destiny rose to their feet; Saint’s attention moving to Lilith while Destiny found herself in full view of her father.

“Destiny Sceth, to my side … now!”

One simply does not ignore such an order. Without even considering his words, Destiny approached and raised her head to look up at her father. Before she could speak, however, she was bound at ankle and wrist by shadow tendrils, Demere’s commanding voice resounding once more. “I will deal with you in a minute,” but for now, his sole focus was upon Saint.

“I’m coming to disapprove of us meeting under the same circumstances, over and over,” Saint spoke to the Elder who was in motion, heading for him.

“You believe this is something I enjoy, Saint?” Demere questioned, stopping only a foot away from where Saint stood.

“You are as fucked up as I am; makes it hard to gauge,” replied Saint with cold honesty.

“Be thankful mortal, that tonight’s actions hold nothing political. It is a family matter. You have done nothing to cast shame upon Nod, so you are free to go. However, I would suggest that tonight not be repeated.” Considering himself finished with Saint, Demere then turned back to his daughter, Destiny. “You however, will not be so lucky.”

“She is drugged, Demere. Blaming her would be ignorant.” Taking offense to the accusation that she was not acting upon her own wishes, Destiny shot a frown then, looking toward him.

“Saint, let him do what he will.” She did not want him taking the blame for something that she started.

“As for your words, Saint, if such is true then it will be revealed when I speak with my daughter.” Attention upon Destiny, Demere commanded the shadows to carry her back to Nod, a final comment by Saint barely heard through the sudden shifting of planes: “Tell him the truth.”

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