Midst crimson-tinted sands wandered a lone figure; a man, clad in a thick clandestine cloak, simple clothes, and wraps. His face was well-obscured by both the atmosphere, and the face mask he wore. He seemed well-prepared for the arid, sickly sweet-smelling gusts that swept through the place, yet it looked as though he could barely carry the weight of his own equipment. Trudging about clumsily, he carried a steel buckler on his left arm, and in his right he limply hoisted about a quite heavy, aged, and  wickedly-flanged mace. There was something to this man and that weapon, however, for he had gotten here from Purgatory with little trouble.

The Pale Death had left this man's clothes in tatters…acting in desperation to break him physically, since it was quickly realized that the being and her realm were incapable of doing so spiritually. She had not injured him. He was quick enough to evade the demon from rending his flesh, and had struck her once. That was all it had taken. There was no way a mortal weapon could truly kill a being like that, of course. Some property of it had been enough for him to be hastily transported to the realm of Lust.

"Why don't you stop for some rest?" spoke a soft voice on the wind.

The man had paused, finding a niche among the igneous stone buildings that dotted the landscape to momentarily escape the relentless storm. Slinking into the alleyway with him was a woman. She was obscenely generous of feminine proportions, and was absurdly under-dressed for the extreme climate she had just stepped out from. She could not see the man's face well, otherwise she would have been taken aback that his dark indigo eyes held amusement, rather than the carnal desire she so clearly hoped to solicit. Brushing a lock of dark red hair behind her ear, the lady sauntered closer, and the man's stance visibly softened. The corner of her lips turned up a little.
"I can make your stop here worthwhile. You'll never want to leave," she purred.

Hand aggressively cupping his crotch, the succubus pushed the man up against the wall to his back, and grabbed his jaw with the other, breathing in his scent as her lips gently brushed against his neck. This was stopped short with a quick shove, and an upward sweep of the man's buckler. The edge of the small shield slammed into the demoness' throat, and she struggled for air. Her eyes widened as she weakly tried to fend him off, but his hand roughly tugged her hair as he pushed the creature back to the opposite wall. The mace followed suit, crashing into the pretty face as mercilessly as an executioner's axe to a criminal's neck. Screaming and roaring in agony, the loathsome demon's soft womanly ruse fell away, revealing its scaled hide, bat-like wings, and mouth full of fangs, now bloodied and chipped.

The demon continued to screech in horror and pain, beseeching its nearby brothers and sisters to descend upon its assailant, before its voice was no more. The wind howled with several more screams like it as the man emerged from the crevice, mace dripping with blood. Whoever this man was, he seemed hopelessly consumed by the Sanguis Tenebris to lash out so brutally. It was only the second of the trials he would face, but it was clear he was singular in his purpose. He would reach Dalanesca, and be absolved.

Since her declaration to the people of Adeluna, Dalanesca had noticed an uptick in the activity in and around Porta Inferi.  While she was normally very aware of each individual traversing through the trials of the Circulorum Inferni, but the influx of living beings travelling through made it a bit more difficult.  If she focused, she was able to pick out individual signatures, but mostly things were just a blend of thoughts, fears, cries, and words.

In all honesty, she had not meant for Adeluna to fall into ruin - mostly, she gave the blood that she knew would be addictive to the apothecary for being so greedy, to teach him a lesson.  However, when she had found that he was selling it to the citizens of Adeluna, and they were knowingly taking it even after seeing what it did to their friends and neighbors, she felt that they deserved a lesson and allowed the tragedy to continue until it had almost been too late.  Coming to the mortal plane and warning the people of Adeluna of what they had done, and how to remedy it, had given her the peace of mind that she had done her part and no longer held blame in the situation.  

She had decided it would be a bit of sport for her to go in disguise to some of the people completing the trials, and offer a helping hand, to see if they could make it further with her assistance.  Of course, the guardians of the circles were well aware of this and knew to treat her same as they would anyone else wandering in, for they would not be able to mortally wound her even if they tried.  It allowed her to hurry the process along, in a manner of speaking, but also gave her something to do.

Lust was a particularly interesting circle for Dalanesca to watch.  She found if she focused on one particular area, it was easier for her to pick out individual thought patterns.  It was rather amusing for her to watch the many men and women succumbing to the succubi and incubi, being torn apart while deeply enamored with lustful and depraved thoughts.  Having grown tired of the constant rabble in her mind, she focused on that circle entirely - and something interesting caught her eye.  Hardly any man (or woman) who had ventured into the second circle had managed to get past its guardians, but there was a man in particular that seemed to be having no trouble whatsoever.  His clothing was ragged and tattered, and she gathered from what fuzzy things she could make out that he had begun in the first circle - he was going to traverse through each of the nine in order to reach the palace, in order to reach her home.  

She chuckled as, in her mind, she could see the succubus groping the man, attempting to charm him and coerce him into letting her guard down, but she narrowed her eyes as he shoved the succubus away and subsequently smashed his mace into the facade of a beautiful woman, giving way to its true form.  Her smile faded, and it was then she made the decision to venture into the second circle and find out a bit more about this man and his ability to ignore the wiles of the guardians.

It took her mere seconds to change her appearance and attire, her long black hair retaining its same length but becoming straighter and a bright blonde.  Her face took a different shape, a rounder nose and fuller cheeps, but her eyes still held the same icy blue color.  Her height grew by a few inches, and she was now clad in brown leather leggings with a white tunic and leather corset, brown leather boots lacing up to her knees as well.  A brown cloak covered most of her form, and she drew the hood up,  shadowing her face.  A bow and quiver now lay across her back, with several small daggers at her side.  When she felt she was ready, she transported herself to the second circle, in a position where this strange man would not see her appear.

She appeared behind a crumbling building, not far from where several of the guardians were descending upon the area in which she knew the stranger to be, but soon her ears were filled with the same dying screams that the first of the guardians to be dispatched had emitted.  She pulled her bow from her back and positioned it, pulling an arrow from her quiver, and drew the arrow back, pointing it in the spot where the man emerged from shortly after.

With her arrow pointing in his general direction, she knew this was time to act.  "Are you Afflicted?" she called, never moving from her target, attuning her voice with a faint Adelunian accent - though the tone would be recognized as remarkably similar to that of Dalanesca's were someone who knew her well to hear it.  She pulled the string of the bow back tighter, repeating her question.  "Are you Afflicted?  The guardians… there is no mortal who can dispatch them in such a manner without the aid of something divine, or ancient… Explain yourself," she said, keeping the arrow focused towards him, her aim never wavering.  Beneath the shadow of her cloak's hood, her eyes narrowed, trying to find some defining characteristic of the man.

Methodical and fluid could describe the warrior's fighting style, for not once did he or his weapon stop moving. He was reactionary, and continued to swing the mace as the demonic horde descended to lash out at him. Letting the momentum of the heavy weapon carry him, he focused mainly on his footwork and deflecting the deadly claws of the succubi and incubi with the buckler. When he saw an opening, he was quick to capitalize on it. only to become defensive once more. He lowered his guard when he heard a voice nearby, and noticed the demons' behavior change, becoming far more passive.

Rather than answer the inquiry directed at him, the man boldly walked towards the archer, unmoved by the arrow that could be loosed upon him. He truly was a man possessed…or…


"Is it a rule that one must be afflicted to fight for the afflicted, mon cher?" the deep voice of the man rumbled, muffled beyond the mask and wraps that he wore. "I am old, but yet mortal still, if you care to find out by loosing that arrow," he challenged, a bit of playful mirth tinging the graveness of his tone. He dropped his mace and shield in the sand as he continued to approach. He was certain that they understood each other now. There was no use in hiding.

There were more reasons for Story's presence here than the plague that the Goddess' essence had wrought, but that would be the only one he would give. For now.

Eyes aglow beneath the hood he wore, and astral wings folded passively at his back, the few demons that were still itching for retribution despite the Goddess' presence here backed well off from Story, skittering back into hiding to seduce someone more receptive….and less dangerous.

"That is a different look for you. I cannot say that it suits you," Story quipped.

Surely, he could have fell to his knees, and approached the Goddess apologetically, but where was the fun in that? The dragon had no doubt that he would end up completing every last trial like any ordinary unfortunate dreg, regardless of his attitude. Hell hath no fury…

As the stranger began to take steps towards Dalanesca, she held her ground.  Shifting her right foot slightly, she pulled back on the bowstring with as much force as it would allow, her fingers ready to release the arrow from its taut prison at a moment's notice.  It seemed that he had dropped his guard slightly, but she did not lower her own.  Her lips parted to utter another warning, but she fell short of speaking as the stranger in turn spoke.

Beneath the shadow of her hood, her eyes widened as she recognized the distinct voice speaking towards her.  She could not see his face nor any of his defining characteristics, but there was no mistaking who he was.  The last time she had seen him, he had disappeared in a flurry after their lips had briefly met, leaving her wondering what had happened.  No answers had been found thus far, and there he was, standing before her.  

As he moved towards her, she slowly allowed her hand to be pulled forward by the bowstring, releasing the tension within.  When he cast his weapon and shield aside, she lowered the bow as a mixture of emotions coursed through her mind.  Anger, confusion, lust, desire, and affection muddled together to make one muddled emotion.  She dropped her bow much in the same manner, the arrow and weapon falling silently into the dark sand.  

With her hands freed, she lowered her hood, her icy blue eyes staring at him.  A brief moment passed in which she refused to accept that this was Story, finally standing in front of her once more, but there was no denying it. She wondered how he had known immediately who she truly was, but realized that her voice must have given it away.  He had spent enough time in her realm as a guest to become rather familiar with her voice, regardless of what turn their time together had taken.  As he commented on her appearance, the air before her shimmered slightly, and instantly she had resumed her true appearance.  Her clothing remained the same other than the leather taking a darker hue.

She remained silent for a few moments, her eyes unblinking.  She was glad that in the background that the circle's guardians had shied away from the situation, clearly able to sense that their goddess wished their presence away.  She briefly thought of stepping forward, forming her hand into a fist and connecting it with his face in a fit of rage at what she had gone through after his abrupt departure.  Her fist clenched subconsciously, but she relaxed, realizing that no good would come of such an action.  "This is the time in a fairy tale where I would leap into your arms, and you would cover my skin with kisses," she said, a darkness to her tone.  "But this is not a fairy tale.  This is Inferos," she said in a harsh manner.  

With a sigh, she looked away from him, running a hand across her brow and pushing her hair behind her shoulder.  "I find myself wondering what brings you back here, at such a time," she said, her eyes avoiding him.  "I knew that I would see you again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  "But I thought it would be a happier reunion," she added.  There was a pain visible in her bright eyes, brought on by the entirety of the situation.  She folded her arms across her chest, rubbing the sides of her own arms.

Without warning, she straightened up.  "I cannot help but hope you have come back to explain why you left," she said.  It was clear that she was striving to keep her words rather even.  "But I am sure that hope is in vain.  I can only assume you are here to ask the same of me that so many others have, to end the chaos in Adeluna?"

"Ahhh, contraire…There is more fairy fable at work than I think even you are aware of," Story mused rather ominously. "Or do you not remember the context of our intimacy before I took my leave?"

The idea that their souls knew each other at an earlier time was still difficult to accept, but there were too many details that made it hard to deny. He thoughtfully removed his hood and face wraps. Shaking out his hair, then cracking his neck, his intense indigo gaze focused intently upon the Goddess, despite her not gazing back.

Story seemed to traipse around her words, reluctant to touch on that sore spot just yet.
"Why would I not be here for that? Balance has always been in my purpose. I witnessed first hand what old and divine blood can do to humankind…long before now. You err in assuming that is my sole, or even my main reason for being here, however…"

Closing the gap between them by magick before Dalanesca could look back to him, Story dared to reach out and touch the face of Death, and attempt to steal a kiss, before backing away. "There is much to explain. I don't even know where to start. The past has come back to haunt me…something I should be dealing with now. It threatens the whole of the world. The Earth Mother will know this soon, if she does not already. I…"

The dragon seemed to lose his train of thought and composure. This was rare in a being usually so full of verbal poise.
"Whether you choose to believe the theory we entertained or not…that I had watched you die…. The one responsible for that has returned. He….reached out to me right in that moment we shared, many months ago. It took me be surprise. He has acquired a power that not many here fully understand. Not the divines here, nor he or I."

Taking a deep breath, Story shook his head. "There is this matter now to worry about as well. If you will force me to endure every one of your trials to beg at your feet, I will willingly do so….though I would prefer not to leave your realms several denizens short."

Her heart skipped a beat as he mentioned their last time together, and the history between their two souls that had been acknowledged.  "How could I ever forget," she said, once again with the volume of her words barely above inaudible.  The memory of their discussion, and the revelation of so many feelings and thoughts and desires, came flooding back to her.  She felt the phantom of his lips as they had met hers for the briefest of moments, and the warmth that that memory brought was stolen away as the memory shifted to him disappearing from her realm without more than a few short words.

She felt his gaze upon her, fighting the urge to look at him as her peripheral vision picked up the fact that he was uncovering his face.  When he began speaking once more, she allowed herself to look at him.  Save the difference in his dress, he was exactly as she had remembered.  Every feature of his face seemed overly familiar to her, right down to the striking indigo hue of his eyes.  It was the same face that had haunted her dreams on a fairly often occasion since his departure, and here he was, standing before her in the flesh.

Finding herself somewhat startled as the distance between them disappeared instantaneously, Dalanesca's body tensed up, albeit briefly.  She held incredibly still as his hand reached to her, but the moment his skin brushed her own, she relaxed once more.  A moment's hesitation coursed through her mind as he moved to kiss her, and she nearly turned her head, but instead chose to reach her own hand up to brush his own as their lips met for mere moments.  It did not last much longer than the kiss they had shared before, but its ending was nowhere near as abrupt.  

Mimicking Story, she too took a step backwards after they had pulled away from one another.  Her bright eyes were filled with a strange mixture of desire and confusion, but this was not the time for such things.  Her expression transformed into one of stoic resolve, and she listened carefully as the dragon went on to explain something which seemed rather dire, and seemed to also be the root beneath the reason he had left her in such a flurry before.

"I am sure you had your reasons," she said, and the warmth that had once flooded her voice when she spoke to him made a soft reappearance. "I believe that it is not a theory, but it is genuinely what happened," she continued.  "I have had much time to think on it, and my divine nature allows me to delve into the past with little difficulty, to a point of course," she said.  "Whatever comes of it, know that I will be of any assistance I can offer.  My realm is at your beck and call for this matter… as am I," she concluded, and it was clear that the offer of herself meant much more than its face value. 

"As for the other matter at hand, this is nothing that I have done," she said, feeling the need to explain herself.  Story had seen the damage her anger had caused before, and she felt it pertinent to make it known that this was not her doing.  "This has been done by the greed of mortals, and it is their mess to clean up," she said.  "I will end it, when they have learned their lessons."  She sighed, and she gave him quite the look - her eyebrows raised, her arms folded across her chest, and she tilted back slightly with her weight on one foot.  "If you think I would make you go through these trials to 'beg at my feet,' as you have put it, you are a fool, Story," she said, and she felt a tug in her stomach as she finally spoke his name.  "As you say, I don't wish to lose any of my guardians… but forcing you through the trials would keep you away from me even longer, and that is not something I wish,"  she said, though her pale face reddened considerably as she realized what she had said to him.

"Regardless - for all the reasons of your being here, one must be the most pressing, and I have a feeling it is not what is happening in Adeluna, nor the… history, if one can refer to it as such, between us.  But unless you tell me, I cannot know.  What is it that I can do to aid you, in whatever it is that you need?"  Her question was considerably sincere, in that she wished to help him - but she needed to know the best way in which to do so.

Story regarded Dalanesca when she offered her realm and herself to him. The emotions that flickered across his gaze were an enigma; not that he was guarded, but because there were so many that flooded the indigo pools, that it was impossible to see just one feeling that ruled over the rest. "It is not a pleasant time to remember," he commented as he walked about to gather his mace and shield. He looked at the tools with some amount of disdain, and displayed a similar body language that he had earlier, that the items were immeasurably heavy, despite being able to wield them with ease.

"Nothing indeed," the dragon concurred. He shook his head. "As I recall in investigating the matter, it was but one mortal that is at fault. I would know more than most that potent blood, once imbibed…fragile humanity cannot necessarily be held responsible for the consequences that follow."
His tone had suddenly become very serious, but a dark chuckle waived it all away. "No matter. I had hoped to appeal to you in a traditional way. I did not come to argue with a goddess regarding her decisions in a crisis."

Once again closing the distance, Story came very close to the Goddess' face, gazing at her with that same, muddled, chaotic look. "If things are as dire as I have seen in dreams, you might be spending an eternity with me," he uttered quietly.
"Malchiah," he began. "I don't know if that name means anything to you now, but he is my brother….the oldest of my kind. One whose vision of purpose I have clashed with on multiple occasions in the past. It was what had made me an exile, and led to the death you remember."

The dragon's wings, while ethereal manifestations, still were tied to his nerves, and twitched with agitation, unfurling, and then folding back again. Story rested the head of the mace on a pedestal of stone sticking up from the sand. "Unless you seek to meddle in mortal creatures' affairs, I am not sure there is much you can do, mon cher. I am as ready as I can be to face my kin, imbued with a cosmic power, completely alien to this realm. He was never able to best me in a human's form - I have always taken to it better than he…but he has been bound for a very long time. Possibly honing his abilities, and now has this….thing…at his back. While my own martial and arcane prowess has been put away to rust."

Dalanesca managed to tear her gaze away from Story for a brief moment.  Her brow furrowed, she looked down and to the side, fixating on the arid sand they stood on.  "No, it is most certainly not," she said, before looking back to him.  "Pleasant or not, however, I feel it necessary to try to salvage what memories of that which I can," she explained.  "I feel as though if I am able to make a stronger connection to the past, that perhaps it will allow me to have a bit more insight as to why I already feel such a strong connection to you," she concluded.  

Running a hand through her wavy tresses, Dalanesca sighed rather heavily at the next comment Story made.  "I think there are times that you forget who I truly am now, Story," she said, her voice becoming rather quiet.  "Were this situation one caused by the blood of Angela Rose, for instance, your argument would be valid… but I am the Reaper," she said, her voice carrying a rather solemn tone.  "If I were to so easily help the people of Adeluna and undo what has happened, I would disrupt the natural order of the divine," she said.  "It is a complex system, and we each play our own role.  From time to time, it is necessary for the Gods to show the mortals what can be done when they fancy themselves our equals."  She grew silent again, and in this moment found herself contemplating whether or not there was a chance that Story had sampled the substance while on the surface.  After all, with what she knew of his history, it would not be the most unheard of thing.  The thought was quickly gone from her mind, however, when she remembered how little he consumed of food and drink, let alone anything else.  

Story's proximity brought her an odd comfort mixed with a tension that she was not accustomed to. The look in his eyes seemed much as that of her own - a mixture of emotions giving way to nothing.  His next words caused her to frown.  She said nothing, but listened intently as he continued his explanation.  Her gaze drifted to that of his phantom wings, taking in their appearance as well as their movements.  

When his explanation had ceased, she paused for a moment before responding.  Her gaze had drifted back to his face, and she found herself lost in taking in his features for a brief moment.  She found it surreal to be this close to him once again, yet it still seemed there was an ocean between the two.  Tearing her gaze away, she knelt down to the grown to fiddle with the buckles of one of her boots, clearly in an effort to distract herself.  A moment later, she reached into the top of her boot, pulling out a small flask.  She took a long draw of the liquid inside before tucking it back into its hiding place.

"This sounds like a rather unpleasant ordeal as a whole," she said, her voice audibly wavering with unease.  Though she reigned over the Inferos and death was a part of her daily routine, the thought of Story meeting his mortal end gave her stomach an unpleasant jolt.  "I generally keep myself out of the affairs of mortals, or only interfere when absolutely necessary - for example, what is happening in Adeluna right now," she said.  "But something about this situation makes me feel that I should readily be available, should you need me.  This is not as to say that I think you incapable of defeating this… Malchiah," she said, pausing as she sought out which words to use next.  "But if he is carrying something other worldly at his back, perhaps you need something powerful at your own," she said. 

She stood back up and closed what little distance remained between the two of them, reaching up to his face with one hand to lay it across his cheek in a rather affectionate manner.  "You've only just come back, and now you tell me that you must leave to face your… brother," she said, with a sigh.  She allowed her hand to remain on his face for a moment, and looked up into his eyes.  "I could not, in all good conscience, let you leave on what you have essentially deemed a suicide mission without the offer of my assistance, should you want it," she said, slowly lowering her hand and looking away from him.  Her eyes no longer held a mixture of emotions, but now sadness seemed at the forefront of them all.  "I do, however, understand that this may be something you feel you need to do on your own.  Regardless, my offer stands," she concluded, still looking away, unable to bring her gaze back to him for fear that he would see the sadness that had overtaken her eyes.

The matters the pair discussed were weighty in the extreme, but Story, despite his occasional grave tones, seemed light of heart overall. He allowed himself to relish in this moment of intimacy, leaning into Dalanesca's touch and putting his hand upon hers when she touched his cheek. He closed his eyes while giving a brief, bittersweet smile.
"Ahhh, you wouldn't dare upset the balance with your blood turning people into beastly lunatics, but you don't hesitate for a moment to lend divine intervention to my own problem?"
It was a rhetorical question, for he continued to speak.
"Perhaps my death is ordained, and my brother is meant to ascend as some sort of terrible tyrant as he was before. Did you consider that?"

Story held fast to the Goddess' hand, and turned to softly kiss her palm, down to her wrist before suddenly pulling her close to him, twining his free arm about her waist. The ethereal wings at his back embraced her as well, lending a soft, spreading warmth where the light touched her flesh. He stepped slowly about with her, as if in a soundless waltz. If one listened closely to the realm of Lust itself, however, it seemed to hold a natural rhythm of sorts. Distant echoes of voices, contorted in both pain and pleasure, accompanied by the ever-present howling of the wind, and an ambient heart-like throbbing set the pace. "History is often doomed to repeat itself in the most unexpected of ways," he mused suggestively while giving her a twirl, then pulling her close again and leaning as he arched her back. He lightly planted his lips on Dalanesca's collar, and pulled her up again, leisurely continuing with the spontaneous and odd little dance, but shifting  the conversation to one less morbid.

"I have been alone since the moment I came to be," Story remarked, commenting on Dalanesca's assumption that he may have a propensity to solve his trials alone. She was not entirely incorrect. "As fate would have it, I do not have to be any longer. It brought you back to me."
He had come to a pause, one hand gently caressing her lower back, as he ran his fingers through her dark hair. "So you are aware of the locale…in recent days, I have felt a pull towards the Nyella ocean," he explained. "Tres belle…Gorgeous place. I have kept watch on it for many years. Only at the turning of each equinox, there is a cathedral from the time that my race ruled that surfaces for a fortnight. It used to be upon a paradisaical island, but the abhorrent blasphemies performed in the place caused the Old Gods to command the sea to swallow it up. Despite this, the secrets and power that lurk there are stubborn. I have visited once, many years ago. I imagine it still remains unnaturally preserved…untouched by barnacles, weeds, or lichens. Even the most terrible creatures of the depths dare not swim near it."

The dragon laughed darkly. "Unfortunate…the circumstances of returning there, I mean. It could make for a romantic excursion, if the purpose there did not traipse into your divine sphere."

The tension in Dalanesca's body relaxed some as Story responded positively to her touch, and she savored the moment of closeness between the two. She did, however, shoot him quite the look after his next statement. "As I said before. There are some things that need to happen… and perhaps you are wrong. Perhaps what I have allowed to take place is necessary to continue the basic order of things - but I am no longer the Justiciar. Mortal balance is no longer my calling, just that of divine," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I would hardly consider coming to your aid to be meddling in the affairs of mortals, but even if it is, I think you will find in any tale, regardless of its setting or era, that people do some rather foolish things out of love."

The goddess found herself with a slight smile as Story's lips made his way from her palm to her wrist, letting out a soft laugh as he pulled her close to him without warning. The feeling of his arm and wings wrapping about her was something rather different, but she found it rather comforting, in a way. As he began slowly moving, she found herself a bit unsure before she realized that he had fallen into somewhat of a dance with her. The smile held strong on her face, and the soft giggle returned as he dipped her low, his lips connecting with the skin of her collar bone. When he pulled her back up, she looked up into his eyes for a moment, pressing her cheek against his chest and allowing herself to be held close to him.

Dalanesca's eyes closed as she felt Story's touch lightly against her back, relishing in the feeling of his fingers in her hair.  Save the briefest of kisses that they had shared, being this close to him was a new sensation for her, and she wanted to savor every moment of it.  Though she had not experienced such in her lifetime, there was something vaguely familiar about his touch.  His words drifted to hear ears and she listened to his explanation of the cathedral emerging from the ocean.  "I can be there, at your side, if you wish it," she said softly, pulling her face away from him and looking up at him.  She was unsure of whether or not he even wanted the assistance, but until he either accepted or denied, the offer would stand.  

His laughter, albeit dark in nature, caused her to softly chuckle as well, partly due to the words that he spoke. "A romantic excursion with you?  If only I could be so lucky," she said, giving him a flirtatious gaze. She fell silent briefly, her smile fading from her lips.  "With all that is happening, between my blood spiraling Adeluna into chaos, and the impending battle that you must wage… it seems silly to think of such selfish things," she said, her voice soft.  "But I cannot help but to think…"  She trailed off, and it was clear that she was contemplating whether or not to speak the next words - but the decision to do so was made.  

"I've a request to make of you," she said, looking up at him.  The look of peace that had been in her bright blue eyes had been replaced with a different look, one of deep affection and desire.  "Before I set right what has happened in Adeluna, and before you embark on this course that fate has set forth for you…" She paused again, a bit of color coming to her cheeks.  She placed her palms against his chest, still pressed close to him, and gazed up at him.  "Would you come to Domus Tenebris with me, and share my bed for a night?" she asked, the connotations behind her words crystal clear.  It was a chance that she took in asking him after the way their last meeting had ended, but his present demeanor seemed to hint that her offer, at least this one, would be accepted.